Davidson River Interlude

It just feels comfortable here.  It’s a great campground, laid out on a long flat bottom along the Davidson River among tall Pines and Hemlocks.  Each of the several loops seems its own quiet place with deep paved pads and adequate privacy.  The Camp Hosts are the best we have ever experienced, well trained in people skills and welcoming to all.
After two earlier visits in Spring, we felt right at home and, strangely, less inclined to wander off to the many local waterfalls and other attractions.  We just “settled in.” 
The water is historically low and the trout stocking has been on hold for a couple months  The fish still lurking about are now well distributed and acting wild.  We caught mostly Browns, veterans, with no fins scraped white from living in concrete pens.  It is humbly stated that AL caught the lunch specials until that last afternoon when Patty scored nine great fish in about 20 feet of riffle.  This was, of course, in the Catch and Release water: her new hypothesis:
“These fish can read.  They see those yellow/red diamonds on the trees and they know I have to throw them back.  They learn it in fish school…”
There are  five miles of flat pavement in the campground so we took several training rides to test Patty’s shoulder; so far, so good. Besides the ebb and flow of campers in each loop, we also crossed paths with a white squirrel and a sassy young copperhead basking among the fallen leaves.
On the last night, the predicted rain began.  We were nearly packed and ready, so there were no worries about unsecured gear.  We lay there thinking about all the other rainy nights we had spent under canvas.
“The patter of raindrops on a tin roof has its attractions,” he thought, “but the best part is not having to get up every so often to check for leaks.”
Just to be sure we both moved away from the edges…