In search of a campsite

Today I was looking for Cuyahoga National Park in Ohio. Ever heard of it? Me neither, but it's BIG - 33 square miles - that's BIG. Today I really wanted to get out of Pennsylvania and move on, so I got on an interstate highway, Rt. 80. It was dull, but at least I was zipping along at 70 miles an hour - for a little while; then I hit construction. Now I was zipping along at 10 miles an hour, and it was REALLY dull. For the first time since I've been on this trip I took out one of the Books on Tape that I brought along, The Battle of Gettysburg. Mostly I've been perfectly content to just enjoy the scenery and sing softly to myself. I know lots of songs. Fortunately, I am by myself since I can't imagine anyone else would want to listen to me singing all day long. And although I do know many songs, I am starting to repeat myself.

Finally, though, I reached Ohio. I was given a free state map at the Visitors Center and some direction from the park ranger behind the counter. On the map I noted a park not far away, and my AAA tour book confirmed that there was a campground in the park. I was on my way! I was now on a state road. I passed houses, stores, auto repair places, and more road construction. Suddenly I saw a sign. telling me that I was now in Cuyahoga National Park. But I did not see a park office. All I saw were more houses, stores, auto repair places, and road construction. Eventually I saw a sign that said there was a  Visitors Center in two miles. I drove two miles, three miles, four miles. Still no Visitors Center. Finally, I pulled in to a gas station to ask directions. I do not like to do this. I know I have a poor sense of direction, but nevertheless, stopping to ask directions is an affront to my manliness. Usually when I am with Elise, I make her ask and I pretend that I am not with her.

Nevertheless, in desperation  I stopped  at a minimart and got some directions from a young woman behind the counter. She did not seem very confident about her directions, however, so a couple miles down the road, I pulled into a gas station and asked the first man I saw where I could find a park Visitors Center. He didn't seem all that confident either, but he gave me the same directions as I had received from the young lady, so I was encouraged. He admitted that his directions would not take me to a Visitors Center, but they would take me to a ranger station and the rangers should be able to direct me to a Visitors Center. Close enough! I followed his directions and eventually came to a park maintenance station. There one of the staff made a phone call and then gave me some general directions to the Visitor Center. Well, not exactly a Visitor Center. The Visitors Center would be closed by the time I arrived, but there was a yellow trail mix store across from the Visitors Center and they could direct me to a campsite. The ranger also told me that I "can't miss it" even though his directions were somewhat vague.

 I have noticed that people who know how to get to a particular place often think that the person they are directing "can't miss it," but this is frequently not the case. I have already missed more than one place that I "couldn't miss." In any event, I was off again, and although the road twisted and turned, I nevertheless managed to find the yellow trail mix store. The lady inside was very friendly and helpful. She explained to me that there were only 7 campsites in the whole park, but that since they were primitive campsites and almost no one knew about them, six of the seven were still available for this evening. Three of them were in an open field, so I signed up for one of the ones in the woods.  She  then explained to me where to find the campground. It was not far away which was a good thing, because once I  found it and unloaded my gear, I would have to take my car back to the Visitors Center parking lot and leave it there and then walk back to the campsite.

 I followed her directions and looked for the campsites, but I did not see any campsites; I did not see any signs indicating the presence of any campsites. I did walk up a muddy path which had a sign saying "horse trail." A horse trail is not a campsite - I knew that -  but it was the closest thing to a campsite that I had seen along this road. A few feet into the woods, I saw a doe with her fawn; we stared at each other, and then they ran off. I was pleased to see the deer, but I would also like to have seen some indication of a campsite. This I did not see. Deeply discouraged I drove back to the trail mix store to tell my tale of woe to the lady and ask for my money back. This was my lucky day; at least the store was still open. The lady who was very nice to me before was still very nice to me. I told her that I saw a sign pointing towards a hostel  nearby and that I would try there rather than continue my search for the mystery campsites. She tore up my credit card record and I was on my way to the hostel.

 I again saw the sign pointing to the hostel but I did not see the hostel. This was beginning to be a pattern! I saw a lady walking a dog. I asked her about the hostel. She told me that there used to be a hostel but it was no more. I did not know which was better or worse - campsites without any signs or a sign without any hostel. But the lady with the dog also told me that there were some very nice campsites just up the hill - the missing campsites! I went to take a look; I saw the three campsites in the open field - actually the lawn of what used to be the hostel, but I still couldn't see any campsites in the woods.

It was enough, already! I remembered that on the main road a few miles back, I saw some motels. I headed back and eventually found my way to a Motel 6. When Elise and I went crosscountry 40 years ago, Motel 6 was just getting started. It was called Motel 6 because the price was $6.00 a night. Although the price was now $40.00 a night, that is still a good price for a motel. The room was clean; it had a bed; it even had WIFI. I took it.