ReserveAmerica-dot-duh.

I don't know about you, but when I reserve a camp site, I kinda like to know if it's near the water or under water.

One is preferable to the other.

Well, as a convenience to the patrons who populate state campgrounds during the few short months of summer here in Central New York, the geniuses in charge decided to entrust the camping reservation process to ReserveAmerica.com. Now, if you log onto their website, you'll be greeted with a friendly, efficient interface which allows you to pinpoint an available campsite in the park of your choosing and reserve it instantly, for the nominal fee of $9 in addition to the daily cost of the site. Fine, if you're familiar with the park, or better yet, the exact site.

However, if you call ReserveAmerica-dot-whatever to get information about a particular site -- is it in the woods? is it near the bathrooms? is it located on a haunted Indian burial site? -- you'll be connected with an individual on a mountaintop in Tibet who couldn't find the United States on a globe, much less give you any useful information about a particular campsite.

The call goes something like this:

"Ring Ring"
"Yeah, ReserveAmerica-dot-com"
"Yes, hello, I'd like some information about a camp site, please."
"Sigh. O.K. what."
"Well, I'd like to reserve a site in Thompson's Lake State Park, but there's really no information about the sites online."
"Where is that?"
"New York State, near Albany."
"Well, I don't really know anything about Tomkins Lane."
"It's Thompson's . . . never mind."

This is how we ended up on [cue spooky music] Site 111 in Thompson's Lake State Park -- a site we affectionately named "Camp Squishy".
When we pulled into the park, we drove by several spacious, wooded sites. Ostrich tail feathers of blue smoke rising in curls from the fire pits. Beams of filtered sunlight casting a warm glow on ferns and wildflowers. Site 107 had its very own apple tree! We were quite optimistic.

When we rounded the bend and arrived at [cue spooky music] Site 111, we were greeted by a small, dark, mud-puddly site with a single patch of semi-dry ground just about big enough for half a tent. We pulled into the site and proceeded to inspect the area to see if the ground was more solid than it appeared. Turns out, it was somewhere between quicksand and tapioca. I'm pretty sure it was 20 degrees colder in there than the rest of the park. Tree roots grabbed at our ankles and tried to pull us into the muck.

We walked back to the office to see if another site was available , which of course, it wasn't. I explained about the condition of the site and asked if somebody could deliver some wood chips or mulch so we'd have something semi-solid to walk on. Nope. Sorry. None to be had.

I asked if I could borrow a rake. Sure thing! Rakes and shovels are available for any campers who wish to engage in grounds-keeping activities during their stay. I hinted about some sort of discount or refund in exchange for the work I was about to do. No can do. Reservations and refunds are handled by ReserveAmerica-dot-ha-ha.

We returned to the site to examine our options. Ironically, I found a pile of mulch in the weeds behind the fire pit. Maybe the site's last inhabitants had the same idea, but were interrupted by . . . something. [Shiver!]

A few minutes later, a couple of teens in an ATV stopped by the site and dropped off a rake and a shovel. I spent the next hour or so landscaping the site, tossing shovels full of soggy mulch onto the muck and raking it out flat, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the carnivorous pines lurking in the shadows.

Somewhere around the half-hour mark, the ATV teenyboppers stopped by and asked if I was done with the rake and shovel yet, dude. Curiously enough, they didn't offer to actually help apply the tools to the site, in spite of the fact that, although I was supposed to be on vacation, I looked like I'd been cleaning horse stalls all morning. I hadn't even unpacked the car yet, or set up the tent, and I was ready for a shower and a nap. I assured Moon Unit and Dweezil that as soon as I was finished, they'd be the first to know.

Somewhere around the hour-mark, the rake was decapitated by a stubborn root. I pried the head loose from the mud, used a brick from the fire pit to reassociate it with the handle and finished the mulching. After taking a few minutes to rehydrate with a cold amber ale and admire my handiwork, I proceeded to organize the rest of the site. I found a semi-solid patch of ground near the front of the site just about big enough for our tent and set up a canopy over the picnic table.

I must say, Camp Squishy looked kind of nice when I was done.
All it needed was a couple of potted rhododendrons.
Maybe next time.