Day 17: Saturday, 9/19/26 Mille Lacs Kathio State Park

Day 17 — Saturday, September 19, 2026

Mille Lacs Kathio State Park — 90 Years Ago...

Ninety years ago today, my mom was born.

She died seven years ago at the age of 83, but I feel her presence every day, one way or another. Sometimes it is a memory that unexpectedly surfaces. Sometimes it is something I say or do that makes me realize, That came from Mom. And sometimes her presence is found in the people I love.

This morning, it was found around a campfire in the Minnesota woods.

We woke to another cool morning at Mille Lacs Kathio State Park and soon had a fire crackling in the fire ring. Janice and I gathered around it with my cousin Cece, sipping our morning drinks and enjoying the warmth.

Sitting there with Cece on what would have been Mom's 90th birthday seemed especially appropriate.

Mom loved her nieces and nephews, and she cherished the close relationships my sister Lynn and I developed with our cousins. Those relationships stretch back to our earliest childhood memories.

Mom was the youngest of five children. My grandmother was 45 years old when Mom was born, and Mom was especially close to her oldest sister, Stella Elizabeth—our Aunt Beth.

Aunt Beth and Uncle Lawrence Huff lived in Staples, Minnesota, and had nine children: Lenore, Joe, Bonnie, Chuck, Al, David, Cece, Renee and Nicole.

On my dad's side, Aunt Jo and Uncle Denne had five children: Denne Keith, Diane, Tom, Pam and Terry.

Add my sister Lynn and me, and there were 16 cousins in those two families who formed such an important part of our childhood world. Fourteen of us are still here today. We have lost Joe and Tom.

Lynn and I grew up among both the Huffs and the Nelsons. We bonded with our cousins when we were children and accumulated a lifetime of shared memories during those formative years.

Cece and I were both born in 1958, as was my cousin Pam on Dad's side. Lynn followed me 363 days later in 1959.

Cece and I have always had a special bond, even though we have seen each other only a handful of times since we were teenagers. And then there was Fernando.

Mi Hermano de Otra Madre

Cece's husband, Fernando Jimenez, was born in Ecuador on February 8, 1958—my birthday—and within just a couple of hours of when I was born.

When we finally met in 2002, we bonded almost immediately. I called him "Mi hermano de otra madre"—my brother from another mother.

Cece and Fernando, "Cecenando," as we affectionately called them, built an extraordinary life together.

They even got married in extraordinary fashion: a surprise wedding during their annual Halloween party in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Cece was an LPN and Fernando a respiratory therapist. They worked for five years on the Navajo Nation before embarking on an entirely new chapter of their lives through the U.S. Foreign Service.

Their work and adventures eventually took them to dozens of countries around the world. In some smaller postings, Cece served as the chief medical officer at the U.S. diplomatic mission. Her assignments also took her to challenging places, including Kabul, Afghanistan, and Pakistan.

In 2017, Janice and I traveled to Washington, D.C., and stayed with Cece and Fernando at their home about 15 blocks from the U.S. Capitol.

We had a wonderful visit, although Fernando had to leave unexpectedly to attend the funeral of a close cousin in Chile.

Fernando loved collecting beautiful pens. Before he left, he gave me one of them.

That pen still sits on my desk at home. I save it for special occasions.

I didn't know it then, of course, but that would be the last time I saw my hermano.

During that visit, Cece, Janice, our friend Loren and I also participated in the Women's March on Washington. Hundreds of thousands of people filled Washington that day; contemporary estimates placed attendance as high as roughly half a million. For the four of us, being part of such a massive exercise in peaceful civic participation was an unforgettable experience.

Then, in October 2018, tragedy struck.

Fernando was killed in a drive-by shooting in front of their Washington home while sitting in a friend's car, still dressed in his medical scrubs. The people responsible were never caught.

Cece was in Brussels at the time.

Later, I joined family and friends who came from around the world to Washington for Fernando's memorial, held at an ambassador's residence. In recognition of his service, the American flag was lowered to half-staff at the residence and at the U.S. mission in Brussels.

Afterward, Cece gave me Fernando's favorite leather jacket and one of his sweaters. Like his pen, I treasure them and wear them on special occasions.

