..."our" camp site

A few weeks ago my dad called and said he and mom were headed to the mountains. Would I like to join them? Of course! I packed up the truck, loaded up the ol' dog, and off we went. We stayed at Tamarack Camp site--it has water faucets and regulation outhouses, and is easy to get a trailer in and out--a great campsite. But--"our" campsite is further up the creek, has no faucets, no outhouses, and is down in a gully, so getting the trailer in--and out--is a bit of a challenge. "Our" campsite is the place that we claimed over 30 years ago. Every camping trip, the closer we got, the more anxious we were. Would it be open? Or would someone already be camped there? Now we just visit, play in the swimming hole, and "remember when." (I want to be like Mom--still playing in the creek at 76!)

And I don't know that I truly want to camp there again (regulation outhouses at night are nice). I think it's more that I'm nostalgic for a different time when regular camping trips were what we did as a family.

2000

Chasse and I shared a tent.
The view from my tent in the early morning hours.
Fresh trout--yum.
Cherrie pie, cooking over the coals. A friend from Canada introduced us to these.

Fisher people--Dad needed something from the truck and told me to hold his pole (slightly illegal). I swished the worm through the water and felt a tug. Um, Dad?


The log...that leads from "our" site to "our" swimming hole. About 21 years ago I sat down on it to nurse Katie, and the guys who were camped in "our" site decided to pack up. Really, it was all rated G and very discreet! Don't let Arlene tell you otherwise! haha