Crackhead Campground.

Yes, there is a story.

Ok. So here’s the story. As I was setting up at my first wild camp of the trip, I decided to go down to the river and give it a closer look. As I was doing that, a blue truck pulls up in the ”space” next to mine. Wonderful. So much for peace and quiet. I walked around and waved, but I got no response. Interesting. I then walked back to my “space” and I watched as out jumps a skinny girl covered in random tattoos wearing a tube top, jeans and a cap. She was goin’ fishin’ apparently. Everything she did was fast and loud. She ran back and forth to the truck a few times doing who knows what, rambling nonsense to her mom who was sitting behind the wheel and never got out. Oh yeah, and there was a dog. That’s right, you guessed it, a Pit Bull. Perfect. she took the mut for a swim and kept rambling on about something as if the dog truly was interested, which I highly doubt, when just like that...they jumped in the truck and left. I’ve seen enough crackheads to know one when I see one. Great, I thought, now they know where I’m at. I slept with my .40.