What I remember just as strongly from that terrible time was watching the Huff family gather around Cece. Her brothers, sisters and their spouses took turns staying with her in Washington and Brussels, helping with everything that needed to be done while simply being there as she grieved.

That's family.

And that brings me back to this cool September morning in Minnesota, sitting beside a campfire with Cece.

She is an extraordinarily vibrant and strong woman, and Janice and I are so grateful for this time together.

I couldn't help thinking Mom would have loved it.

Back on the Trail

After breakfast, the three of us took Tad on a long hike.

The trails around Mille Lacs Kathio State Park are wonderful. The Rum River winds through the area, and swans, geese and ducks gather along the water and fly overhead.

The first fall colors are beginning to emerge. There is just enough yellow and orange appearing among the green to remind us that summer is slipping away and autumn is waiting in the wings.

We hiked joyfully while Tad bounded from one interesting smell to another, discovering an entire invisible world of treasures with his nose.

Back at camp, we had a light lunch and discovered another pressing matter:

The campfireman's supply of firewood was dwindling!

Clearly, something had to be done.

Janice and I hopped on our e-bikes and rode the three miles to park headquarters to replenish our supply.

We bought two bundles of firewood, and I managed to secure one to the back of my bike with bungee cords. The second bundle proved considerably more challenging. Janice and I struggled with our remaining bungee cords, trying to devise some ingenious method of fastening it to her bike.

Apparently, our predicament was entertaining, or perhaps simply pathetic, enough to attract the attention of Kevin, the ranger who had sold us the wood.

He graciously offered to deliver the bundle to our campsite.

Well, if he was going to haul one bundle...

"Could we buy three more?"

Kevin laughed and said he'd be happy to haul them all to our campsite.

We thanked him profusely and pedaled away, now considerably lighter than we had expected to be.

On the way back, Janice suggested we take some trails rather than simply following the paved road. That sounded like a splendid idea.

We turned toward the "Trail Center" and began looking for a dirt trail back toward the campground.

We couldn't find one.

What we did find was a roughly 15-foot-wide grassy trail disappearing invitingly into the woods.

There wasn't another person in sight.

Why not?

Off we went.

The trail was grassy, bumpy and covered with thousands upon thousands of acorns. Before long, we realized this wasn't exactly the bicycle trail we'd envisioned. It was apparently intended primarily for horses and, in winter, cross-country skiers and snowmobiles.

But by then we were committed.

For more than two miles we bounced and twisted along the topsy-turvy trail, wondering exactly where our clever shortcut was taking us.

Eventually, we emerged from the woods...

...onto the county road a couple of miles before the park entrance.

Oops.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

We laughed and pedaled our way back to camp.

Around the Fire Again

When we arrived, Kevin had already delivered our firewood, and it wasn't long before the campfireman had another respectable blaze going.

As evening approached, Cece roasted potatoes, peppers and tomatoes, while Janice cooked blackened salmon we'd bought at Costco, wrapped in aluminum foil on the grill.

It was delicious.

Then the three of us settled around the campfire once again, exchanging stories as daylight slowly faded into twilight and twilight surrendered to the darkness of a Minnesota autumn night.

Eventually, we retreated into our respective little camp homes, filled with memories from another wonderful day together and anticipating more adventures in the morning.

As I settled in for the night, though, my thoughts returned to where the day had begun.

Ninety years ago today, Mom was born.

Seven years after her death, she is still here in so many ways, in Lynn, Janice and me, in our cousins, in the stories we tell, in the bonds she treasured and helped nurture, and in a campfire shared with Janice, Cece and I on a cool September morning.

Perhaps that's one of the gifts our parents leave us.

They teach us that family isn't only the people sitting beside us.

It is also all those who sat beside us before.

Happy 90th birthday, Mom.

I miss you.

And I felt you with us today.

Day 18: Sept 20, 2026: Just me and Cece

​This morning, Kasey mentioned wanting to go to his grandson Cade’s third birthday party over in Pine City, about an hour away. Since we had one more night booked at the campground, it presented a bit of a dilemma. Without a towed car, our mobility is limited, and driving the motorhome back and forth gets more expensive by the day. Fortunately, Cece graciously offered him her car for the trip. After breakfast, Kasey hopped in and hit the road for Pine City.

