My milkshake was unfinished.
The lumps wouldn't make it up my straw.
Night had long since fallen by the time I made it to the Highland Ridge Campground.
I picked the spot (near the Eau Galle Lake in Wisconsin) because it had some nearby hiking trails, a lake, and it seemed good for birding. And, it had a few nice, tent-specific campsites. And, of course, it was well-situated for my next and final urban friend visit.
I accidentally circled the campground road twice, struggling to make out the signage specifically for the tent sites which were genuinely hard to see from the road, but easily making out the signs for each irrelevant (to me) car site.