I know you all are just DYING to know how it went. Or maybe you're mildly curious. I'll take either.
The campground was beautiful. Go take a look, I will wait...
Ok. So now you know that it was all about oak trees and the creek they called a river and tubing. It could have been marvelous. But you see, there's no limit to how many people they let in there. People were packed in like sardines. It was, um, tree to tree tents. So instead of hearing the babble of the brook (we were too far from it to hear it, but whatever, we were supposed to be isolated) and the singing of the birds, the whisper of the wind through the trees, I heard music. Other people's very loud music. Until very late in the evening. And if you have ever heard the current favorites in Mexico, well, it wasn't my preferred classic rock and even if it were, at midnight I don't want to hear it. That was the first night.
The next morning, the outhouses were FULL and someone had missed. I think they drank a lot of beer too. You know because beer has this effect...Please don't make me explain it. Thankfully, they empty and clean the port o lets every day and they had these neat handles on the inside of the doors to help a girl hover so she doesn't have to sit.
Meanwhile, the music continued. The crowds kept a ccoming.
After looking at the creek, er, river, and the crowds and having taken a shower in the ice cold showers (those bathrooms had flushing toilets but the doors on the stalls were so short that you could see the top of the toilet from the underneath of it. I wish I had pictures) and feeling clean I declared that I was not going to go tubing in other people's filth. So I lounged and took a nap and hung out with the girls. I also played poison oak police. Don't those people know anything? Geez!
Saturday night was a little better because tribal security came around and told everyone to turn off the radios. Some went back on. I was kept up all night by the people behind my tent who talked late into the night. Sadly, I can't tell you what they were saying because I don't speak Spanish. But I have to say that despite my warnings, their children will be itchy soon.
Many people went home on Sunday, but not nearly enough to warrant a desire to immerse myself in other people's filth. So I didn't tube. Again. Sunday night, one of our party complained all night that no one would stay up and drink with her. None of us really felt much like drinking, and she, I think, decided that she had a terrible time and wasn't coming out to SD to play with us again because no one would stay up and drink with her. To my defense, I had a couple earlier in the day and they knocked me out. I just didn't feel like having more after that. We aren't big drinkers, and it kind of made me mad that she would try and guilt us into getting drunk so that she didn't feel like the only person drinking. I don't care that she was trying to down a 30 pack in one day. I was done. And when I get so tired that I can hardly stand, I go to bed. I am not going to stay awake for someone's amusement. She has returned to MN.
That was the bulk of the drama. The uncomfortable feeling? non existant. It was like "normal" for the most part. I had fun with my friends and laughed a lot. I really enjoyed myself. I don't want to return to La Jolla Indian Reservation on a holiday weekend again, but perhaps on a regular one, when things are quiet and we can camp on the river, I may even decide to float a bit.