This is what you get for ‘winging it’.
With our grand plans thwarted due to weather reports indicating rain (conspiracy), we had to improvise. The car had long-since been packed, all we needed was an inspiring destination. After consulting several maps, and exchanging several terse words with one another, we decided to head towards Lake Isabella in the Southern Sequoia area. According to my camping guidebook (which I am now starting to distrust), camping was plentiful and fish were jumping. Seemed like an ideal place to spend Memorial Day weekend, and a just reward for two spontaneous adventurers (cough) such as ourselves.
From SF to Lake Isabella is about a 5-6 hour drive? I can hardly remember. It felt like an extremely long, uneventful, and painful drive.
About 3am, or some time in those whereabouts, we pulled into Lake Isabella…and drove around and around and around trying to find a camping spot, many of which were no reservation sites. All looked as if they were spilling out at the seams. Around and round we went, trying to remain positive, scoping out cute chalet-style restaurants to visit during the trip. We tried unsuccessfully to pump ourselves up, “yeah, this place looks, um…really…yeah…it probably is beautiful in the daytime…yeah…big lake…” It didn’t work. The more loops we made around the lake, the more I disliked the place.
Needing a bathroom break, we finally settled on Camp 9, where the guidebook said we would find flush toilets and lake views. Instead…how can I describe this…Camp 9 reminded me of a post-apocalyptic refugee camp on par with Mad Max or Waterworld. No trees, just barren, grassy fields set up in marshy land next to the water. The campsites were literally right next to one another — a strip of asphalt with “lakeside view,” housing maybe 25-30 RVs, touching nose to nose, sprinkled intermittently with a few tents who were illegally camped there. At least it was quiet in this part of camp.
Not so much at the other circle/loop of campsites nearby, where we discovered 3 available spots, all right next to each other, but at least on a plot of (dead) grass. There were maybe 50+ campsites clustered in a loop here, with maybe 2 or 3 feet separation from one another. At 3 am, approximately 90% of the people (who apparently all arrived in an SUV or 4WD truck) were still awake, with bright lights shining from their truck headlights focused on the camp/party sites, and plentiful bud lite being passed among bros.
Sliding precariously halfway down a hill was a singular, wobbly port-a-potty. (ONE flush toilet for entire campground existed high on the hill away from the water. Bring a flashlight if you use it at night–there were no lights). One port-a-potty for 50+ drunk dudes. That was a deal breaker. It didn’t take long for us to weigh our options of staying the night, waking up next day, and moving to a better camp, or driving all night until we found a suitable camp.
And so we drove. And we never looked back.
Out of sheer proximity, randomness, and a little bit of luck, we stumbled upon Kennedy Meadows ($17/night, pit toilets, water pump) in the Dome Land wilderness of Sequoia National Forest/Inyo National Forest. By the time we arrived, we were able to catch the sun rising through the trees–just enough light to set up camp, and not enough light to be daunted by the horrible fly-laden pit toilets.
We slept through the morning and into the early afternoon under some very lovely trees.
Camp Kennedy
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