We had found a great secret swimming hole, which was warm and very deep and large, known mostly to the locals, courtesy of a book Charlie had "Swimming Holes of Northern California." Great for a few hours in the middle of the day. Definitely a keeper to return to again and again.
The low light was the ranger, who decided that because I had parked in space 24, though I was camping with Charlie in space 23, in the nearly-empty campground, I must be issued a Citation and Fined for not parking in space 23 (which was occupied squarely by Charlie's car with the dead battery--a usual Charlie story). Nothing was going to talk her out of this, despite my pointing out that my tent was at space 23, the tent pad in space 24 was occupied by a large brush pile, so it wasn't usable as a space anyway, and that there were only two other tennants in the 50-space campground besides the members of our party. I offered to move my car, and she said that wouldn't help, because I had admitted I had been parked there since Friday night (it was Sunday morning). Most of the rangers I have met over the years have been pretty reasonable, but not her. Charlie even got her to admit that this parking situation happens fairly frequently. Hmm, this must be her little niche, issuing parking citations, with steep fines, in remote areas of the national forest.