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Read Part One: The Broom of Camp Lady, The Gods of Combustion
The campsite was empty. Completely empty. No tent. No air mattresses. No mysterious visitors. No emergency toilet-paper fire technology. No John. No Broom.
Just an empty campsite and the uncomfortable realization that I might actually have to entertain myself.
Then the weekend campers arrived.
Normal people.
It was awful.
They backed into their sites, leveled their campers, put out their chairs and apparently brought food before becoming hungry. Nobody searched the woods for kindling. Nobody raided the restroom for combustible materials. Nobody screamed unexpectedly from an air mattress.
Not one abandoned broom appeared to be having an existential crisis beside a fire pit.
These people had clearly camped before. I watched anyway.
Nothing.
At one point a man adjusted a chair. That was about as close as we got to an incident.
By evening the campground was filled with respectable people doing respectable camping things. And that's when I realized there was still one questionable camper left.
Me.
The woman living in a tiny cargo van with a refrigerator strapped into the passenger seat, solar equipment scattered around, an e-bike, fairy lights, an awning and enough backup power to restart a small civilization.
And then came the promotion.
Somewhere along the way I acquired a New York State Parks Junior Ranger sticker.
I'm 73.
There was no age verification, background check or written examination. Apparently New York State Parks looked at the situation and thought:
Give that woman authority.
So I took my new responsibilities seriously. I monitored squirrel activity. Tracked geese by sound. Kept an eye on a suspiciously friendly chipmunk. Checked the weather. Maintained general campground surveillance from my chair while holding coffee.
Years of solo travel had prepared me for this moment.
Junior Ranger Jo was on duty.
My jurisdiction extended approximately as far as I could see without getting up.
Fortunately, everything remained peaceful. No emergencies. No disturbances. No suspicious combustion. No abandoned cleaning equipment.
I looked around at all those quiet, competent weekend campers and finally understood what had happened.
They weren't the entertainment anymore.
Apparently...
I was. 😂