R and J in the USA

We had pulled off the dusty roads into our campsite at Cross Ranch State Park, right alongside the Missouri River. There were vault toilets near the campsites and a “comfort station” a five-minute walk away. We decided to see exactly how comfortable this station was and make the walk there. On our way we passed a couple in the process of backing their trailer and truck into a spot. We noticed all the national park stickers on the back of their trailer. The man was in the driver’s seat on the phone with the campground making his last-minute reservation while the woman was directing him in.

Before we knew it, we were chatting and comparing notes on our travels. 

The woman was remarking how nice the air was and how bug-free it was. 

“Not like our campsite last night,” she said.

“Same with us!” We replied.

We got into talking about how much we loved North Dakota so far and they agreed. They were also travelers from the east coast, not too far away from us in Pennsylvania.

“We just came from the Sheyenne Grasslands and they were beautiful,” they said.

“No way! So did we! When were you there?” we asked.

“Just last night. We stayed at this little campground called Jorgen’s Hollow campground.”

“No way! So did we!”

Now, if you had been to the Sheyenne Grasslands and Jorgen’s Hollow campground, you would understand how weird this was. It was a little first come, first serve campground that felt just about as in the middle of nowhere as you could imagine. When we were there, we saw just four out of the fifteenish sites occupied. Eventually we remembered the look of one of the other filled campsites and made the link to their rig. And you could see their memories doing the same as they placed us. 

“We were the ones parked right next to the water spigot.”

“That’s right!”

We didn’t see or speak to each other at Jorgen’s Hollow, where there was barely anyone. And now, here in this campground filled with many more folks, these are the only people we ran into.

Add this to the long list of coincidences that popped up along the road.

We had a blast comparing notes with them about traveling and living with your spouse in a small space. Julie was elated that they found it as comfortable and easy to do as she and Ryan did. 

“Yes. Our friends are always asking us how we can stand to do it and stand to live in such a small space, but it is plenty of space for us and it’s easy enough.”

Now, truthfully, Ryan certainly wouldn’t mind a little more elbow room. But not in terms of a bigger camper van. In terms of the space that comes with a house. But Julie LOVES the cozy little space, and living in it is as easy as can be. It was fun to talk shop with folks that know how it goes.

“Where are you headed tomorrow?” we asked.

“The Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center.”

“Us too! Maybe we’ll see you there.”

We said goodnight and went on our way.

As we were pulling out of the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center the next morning, they were just pulling in. We waved at each other as we passed by. Like two clocks with a slightly different rhythm for the second hand that click together for just a few ticks before the subtle difference in their rhythms comes back into visibility, we enjoyed this one last moment where our clocks were in sync as we waved goodbye to our new temporary travel companions.