Part 1 of a two-part series
“They lived for their smokes, their drink. Their stories of the past have faded. They came to the marsh to hide away, but they brought themselves, they can’t get away, they can’t hide … There was laughter, talking and souls here once. But the laughter died, the talking fell silent, and souls are gone. But I came, and I must tell what I saw and heard before that too is gone.”
In the fall of 2009, I came to Five Mile Landing campground to get away from people but found people I looked forward to seeing with each and every visit. I loved this rundown place, the people and the soap-opera drama stories. It was just right for that season of my life. It was refreshing. It was real and so were the people.
Just like moths to a porch light, each morning and evening they would come to sit around the campfire that blazed outside the club house. The fire would warm us from the cool winter chill and as the caffeine kicked in so did the stories. One of these early mornings while sitting around the fire a bald eagle landed on a dead tree not very far out in the marsh. They didn’t notice, with their coffee done they disappeared back into their trailers. The eagle sat preening its feathers for over an hour. While I sat in silence, watching.
The manager of Five Mile Landing campground was Irene, a husky woman with short brown hair. I don’t remember her ever coming to the fire pit. However, when she was out and about you always saw her brown lab, Tank, with her. Tank loved the water like all Labradors with their webbed toes. One time there had been a die off of carp in the marsh. These dead carp would bloat up and float about. You could usually smell them before you saw them. Well one day Tank retrieved one of these bloated carp and rolled all over it! I think Irene about lost her lunch that day cleaning him up. Irene loved real Ginger Beer soda and many times when I would call to reserve a camp spot, she would ask me to stop at a specialty store and grab her a six-pack of the soda. In turn, she always made sure I got the camping spot under the owl tree. These great horned owls lived in a huge Salt Cedar. The male owl was smaller, and he seemed to hang out in the nest area at dusk. As I laid under the shell in the back of my truck bed, he called whoo-whoo-whoo over and over to his lady. She would answer back whoo-WHOO-whoo. Then all at once they would take off in flight to go hunting. I could lay awake all night and listen to their sounds but sleep always happened at some point. I would awaken to the sound of Wally, the grounds keeper as he went around fixing things and keeping the grounds and bathrooms clean. He was a shy, quiet man that didn’t talk much. I believe he got free rent in exchange for doing occasional work. Many times, he drove Irene around in his camo golf cart.
One day I was walking by a trailer and I noticed a large half-done jigsaw puzzle on a picnic table. I noticed that people would stop by to help work on the puzzle throughout the day. A fit older lady with white hair came out of the trailer, this was Grace a retired realtor. A snowbird from Absarokee, Montana. In Montana she lived in a tiny cabin with an outhouse on an island surrounded by a river. We had many lovely talks while working on her puzzles and had even stayed in touch via email off and on over the years. Grace told me that earlier that year a neighbor man got very drunk and wandered around the campground naked. She said the next day he didn’t even remember it. However, everyone else remembered. I am so glad it didn’t happen while I was staying there! Many mornings and evenings you could find Grace sitting up on a nearby hill enjoying the view of Topock Marsh. Grace passed away in 2017 she was 83.
Next week, part two of “The Forgotten People of Five Mile Landing.”
Caroline Thomas
