The three rigs caravanned into the Fremont National
Forest—first turning on to Thomas Creek Road, and criss-crossing through
agricultural lands, until the National Forest lands started with typical small
brown signs directing us toward Campbell and Dead Horse lakes. We passed through some beautiful scenery,
with wildflowers throughout green meadows, surrounded by timber lands. The roads were open range and we slowed for
cattle on the road several times. Some
pre-commercial thinning had stacks of small trees on landings past the Dairy
Creek turnoff, but we were un-prepared for the extent of cutting once we turned
onto the gravel road leading to the lakes.
Most trees were cut along a wide swath along the roads, but the upland
areas were grey—dead tree thickets abounded, with only an occasional green
survivor. All the destruction relates to
a severe beetle infestation. Where once
you could not see Campbell Lake from the road, now it was easily seen, all the
way around, with barren campsites supporting only an occasional leggy tree. Despitethis foreshadowing, I was unprepared
for the sight of Deadhorse Lake—a place I had camped frequently under lush
trees with the small blue lake lying like a gem surrounded by the green
forest. The green forest is gone and,
like Campbell Lake, only a few trees are left in a swath around the lake, with
dead grey forestland above on the hillsides.
After the initial shock, I adjusted. The area is still pretty, but is not the lake
from the past. Don’t expect that, and
the lakeside campground remains enjoyable.
We set up our camps side-by-side, with me between Brad and Erich. The bug tent went up quickly, as did Laura’s
tent. Water was brownish, and not really
acceptable for drinking, but we felt we could try Campbell Lake for water Liz went for a walk with Emily, and the
others were out and about as well.
Suddenly, a huge gust of wind—far more serious than any gusts we’d
encountered, blew across the lake and hit the bug tent. The stakes ripped out of the ground and the
tent cartwheeled onto the campfire. I
ran toward it from the rig, and Laura ran up from the lake, and together we
pulled the tent off the fire and rotated it back pver the nearby picnic
table. We re-affixed the poles, ran
guy-string ties top two trees and another to a stump, and secured it from
further wind cartwheeling. However, a
three foot length of netting had melted, which I patched with black Gorilla
tape, and the tent was slightly mis-shapened, but it still did the trick and
kept out the insects, more-or-less.
Gusty winds would batter it over the next several days, gradually
pulling it into shapes never intended by the manufacturer. One entry zipper gave up the ghost a couple
of days later, but the tent still provided
shade and some protection from bugs.
Laura got some
nibbles on her first morning out, but I didn’t get a bite, nor did Erich or the
others. Fishing from the bank I sa
challenge because of all of the trees and brush which are in the lake around
the shoreline.
Cocktail hour came every night, and we enjoyed ourselves
around the campfire. Emily would play with her Ipod while the rest
of us talked about this-and-that, then mainly went our separate ways for
dinner. The 4th of July was a
communal dinner, with everyone cooking chicken and bringing a side dish. Great food, great company, and a good time
was had by all.
Chris, Deidra and the boys joined us on the 4th
of July—they have a large tent that can fit all 4 of them, and it was easily
set up, after we warned them about the wind and they weighted the tent bottom
with their things. Lincoln was really
enjoying himself, playing in the dirt, fishing with his Dad, and exploring with
his mom and Parker. Lincoln had his first campfire marshmallow, and little
Parker enjoyed watching his Grandma do up the dishes.
