Tag Archives: directions

Jun3

This Campground?

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It was Sunday, and I was on my mid-shift break from my duties at the Mercantile. I was hanging out in my van which was parked in the overflow parking lot at the front of the campground where the Mercantile was located. Javier the camp host was sitting in the shade right outside my van, jumping up to collect access fees whenever a new vehicle pulled into the lot. When people stood next to his chair to converse, I heard every word through my van’s open windows.

While Javier was sitting there, a young tourist couple approached him to ask how to get to a nearby waterfall.

This is the waterfall the young tourist couple wanted to see.

We got asked about this waterfall a lot, and I hated giving directions to it. No sign marks the spot, and the directions involve noticing an unmarked road that should not be turned down but simply used as a landmark. At some distance past the road is an unmarked dirt turnout where waterfall seekers must park before going off into the forest on their quest. Usually the eyes of the person who’d asked for directions to this place glazed over before I finished giving all the necessary information, and I had a strong suspicion the person would never even find the right place to park, much less the actual natural attraction.

When I heard the young man ask about the waterfall, I groaned inwardly. I was glad it was Javier giving the directions and not me.

Javier started in. Take a left out of the campground, Javier told tourists.

This campground? the young man interrupted.

Yes, this campground, Javier said like the professional he is, then continued with the directions. I sat in the van shaking my head, thinking of all the things I would have liked to have said to the tourist in response of his question of This campground?

Oh no! Not this campground? Why would I refer to the campground we’re currently in? Just go into any campground, then make a left out of it.

Or course this campground! Why would I be talking about any other campground? Yes! This campground!

My patience grew thinner every day.

I took the photo in this post.

 

Nov20

Nice Day

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Toward the end of the camping season, the mercantile was closed for inventory. The manager worked with two ladies from the corporate office to count everything in the store. Apparently four people would have been one too many for the task because when I showed up for work, I was told my services were not needed. The Big Boss Man didn’t want me to lose pay, so he told me I could work in the campground to make up my hours. I walked over to the parking lot where The Man had my van and changed into a cobbled together camp host uniform. Back at the campground, I cleaned restrooms, raked campsites, collected access fees, gave directions, and had a very nice day.

guide, idaho, mapFor a slow parking day, I gave a lot of directions. So many people who pull into the campground or the parking lot are unsure of how to get where they’re going at best, but usually out and out lost.

I talked to a lovely young woman who wondered if she and her guy should take the time to visit the nearby national park. I told her they totally needed to visit. As I told her, while our trees are beautiful, the national park is like a magical fairy land of giant sequoias. That’s what she wanted to see, she said, so she and I discussed the best route to take.

The next people who needed directions were an old couple from West Virginia. They were totally lost. They were supposed to meet the woman’s brothers in a national park, but followed their GPS (which had been programed to our coordinates while they were still in West Virginia) to a campground hours away from where they wanted to be. I told them how to get where they wanted to go,, and they hoped the brothers would still be there.

Another older couple pulled in later in the day. I noticed their big ol’ Chevy conversion van right off. I explained the access fee of $5, and the woman in the passenger seat asked if her Golden Age card would cover it. I said it would not cover parking, but it would get them half off camping. Most people who want to use an access pass to pay for parking don’t want to camp, but this couple decided to do it. I told them what sites were available, and they drove through the campground to pick one.

I talked to them quite a bit that afternoon. The man said they were from Illinois, and when I asked about their Southern accents, he said they were from southern Illinois. I thought he was joking until he told me they do their grocery shopping in Paducah, KY. (I always forget Kentucky borders the Midwest.) They also spend a lot of time near Gulf Shores, AL, which I’m sure also enhances their accents.

I asked the fellow about his van, then told him about mine. He and his wife aren’t full-timers, but they do travel extensively in their van. Las year they’d visited the area (their daughter lives nearby) in a Chrysler Town and Country minivan, but the mountains destroyed its transmission. They already owned the conversion van, so this time they decided to travel in it. The minivan was really too small for two people, they agreed, and they were really enjoying the extra room in the larger van.

The fellow asked me if I watched YouTube videos, and I said not so much. He said he really liked watching van-build videos. He talked more about van builds, and some part of our conversation led me to say, If you go to Quartzsite, AZ in January, you can go to, and we both said, the RTR. He’d heard of the Rubber Tramp Rendezvous! He said he’d never been but would love to go. I told him I’d been to three RTRs, and I became something of an instant celebrity. He was quite impressed to learn I’d been where he wanted to go.

When The Man came to the campground to pick me up that afternoon, we went over to the couple’s campsite. I wanted to introduce them to The Man, and I wanted to give them my business card with the name of my book (Confessions of a Work Camper) and my blog address on it. The four of us had a good conversation about minivans and transmissions and traveling. When we left, I said, Maybe I’ll see y’all at the RTR someday. They agreed that maybe I would.