​I stayed behind at camp with Tad and Cece, and the three of us set off on a three-mile hike. We didn't pass a single person the entire time. The wide, quiet trails were perfect for walking side by side, and we soaked in the crisp autumn weather while Tad reveled in the freedom, joyfully sprinting ahead and back. Cece and I passed the time identifying tree species and admiring the incredible variety of wild fungi. The leaves are just beginning to turn, with vibrant red sugar maple foliage dotting the forest floor and thousands of red oak acorns blanketing patches of the trail. An hour later, we were back at camp.

​Being Sunday, many of the campers were packing up and heading home. I took my bike for a quick loop around the newly vacant spots to see if anyone had left behind any unburned firewood. Between Cece and me, we both love a good campfire, but we were down to our last two logs from the five bundles we started with yesterday, so we were trying to conserve every bit until Kasey returned. To our disappointment, none of our departing neighbors had left any wood behind.

​Cece settled in to read a book, so I grabbed mine as well. But Cece is pure high energy and after about two minutes, she was back on her feet, puttering around, telling stories, and sharing how much she was enjoying the trip. Before long, I talked her into taking Kasey’s bike for a spin. We lowered the seat, I gave her a quick rundown on the controls, and off we went. She had an absolute blast! By the end of the ride, she was completely sold on getting an electric bike of her own although she would perhaps get one a little lighter than ours.

​We spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing around the fire ring waiting for Kasey. Cece got busy preparing a burrito dinner to use up her groceries before her upcoming move to Ecuador once her paperwork clears. She whipped up fresh salsa and made corn tortillas from scratch, while I pulled out the rest of our supplies:a can of black beans, fresh cilantro, guacamole, bell peppers, and chipotle spice.

​When Kasey finally returned with a fresh stack of firewood, we stoked the fire, swapped stories about his trip to the party, and enjoyed a delicious feast of homemade burritos.

Kasey's solo trip

I wrestled with a quandary in the wee hours of dawn.

My son Nick and daughter-in-law Alyssa were having a birthday party that afternoon for Cade, my youngest grandchild, who was turning three. We were camping with my cousin Cece at Mille Lacs Kathio State Park, about an hour away, and I couldn't quite decide what to do. I wanted to spend the day with Janice and Cece at camp, but I also really wanted to be there to celebrate with Cade.

I got up around six, donned my wool poncho, and took Taddy out for his early-morning walk. When we returned, Cece was still nestled away in her tent, so I crawled back into the motorhome and tried to snooze for a while longer.

Around eight, I thought I heard Cece open her car door in front of the motorhome. Time to get up.

It was in the 40s that morning, so I went outside and built a fire. I take great pride in my role as the official camp fireman, and before long I had a nice blaze going in the firepit. Soon the three of us were gathered around it, Janice and I sipping our coffee and Cece sipping her tea.

I told Cece about my conundrum.

Without hesitation, she offered the perfect solution: Take her car to Pine City. She, Janice and Tad would hold down the fort.

Problem solved!

Since the party didn't start until one, we still had time after breakfast to take a nice hike together before I headed out.

Around 11:30, I climbed into Cece's little Honda and hit the road, leaving enough time to stop in Pine City to buy birthday presents for Cade and a little something for his brother Owen, six, and sister Alice, eight.

The route from Mille Lacs Kathio to Pine City zigzags along a collection of county roads and small highways. Along the way I passed Lake Mille Lacs, so enormous that from the shoreline it can look more like an inland sea than a lake. A strong wind was blowing that day, covering its surface with thousands of whitecaps.

At first I was a little nervous. I'm always that way when I drive someone else's car for the first time. Cece's small Honda has a five-speed manual transmission and really zips down the road. It didn't take long, though, before I relaxed and started enjoying the drive.

Still, it felt strange traveling alone.

No Janice beside me. No Tad along for the ride. Just me, the little Honda, the Minnesota countryside and the anticipation of seeing my family.

When I reached Pine City, I called Nick for some advice before shopping for presents. He told me Cade really likes dinosaurs and blocks. Owen likes LEGOs, and Alice enjoys crafts, especially making bracelets.

