I need your help. If you have ever camped in the area around Chicago, I need your help. Many years ago I went camping to a place out west. I think. I'm fairly certain it was along I-88. It inspired my story, "A Place To Be" in TALES OF QUESTIONABLE TASTE. I really want to go back someday, but I can't remember the name or location, and no one else seems to recall. In the story I called it Blackhawk Campground. Black Hawk was a Native American who was tracked through the area a long fuckin' time ago. So the name is pretty popular around here. You might have heard of a certain hockey team . . .
But I don't think that's the real name. I don't use real names when I write fiction. I did, however, go to a campground named Blackhawk up in Wisconsin with my dad many times when I was a kid.
Here's a surprise for you. I used to be an outdoors kind of person. When I was a kid I went camping many times. Then, as an adult, I rediscovered the joy, except this time with alcohol. No kidding, when I was a kid, I used to fish and all that stuff. I recently bought a new hatchet because the last one I had turned out to be shoddy as all fuck. The family hatchet and axe are too rusty. You never know when you need something like that, so I went out and bought one that is well built and sharp as fuck. Who knows? It might come in handy during the zombie apocalypse.
I know how to use a compass. (Wilderness, not math. I still can't use a math compass because I always press too hard and rip the paper.) I can read maps. I know how to collect water even in the desert. If dropped into the woods, I'm 95% certain I could find my way back to civilization with nothing but the clothes I'm wearing. Or, well, at least before I became a cripple. And I didn't even learn these things because of research for writing. I was raised during a time when learning these things were necessary to a child's education.
I fuckin' love camping. But I really want to find this place. It's pretty much as explained in the story I mentioned. I'm certain it is west of Elmhurst on I-88. Well, certain-ish. We all had tents, so we didn't stay in a cabin, though those were available. A lot of people lived there, most in RVs or mobile homes. The permanent residents tended to be veterans. There were signs all over the place dedicating stretches of land to wars or the Americans who fought in them.
And yes. I did find a place called Blackhawk, but it's in Rockford. It's possible we went there. I can't say no for sure. But I looked at pictures, and I couldn't find any of those signs I mentioned above. I really don't think it was that place.
Any ideas? I need to find this place. I had a lot of fun there. In fact, that's where I carried my last hatchet before it fell to pieces. I also carried a Bowie knife on my belt and was told that it was illegal since it was longer than the width of my palm. But fuck it. We were in the woods. When you're out there, you need that shit. Just like when I'm on the road. If I'm going somewhere waaaay out of town, I'll take with me two things: my Harley-Davidson knife, which is made in such a way that it's impossible to leave fingerprints on it, and my blackjack, which is illegal in my home state. I warn anyone I'm traveling with or staying with that I have them, as any gentleman would do. But as one man once said, "I'd rather have them and not need them than need them and not have them." The whiskey I had with me was probably a lot more dangerous. But yeah, if you think you might know the place, let me know. Please.
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