Between meeting the people in the conversion van and going home that afternoon, I met a group of adventure, camping, forestyoung people on a birthday celebration camping trip. I showed them to their campsite and told them how to get to a secluded waterfall. They were mellow stoners—love kids—and I enjoyed sharing my knowledge of the area.

It was fun to be a camp host again, especially on a slow day near the end of the season. I didn’t have to work too hard, and I met nice, interesting people. If every day as a camp host could be that good, I’d never want to do anything else.

Photos courtesy of https://www.pexels.com/photo/map-navigation-guide-108942/ and https://www.pexels.com/photo/forest-trees-adventure-tent-6714/.

Oct20

Do You Know the Way to San José?

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California, Map, Geography, United, States, Usa

image from https://pixabay.com/en/california-map-geography-united-42478/

The tourist asked the manager of the mercantile how to get to San Jose. The manager explained the directions to him in great detail—twice. The tourist and the young woman accompanying him seemed satisfied after the second time. They walked out of the store but were back in a few minutes. He requested the manager tell them again how to get to San Jose. They wanted to write down the directions.

Maybe there was a language barrier. The man spoke with a pronounced Spanish accent, so maybe he was unsure of what the manager told him. I grabbed a map so we could show as well as tell.

Take a left out of the parking lot, I said. Go to the stop sign, I told him, and make a right.

His fingers skimmed across the screen of his phone. Apparently he was taking notes.

At the second stop sign, make another right, I said.

stop sign clipart

image from http://www.clipartpanda.com/categories/stop-sign-clip-art-microsoft

Will there be a sign there?  he asked me.

Yes, I said, a stop sign. Make another right.

So there will be only the stop sign I see? he asked me.

Yes, I told him, fighting the urge to beat my head on the counter. At the first stop sign you see, make a right. At the second stop sign you see, make another right. When you get to the town with the stoplight, your GPS should work.

It looks like I can keep going straight, he said, pointing at the map.

I’m not sure, I told him. I don’t know how to get to San Jose, I said. When you get to the town with the stoplight, your GPS should work, I repeated. Or you can buy this map, I continued, tapping on the map spread out in front of us.

What highway is this? he asked, pointing to a roadway shown on the map.

If he had looked closely, he could have found the number for himself, but I did it for him. I looked at the map closely, found the highway number, and read it to him. He continued to study his possible routes.

I think we can go straight right here, he said again, pointing, and I agreed, Yep, that’s what it looks like.

They didn’t want to buy the map, but they did thank us for our help.

When they left, the manager and I shook our heads at each other.

I don’t know how to get to San Jose,  I told her. He wanted me to tell him exactly how to get there, but I don’t know!

Well, I do know, and I did tell him, but he wouldn’t listen to what I had to say, she complained.

I’ve noticed people—particularly city people—expect to find an interstate or a direct route to an interstate up on the mountain. I hate to be the one who has to break it to them, but it’s just not happening. It takes two curvy mountain roads to get to a state highway to get to another state highway to get to an interstate to get to San Jose. I could see how all that could discourage even Dionne Warwick.

Oct2

Giving Directions

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It was a Friday morning at the parking lot, and we weren’t too busy. I was working on a scarf when I wasn’t helping my coworker any time two or more cars formed a line at the entrance. A woman, middle-age and wearing her ponytail on the top of her head, asked me how to get to MegaBabylon.

This is a question I get asked a lot. I know the answer. I know the answer so well I can rattle it off rapidly, but I try to speak slowly, give step-by-step directions so people can actually understand what I’m telling them. I spoke slowly for this woman, told her exactly what to do, but I failed to see even a glimmer of understanding in her eyes.

What about Highway X? she asked me.

Highway X does not figure into getting to Mega Babylon from where we were standing. I told her she didn’t need to worry about Highway X.

Someone had told her she’d need to take Highway X, she insisted.

Now she was irritating me. She’d asked me for directions. I’d given them to her. She’d asked about Highway X, and I’d told her it wasn’t involved. Why was she insisting? If she didn’t trust me to give her directions, why’d she asked me in the first place?

I’ve noticed that when some people ask me a question, they seem to only want me to confirm what they already believe. If my answer doesn’t confirm what the questioner already believes, s/he will ask the question again, maybe reframing it, in hopes of getting the answer s/he thinks is correct. Such a line of questioning really annoys me because I feel as if the person asking the questions thinks I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m not infallible, but by now I usually know the answers to most of the questions I’m asked in the parking lot. If I don’t know an answer, I admit it.

The woman in front of me was convinced she needed to take Highway X and wanted me to confirm what she thought. I knew Highway X was not involved with her trip. We were at a standoff.

The woman looked over at my coworker and asked him for directions to MegaBabylon, as if he hadn’t just heard her entire exchange with me.

I get really pissed off when a person asks me a question, I give an accurate and complete answer, then the person turns to my coworker and asks him the same question. If the little lady can’t be trusted to give the correct answer, don’t ask the little lady the question in the first place!

