Childhood story
As I was trying to get the door open this morning (outward opening door with an inward leaping dog), I remembered one of my favorite stories from growing up.
Ha! You clicked the cut! So you DO think my childhood may have had interesting moments. You're right, it did. Many of them revolved around our camping expeditions. So how *do* you provide entertainment for a family of four on an enlisted man's salary? Camping! Lots and lots of camping! Fresh air, bugs, dirt, running around with wild abandon. Yup, lots and lots of camping.
I can remember finding hummingbird nests with babies in the tamarisk grove on the edge of the desert. I can remember catching my first fish in the melting snow water high in the mountains. I can remember sliding down the rocks of a stream north of San Diego. I cannot remember when it started, but by my teenage years we had included a yearly trek to Sequoia National Park. Great place, and even greater was the National Game Preserve adjacent to it (Mineral King). It was 18 miles, part of which was dirt track. 18 miles, two hours straight up to get there. And two hours straight down, too. The game preserve doesn't exist anymore. The park system absorbed it so that Disney wouldn't be able to make it into a ski resort with a 4-lane highway. But when it was there, it was grand.
It was way up high, so high that one hike took you to Eagle Lake, right on the ridge of the High Sierras. We would go in that dangerous time right about Labor Day and spend two weeks there. Dangerous because it was dancing close to Mother Nature. First snow came right about then, and if you didn't make it off the hill, you were there for the winter. (Probably a little unrealistic, but I beg you not to mess with my memories.) Lots and lots of wildlife of all kinds (badgers, chipmunks, squirrels, wolverine a time or two, deer). And more bear than you could shake a stick at. The bears that caused problems in the Park were trucked in to the Preserve and released. In Mineral King.
The site we loved the best was down at the southern end of the campground. It was right at the intersection of several bear trails, but it was also the most isolated, and it was right on the edge of the stream. So fishing right there outside our door. The first few years I remember we had a tent-trailer checked out from the base for military families. Very cool, but even cooler was when we got an RV. We still took a big tent with us, we parked the bikes and other camping gear we weren't using.
The last year we were there, I wasn't supposed to be going. But my summer job ended early and I caught a ride with my ex-fiancee. My mom (Anne), dad (Ray)and brother were already up there. And yes, after the ex and I broke up, my family kept him and cut *me* loose. Poor little me! Anyway, my appearance there put a bit of a hitch into the sleeping arrangements, but Kip (my brother) and Bob (the adopted ex) were gracious enough to agree to sleep with the bikes in the tent. We set everything up during the day and enjoyed our dinner. When the skeeters got bad, we adjourned to the RV to continue playing cards (I think it ws Nickel Knock). When it got late enough, we all got to bed.
Mom opened the door and hugged Kip and Bob, bidding them farewell as they left the RV for their tent (all of ten feet away, but Mom is like that). She closed the door and came back to sit down. Bob had led the way, after all he's a mountain man and the tent was so very, very far away. We heard the tent flaps as they entered. Then we heard, "Anne! ANNE! ANNE!!!", each word an octave higher than the one previous. Clearly audible alongside Bob's "Anne" was my brother's "Mom!" MOM!" MOM!!!". He started out an octave higher than Bob did.
We, in the warmth, light and safety of the RV, realized something must be wrong. So Mom teleported to the RV Door (she had to have teleported - I never saw her move). She was trying to open the door, but there was pressure on it. She pushed out as hard as she could, but something was up against the door, pushing in even harder. She finally yelled loud enough to be heard over their high-octave panic calls and got them to back away from the door so she could open it and let them in. Remember now - Bob was the first to leave the RV, the first to enter the tent, and the first to get back to the RV. He, too, must have teleported, or leapt over my 6' brother, cuz there wasn't enough space to do anything else.
Anyway, I figured Mom had it covered, so I anchored to the window, with a flashlight. I saw a black shadow running away from the tent, but didn't actually see the bear. Once they calmed down, we learned that they went in the tent and came face to face with a bear. Upon morning inspection, we learned further that they had scar3ed the bear so badly, he didn't use the door to get out. Just like in the cartoons, there was a bear-shaped hole in the tent wall on the opposite side. And I swear (from the way that tent smelled) they they had scared the piddle out of him.
The rest of the trip, we slept in the RV, cramped up on top of each other, trying to maintain modesty with ex-boyfriends and teenage siblings. Ah yes, good times. And only one of the many bear stories from Mineral Park.
