Roscommon, MI
Ber-Wa-Ga-Na turned out to be the campground from hell -- or what Hunter Hampton labelled the campground from "Deliverance".

Monday (23rd) we waited around the campground for Scott and his family to show up. In the morning we amused ourselves by watching the extended family group next to us pack to leave. The family occupied four lots -- the two on our road side, and the two directly behind them. The grandparents (2 lots over) had a travel trailer with a Hensley hitch, and two of the children's families (behind) were in pop-ups. However, the third son's family (right next to us) were in a tent with the most extensive collection of paraphenalia we ever had seen on one campsite: coolers, grills, even an illuminated inflatable Homer Simpson Santa Claus (in July!), and numberless others.

On this morning we watched this last son pack every piece of tacky paraphenalia into the back of an SUV and a little wooden trailer. He packed by tossing items in willy-nilly, without discernable organization. When he was finished, the pile sat fully three feet above the sideboards of the woefully inadequate little trailer. This last son then proceeded to cover the pile with first a plastic tarp, second a cargo net, thirdly several bright yellow trucker's tie-downs, and finally an assortment of bungee cords. There was still a foldup chair and some other items on the ground -- these he put on the hood of the SUV. While all this packing was taking place, the two pubescent daughters (very aware of the attractiveness of their bodies) did nothing but run over to the pond, then sit in the SUV while their father did all the work. Mother also moved only a couple of items. Eventually the family did pile into some remaining space inside the SUV and the father slowly drove out of the park -- guiding himself by braille apparantly, since it is hard to imagine how he could see over the pile on the hood. Bobbi and Lew visualized the various elastic cords pulling the trailer's tailgate out of its two loose sockets and the entire contents being strewn on some not-too-distant road.

When this family all had departed, we had lunch and waited for Scott to bring the grandchildren out to play on the equipment. However, they did not arrive until nearly 5, complaining vigorously about the campground management forcing them to pay $3 each (including the grandchildren) to get into the park merely to pick up Bobbi and Lew. They were barely in time to make a couple of coordinating phone calls and get everyone into the vans to go to Fritz's in Richville for supper.

This supper was the first time Bobbi and Lew had seen Su's relatives (brother with older girlfriend, aunt, mother, and grandmother) in a number of years. The food was good (not great) but not heart-healthy, of course with an emphasis on (fried) freshwater fish. However, the fellowship was wonderful, and it took a full three hours for us to catch up on the news of the two families before we left the restaurant.

When Scott's family made it back at the campground with us, there was still enough light for the grandchildren to play, so they went over to the playground with Scott and Lew as chaperones (as required by the campground) and began using the equipment -- and Scott felt he was getting at least something for the $12 admission he had had to pay earlier. Then the boys announced that they wanted to use a couple of the boats provided for the pond, and insisted they had the $4 fees. So Scott sent them over to the office to pay the fees, while he disentangled two paddleboats from the retaining airplane cable. The boys returned to announce there was no one in the office, so Scott told them to go ahead with the boats and we could pay the next morning.

The boys paddled around the pond for a while until boredom set in, and were heading back to the boat rack. Suddenly someone on a golf cart across the pond bellowed out authoritatively "what do you think you are doing?". Scott explained briefly, but his explanation was not accepted, and the boys were ordered from the water. As we were walking back a few minutes later, a golf cart pulled up along side Scott and Lew. The authoritarian occupant proceeded to lecture us (authoritatively) about endangering the children and "his" liability. And without waiting for any response from us, he drove off. He never did identify himself, so we had no idea whether he was the owner, an employee, or just another one of the "seasonal" residents.

This morning (Tuesday, the 24th) we slept in until 9 AM, as usual. But then we moved to get out of the campground as quickly as possible -- walk the dogs, breakfast, clean up, and hitch up. Oh, oh, the first propane tank was empty. Ready before 11, we pulled out of the lot and headed towards the office. Bobbi paid the $8 rental for the boys' use of the paddleboats the previous evening, dropped the trash in the dumpster, and inquired their price for propane. That price being surprisingly low, we headed over to the dispensing stand. Unfortunately, two employees (admitting they were new) were unsuccessful. And being new to the area, they didn't know where any propane dealers were located.

Before leaving the campground Scott had phoned us when Brian discovered he had left a toy behind. So we had agreed to meet them at a crossroads a few miles west. When we got there, we delivered the toy and asked them about propane dealers. But neither they nor the two employees of the farm market where we stopped knew where the propane dealers were located. But Scott did suggest that we modify our route to pass through Reece.

We did so, and as we entered the town, saw Hills RV. Surely they would know where to get propane. And indeed they did -- they filled our tank on the spot.

Considerably relieved, we hurried down MI-84 to the I-75 interchange and turned north. After a relatively short ride Bobbi asked to stop at Meijer's in West Branch to resupply. We did so, then resumed our journey north while munching on chocolate-covered Donettes, our less-than-heart-healthy lunch, while the afternoon got hotter.

After another short ride we got off at Higgins Lake and headed for the campground we had just left a few days previously. Bobbi decided to stay 2 days so she could recover from Ber-Wa-Ga-Na (except for their gift of chigger bites) -- and do up all our laundry at once at the laundromat down the street. We pulled into the same campsite we had just vacated, artfully leveled and unhitched in the heat, and turned on the AC for a few hours. Exhausted, we recovered our sanity, our composure, and our breath at the Higgins Lake Family Campground. A late supper and showers in the immaculate bathhouse completed our recovery.

On Wednesday (the 25th) we slept in until 9 AM again, but then did as planned: in the morning Bobbi did about a week's accumulation of laundry at the nearby upscale laundromat and refueled. After lunch she washed her hair while Lew defrosted the refrigerator.