Bless his heart, my coworker said to the woman, I think she [meaning me] just told you how to get there. But he also offered to show her on a map, which I realized I should have done instead of getting annoyed. I guess I just wanted her to trust me because I knew I was right.

During my entire interaction with the woman, a young Asian man had been standing nearby. He was waiting for his friends to arrive. (We found out later his friends were at the overflow parking area at the campground next door, waiting for him to arrive.) He’d latched on to my coworker and had been standing around for at least 15 minutes. When my coworker mentioned a map, the young Asian man pulled out his phone.

I don’t know if he already had a map pulled up or if he had some kind of map app that didn’t use the internet, but the whole time my coworker was unfolding his map, the young Asian man was trying to get the woman to look at his phone.

When the woman saw my coworker’s paper map (as opposed to the phone’s small screen, I suppose), she said, Oh! You have a big one!

Without missing a beat, my coworker said, Thank you. That’s what I’ve been told.

Maybe I was the only one who got the joke because I was the only one snickering. But then it got better.

I guess the young Asian man was still shoving his phone with the small map on it in the woman’s face, because I heard my coworker tell the man, Cut it out! I’ve got this! Let me do my job!

The young Asian man didn’t seem to take offense because he continued to hang around after my coworker finished giving the woman directions and assuring her Highway X wasn’t involved. (See! I told you! my inner brat wanted to exclaim while sticking out its tongue at her. Fortunately, my inner adult stayed in control of the situation.)

The woman wandered off, presumably to her vehicle, and the sitcom that is my life went to commercial break.

I swear, every word of this story is true.

 

Aug29

Apparently I Look Like a Psychic

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Crystal ball in handsTourists say a lot of thing that aren’t very sensible. Sometimes it seems like when their bodies go on vacation, their brains decide to take a vacation of their own. Perhaps the people who seem like idiots to me are actually very competent in their daily lives and only seem clueless when our paths cross.

One variation of tourist cluelessness is associated with the way we came. People ask me Should we go back to way we came? or Is the way we came the best way to go back? Apparently I look like a psychic, because I’m supposed to know where they came from and the route they took.

Perhaps people don’t realize there are three ways to get to where I work, but they obviously think there is more than one route, since they are asking me about their travel options.

The first time a woman asked me if they should go back the way we came, I was trying to figure out how to answer the question when her (I presume) husband barked at her in my silence She doesn’t know how we got here! So true!

I really do try to be polite to people. When they ask questions involving the way we came without giving me any additional information, I try to keep it light and say with a small smile I don’t know. How did you get here? But inside I’m grimacing and shaking my head.

Image courtesy of https://www.pexels.com/photo/crystal-ball-in-hands-6101/.

Jun17

If I Knew the Way…

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If I knew the way/ I would take you home

–from “Ripple” by Robert Hunter

I’ve been working in the parking lot since Memorial Day Weekend, and again and again tourists have asked me How do I get to…?

Usually they want to go to Babylon, or MegaBabylon, but sometimes it’s Northern Babylon and yesterday it was Babylon Springs. Sometimes a tourist just throws a number at me: How do I get to the 342? (or whatever).

When my co-worker is around, I let him field those questions. He’s lived in the area for years; he knows how to get places. But after he leaves for the day, the tourists are left with me and sketchy knowledge of geography.

The other day, a tourist (I think he was European) driving a big, rented RV asked me how to get to MegaBabylon. I said I was sorry, but I didn’t know. I told him I was new to the area, and didn’t know how to get from where we were to where he wanted to be. He looked at me as if looking at me long enough would cause the answer to pop into my brain. I suggested he look at his map. He told me he didn’t have a map.

Come on! Who comes from Europe (or Maine or Alabama or wherever) and rents an RV, but fails to pick up a map? Who takes a trip to the mountains without first getting directions home from Google  Maps or Yahoo Maps or MapQuest or one of the other internet sources of maps and driving directions? Obviously many tourists do.

People probably think they can get directions on the go, like they do in the city. Probably many of them don’t realize how far into the wilderness they are going, don’t realize they’ll be lacking constant internet and cell phone services. And since GPS devices are often wrong, even in the city, they can’t really count on those things either.

(Side note: The parking area is a one-way loop. Drivers pull in and are determined to go the wrong way because their GPS is telling them to go left, even though real live human people are gesturing–and sometimes shouting–that the car needs to stay to the right.)

Since I’ve been working at the parking lot, I’ve heard my co-worker give directions to Babylon and MegaBabylon enough that now I can more or less do it too. I also found a map in a free info guide for tourists which shows the area we are in and how to get out. I’m learning, but the company I work for gave me zero training in helping people get where they’re going. I wasn’t provided with a map to use to help people either. (My co-worker has a good map of the area. He got it from the Forest Service and paid $10 for it. No way am I forking out $10 for a map.)

The company seems to think my job entails nothing more than collecting $5 from each car that parks and then handing that money over to my supervisor.

The tourists, however, want more than that from me. They want me to get them home.