We had a wonderful show up in Bremerton at the Hi-Fidelity Lounge this past Friday. The crowd was right there with us, the sound was kicking (which is great because we get a little nervous when someone else is running our sound), and we just had an all-around excellent night. But that’s not the main focus of this post.
The RV shitter was getting full, and we needed to find a dump site. The one that we usually use is in Puyallup, about a half hour in the other direction from the gig, so we had to venture into uncharted territory to find a new one. As luck would have it, the Karcher Creek Wastewater Treatment Plant in Port Orchard had a dump station that was only about five minutes out of our way. Perfect! And FYI, Port Orchard is a BEAUTIFUL town, nestled in a wooded valley right on the bay. The weather was wonderful, and the scenery was a gorgeous distraction from the business at hand.
Since we don’t have a mobile phone with GPS, I looked up the directions on my laptop before we left and got a relatively good idea of the lay of the land. It seemed there might be some hills to avoid, but there was a single road that followed the coastline all the way around the bay, which would take us right to the dump site. Finding it was no problem.
The problem arose in getting out. There wasn’t really enough room to maneuver the RV and trailer to go back the way we came in without stopping traffic for a few minutes, so I figured that we’d just continue on down the road and find a turn around spot down the way a bit. As I mentioned earlier, the bay is at the foot of a bunch of hills. There are two pertinent things that our RV does not do well: sharp turns and steep hills. We were surrounded by both, winding down the curvy, narrow shoreline road, heading deeper into uncharted territory with no idea where we were going. Each time we’d spot a potential turn around spot, it was in hindsight. But that’s not really the focus of this post, either.
Eventually, we found ourselves deep in the woods, looking for a good-sized driveway or even a wide enough intersection to swing it. Somewhere along the way, there was a shout from the passenger seat: “Is that . . . ? What the . . . ? A CAMEL?”
Grazing around in a fenced-in hillside pasture were not one, but two camels. Hey, why not? Take a second to process. I guess it makes sense. They seem pretty docile. Can’t be much more trouble than a horse. Seems like they could make good pets. I can’t recall hearing any stories about dangerous camel-related fatalities. Presumably fun to ride. Soft to pet. Then I began to wonder why there aren’t more domesticated camels around. Why was this such a weird sight?
Food for thought.
Anyway, we eventually got turned around and made it to the gig in plenty of time.