Campgrounds Rexburg ID
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Thompson's Rv Park(208) 356-6210
4844 S Highway 191
Rainbow Lake & Campground(208) 356-3681
2245 S 2000 W
High Adventure River Tours(208) 733-0123
Twin Falls, ID
Twin Falls, ID
Prospector's Gold Rv Park(208) 628-3773
Po Box 313
River Delta Resort(208) 266-1335
60190 Highway 200
Clark Fork, ID
Clark Fork, ID
Sheffield House(208) 356-4182
5362 S Highway 191
Heise Hot Springs Inc(208) 538-7312
5116 E Heise Rd
Shoshone Rv Park & Trailer Park(208) 886-7798
115 H Street On Hwy 24
Country Haven Campground(208) 772-4999
21550 N Highway 95
Salmon Meadows Campground(208) 756-2640
400 N Saint Charles St
Camp Virgin - A Woman's First Hunting Camp
Trying to envision an Alaskan hunting camp is an exercise in futility. Stereotypical wilderness experiences usually have one imagining a warm campfire, a group of men huddled around its' radiating warmth, guns propped, a faithful dog lying at their feet and tall tales. That is the dream of many but the realities of camp life sometimes take a different path. For months I had been listening to legends and narratives from my companion about all the goings-on in a hunting camp. Wildly exuberant disclosures of near-miss shots with his .454 pistol, recounts of the distinctive camaraderie that ties camp mates together and his gleaming excitement were all part of the enticing tales he would recite to me upon his return from the hunt. This year as he prepared himself for a new season of adventure, a desire to participate in this annual "boys" event was ignited. I wanted to head for the remote and densely wooded hills, I wanted to share in some of the action, I wanted to see what this was all about! What is the allure that makes a man want to spend days or weeks in a territory where the lavatory facilities consist of whichever tree or bush is the closest target? Or where a human could very possibly wind up being a link in the pyramidal food chain?
After arriving at moose camp I spied the incorporation of a lean-to, fire pit and cabin, or my Hunter's Hilton. I was sure that my accommodations would have been the equivalent of an old, leaky and mildewed tent the size of which would barely fit two people and their sleeping bags. The surprise was a real 'lodge' that existed of an 8x10 cabin retrofitted with aluminum siding to help prevent the local brown bear citizenry from burglarizing the"palace". The look-alike shipping container cabin was connected to another ramshackle shed via covered breezeway. Two sets of bunkbeds fit in one corner and a tiny woodstove squatted in the other. Across from the woodstove was a shelf that supported a two-burner gas stove with the complement of a coffeepot. Cozy and warm, it was just perfect for female habitation. The"restroom" of course, was outside-around-the-corner-and-first-spruce-to-the-left.
Soot-covered frying pans, old-fashioned cowboy coffee pots, blackened sauce pans and a variety of cooking utensils hung suspended from support beams around the outdoor cooking arena. The best seat in the house turned out to be an old green vinyl bus bench. Burn holes from campfire sparks outnumbered the grease spots it wore and a Mexican horse blanket added a bit of decorated padding. This was where I would spend part of my time while the other half would be spent traversing heavily trafficked, mud-sloppy trails. Participating in the outdoor cooking experience was enjoyable since it was so contrary to the indoor regimen at home. Washing hands consisted of one good swipe on the ONLY pair of jeans I had brought along, then slopping a little bit of this or adding a little bit of that to the meal was the coup de gras of...