Some of you have wondered about the lack of blogs recently--we have had a plethora of events going on lately and I got behind--kids moving their stuff home from college, other kids moving both in and out, graduations, visits from parents, and now a vacation by the Oregon coast. Camping in a travel trailer is so deluxe compared to the old days of tent or pop-up trailer camping. As I sit and look out at the ocean, it reminds of some classic camping stories:
My earliest recollection of camping was our family of six (all four kids were under eight) camping in a tent in the Smoky Mountains. I remember it pouring rain for hours, and my mom cooking with a green Coleman stove inside the tent. She was heating up cans of Chun King chicken (whatever that is, I just remember the name) and serving it hot on bread slices. We must have had ten servings each--we were all cold and starving--and it was of one of the best meals I've ever had to this day.
We graduated to a pop-up tent trailer sometime after that--my dad loved that trailer and kept it for about 20 years. We would camp in the state parks around southeast Iowa whenever the family could all get away--we had a border collie named Largo that would go with us. He loved to hide under a side of the trailer and then come flying out barking and snarling at unsuspecting passers-by. He would hit the end of his rope so hard that he would flip over backwards, then shake it off, and do it again. The camp strollers learned quickly, and walked on the opposite side of the road on any further trips past the trailer.
One year we decided to meet and camp around Telluride, Colorado with lots of abandoned gold mines nearby. Everyone decided to go for a hike in the forests around the Million Dollar Highway, named because of all the gold that was paved over when they built the road. My dad, not in the same shape then as he is today at 82 and ranked 9th in the world in the Senior Olympics for the 100 meter dash, was concerned about the lack of leadership (mine, of course) and length of the hike. We were a group of about 10 walking through dense brush and forest at about 7000 feet with no plan other than to look for old gold mines and possibly discover a fortune. The more we walked (aimlessly is such a harsh word), the more concerned he became. I kept telling him I had a general idea where we were, but he was still stressing out as it got darker and the trail more obscure. Just as the group was about to mutiny on me and declare me an inept leader, we came upon another group of people hiking towards us. One of the ladies in the group was wearing high-heeled bedroom slippers and had a tiny dog on a leash with her--I told my dad we would survive, and live to hike another day!!
A couple of more recent stories occurred at Wallowa Lake in eastern Oregon--Deb and I had purchased a 15 year old travel trailer and brought the kids with us to meet friends there. Heather was about nine then--she was amazed to see the deer that wandered freely around the campgrounds. She exploded into the trailer and announced that there was a MOOSE just outside--we rushed outside to find a tiny deer patiently standing there--we still love her imagination! On that same trip, Christopher was about two and getting into everything. We built a blazing camp fire that had burnt down to red-hot coals just perfect for s'mores. The little dork was trying to get closer to the fire, and tripped over a camp chair and fell face-first towards the fire. Luckily I was close enough to grab him as he fell, and only his hand and arm went in the coals. We rushed him to a hospital that was only a few miles away (with a police escort from the only officer on duty in Joseph, OR), and got excellent care from the emergency room staff. They cleaned him up and wrapped up his arm with bandages, and told us that because of his age he probably wouldn't even scar. Deb and I still wondered if we should cancel the remainder of the trip and bring the family home, but decided to wait until the next morning and see how he was doing. We woke up to him using his bandaged arm like a club to beat on his sisters in the trailer the next morning--needless to say we finished the trip and he recovered nicely (other than the periodic brain damage).
I'll probably have more material after this trip--we've seen transvestites in Bend, OR; Deb got hit on by a psycho chick in a coffee shop; and I wedged a 27 foot trailer into a 20 foot spot on the ocean at Depoe Bay--but that will wait for another day....til next time....Bob
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