Yes, I can still touch my toes, but that is not what I mean by flexibility. 😉
My “plan”, to the extent that I had a plan, was to wind up my beach vacation on Thursday morning, with the idea of possibly stopping for one more night at one of my favorite woodsy campgrounds in Cooper’s Landing or maybe Hope on the way home.
Both campgrounds have spacious, nicely wooded sites with pretty views and plenty of scenic paths for dog walking. I thought it might be an enjoyable change of pace from the beach and would be fairly protected if the weather turned.
Hope, in particular, appealed to me because it would then be just an easy drive on Friday, arriving home fairly early in the day and hopefully missing the “heading out of town” weekend traffic.
Oh, but then there is that bit about the weather turning that I invariably forget to factor in – especially after a spell of sunny weather.
It’s called fibromyalgia, and it sometimes plays havoc with both my body and my brain. Many people don’t realize that fibro can have adverse cognitive effects as well as physical aches and pains and chronic fatigue. This is also one of the disadvantages of traveling solo. You can’t just say, “Here, you drive today. I don’t feel like it.”
On the bright side, my travel companions almost always take unplanned “down days” with equanimity. ❤️
The skies were still clear and the temperature relatively balmy when the pups and I crawled into bed Wednesday night.
We’d watched the tide come in and spent some quality beach-combing time along the high-tide mark, but didn’t manage to stay awake for the sunset. I was feeling extra tired in spite of doing pretty much nothing but walking dogs, reading and enjoying the sunshine all day. That should’ve been a hint, but it slipped by me unnoticed.
I remember briefly waking up to the sound of rain on the roof, but the pitter-patter just as quickly lulled me back to sleep. Thursday morning brought continuing rain, dark, brooding clouds and a view of absolutely nothing except the choppy waters of Cook Inlet outside my window.
The mountains across the inlet were completely lost behind clouds and sheets of rain.
Managing no more than turning the fire on under my tea kettle and dressing myself and the dogs in raincoats for a very brief morning potty walk, I then fumbled my way through making a big mug of hot coffee before the three of us retreated, sans raincoats, back to bed.
So much for my Thursday travel plans. I definitely wasn’t going anywhere that day, except to the “metal ranger” to pay for another night. The sudden barometer change had thrown me into a fibro flare. Since this is always a possibility in my life, I try to roll with the punches, keeping my plans as flexible as possible.
Giving myself an extra day to get somewhere (you may have noticed there’s been days I barely travel 60-100 miles before stopping for the night) and an open-ended return date, gives me the flexibility to not stress out if something like this happens.
My new plan was to take it day by day, heading for home when I felt more like driving.
In the meantime; I actually enjoy a rainy day or two on a camping trip. It’s a great excuse to get the jigsaw puzzle out, take a guilt-free afternoon nap, knit or even spin.
The wind whipped up in the late afternoon, driving in from the Pacific ocean, and as high tide approached on Thursday evening, it was with an entirely different attitude than the gently lapping wavelets of the night before.
Without the stress of a deadline to keep, I relaxed and enjoyed the play of storm clouds over the bluffs and beach, watched the eagles ride the wildly buffeting air currents, and napped to the music of wind and rain.
I remember thinking, “If it’s still this windy tomorrow, I may just pay for another day. There’s sure worse places to be.” 💨🌊💨