Small is beautiful

After a good night sleeping and a proper breakfast, I felt radiant as I left Arco to Carey, just 44 mi / 71 km away: I knew that I would want to extend my trip a little further. Yet I was not too sure where I would be able to sleep tonight.



Passed the craters of the moon, Carey, Picabo ('shinning waters' in native american), I made it to Fairfield, a small town of 395 people on highway 20 on the way to Mountain Home.

I like this kind of small town out of the over-organized world that we are used to in larger cities. There's a building of the Forest Service as you get there and it invites visitors to ask for information. I went to the ranger for a campsite in Fairfield:
- "you are welcome to camp at our town park if you want"
- "do you have showers as well?"
- "no we don't... but there's an RV park with a somewhat old laundromat... you find one there... they are not exceptional but..."

And that works. I found the shower in a wooden building that looked abandoned; found also the park along a dirt road, just across from a little Church. It feels like in the former time, say when my father was "young, free and handsome", when you could go camping in the field of a farmer. I guess there were not so many people touring during their vacation.



My tent setup, I laid in the shade of a tree. A little squirrel came to investigate this new neighbor.