Sitting quietly around the smouldering campfire, we had been talking quietly about our good fortune, and how we might take advantage of it. Firewood was getting scarce in the area around the camp. We were making longer trips with arm loads of gathered wood. Almost grudgingly, I placed another stick in the fire ring, tomorrow would be a firewood gathering day for us.
Our conversation lagged, as we quietly waited in the descending darkness.
While we were waiting, we had been chatting softly about our opportunity to stay camped for another week. The walk up the hill for better cell service had been fruitful. Text messages came and went well, at the campsite, but voice communication was sketchy, unless we walked up the hill. We had recieved a reprieve. Breaking camp to make an appointment would not be necessary. The appointment had been re scheduled.
Suddenly, our wait was over. He arrived. With a stealthy flutter of wings the majestic bird settled onto the dirt road near the camp. It was what we had been waiting for. Cranning his head sideways the large Whiporwill glanced our way before begining his evening dusting. I thought, "He's a bit nervous about Dillon". Dillon had sat up, staring at the bird with his most intent canine stare, his ears focused for the least sound.
We sat quietly, moving little, watching the bird's every evening ritual. Later that week there would be two dusting in the road.
After he flew away to start his melodious night songs, questing for a mate, our conversation continued.
We were discussing ways to be able to stretch resources in order to stay another week. We were boondocking by the lakeside, with no electricity, water or sewer hookups. We had been there for long enough that supplies were running low.
All of the DVD's for the late evenings, had been watched. We would both start a new book. Coffee was getting low, we would cut back to one cup each in the mornings.
Clean clothes would require washing up a few items in a dish pan with lake water, heated over the campfire.
Black and grey water tanks were ok. We had been bathing in the lake in the warmth of the afternoons, and walking a short distance to the vault type outhouse.
Butcherknife would use the last of the flour to make biscuits. We had ran out of sliced bread today. The generator had been inactive because we had about four plus hours of sunlight daily, for the solar panels, where we were parked, the batterys were doing fine. The days had been mild and nights were cool. A gentle breeze prevailed, we hadn't even been using the fantastic fan. The NOAA weather radio's long range forcast was for rain late next week, about the time we would be ready to leave.
Water. Drinking water, was the issue. Clorinated water for the final rinse after dish washing. Water for the coffee pot. Water for brushing teeth. Water for making sun tea. We had some in a six gallon can. But we had never used the trick little valve and hose setup that the guys out in the Oliver shop at Hohenwald had installed during our last visit. We would try it in the morning after breakfast.
As the Whiporwill started his wonderful chanting off in the distance, we retired to the interior of our Ollie to start that new book, before going off to sleep. The door was latched back with the screen door closed for improved air circulation. Dillon the retired drug dog lay by the bed on a throw rug. With the windows open and a light breeze blowing off of the lake, we couldn't read for long before the reading lights were turned out. About to doze off, I whispered to Butcherknife, " was that another Whiporwill answering off in the distance ?", no answer, she was fast asleep.
Here is a look at the water transfer valve and hose setup. It will pump water into the Oliver's fresh water tank, using the onboard pump that supplies water to the sink and both showers. Just flip the valves and put the hose out of the window to your container, and you are in business ! http://s2.photobucket.com/albums/y13/mou........0/?action=view¤t=05-14-08_0621.flv
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I haven't heard a Whippoorwill in 50 years. As a child, growing up in rural NH, we would hear them near by on summer evenings. They certainly were loud.
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