Rocky Mountain High

Facebook is as empty on the weekends as a church is during the week!

I stopped by to see if there was anything worth noting and was greeted by a photo of a friend’s son’s first football practice with the Uintas towering in the background.   I was reminded of how much I miss the view of the Rockies, particularly between Big and Little Cottonwood Canyons, that was mine growing up.

That, coupled with my recent watching of “Scout Camp” has got me jonesing for a camping trip to my old stomping grounds!  Now I am planning a camping trip for next summer, which we probably won’t make, but a girl can dream right?

A couple of summers ago Honey’s brother and family came out for a visit.  They spent a few days in Yosemite.  It makes me nervous – those first come, first served campsites, but I hope sometime we can gather there and build all kinds of memories together.  I still have my songbook that I put together for last year’s campout with Ana Banana’s family, I could add a few more songs and introduce my nieces to my extended C family (the extra crazy ones) camping traditions.

Yes, I come from a long line of outdoorsmen.  And women.  Because, you know, the wives came too!  I’d have to say that’s one of the things I miss most about my dad.  The camping trips, of which there were many.  There were rafting trips, too, but little people don’t get to go on those.  They just get dunked into hot springs in Idaho. (Man, I wish I could find the tape of my home movies!)

My grandparents had a cabin in Running Springs, CA.  Many summers were spent there collecting cans by the side of the road with grandpa C and learning how to fish.  I still love fishing, just not the eating of the fish.  I know, I know… there’s always the practice of catch & release, but somebody’s going to have to release it for me because if you think I’m funny about touching meat that is dead you should see how I feel about touching meat that’s still alive!

We’d also go to a nearby lake and swim or row to our heart’s content, and we’d take the money from turning in those cans to spend at a small candy stand that had just about every flavor of Jolly Rancher stick that ever was made!

I miss those summers.  I wish Dad were here so we could give them to my kids.  Maybe I still can.

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