Perfect.

I quickly found gifts I thought each of them would enjoy and headed to Nick and Alyssa's house.

When I arrived, Alyssa's family was already there, and the grandkids and their cousins were romping around the living room because it was cool and breezy outside. Alyssa's family has always made me feel welcome, and the kids are wonderfully sweet.

I gave Alyssa a hug, and before long Alice came running up to me. I scooped her up and gave her a big Grandpa hug. Soon Nick came in from outside and greeted me with one of his bear hugs.

Soon my daughter Ashley and her fiance, Orion joined us. It was good to have them with us.

It felt so good to be there.

While the kids played, the adults enjoyed the delicious food Alyssa had prepared and watched the Minnesota Vikings beat the Chicago Bears.

Then came the main event.

Cade's presents!

There is something wonderfully entertaining about watching a three-year-old open birthday gifts. Cade gleefully tore into them with the enthusiasm that only a three-year-old can muster. We sang "Happy Birthday" and celebrated with a gluten-free ice cream cake. Owen and Alice opened their gifts, too, and everyone seemed pleased with Grandpa's hurried but apparently successful shopping expedition.

All too soon, the party began winding down. I said my goodbyes, climbed back into Cece's Honda and headed toward Mille Lacs Kathio for our final night together at camp.

When I arrived, I discovered that Janice and Cece had apparently been engaged in a desperate struggle for survival during what I came to think of as the Winter of September 17th.

They had scavenged rough pieces of wood to keep themselves warm and regaled me with tales of their adventures and how they had bravely endured the bitter Minnesota elements during my absence.

Fortunately, the camp fireman had returned.

I unloaded five rounds of firewood I'd purchased at park headquarters and soon had a beautiful blaze going. Before long, my hardy companions had thawed out, and the fire would keep us warm well into the evening.

We gathered around it for a wonderful dinner and celebrated our final night together at Mille Lacs Kathio.

It had been a special few days  hiking, biking, campfires, conversations, laughter and simply enjoying being together. And my little solo excursion to Pine City had given me something else precious: a chance to be there as my youngest grandchild celebrated his third trip around the sun.

Sitting around the fire that evening, none of us really wanted our time together to end.

Fortunately, it doesn't have to.

We've already decided that we'll camp with Cece again next year.

Another campfire is waiting for us.

Day 16: Sept 18, 2026: Rain soaked day

​It began as a single thump on the motorhome roof. Then another, and another, until a steady rhythm took hold.

​It was 5:00 a.m. Kasey was fast asleep beside me, so I whispered to him in case he was not asleep. "It’s starting to rain."

​"Hmm?" he murmured, eyes still closed.

​"Did we put the chairs away?"

​"I don't think so..."

​I sprang out of bed as the pitter-patter overhead multiplied. Tossing on clothes, I darted outside into the damp morning air, shoved the firewood safely beneath the rig, and grabbed the lawn chairs just as Kasey opened the door to reach for them. Handing them off, I snagged the leash. Knowing Tad would want his morning walk in an hour anyway, I figured we’d better brave the elements before the sky really opened up.

​By the time we got back, puddles were forming, and the individual raindrops had merged into a solid definition of a downpour. I crawled back into bed, feeling cozy, but sleep was gone for the morning. I gave up, rolled out of bed, and started the coffee. 

​Outside, the steady rain continued while Kasey slept until eight. The days are getting shorter so with the dark clouds it hardly felt that late. Today was checkout day. We were bound northwest for Mille Lacs Kathio State Park. While Kasey got ready and caught up on his blog, I set to work shifting our rolling cabin into travel mode. The bikes needed to be secured and covered, and we took advantage of the power hookup to top off the batteries first. By just after noon, everything was packed tight and we were rolling out.

​After a few quick stops for gas and supplies, we pulled into Petaga Campground around 4:00 p.m. to meet up with Cece. To our surprise, she was already there, her tent pitched in a lovely, wooded site after waiting out a storm of her own.

​Fortunately, the rain cleared out for the evening, leaving us free to gather around the fire. Cece made a vegetable curry stew, we threw in some peppers and added some rice, and we spent hours catching up: swapping stories, checking in on family, and laying out our plans for the next few days.

