The Sausage Pad Lays Siege to St. Joseph, Pt. IV

(contd.)

The morning of Day Four.  The thrilling conclusion to our PG-13 affair.

Kris fries up even more bacon.  As if we weren't all fat enough already.

Not sure exactly how it happened, but I got suckered into playing board games with the kids every morning.  Here we're playing through one of our girls' favorite games, 5 Minute Dungeon.

The younger kids were pretty much useless, but Damon's boys got the hang of it pretty fast, and my girls are already pros.

Today was supposed to be, at least with regards to the weather, the nicest day of the weekend - low 80s and super sunny - so we decided to hit up St. Joseph's premiere beach - Silver Beach - and spend the entire day there.  Smitty was still asleep, so Rita assured us she would drive them up later when he got around (you know, 'cause Smitty likes sleeping in.)

We arrived in the late morning, and realized - in horror - that, like, everyone else in Southwest Michigan had the exact same idea as us.

The beach was packed.  We found a vacant spot that was about 10ft from our closest neighbors, and began establishing Sausage Pad headquarters.

Not a face mask to be seen for miles.

Zack Smith, a soulless Ginger himself, enthusiastically approves of Smitty's recent purchase.

Watching the kids play in the lake.

(Kris is dancing to rap music.  Like only a middle-aged white woman can.)

After a few hours of hanging out on the beach, me and the guys got bored, so we decided to head back up to the shopping district to hit up some more shops.

Just in case you were curious.

I didn't take a lot of pictures during our going in and out of shops, but while Zack and Damon bought sweatshirts and t-shirts for their wives and kids, I ducked back into that antique store from the day before and picked up four or five more records.  I made out like a bandit on this trip, I was pretty pumped.

We got back to the beach just as a huge freighter began to slowly pull into the canal that cuts through the town.  Pretty cool to see - like watching a city block float through the water.

On the way back from the beach, later on in the afternoon, we sat in standstill traffic waiting for the bridge to lower for a solid half an hour.  The freighter we had watched from the beach was making its way - ridiculously slow - through the canal.  Like, you could walk faster than it was going.

See ya later, asshole.

When we got back to the campground, we saw that most of the grounds had cleared out.  It was Sunday, after all, and most people had left.

This had all been previously jam-packed with RVs and tent.

 

We're still here, though.  We had a solid four nights and five days reserved.

 

The kids broke out this Headbandz game that they enjoy taking along on camping trips.

(I didn't take any of these vidoes.)

We barely put a dent into these snacks. . .

Our fridge game was on point this weekend.

Kris, prowlin' for snacks.

Zack breaks out some ice cream sundae supplies for the kids, in his usual not-at-all kid-friendly, Zack Smith way.

 

The more sugar the better.  Screw it, we're on vacation.

Smitty swooped in for ice cream as well.  Of course.  He needed the pick-me-up - him and Rita had driven around St. Joseph for hours trying to find a parking spot at the beach, and in the end they, too, got stuck at the bridge waiting for the freighter to pass through the canal.  He was pretty pissed he missed out on the beach trip for the day, but his spirits rose after he got some ice cream - and some beer - in his system.

I could've easily watched this all day - Kris and Rita attempting to close up Smitty's beach tent.

The brothers Smith are equally amused at the spectacle.

 

We were forecast to get a thunderstorm in the late evening, around 10pm, so we did our best to breakdown as much of the camp as humanly possible.  We struck all but one of our shaded pavilions, and loaded up as much of the camping gear as possible in our vehicles.  Not wanting a repeat of our doomed vacation in Silverlake's Jellystone Campground, I put all my expensive items - my ukulele, camera and lenses, laptop, etc. - in Kris' van, for safe keeping.  Fool me once, Rain God.

I started a bonfire in the late afternoon to start ridding ourselves of the mountains of cardboard and paper waste we had lying around the campsite.  It raged like a funeral pyre for hours.

The usual from the Cannonball.

Dance party around the campfire.

Hours later, still raging.

The rains did, in fact, roll in late in the night, and came down super hard for about an hour.  During the duration of the storm, we regularly checked our tents, and - miraculously - nothing got wet.  No flooding, no nothing.  After awhile, the rain let up and we continued hanging out and playing cards late into the night.  At one point, some grizzled old park associate told us to quiet down - despite us being pretty quiet, and nowhere near as loud as a group of old drunks about six sites over that we could all hear clear as day.  Oh well, I guess after twenty some years, the Sausage Pad still has that Troublemaker look about them. . .

 - Fin - 

- Brian