Floatocalypse

We live close to the Black River in rural Missouri. Every year, there is a weekend where the cities empty out and a lot of young people pack their tents and campers, leave their common sense behind, bring plenty of booze and mind altering substances, and clog the river with rafts, canoes, kayaks and tubes. It's called "Floatocalypse." This is that weekend. Yay.

We are fortunate to live in one of the wild, beautiful places on this earth. We sought it out intentionally for its quiet natural beauty and its seclusion. That is mostly the case, and for that we are grateful. But when this small rural area gets overrun by tourists, we suffer. Tourists are important. They are the life blood of this region. My husband works as a security guard at one of the campgrounds. We need them to visit and to bring their money. I just wish they could also bring a little respect for the natural world, some regard for other human beings, and a bit of self-restraint.

I know I sound like a curmudgeonly recluse. In many ways, I am exactly that. I want to protest here that I LIKE people, I ENJOY being part of the human drama. But the truth is I like well-behaved people that don't invade my space. We live more than a mile down a dirt road. You have to cross two low water bridges to get to our house. Our driveway curves through the woods. We are at the back end of nowhere. We like it that way. But...

There is a campground at the beginning of the dirt road on which we live. Last night, 300 people filled that campground to overflowing. There were gunshots, fireworks and lots of yee-haws. Those things don't make me happy, but I've come to regard them as part of the sounds of summer. But a group of young men and women in pickup trucks decided to get tanked up and go exploring. Six pick up trucks raced up the road past our house and then turned around to race back. They found the entrance to our driveway and sat out there making cat calls and animal noises for some time. Our dogs went crazy. Doug was at work, being a security guard at another camp ground. It was the first time I can remember being afraid out here.

Wild animals do not frighten me. Seclusion brings a sense of peace. The sounds of nature are soothing. But young people who do not recognize boundaries, who are out of their minds because of whatever they have ingested or imbibed, who have no courtesy or respect, who do not seem to believe that anyone or anything outside of themselves is worthy of consideration...that scares me to death.

Tourists, please come and enjoy the beauty of this place we call home. But, please, dial it back a notch. Give a thought to your fellow travelers on this planet. Practice a little moderation. You might even try becoming intoxicated by the sights and sounds of nature, rather than the siren song of the bottle. You might find it more refreshing than you can imagine. And my dogs and I would rest easier.