The park is a significant archeological site with Native American's occupying the area as far back as 3000 BC. Significant changes started to occur around the mid 1800s with logging. The name Kathio doesn't mean anything and is actually a result of poor handwriting of one of the European explorers. Mille Lacs means "thousand lakes" in French. In the Ojibwe language of the people who historically occupied this area, the lake is called Misi-zaaga'igan ("grand lake").

​After dinner, Tad and I set off on a quick walk and stumbled upon a nearby waterway dotted with Trumpeter Swans. I hurried back to camp to grab my binoculars and share my findings with the others.  We all rushed back before dusk to catch a

glimpse. A few dozen swans floated gracefully across the water in two loose groups, a serene sight to end the day. This waterway is Rum River that flows from the Ogechie Reservoir. We made a mental note to explore the surrounding trails tomorrow once the rain fully cleared.

​As night fell, the campground hummed with life. Campers continued to arrive and fill the vacant spots. We could hear them but rarely see them which is perfect for a campground. Laughter, distant chatter, kids screaming in play, and the occasional dog bark drifting through the trees. We retreated back to the fire for one last round of stories, but my 5:00 a.m. wake-up call was finally catching up to me. Under a cloud ladened sky, serenaded by a chorus of crickets, I said my goodnights and turned in.

Day 15 - Thursday, 9/17/26 : Family Time

Day 15 — Thursday, September 17, 2026

Family Time

We have settled into a nice routine since arriving at Lebanon Hills Regional Park on Sunday.

After a restful night, often accompanied by rain showers periodically tapping away on the roof of our motorhome, we awaken slowly. We take turns getting up and taking Taddy out for his predawn walk, then come back, start the coffee and crawl back into bed while it percolates. Sometimes we doze off. Sometimes one or both of us check our phones for emails, text messages and Facebook posts.

Often we review images captured by the security cameras around the Umpqua Outback Stage to make sure there were no problems overnight from people wandering through the area. So far, we are satisfied that the solar cameras are doing their job. When someone approaches and the cameras light up the space, they generally make a U-turn and head elsewhere.

I find it fascinating that we can be nestled away in our motorhome 1,700 miles from home, two hours ahead of Pacific Time, and still peek in on our little corner of Roseburg.

This morning, after our slow awakening, I got up and took Tad for another walk while Janice worked on her computer. When we returned, I made scrambled eggs while Janice worked on her blog entry from the previous day.

It’s fun trading off days writing the blog. It usually takes an hour or two to review pictures from the previous day, write the story and assemble everything on our phones before publishing it in our blog app and sharing the entry on Facebook with friends and family.

Trading off also gives each of us time to think and reflect on the previous day. Often, I find myself thinking during the night about what I’m going to write, memories from the day before dancing around in my head.

It was still cloudy and damp until around noon, so after breakfast I did the dishes and tidied up the motorhome. Then I received a WhatsApp message from my cousin Cece saying she would be joining us, rain or shine, to camp at Mille Lacs Kathio State Park, about two hours north of where we are staying now.

Cece’s message was the first ray of sunshine on a cloudy morning.

We are really looking forward to spending more quality time with her and with others who might join us this weekend.

All of the campsites at Lebanon Hills that can accommodate us have been reserved for months on the weekends. Oddly, there are plenty of campsites restricted to RVs under 24 feet or tents, even though many of those sites could easily accommodate our 28-foot motorhome.

Instead, we are relegated to a campground where we feel as though we have entered the Land of the Giants. Our moderately sized motorhome is dwarfed by RVs much taller and longer than our little rolling cabin. It’s actually kind of comical. The long parking pads for rv's seem like miniature airport runways.

After finishing my chores, I left Janice to work on editing and uploading radio shows for KQUA Community Radio. I had promised Tad a long walk and some special time together.

The trails around Lebanon Hills are magnificent. They are immaculately maintained, transitioning from paved trails near the campground to broad dirt paths beneath a canopy of trees, wandering beside lakes and ponds. They are well marked, with trails designated for hiking, skiing and horseback riding.

Tad and I hike happily together, both of us curious about what might be around the next bend.

