Down by the River- North Landing Beach, Virginia 04/07/2010

The van pulls in after the office has closed. Without a reservation I fear we might have to camp in a farmer's field-or worse, a Walmart parking lot. We call the after hours number and are connected to a lovely voice who advises us to expect Bob, a "nice, gentle man", shortly to check us in. The "nice, gentle" part is repeated twice. Minutes later, Bob motors up in a bright red, tricked-out golf cart. There is a Pepsi and a pack of smokes nestled in the front. Bob slouches over the steering wheel wearing faded flannel pajamas and a dirty t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. He is wearing what was once a white ball cap. His arms, made leathery by the sun, are tattooed. Around his left bicep is fading barbed wire with an eagle feather hanging off it. The skin is starting to sag from his bones. He grumbles about New Yorkers and shows a singular disdain for paperwork. He tells us to come back in the morning to sort everything out. We follow his golf cart to a site 20 feet from the river. His cart putt-putts away. He calls over his shoulder, "See you tonight."