Kamping with a K

So as you've already read, we spent some time down in Baja California, and it's only northbound from there! Post-Rosarito Beach, we have de-kamped at our first tent site, a KOA Kampground. Yes, they spell it with a K. Yes, it's super-annoying to be called a "Kamper" and have everything around you spelled wrong. This is actually my first time staying at a KOA, and my feelings are something of a mixed bag. Although this campground (yeah, I can't keep spelling it with a K) is not on the beach, when I looked it up to book it online I was seduced by the amenities: pool, playground, laundry, free showers. In this respect, they did not disappoint. Situated down below a main road in a little canyon, the place feels much more secluded than its fairly-urban location actually is. What I found to be the downside to this KOA is that it's very RV-focused, so the tent sites are tiny, sparse, and very close together.

We actually had to drag around the wooden picnic table at our site to make room for our tent, but found by Day 2 that no matter where we were within our campsite, the power lines overhead favored by obnoxious crows made our belongings perfect targets for bird bombs. They were stealthy, yet plentiful. Andy seemed to prefer to show the birds a little mercy and refrain from throwing things at them, but with my lousy aim and less-than-professional throwing speed, what was the harm? Believe me, if I actually thought I could hit them I wouldn't be combing the ground for stray rocks or bottlecaps to toss...I'd be at the local Chinese throwing star emporium.
Anyway, we settled in to our campy new home and set about planning meals, amusing ourselves, and generating a camp routine. With our tiny car so tightly packed (one of our tent campsite neighbors amusedly observed that our tent was bigger than our car...it's true), our plan for victuals was to carry some basic and/or daily essentials with us, put a limited number of perishable items in a small cooler, and hit up as many local natural food stores and farmers markets as we could for lots of healthy meal fixings. A day into our stay, we visited a small farmers market for some delicious (but pricey, naturally) produce, supplemented the rest with a grocery store trip, and set about cooking our first dinner: cheeseburgers with avocado and a whole steamed globe artichoke. Not too shabby for our first meal cooked; we luxuriated in the types of produce already in season so far south of our home, and the site even had a centrally located "Kamper Kitchen" (drat those Ks!!) that offered dishwashing sinks, electric stoves, and a gas grill for everyone to use for free.
First camp dinner

Farmers market--click to enlarge and maybe you can see what I was trying to photograph...the stand selling bacon-wrapped hot dogs

I mentioned that Alton was feeling a little unsettled by all of our moving around, so we decided to forgo lots of touristy amusements in favor of keeping things chill. In the 80+ degree heat, we hit the pool at the campground, visited its awesome playground and little dog park several times, and diverted ourselves with other chores like "use the water spigot to fill shoes with water" (okay, that one was mostly Alton).
Tractor at the playground

Big kid swings for the little dude

Hanging out, eating farmers market berries

The designers of the dog park--Kamp K-9--evidently thought the dogs needed lots of things in the park to amuse themselves with like trained circus animals. It was full of contraptions like balance beams, wooden holes to jump through, seesaws, stairs, and this little log cabin.

Last camp dinner: basil-garlic penne with broccolini, tomatoes, garlic and goat cheese. Can you tell we're proud? No hot dogs and ramen on this trip (TM Elizabeth).

After three nights (and three mornings being awakened at 6 o'clock or earlier by those damn crows), it was time to pack up, take one last free shower, throw in a few loads at the onsite laundromat, and head up the coast to the next destination. Bittersweetly, as we sweated and loaded the car with all our gear, a little boy about six or seven years old rode up on a small bike, solo, and began chatting with Alton. He talked to Alton about the states he'd driven through with his parents, who were busy unpacking their family's stuff, taught Alton how to play hide and seek (I wish I'd been quicker on the draw to get photos of some of Alton's hiding places, like a half-crouch underneath the picnic bench. That didn't matter, though, because he'd pop out of his hiding spot the moment the other boy stopped counting.), and listened to the three-year-old version of campground small talk before he said he should get back to his parents. Alton had finally found a friend, and we were leaving. Fingers crossed for more such aptly placed little boys and their families in our near future!