He has an excellent nose and picks up scents from wildlife, becoming completely focused on deciphering them as though he were reading a note left behind specifically for him.

Tad is the fourth Irish Setter who has been a special part of my life.

My first was a rescue named Barney. My Mom surprised my sister Lynn and me with him when she picked us up after school in Kansas City following a very challenging year in our lives. We were moving from Kansas City down to the Lake of the Ozarks, near our grandparents, where we would live for our final two years of high school.

We welcomed Barney into our family, and my love, perhaps obsession, with Irish Setters has never stopped.

They are joyful, inquisitive, friendly and high-energy, always ready for another adventure.

A lot like me.

It was a wonderful hike together, giving me time to think and reflect about our time here with family, our time together, and the road ahead, both figuratively and literally.

When we returned to the motorhome, I enjoyed a Coke and a frozen chimichanga from Costco.

Simple pleasures...

Then I got out the atlas.

Janice and I started talking about our route when we leave Minnesota in a couple of weeks. We are considering heading north to Thunder Bay, crossing into Canada and traveling east all the way to Quebec City before returning to the United States and heading toward Malone, New York, to visit our friend Jonathan Foster and his wife, Susan.

We hope to follow the fall colors as they sweep south.

We also want to spend some time in Canada sharing goodwill and friendship at a time when we have strong concerns about the direction of policies in our own country. We hope the upcoming midterm elections bring changes we believe would be positive, and we look forward to a time when we feel more hopeful about the direction of our national government.

After doing some roadmapping for our departure from Minnesota, we hopped on our e-bikes for a trip to a nearby Target to pick up supplies before Ashley and the kids came over for the evening.

It was fun riding with Janice. She discovered some beautiful bike trails that we plan to explore more extensively on our next trip to Minnesota.

I continue to be impressed by how wonderfully the e-bikes work with us. They allow us to enjoy the exercise and simple pleasure of biking while taking away the stress and pain of climbing hills.

We feel like kids again! Maybe the next generation of e-bike will enable me to pop an AI-assisted wheelie and I will loudly exclaim Hey Mom, look at me!

We returned home with our bounty, and I bought some firewood and got everything ready for an evening with Janice, my daughter and the grandkids.

My heart sped up with joy when Ash pulled into the visitor parking space near our campsite.

The kids tumbled out of the Jeep, and soon we were all together on a perfect fall evening in Minnesota.

We took a half-mile hike around Wheaton Pond that Tad and I had scouted earlier. It was so much fun hiking with the kids, listening to their chatter as we walked and watching them take turns leading Tad on his leash.

I had a chance to talk with Ash about her wedding in November, while Janice spent time with 12-year-old Rose showing her how to read the trail signs.

When we returned to camp, Bo helped me start the fire and we gathered around it for dinner.

 Odin put on his Spotify playlist, and we all talked and laughed as the sun slowly disappeared and darkness enveloped us, our little gathering illuminated by the warm glow of the fire.

Eventually, Ash and the kids had to leave.

After they drove away, Janice came up behind my camp chair, kissed the top of my head and affectionately massaged my neck.

She knows how special being with my family is to me.

I love her with all my being, and I am so grateful for her support, her understanding and this remarkable time we have together.

Later, after taking Tad for his final walk, we settled into our rolling cabin. We listened to a couple of chapters of our audiobook before quickly drifting off to sleep.

A couple of hours later, I awakened to the unmistakable call of a barred owl.

"Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you-all?"

It sounded incredibly close, almost as though the owl were perched right on top of the motorhome.

I gently touched Janice’s arm, hoping she might wake up and hear it too.

Nothing.

She was sound asleep.

I lay quietly in the darkness and listened.

Tad was there with me.

And somehow it seemed fitting that after a day filled with family, trails, laughter, memories, plans, grandchildren, a glowing campfire and the woman I love sleeping beside me, the day would have one final gift waiting in the darkness.

A barred owl calling through the Minnesota night.

An amazing ending to an amazing day.

And this particular little moment belonged only to Tad and me.

