SAM OWEN CAMPGROUND, IDAHO

Sam Owen Campground in Idaho was my third boondocking site in a row, after Washington Park and Roosevelt Lake, and I began to notice that my battery was losing its charge faster than before. Was it not charging fully from my car between campgrounds? I hoped there wasn’t a short somewhere. Meanwhile, i enjoyed the lake, where the dock was the only place to get cell service

I’d planned to go from Sam Owen to a National Park campground somewhere in Montana next, but when there was no place for me to stay an extra night at Sam Owen, I had to find another campground on short notice—and on a Saturday! I was lucky if I could get minimal pgone service at Sam Owen, so a thorough internet search was out of the question. I found Koocanusa Resort and Marina, and was told they did have an opening that night. I grabbed it. I expected a busy, crowded RV park.

KOOCANUSA LAKE CAMPGROUND, MONTANA

I wasn’t expecting a quiet, shady, full hookup, private site on a gorgeous lake! They even had showers, laundry, and a bar and restaurant. Koocanusa Lake is just east of Libby, MT, and was created by another one of those Army Corps of Engineers projects, the Libby Dam across the Koote ai River. It’s surrounded by ponderosa pine-covered mountains and miles of federal lands, and is well stocked with fish, making it a popular destination for fishermen. No building is allowed within 300 yards of the lake shore, which means all the views are of unspoiled mountains (except for logging cuts). For some reason, it’s very popular with people from Alberta (I saw lots of Alberta license plates in the campground). And with an electric hookup, I wouldn’t have to worry about my battery draining again.

I took advantage of the kayaks for rent, and spent most of one day paddling across the lake and around two islands, where there are boat-access only campgrounds. Along the shore, I found a floating cooler of beer, and then found the owner, camped on one of the islands! He was most grateful for its return.

Then Russ noticed that my hitch was ‘drooping’. He pulled up on it, and it was clearly loose. So much for leaving the next day: I was going nowhere until I could get that hitch looked at. Craig, the campground owner, suggested Twinkle Welding back in Libby, so I called them first thing Monday morning. Over the owner’s protests that he was already ‘double booked,’ I pleaded with him until he at least agreed to take a look at it, and I raced the 20 miles to Libby.

As promised, he slid under the bumper to look at the hitch—and came out with a grim look on his face. “It’s not your hitch,” he said. “Your frame is broken.” There would be no fixing that, he told me, since no one could—or would—weld that back to like-new condition. Under no circumstances should I try to pull my camper. I asked him to give me a moment, turned around—and burst into tears. Now what? I envisioned being stuck in rural Montana, with no car, and no way to move our camper.

I did what any sensible person would do under the circumstances: I called my sister and sobbed out the situation to her. After consoling me, Sue—ever practical—commented “Well, at least you’re someplace where there will be a lot of used trucks and SUVs for sale.” Then I texted Russ, who responded, somewhat less helpfully, “Yikes!”

Meanwhile, the owner of the business, between customers, asked me to wait while he tried to find another solution. One customer, who had pulled in while I was being given the bad news, and who heard me say I was following a through-bicyclist, told me he was real sorry to hear about my predicament, but maybe I should buy another bicycle instead! That made me laugh, even through tears. 

Finally, the owner—everyone calls him Trapper—came back with a solution: a different type of hitch, which would mount on the main frame of the car (the one I have mounts on something called the bumper cross bar). And, even though they were booked out at least a month, he was willing to come in at 6 am that Wednesday (after waiting a day to get the parts) to fix it for me. He somewhat apologetically told me the cost would be $500-600. I was so grateful, I nearly kissed him! Instead of buying a new car, I would only have to get a new hitch installed, and have the broken frame bar re-welded. He reassured me that it would be fine, as long as I didn’t try to tow anything with the bumper crossbar again.

Back at camp, there was no problem with me staying another couple of nights. I released Russ to continue on his journey on Tuesday morning, and watched a deer stroll through the campground. Think I’ll take a leisurely stroll with the dogs after I finish my chai. Inhale. Exhale. Sigh.