A Springs Too Far

When you are on an extended camping trip, planning only goes so far.
So, we booked a place called Willard's Bay, which is a reservoir separated from the Great Salt Lake by a mere jetty.  The site I picked was shady and private.  The only other camp site attribute that is of great importance to us is a nice view.  (Hookups are nice, but not essential in this rig.)  The view that we enjoyed from our campsite at Willard Bay was Interstate 15, about 30 miles north of Salt Lake City.  It was close and rather loud. This was a case where having an electric hookup was a really good thing - the white noise of the a/c drowned out the noise from I-15.  But not the train. Of course, the night time temperature went down to 60 degrees or so, so the a/c didn't come on much after midnight.  Luckily, I am a sound sleeper. Unluckily, the divine Ms S is not.
Willard Bay did have some attributes to recommend it, such as a swampy nature walk. We have seen worse mosquitos.  The terrain was flat, which gave us a good bike ride in the afternoon.  However, we decided that we would not be wanting a second night at Willard Bay.  The research to find a spot to camp for the now available night began.
The first criteria was that it be on our route to Arco, Idaho.  Just down the road from Atomic City, Arco was the first city to be lit by nuclear power (1955).  It is also close to Craters of the Moon National Monument, a key point of interest for our trip west.  But I digress.  Stefani found a campground in the Caribou-Targhee National Forest named Big Springs.  It was a ways off of the road, but the description sounded good and, although it was too late to reserve for the next night, it looked like it had a number of sites that could accommodate us.  Up the road toward Pocatello we went.  We got ripped off for gas in a town named Malad (sounds like a salad made of deadly nightshade).  Then we forged on towards Lava Hot Springs.  That's when the trouble began.  First we missed our turn off of US 30, which had a different name posted in the directions.  We got it the second time, there really being no other choices.  We went about 8 miles down that road, where we were instructed to turn left over the RR tracks.  It was a dirt road, which actually looked decent when we turned.  Besides, where was our sense of adventure.  So what if it was wash-boardy and threatening to shake the Proud Mary apart.  We were following a truck pulling a horse trailer, which stopped several times, apparently not confident of the way.  Just before the second turn to go up the mountain, the truck looked to turn around.  First, a man in boots got out and checked things out. Then his wife made to come over to us.  I stopped, not wanting to give them yet another reason to dislike New Yorkers.  She then proceeded to ask me, a guy in an RV from New York, how to find some meadow with a horse corral in it.  Seems no one in the play had a clue. Undaunted, we headed up the hill onto a one lane road. We knew where we were going, by God.  The turn by turn direction lady told us we had only 6.2 miles to go.  We met a pickup heading down the hill.  Luckily, there was a wide space where they could give us the berth we needed to pass.  Then, in what seemed like a scene from "Oh, Brother Where Art Thou", we began to be intercepted by cows. There was no grass in the road, so they had no reason to be there.  But none of the successive free range cows recognized the danger of an RV bearing down on them. Honking the horn only startled them, making them even less decisive.  I will be looking into a cow catcher for Proud Mary.  This sort of thing must have been common in pioneer days.
Did I mention the pretty stream running next to the road?  The one undercutting the roadway as it meandered down. Raindrops began hitting the windshield and the clouds were dark, conjuring up visions of flash floods making the road impassible either up or down.  Our sense of adventure died. We gave up our dream of seeing the Big Springs campground in favor of perhaps one day seeing future grandchildren.
But the adventure wasn't over.  There was no good way to turn the Proud Mary around.  We went a little further and found a place where we might just make the turn without having to call roadside assistance.  I wondered if this would even qualify as a road.  Perhaps even the gargantuan tow truck needed to tow us to Lexington, Kentucky last summer would also get stuck.  However, after executing a perfect 21 point turn, we were heading back down the mountain.  We stopped for lunch next to the Portneuf River (not quite Paris, mind you) and looked for a more easy access place to stay for the night.  The KOA in Lava Hot Springs was right next to the road and the railroad featuring trains most every hour.  Another boasted campsites for $107 per night.  Eventually, we called ahead to the Arco KOA and moved our reservation up a night. We decided to stay two nights to get our laundry done, etc.  Very pleasant place with ice cream socials and pizza delivered to your door.  The owners are fabulous.
Arco is a miserable little town whose elevation is more than 10 times its population. I still don't know why people stay in a town like this.  Probably because the net on the sale of their double wide (after being on the market for two years), would barely cover the deposit and first month's rent for an apartment in a decent town.  And what if the boy can't make it in Boise?  He'll be right back here with even less than before.
Moral - don't ever go down a road with a number like F-036 in an RV.  You will find yourself in Arco for two nights.