Day 14: Wednesday Sept 16, 2025. Campground Life

The campground is set just off Johnny Cake Ridge Road, so naturally, breakfast called for pancakes. To add a taste of home, we topped them off with delicious homemade applesauce made by our friend Jeri from her own trees. Our morning coffee stretched on for hours as we lounged around the motorhome with nowhere we had to be. We wanted to call Jeri and Woody to tell them we were thinking about them but we are 2 hours ahead of them and they are not early risers.

Kasey spent time digging into a story about his cousin Tommy, details he’d picked up from the papers we were returning to Pam. With copies of old letters providing dates and names, he tracked down where the original media archives were kept. Tommy had lived with cancer until he passed away at age 17, and a news series highlighted his final days. Learning that those video archives were preserved hit Kasey with a wave of emotion, realizing he might actually be able to see the footage if he reaches out to the right archivists. The award-winning series was later turned into a special and touched countless lives. There’ll undoubtedly be more to this story later, but for now, Kasey is simply grateful that Tommy's memory endures.

The weather was delightful, so we  opened the windows and door to catch the breeze. It was a serene morning, right up until it wasn't. Being Wednesday and tucked between rainstorms, the groundskeeper decided it was the prime moment to trim the partially brown, two-inch grass with the noisy riding lawnmower. 

Cutting it once wasn't thorough enough; he made sure every single blade was precisely leveled to 1.5 inches. That meant making several buzzing passes inches from our rig. By the third round, we scrambled to slam the doors and windows shut to muffle the roar.

When Tad gave us "the look," we took it as our cue to go for a walk and leave the mower to his mission. Stepping into the surrounding woods, the noise dissolved almost instantly, bringing immediate relief. It brought to mind the Umpqua Watersheds motto: “More Nature, Less Stress.” It really works. Having the trails all to ourselves, we immersed ourselves in the woods. A pileated woodpecker flew past, a great blue heron glided down toward the water, and Canada geese skimmed across the mirror-still lake. We paused to admire the wildlife while Tad made a few ripples of his own at the shore.

Along the path, we noticed heavy metal rings set in the brush. These containment rings are used by the park’s natural resources team to manage fine fuels. Crews thin out invasive buckthorn and clear excess undergrowth, piling the branches inside the tall rings so staff can burn brush safely without igniting the dry leaf litter on the forest floor.

Looping through the east side, we checked site 85, confirming our coveted spot was still empty. A few other campers were parked nearby, mostly in travel trailers.

By the time we wandered back, our noisy friend on the mower had moved on. Next door, one of the camp hosts was prepping his truck and trailer to head out, finally stowing the unsightly sewer hose that had dominated our view. We reopened the doors, cracked the windows, and flipped on the fan. But just as the fresh air returned, the smell of cigarette smoke forced us to shut things down again. Before long, he drove off. He’s a genuinely nice, helpful guy, impeccably dressed in tan pants and matching shoes, shirt neatly tucked in, looking like he stepped straight off the cover of a Lands' End catalog. I skipped taking a photo to avoid being obvious, but you get the picture.

We played a few hands of cribbage, then hopped on our bikes to grab groceries for an upcoming visit with Ash and the grandkids. Carrying only a backpack and a fanny pack meant sticking strictly to the basics. The ride was smooth, thanks to wide roads and well-maintained bike paths. Kasey couldn't resist picking up a 12-pack of Coca-Cola, though I had serious doubts about how he’d transport it. Watching him strap it down, I had visions of pop cans bouncing across the pavement into traffic and exploding under passing tires. I pleaded with him to let me re-secure the load, and he patiently let me take over.

Shortly after we got back, the family arrived. Kasey already had a fire crackling in the ring, and Ash jumped right in to make grilled cheese, with hot dogs arriving in the second car. The kids were thrilled to be outdoors in the mild weather. Bo immediately made a beeline for the tree line to inspect whatever treasures nature had left—acorns, sticks, and fallen leaves. I warmed up a side of beans and set out the condiments.

Ladderball provided plenty of entertainment as the kids practiced their toss. With our neighbors gone, we had extra space to spread out for the evening. We also reunited Odin with a few items he’d left behind during his visit to Oregon.

As night fell and the family packed up to leave, a damp chill settled over the campsite. We called Jeri and Woody to see how things were in Roseburg and catch up on events. We then hurried around in the twilight, tucking our gear away under cover before the moisture set in.