No, its not where the aliens landed.
Its the site Chris (and I with my sock) went to look at. It is pretty, backs up against a cliff side, which is nice, no neighbors would be right behind it.
The Little North Fork runs through just a few paces away, although it takes longer to make your way down via the actual path.
His friends camp is just a short walk around the bend.
They are quite fond of tarps at Taylor Park, since it is a privately owned campground they are not allowed to build structures (and for good reasons) so it is like Tarp City instead.
Taylor Park is a multi-generational family owned and run private campground. You pay a yearly fee for “your site” which you then can move stuff to and leave there for nearly year-around camping. They only close for a few of the worst winter months. Its quite big, they have road signs and everything.
Chris likes the idea of camping in a set location, time after time, because he is a very traditional and sentimental kind of guy. (Did I just call Chris sentimental? ooops, you weren’t supposed to know that!) Anyways he has these friends, Randy and Carol who have like, camped there forever, well maybe not forever, more like 20+ years, and they invited him to come camping with them last summer.
He comes back all fired up about this place I had previously never heard of, Taylor Park this, Taylor Park that. So I ask him, “what do you do there?” and he says, “huh?” (you get the picture, right? I don’t need to quote all this do I?)
Soooo, the upshot is, you eat, sleep, play card games, talk a little walk, and repeat. This, folks, is what Chris calls a good time.
And he wants to do it over and over again.
And I says, “just who is going to be cooking all that food? and cleaning up? while you eat, sleep and repeat?”
And He Just Laughs.