Ha! You clicked the cut! So you DO think my childhood may have had interesting moments. You're right, it did. Many of them revolved around our camping expeditions. So how *do* you provide entertainment for a family of four on an enlisted man's salary? Camping! Lots and lots of camping! Fresh air, bugs, dirt, running around with wild abandon. Yup, lots and lots of camping.
I can remember finding hummingbird nests with babies in the tamarisk grove on the edge of the desert. I can remember catching my first fish in the melting snow water high in the mountains. I can remember sliding down the rocks of a stream north of San Diego. I cannot remember when it started, but by my teenage years we had included a yearly trek to Sequoia National Park. Great place, and even greater was the National Game Preserve adjacent to it (Mineral King). It was 18 miles, part of which was dirt track. 18 miles, two hours straight up to get there. And two hours straight down, too. The game preserve doesn't exist anymore. The park system absorbed it so that Disney wouldn't be able to make it into a ski resort with a 4-lane highway. But when it was there, it was grand.
It was way up high, so high that one hike took you to Eagle Lake, right on the ridge of the High Sierras. We would go in that dangerous time right about Labor Day and spend two weeks there. Dangerous because it was dancing close to Mother Nature. First snow came right about then, and if you didn't make it off the hill, you were there for the winter. (Probably a little unrealistic, but I beg you not to mess with my memories.) Lots and lots of wildlife of all kinds (badgers, chipmunks, squirrels, wolverine a time or two, deer). And more bear than you could shake a stick at. The bears that caused problems in the Park were trucked in to the Preserve and released. In Mineral King.
The site we loved the best was down at the southern end of the campground. It was right at the intersection of several bear trails, but it was also the most isolated, and it was right on the edge of the stream. So fishing right there outside our door. The first few years I remember we had a tent-trailer checked out from the base for military families. Very cool, but even cooler was when we got an RV. We still took a big tent with us, we parked the bikes and other camping gear we weren't using.
The last year we were there, I wasn't supposed to be going. But my summer job ended early and I caught a ride with my ex-fiancee. My mom (Anne), dad (Ray)and brother were already up there. And yes, after the ex and I broke up, my family kept him and cut *me* loose. Poor little me! Anyway, my appearance there put a bit of a hitch into the sleeping arrangements, but Kip (my brother) and Bob (the adopted ex) were gracious enough to agree to sleep with the bikes in the tent. We set everything up during the day and enjoyed our dinner. When the skeeters got bad, we adjourned to the RV to continue playing cards (I think it ws Nickel Knock). When it got late enough, we all got to bed.
Mom opened the door and hugged Kip and Bob, bidding them farewell as they left the RV for their tent (all of ten feet away, but Mom is like that). She closed the door and came back to sit down. Bob had led the way, after all he's a mountain man and the tent was so very, very far away. We heard the tent flaps as they entered. Then we heard, "Anne! ANNE! ANNE!!!", each word an octave higher than the one previous. Clearly audible alongside Bob's "Anne" was my brother's "Mom!" MOM!" MOM!!!". He started out an octave higher than Bob did.
We, in the warmth, light and safety of the RV, realized something must be wrong. So Mom teleported to the RV Door (she had to have teleported - I never saw her move). She was trying to open the door, but there was pressure on it. She pushed out as hard as she could, but something was up against the door, pushing in even harder. She finally yelled loud enough to be heard over their high-octave panic calls and got them to back away from the door so she could open it and let them in. Remember now - Bob was the first to leave the RV, the first to enter the tent, and the first to get back to the RV. He, too, must have teleported, or leapt over my 6' brother, cuz there wasn't enough space to do anything else.
Anyway, I figured Mom had it covered, so I anchored to the window, with a flashlight. I saw a black shadow running away from the tent, but didn't actually see the bear. Once they calmed down, we learned that they went in the tent and came face to face with a bear. Upon morning inspection, we learned further that they had scar3ed the bear so badly, he didn't use the door to get out. Just like in the cartoons, there was a bear-shaped hole in the tent wall on the opposite side. And I swear (from the way that tent smelled) they they had scared the piddle out of him.
The rest of the trip, we slept in the RV, cramped up on top of each other, trying to maintain modesty with ex-boyfriends and teenage siblings. Ah yes, good times. And only one of the many bear stories from Mineral Park.