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Where are we?  What? Oh, that’s right South Dakota, er, Wyoming, er, Montana.  After four straight days of travelin’, a different campsite every night, road weariness begins to set in:  a bleariness in the eyes, ringing in he ears, a dullness in the brain, and dog “spats” between Roscoe and Louis—all symptomatic of the urges to return to a home that is not moving.

After a night at the Kamp, I expected the campground at Sundance to be a whole lot better.  It wasn’t.  Mountain View RV Park and Campground, just outside of Sundance, might be described as a little campground nestled into the Black Hills of Northeastern Wyoming.  Looking at their website, they give you just enough of a glimpse of some of those picturesque hills to make you believe, especially after five hours on the trail, that you have truly found your overnight mountain respite.  But it is just a place to park your RV.  If you don’t set yourself up to expect too much from these places, if you just accept the RV park as just that—an RV park—then you can begin to appreciate the little amenities like the good views of the Black Hills that they do have, immaculately clean laundry facilities, an endless supply of quarters, and very friendly owners.  The negative stuff like full-timers who act like they own the place (clearly, there is a cast system among Park dwellers that clearly define the lines between those who claim higher status because they are full-time Parkees and those of us who are just passing through) I just laugh off; you see this played out in real time when everybody’s dogs meet each other; what humans think about, dogs act out. The show piece of the Park, a sheet metal cut out of an almost life size bull elk braying (do elks bray?) to the sky (calling for a mate?). Finally, the self-aggrandizing nature of the names of these Parks are always to be suspected.  Mountain View?  Okay, very good views from where we are.

Entrance to Sundance Mt. View Park. Lower level.

Entrance to Sundance Mt. View Park. Lower level.

 

View to the south from park: north end of Black Hills.

View to the south from park: north end of Black Hills.

Back area of park.

Back area of park.

 

Early morning in the Black Hills looking southeast.

Early morning in the Black Hills looking southeast.

Or how about the name of the Park where I am currently penning these tomes?   The Grandview RV Park and Campground in Hardin, Montana.  First of all, I’ve walked through this entire park, and no where is there a Grand view to be seen.  I can look across the street from our camp site and catch the view of the Town Pump, a combination of gas pumps, mini-mart, Keno parlor, and steam-tables full of lamp-heated fried chicken and Jo Jo’s.  But “Grand” it isn’t.  But it doesn’t matter, because by the time you pull in to this Park, after five hours of intense driving, the view is truly “Grand.”

Grandview Camp in Hardin, Montana

The picture above is of the office as you first pull into the campground.  Because there was a major thunderstorm headed our way, bringing wind, rain, and possible hail, the nice lady put us under the trees just to the left of the office.  There was a storm with thunder and heavy rain, but rather than causing nervousness and anxiety, we instead felt calm and serene, sleeping soundly through the night.

Thought for the day thanks to Rumi and Jackie:  “Raise your words, not your voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.”

 

 

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