What? ‘Campground full’?

We’d been coming to Belknap, a gem of a spot high on the Tule River in the Sierra Nevada, for the last few summers. Our gang was getting a little bigger each time as we told friends about the plentiful trout and giant sequoias.

Racing up on a sultry Friday night, Joe and I debated which campsite we should nab. The small one by the river, nestled in trees just right for hanging creels and lanterns? Or maybe the big site across the road, where Marcel lost a few hundred bucks to Witold in blackjack, until Marcel insisted that the matchsticks were never supposed to be stand-ins for real money.

The debate was moot. “Campground Full,” the sign said. We drove around in a daze, but all we got were squinty looks from other campers as the headlights of Joe’s VW Rabbit probed the night. A half-dozen friends were due the next morning.

Stunned by the full house, we turned back toward the Camp Nelson resort, a roadhouse and cluster of rental cabins about a mile away. It was past 11 p.m. when Joe and I walked into the bar.

We took in the local scene, mostly grizzled old-timers. “Jack Daniels on the rocks,” we said.

The barkeep and owner said his name was Floyd Pickard. We were starting to feel at home, when a bearded man with an acoustic guitar took a perch at the corner of the bar. Soon he had help. From one of the small tables against the wall, a man with a black hat and braids pulled out a fiddle. The guitar player introduced him as Dave Bearpaw, from the nearby Tule River Indian Reservation.

“Well, I guess I’d better get my gut-bucket,” Floyd said, grabbing a makeshift bass fiddle rigged from a steel bucket.

The impromptu show turned out to be one of the sweetest performances we ever saw. As it got near closing time, we asked Floyd about a place to stay. His cabins were full too, he said, but he had a field out back.

At 2 a.m., Floyd turned off the lights and locked the door. Then he ordered a round for everyone, on the house. “It’s now a private party,” he said with a wink.

The next day a spot at Belknap opened, and we set up camp. But it wouldn’t have been the worst thing if it was full again.

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-- John Corrigan