by Jan Chaffin
- Disclaimer: The views expressed are mine alone and do not necessarily reflect the views of my employers.
Chapter Six – Lost
I’d determined the campground hated me. My first day working there I got lost on a frontage trail right by Graham Hill Road. Impossible. I’d gone for a mini-run during our 30-minute lunch break and confidently headed out from the kiosk certain I’d have time to spare upon my return.
The path was lovely yet a tad noisy from its proximity to passing cars. I crossed one entrance and picked up the trail again, then went another quarter mile or so. I turned around to return and expected to come upon that same entranceway any second. Nope. Suddenly I was headed down a ravine and across a stream. Suddenly I heard no cars and had only minutes to get back before lunch ended. What a weird feeling. How did I get turned around on a trail with no intersections?!
I finally decided to plunge on towards what should be Graham Hill Road as quickly as possible. I came out near a cross street way north of where I expected. Instead of looking for that nefarious frontage trail again, I just braved it on the “shoulder” of Graham Hill Road next to speeding vehicles. What an embarrassing adventure. Finally, I came upon the campground entrance and made a mad dash for the kiosk, arriving maybe a minute before I would have been late, breathing heavily and feeling sheepish.
The next time I worked the campground, I twisted my ankle on an uneven patch of dirt while scoping out my favorite campsites before my shift. What seemed minor became extremely painful the next day. A week later, it had caused me considerable pain. I even had to take a day off from any running, which was unusual and felt very wrong.
Upon more consideration, I concluded the campground probably didn’t hate me. In fact, I had been running in my uniform when I shouldn’t have been wearing it. I didn’t realize it wasn’t acceptable at the time, but somehow the campground knew, haha.
Chapter Seven – A New Trail
The morning got off to a bad start. No sign of my shift partner and cars were lining up at the day use kiosk at 8:10am. I texted her number, then panicked and texted the Senior Aide explaining I had no key and no partner. In hindsight, I should have waited to call him and tried calling my partner and the campground kiosk first. She pulled up 25 minutes late apologizing she didn’t have my number.
It was a beautiful warm Saturday- perfect weather really. The first half of the shift was an unending line of cars. Again, I couldn’t imagine doing this alone but knew that day was coming soon. Closing cash wrap was another hour of struggling but it made incrementally more sense than the last time I’d tried. Yet I still needed lots of help and prompting.
Taking two days off from training for a prior commitment was inopportune; my learning flow was interrupted during a critical time, I’d asked for time off before even starting and it turns out my commitment was less than committed to me. I’d lost training, confidence and most of a paycheck that week. No good turn…
The ankle was still tender, so I decided on an easy after-work run along a trail I’d never explored: the Zayante Trail, which connects Cowell to Felton. I gingerly ran past lots of families and small children swimming at the usual spots off River Trail. I crossed the main entrance road and found the trailhead.
The Zayante Trail dipped down into a culvert then leveled out and paralleled the San Lorenzo River. About a mile in, the trail intersected a lovely wide flat stretch of sandy white beach with a deep sunny swimming hole.
There’s something archetypal about finding a sunny swimming hole! An almost irresistible urge to jump in came over me. I headed down the sandy beach to the water’s edge and started removing my shoes. I think I would have stripped right on down to my skivvies if I hadn’t heard a noise to my left. I looked over and way at the other end of the swimming hole was another person, the only other person I had seen along the Zayante Trail. Oh well, I waded in knee deep and decided to save the swimming excursion for another day, still excited about finding a new, fairly private spot to take a dip. The week was turning out OK after all.
http://gravesitestories.com/my-state-park-summer-part-three/