Sleepy Hollow Campground

I finally fell asleep around midnight. I should have packed earplugs. I’m sure they will be handy for other nights to come. Despite the noise and adjusting to the first night outside in over a year, I had a pretty restful sleep. The last time was just after we moved back to New York. My daughters and I visited Watkins Glen, at the southern end of the next lake over, Seneca. The international Raceway was holding an event, closed off to car, but open to cyclists. We did a few loops around the track and then camped at the state park. Leaving the next day of this short adventure for hiking the trails and exploring some of the town.

Our frequency of camping has decreased over the years. The kids and I have other commitments, work or work. Maybe we just don’t try as hard to set aside time for it.

In 2015, the year after I kayaked the Erie Canal, we made a point of camping at least once each month of the year. Sort of my way of trying to make up for being gone for over a month, plus a challenge to make sure we made time for it. Each location was new, with no repeats. Each of my daughters missed one month due to being sick, I completed all twelve months. Some were at the coast, while others were in the woods, or high desert. One memorable trip involved splashing in a river, fishing, and drying out in hammocks. In winter, we snowshoed to a cabin. My younger daughter, who was eight at the time, broke trail for almost the entire four-mile trek. We created so many wonderful memories. I believe I wrote about each trip somewhere at the time. Perhaps I can add those to the collection here.

Around 5am, my neighbor woke up. He seemed to open and close everything on his camper and all his pickup truck doors multiple times for nearly an hour. I tried to roll over and get more sleep, but it was no use. I started disassembling my sleep gear and crawled out of the tent. The neighbors’ setup didn’t seem any different to me. There was still stuff around his camper patio, and the truck was still there. I didn’t see any movement though, perhaps they had driven off in a golf cart. I decided to go for a walk before making breakfast and finishing my packing.

There were few other people up before 7am. The sun still had a few minutes before it rose above the horizon, let alone the trees. The empty cans from many late-night revelers littered the sites I passed. The wind was calm, and the pond surface was like a sheet of glass. Occasionally, a fish would jump up and break the surface, nabbing an unsuspecting insect flying too low. I headed back to prepare my own breakfast. I had oatmeal with me, but rehydrating a chicken and rice meal and wrapping it up like a burrito seemed more appealing. Of course, I couldn’t forget to make coffee before stuffing things away, clipping in, and completing the ride to Buffalo.