Usually if there's a damper on a camping trip, it's a literal one: a rainstorm, a tornado warning or some weather related event involving water. The past week at Black Hawk Campground on the Mississippi, the weather was predominantly lovely. We had a rainy day on Monday--sounds like a song--but it provided the perfect excuse for a road trip to check out the apple establishments for apple donuts, apple pies, apple cider, apple butter. You get the picture.
Every evening was a perfect campfire night. Showy sunsets ranged from soft pastels to vibrant reds, oranges, and pinks. Mornings were just on the crisp side or softened by fog over the river. Daytime temps were perfect for walking or lunch overlooking the Mississippi.
So what was the fly in the ointment? Well, first of all, there were about six thousand of 'em, hanging around the camper door like they were waiting to see the queen lying in state. That's an expected side to camping and the flyswatter was always at hand. However, the purpose of this trip was for Don to fish, and to teach me to fish. I don't want to hear any comments about old dogs. Tuesday noon, after two pleasant hours on the river, during which I had requested I would just watch, I suggested that he drop me at the dock and I would go back to the camper and spend some time writing. We would go out again Wednesday when I would actually try my hand.
Part way back to the camper, I realized I had no keys. I called Don and he said he was coming in anyway; he had just had a run-in with a rock pile and had wrecked the propeller on the motor. I wrote in my last blog how we then spent the afternoon crisscrossing Prairie Du Chien before we found Cabela's boat shop. The young man ordered a new propeller and said, since it was already after 3:00 pm, it might not arrive on Wednesday but would by Thursday, and he would have tracking information by Wednesday. It would be shipped from the factory in Fon du Lac, three hours away.
Long story somewhat shorter, it did not arrive Wednesday nor did any tracking information. It did not arrive Thursday. We spent both days waiting for a call and hanging around Prairie du Chien. By Friday morning, the weather forecast for Friday afternoon and Saturday included a lot of rain. No call from Cabela's, but when Don called "it had just come in!" I bought a cute shirt there a couple of days before, but I would stay away from the bridge department. Anyway, I am still a non-fisherwoman and my brand spanking new license is stashed in my purse.
Other than that, it was a lovely week.
Part way back to the camper, I realized I had no keys. I called Don and he said he was coming in anyway; he had just had a run-in with a rock pile and had wrecked the propeller on the motor. I wrote in my last blog how we then spent the afternoon crisscrossing Prairie Du Chien before we found Cabela's boat shop. The young man ordered a new propeller and said, since it was already after 3:00 pm, it might not arrive on Wednesday but would by Thursday, and he would have tracking information by Wednesday. It would be shipped from the factory in Fon du Lac, three hours away.
Long story somewhat shorter, it did not arrive Wednesday nor did any tracking information. It did not arrive Thursday. We spent both days waiting for a call and hanging around Prairie du Chien. By Friday morning, the weather forecast for Friday afternoon and Saturday included a lot of rain. No call from Cabela's, but when Don called "it had just come in!" I bought a cute shirt there a couple of days before, but I would stay away from the bridge department. Anyway, I am still a non-fisherwoman and my brand spanking new license is stashed in my purse.
Other than that, it was a lovely week.
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