That whole blogging thing sort of fell apart after Sea World, didn’t it? Well, let’s just pick up the thread and move on.
One thing I neglected in my previous posts was a tale of strange occurrences at the campground in Ramona. While Brent and I were at the brewpub in Escondido visiting with friends, Glen and Gramma and the dogs were back at camp. The narrative is a bit jumbled, but near as I can tell, here’s what happened.
The lady in the tent next to ours had a visitor, and the two of them were hanging out, toasting marshmallows or something. Police cars screeched into the campground, stopped at her site, and explained to her that there was a “chase” going on that they wanted her to know about. Helicopters swooped in and were searching the campground for someone.
Suddenly, a shrouded figure ran through the campground, and through the neighboring site. Glen and Gramma retreated inside the trailer. Soon after, they heard a strange voice making noises described as “Woobly woobly woobly.” At some point, the police left.
The next day, I tried to find a news item explaining what had been going on, but found nothing. We recalled that earlier that day, after we had returned from our day of visiting with relatives, we had arrived in camp to the sound of someone persistently screaming in the hills above camp. At the same time, two children in separate parts of the campground were also screaming and crying, the way children do. So the effect was totally weird and disconcerting.
The adult screaming voice was coming from either the part of the campground uphill from us, or from the hills and park beyond. It did not sound like a person in pain or distress. It sounded like a person screaming for the heck of it. “California!” I snorted. “Hmph.” And thought nothing of it. Was this screaming related to the later police chase and the mysterious “Woobly woobly?” We’ll never know. It kind of bugs me.