Greetings, long time no blog. At our next stop, boondocking on an alpaca farm one hour north of Salt Lake City, Utah, we saw not only alpacas, which are adorable, but also two friendly cats and some very good dogs (not pictured).
Also, there were a couple bison* in someone’s back yard nearby! Philip keeps reminding me of this when I complain about not seeing bison roaming the hinterland. But they were Fenced. In. A. Yard!
I must have mentioned “boondocking” before. But for those who don’t know, it’s when you park your RV somewhere without hooking up to water or electricity, and usually for free. Including a BJs and a Walmart, we did this at least nine times during our journey. We joined a group called Harvest Hosts, which has a network of places to boondock including wineries, breweries, museums, and farms. It was enjoyable meeting the people running these businesses across the country.
After the alpaca farm, we zipped south through terrain starting to have more dessert-like features to Utah’s Palisade State Park. It was super hot, and that’s my only memory. My close-up photos of Murray don’t help me with recollecting anything else, so I’ll move on. He’s either doing his business or contemplating choices made in his life that brought him to this scrubby, dried-up place. Keep in mind that water was low everywhere in the west.
From there, it was a quick jaunt to Utah’s Otter Creek State Park. Now this one was memorable for two reasons: First, it was quiet, peaceful, nearly empty. Anyone else there was going fishing, either at this lake or another one close by.
Secondly, we had a disconcerting encounter with cattle. Across the road from Otter Creek, one of the smallest state parks we’d ever seen, we noticed some cows. Fine. You see them everywhere across the states. But after sunset, when we decided to walk the dog, suddenly, we were confronted by a stampede.
I kid you not! No photos because up close, a herd of cattle making clunky hoof noises and mooing (or lowing, as it’s called) and running across your path leaves you little time to think of opening your camera app. Philip, who later claimed he was simply leading the way to safety, abruptly turned around and “hoofed” it back toward our trailer. Our dog Murray was out in front, as usual. I yanked him back, perhaps saving his little doggy life, and we followed our fearless leader to safety.
The next day, the park ranger was casual about the cows crossing the road as well as traversing the state park campground to go down the long ramp to the boat launch. Apparently, it’s where they have their nightly drink. In the daylight, it would have been a thrilling sight. In the dimness just after dusk, we thought we were going to be trampled. Can cows see well in the dark?
The day we left, I managed to get some photos of them on the road, not looking scary at all.
I have to confess, when the herd’s large bodies went by in the darkness, I could easily imagine they were those roaming bison I longed to see. If only…
*They are bison, not buffalo, no matter what the famous song “Home on the Range” says. Check out the difference HERE.