8. Hearst San Simeon State Park Campground.
So that night we slunk back to the dark, dank, dismal canopy of trees - after having such a wonderful evening on our coastal beach property, what with its gentle ocean breezes wafting in thru the windows, fresh scents filling out all five of our senses, even providing fodder for a sixth at times, you know - that night? That was our second night there! And it was MUCH nicer than the first. I mean - not being all into baseball and such.
See the first night - after the Ragged Point thing, and before the Hearst Castle thing - we pulled into the Hearst San Simeon State Park Campground, lower - not upper - and not the more primitive called Washburn, in the lower - and we approached the check-in kiosk. Nobody home. Budget cuts.
But the sign said registered campers keep right, non-registered keep left. Now I was feeling all proud of myself and such, because we had already reserved our two nights. AND I had PICKED the site via photo identification that day on the ReserveCalifornia web page! Site #61, (further verified by a confirmation email). It had some of the better curb appeal to it, out of the six or seven I checked when we reserved. That's how I picked "lower" over "upper" too.
Now I readily admit, I got my "R" words mixed up. And for that I accept responsibility. DW was trying to say something different to me, and was even preparing to throw her tissue, but I knew the "what for". As it turns out though, Reserved and Registered - are two different things.
We breezed through the "Registered lane" and followed the signs to #61. I'll be darned but if some fellow touron (this time from Colorado) hadn't taken our spot! A TT with no tow vehicle (they were probably still out at their time-share on the ocean).
Well, we had noticed on the way in, there were campground hosts nearby, so we went to see them. They were very nice people; only too happy to chat. Maybe TOO happy to chat. Like a Chatty Kathy. It was like, "come-on huney let's go find a new site so these good people can continue their evening celebration". Turns out the hosts don't do windows, or anything else, except they sell firewood, and direct ALL other camping inquiries to the Ranger, who's telephone number is posted at the kiosk.
Sidebar: The park has absolutely NO cell phone coverage. Perhaps some campsites have landlines - ours didn't.So back at the kiosk, we looked for the posting the hosts said showed what sites are still available, for late arrivals. We never found THAT, but we did notice a list of reserved campers and their assigned sites. We got site #38. Not the #61 we had chosen.
But Gosh-Darnit! I wasn't about to start obeying rules by this point! Not after everyone else was still breaking them! So we rebelled and didn't register - yet. I said, "we'll claim fatigue and confusion and do it in the morning".
Off we went to #38. Hard to see on the photo. Down and right from the words "San Simeon Creek Campground, south of the horse-shoes, across from 37.
But you know us, and our late starts. The next morning, before we were even done with coffee, the Ranger Dude (a kid, all of about 12 years) was there at our site, putting a piece of paper on the windshield. He jumped back on his bicycle and was off, and he didn't look lively.
Now #38 didn't have the curb appeal of #61, as I had said. In fact, it had low hanging branches that prevented safe entry into the site via the pavement. And pavement driving was a rule! Another one! And I swear there's another rule somewhere in here, that says Midnight and 1:00 AM are considered QUIET Hours!
As I pulled adjacent to #38, and started evaluating just how I was going to shoe-horn Lil' Queeny into those trees, sans damage, like Batman and Robin, these two vehicles come speeding in behind us with such impatience, I was really surprised there was no horn honking. I stepped out and looked over the site's low hanging fruit and made them wait - just to make a point. Then I gently pulled to the side and let them pass. That was my next mistake. As they wizzed on by, I think I heard the guy in the first SUV say, "That's it. We're not obeying quiet hours tonight!". Little did I know what fate held in store.
So I'm telling you now, because we're friends, but keep it close to your chest please - I drove off the pavement, a little. That was easy to do being so small and all. And re-positioned nice and square under the canopy.
We were early enough for "an evening" before bed.
During this time, and later, while getting ready for bed (and we retire early) we could hear the baseball game at a nearby campsite. I think it was a youth group, there were so many involved, (you could distinctly hear two teams of spectators, cheering vociferously for their respective players).
And that guy in the first SUV? Turns out he was a closet Little League Coach. "Go home", "Come-On", "Go Home, Go Home", followed by resounding cheers (and there was much rejoicing). But our saving grace was that it was before 10PM, quiet hours. And children playing (of which there was much - little families and kids on bikes and stuff - felt more like a trailer park than a campground, but that's just illustration, not complaint).
Now over-night, at each rest stop, 11PM, 12AM, 1AM, the same sounds. "Go Home" I kept hearing, and half wondered if it was me yelling it out in my sleep! But then, what with the cheers and all, I figured they were still in extra innings. DW was holding tightly to her tissue, and I could see her winding up!
Who were we going to call? The Ranger? Turns out our site didn't come with a land-line! I tried whispering to the campground hosts - who were that close, "Do you guys hear that?" But they were thoroughly passed out by then. The guy mumbled something about firewood. His DW just lay there in her melodic snore.
So on our way out the next day, to go to the Castle, we stopped by the kiosk. There were two young lady employees, and neither were "any too lively". One was busy arguing with incoming campers, about how they weren't getting the sites they booked, while the other was explaining to us that "they don't reserve specific sites, because they don't have a computer". And we shouldn't count on #116 at Big-Sur either, just because we had a confirmation email. Who did we think we were, anyway? Just a couple of dumb some-beaches from Wyoming.
Maybe it was just me, but I think she said something about the State of California was suffering budget cuts, or standardization of how to handle all these properties, or something like that. I stopped listening. See, what most people don't get is that if you speak in monotone, no inflection, invection, convection and stuff like that, people will tune you out! You still with me? OK, Good.
The second night was much quieter, and the second morning was peaceful too. Here's where we overnighted.
And this was looking toward the main campground from our entry area.
It was actually a nice place, and an enjoyable stay. We took a walk around the loops and stretched out before heading out. Most plates were California, like it's a local hangout. I think one Wisconsin, that campsite-snatcher from Colorado, and us. But it was quite convenient to our travel plans. And now it was time to move on. I guess I'll save that for next time. I think I got too chatty. ;)
