The Traumatic Truck Troubles the last couple of days were made better by the helpful campground manager and the truck dealer calling at 9:00 in the morning to say his guy had worked late the night before to get the repairs finished. We packed up and were back on the road by 11:00. Things hummed along smoothly and we headed for a place we had found on the 'Net called Grassy Butte. We intended this as a jumping off spot to explore the North Dakota Badlands and the confluence of the Yellowstone and Missouri Rivers--another Lewis and Clark stop.
Grassy Butte is small. Very, very small. We spent some time trying to find someone who knew where this campground was. (The town appeared to cover about four square blocks.) At the post office, they thought it was part of the city park, and they were sure there were electrical hookups. We drove slowly around the small but pretty park, seeing no signs of campsites. So we gave up and decided to get lunch and talk it over at the nearby saloon.
We had pizza and met Bristol, a loving Golden Doodle. The bartender explained that campers needed to just pull up along the roadside and plug into the receptacles on the shelter, but they were only 15 amps. That wouldn't work for us. We pinpointed three likely prospects in Watford City, 30 or 40 miles to the north.
We had pizza and met Bristol, a loving Golden Doodle. The bartender explained that campers needed to just pull up along the roadside and plug into the receptacles on the shelter, but they were only 15 amps. That wouldn't work for us. We pinpointed three likely prospects in Watford City, 30 or 40 miles to the north.
We drove through the beautiful North Dakota Badlands and arrived at Watford City. Our route took us through some road construction over what Ken is sure was part of the original Oregon Trail and finally arrived at our first choice, the White Buffalo RV Park. There was no one at the registration shack so we called the number listed and were soon greeted by the World's Crabbiest, Meanest Campground Owner/Manager. The woman pointed out a couple of available slots with slopes akin to the Alps. The price she quoted was $15 higher than the listings online. There were no picnic tables, fire rings or grills. The woman spouted the rules, which included no alcohol outside your camper, which would have been difficult anyway since there was hardly room between units to set up a lawn chair. We conferred and decided to look elsewhere. When we informed her of our decision, she told us to please leave as quickly as possible. Her parting words were that we would not find anything better.
Fortunately, she was wrong. A half-mile down the road was a small campground at the Watford City Park. There are full hookups, picnic tables, and grills. The sites are fairly level and there were plenty of empty spaces. We set up, and after a pleasant supper, celebrated the lovely evening and almost full moon with a little entertainment from our own itinerant guitar player, Ken, Harriet remedied the lack of a campfire by decorating a post with lights.
Fortunately, she was wrong. A half-mile down the road was a small campground at the Watford City Park. There are full hookups, picnic tables, and grills. The sites are fairly level and there were plenty of empty spaces. We set up, and after a pleasant supper, celebrated the lovely evening and almost full moon with a little entertainment from our own itinerant guitar player, Ken, Harriet remedied the lack of a campfire by decorating a post with lights.
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