Throughout my school-aged years, my parents would drag my sister and I throughout the countryside on various summer romps. They’d usually schedule one major trip, and a bunch of little ones, whenever their schedules cooperated to do so.
In 1984, I went to Disneyland. And quickly learned that I did not like fast rollercoasters. I’m a bit better about them now but I still avoid them to a high degree.
In 1995, my family went to Crater Lake, in Southern Oregon. That place was imprinted upon my soul as a spiritual experience. It was marred on the last day by the drowning of a kid who wouldn’t keep out of the very large, fenced off koi pond.
There were countless camping trips near and far. Sometimes we went with other families and had a week-long shindig out in the remote wilderness. When I was old enough to get my license, I was often sent ahead to set up a dinky dome tent to reserve a prime space that my dad particularly coveted. I remember one year, my dad waited for me to remove the tent before he backed up the trailer, to which the lady waiting for the trailer to get out of her way yelled at me for removing the tent.
“Hey, someone is camping there!!” she poked her head out of the car to make sure I heard her. “They paid for that!! STOP!”
I gave her a look. “This is our tent…”
“That’s–that’s not fair! Someone could have camped there last night!”
“Someone did,” I explained, continuing to roll up the tent. “We paid the fee for this spot and it was obviously occupied.”
“That’s no fair!” she yelled, and would have said more but at that point, my dad got out of the truck to see what was holding me up.
I remember one year, we camped at a very remote lake in a very primitive campground. It was eerily empty and full of dead trees, and in the night my dad reported there were two bears sniffing around the camper.
Sometimes we spent a weekend, up to four days, at the local hot springs resort. They have cabins as well as trailer/tent spaces, and we tried both over the years, though the trailer option was cheaper. We’d go swimming for 6-8 hours at a time, my parents would go melt in the hot spring-fed tub, while I would spend the totality of my time in the very large, deep, slightly cooler pool. Since I’d never been taught to swim, I looked ridiculous in my goggles and noseplug, but it enabled me to dip my head below and I spent as much time under as possible.
My parents used an old green, smelly army tent when my sister and I were small. As we grew, we wanted more modern arrangements, and my parents were frankly happy to have an excuse to drag something larger with us, and so they got themselves a used but useable fifth wheel trailer which someone had lived in for a number of years and had completely gutted the inside and made it look almost like a home–the main bedroom was above the hitch, and leading up to it was a small stairway, with a wrought iron bannister and all. I loved that staircase, off to one side from the “living room”, it looked so much like a real home. Years later, as the trailer outlived its usefulness to us, my parents went to the region’s largest RV show in the area, and ended up buying a brand new, slightly smaller but still neat, two-axle trailer. Most of my camping memories concern that trailer.
There have been many interesting views outside those trailer windows, including ocean, mountains, dusty desert, lush green valleys, familiar properties, remote campgrounds. My parents sold it a few years ago, now that my sister and I were married and definitely out of the nest. I’m not sure if they still camp, and if so, where and what in.
When I have a steady job and sufficient savings, I want to get not only a car, but the plans to make myself (and the druid) a teardrop trailer, a miniature thing that the smallest car can drag behind it, that sports a bed, and a kitchen. You’re on your own for a toilet, but it’s certainly sufficient for anything else. But yeah, infinitely usable and you can build it yourself very cheaply.
Though a tent is lighter. ;)
I hope that when the druid and I take that trip to our childhood home, that we can take the time to camp in a few different places. I have the spots already in mind. All we need is the tent, and the blow-up air mattress I am too spoiled to be without, hehe.
I don’t like the summer for the temperatures above my personal comfort level of about 80°F, but I do enjoy the opportunity to surround myself in more primitive, remote, less-populated places.
As long as there’s a flush toilet. *snickers*
–
I’m participating in my own meme, heh, Monday Memory. I chose to freewrite again on the topic of summer.
