A long letter to Clayton

The long version of a review I posted to a hipcamp host and my attempt to do camping over the long weekend at Pinnacle National Park.

Hey Clayton, how’s things brother?. I tried calling, emailing and texting you, but couldn’t get a hold of you, So hopefully, you will see this message (this is like social media too right?)

Look, I know you are trying your best at this hipcamp thing. But I’m going to be honest with you, I think you need to try a bit harder.

To start. You know the GPS address is wrong, why not add the correct one in the description, or add the exact coordinates, or just set some balloons outside by the mailbox?

I know, I know , I’m not the best at planning either. Like, who books a camping trip just the night before?. In all fairness, the only reason why I booked this trip was because I had a dream this week. I was in some sort of forest, alone, I still remember the smell of the dry grass and I was surrounded by slopes of yellow suede color. When I woke up the next morning, I found your camp, it fit well within my budget and distance. So why not, right?

In hindsight though, next time I have another idea like this, I will consult with a psychic or someone better than me at reading dreams.

I left home just after lunch. I wanted to arrive early and maybe meet you in person. Instead, there was just a fence on the address google maps took me. I ended up spending 1 ½ hour going back and forth on HWY 25, no luck in finding that “driveway” on your notes. At some point, I got in and out of the same road at least 8 times –the one with the tractor tire in front. I saw a trailer there, and I thought about asking for help. I was a bit scared, you know, I’ve seen a lot of movies where either a zombie is waitting for you inside the trailer, or someone gets out with a shotgun. I waited a little longer but no one came anyway.

Soon I started to get a bit nervous. I thought I had enough gas to go to your camp and back to Hollister, but after all that going around, I wasn’t sure if I could make it. Instead I decided to think more positively and even if I didn’t have a way to call someone and if I ran out of gas, I’m sure that you would end up showing up and helping. With this new spark of optimism, I headed north on HWY 25 and stopped by your neighbors on Lonnak Rd and 25.

Amiable neighbors, yours. However, I found it a bit strange that the first thing they asked was if I was there to “kill” something, I thought it was an odd way to greet a stranger, no?. I heard some people just eat what they can kill –which seems reasonable tbh. Maybe they thought I was one of those people too and that I was there to pick up livestock. Although, I don’t know how they could think that would have fit in a Honda Civic.

While I was chatting with the neighbors, behind a wooden shed and on top of a concrete slab, I noticed they were just finishing butchering a cow. Keep in mind Clayton, the only time I went to a slaughterhouse was with dad, I was probably 5 years old. I was mortified by the smell of iron and the red stains on the butcher’s uniforms. This time, it felt different. It seems these people respected the animal, they took their time to cut and prepare the meat, also the smell was different, more like milk. And there wasn’t that much blood.

After we talked a bit more, mostly about you. Per the directions from your friends, I went back to HWY 25 north. I was very surprised by the accuracy of their instructions (maybe you should ask if they can help with your ad?). At exactly 5 miles north, after the red barn, on the left was your campsite!.

Unfortunately my friend, the main gate has a padlock with a combination…… and..

…..drum roll…….

Guess who forgot to email or text the combination to the guest?………..

……Exactly!.

At that point, my options were getting slimmer by the minute. I read stories on your reviews of people ending up in hotels, others, just camping on the cow pasture. But that’s not me Clayton. One, I’m cheap and two, I’m not that adventurous –Remember we end up here because of a dream.

I decided to head back home, but before that, I wanted to continue testing my luck. So I drove to Pinnacle National Park. On the way there, I stopped to witness one of the most spectacular views I have ever seen. The views were like my dream. I could feel the fresh breeze, and the sound it made as it passed through the golden rolling hills, this against a canvas of cloudless deep blue sky. At that moment, I started to feel less frustrated and more in tune with who we are and that you, me, and everyone else, we are part of the same habitat.

Clayton, do you know that there is a camp “no show” policy in all national parks?. If people don’t arrive before 12:00am the day after the reservation, it will get canceled. Do you know who didn’t know about that policy?. The Camp Host at Pinnacle, and she was having none of it when I told her that they were a bunch of “no show” campsites , and I desperately needed one for the night.

Needless to say, with my tail between my legs, and no hope to stay at Pinnacle either. I decided to do what I should have done 3 hours before. Call hipcamp to complain…. to my surprise , they don’t have a phone number, so I did the next best thing I could do….. drive back to the city.

In case you are wondering, I made it safely home. In fact, I had enough gas to go back from Hollister to your camp twice!. Not that I would do that to you of course and that late into evening!

Clayton, I wish you all the best with your business and I hope things can turn around for the better. Hopefully one day I can actually stay at your campsite, who knows?. In the meantime I will drop this 1 ⭐️ here. Please, don’t get mad at me if hipcamp calls you, Ok?. I need to complain a bit with them too.

PS. btw, do you know where I can write a review for that Pinnacle Camp Host?.