The bad news this past week was that Idalia exceeded even the most pessimistic early forecasts, slamming into the Florida coast as a Category 3 hurricane. The good news is that she tore through the state with hardly a hiccup, dumping a lot less rain than some had feared. Nonetheless, the storm surge was almost as as bad as predicted, cresting at seven feet or more above sea level—more than enough to roll right over the site of the proposed Fishcreek Glampground, about which I wrote last weekend.
How much damage was sustained at the westernmost end of the West Ozello Trail, where it nears Fishcreek Point, might not be known for some time— but with Citrus County one of just seven Florida counties declared national disaster areas as a result of the storm, the prognosis is not good. Nor is there any way to forecast whether Idalia and the damage she wreaked will force any rethinking of the idiocy of putting an RV park and glampground in such a perilous location, although I wouldn’t want to bet on it. All that will shake out in the weeks ahead, but it’s already clear that some lessons are learned the hard way.
When local residents objected that hurricane winds and storm surge would vastly hinder an evacuation of Fishcreek Point, their concerns were brushed aside by glampground promoter Jen Magradze with the claim that there would be ample time for people to get out before a storm hit. Last week’s events, as law enforcement officials cruised the flooded streets in airboats, suggest otherwise. As Chris Evan, director of Citrus County Emergency Management, told a local reporter, Idalia’s storm surge was comparable to that of Hurricane Hermine in 2016, which area residents “took seriously.” Yet just seven years later, he added, “the thing that concerns me is, people didn’t heed the warnings.”
People have an inclination to say whatever they think will get them what they want, even when a cursory look at the facts suggests otherwise, which certainly has been the case with Fishcreek Point. But people also have an immense capacity for simply rejecting what they don’t want to hear and moving ahead with whatever they’re after, often justifying their actions by appealing to a higher purpose or calling.
Such is the case at Lake Vermilion in Minnesota, where Christine Wyrobek, the owner of approximately 45 acres zoned for residential use, sought to open a 47-site glampground oxymoronically called Rough-N-It. Her rezoning request was denied in May on a 7-1 vote by the county planning commission, following a public hearing at which local residents spoke 42-3 in opposition to Wyrobek’s proposal and the local town board weighed in with a unanimously approved resolution, also in opposition. Among their concerns—as at Fishcreek Point in Florida—was the access road to the property, described as the most dangerous in the area; and with the campground itself accessible only by boat, first-responders would face serious obstacles in an emergency
No matter. An undeterred Wyrobek plowed ahead anyway, announcing in mid-August that Rough-N-It was open for business. Her hook, and presumably the sympathy-evoking ploy she hoped would convince her defiance to be overlooked? Rough-N-It would be serving disabled veterans, who would get a 90% discount from the $100-a-night fee charged to “regular campers.” In essence, Wyrobek was saying, shutting her down would be tantamount to spitting on the American flag.
Jen Magradze and Christine Wyrobek, for all their apparent differences, are sisters under the skin. Each acquired a piece of land that was legally incompatible with their ideas of what they wanted to do with it; each faced stiff opposition from local residents who believe existing zoning and land use regulations should apply; each had their proposed glampgrounds overwhelmingly vetoed by the local planning commission. And each pushed ahead nonetheless, one by artful politicking and appealing to local avarice, the other by simply ignoring local officials and hoping to embarrass them with a red herring of a cause.
County officials in Minnesota are now investigating a complaint they received about Rough-N-It operating improperly, but are being tight-lipped about when and how the matter may be resolved. Fishcreek Glampground received the rezoning it needed, but still must clear state environmental review—which, after Idalia, may be more problematic. Neither proposal, however, has done anything in its area to burnish the faded promise of “glamorous camping,” which too often is more glitz than substance, gold leaf rather than gold plate.
This will be my last post for the next six weeks, during which time I’ll be hiking and cycling in mercifully internet-free locales. I expect that little will change in the interim among the many RV- and campground-related developments I’ve been following, but just as assuredly there will be several new off-the-wall proposals tossed into the mix. I’ll look forward to several days of intense catching up, but could use some help: if you know of something you want me to pursue, or if you have an update you think I should know about, please send an email and any appropriate links or background material to: azipser@renting-dirt.com. All subject-matter donations cheerfully accepted!
Happy travels.
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