Category: Adventures with family

The maps were laid out on the table. We had not gone into this without some preparation. Already my sister and I had a fairly well drawn out itinerary and route, as well as designated National and State Parks, and other points of interest to visit. No matter how good our presentation was, we knew Mama would never be sold on the idea. Now Daddy – that was a different story. If we could get him on board, he would take care of Mama.

It was the fall of my senior year of high school. My sister, two years older, and I came up with a crazy scheme to travel across the country the following summer. Already, we were setting aside funds and making lists of additional items we would need. We had backpacks, sleeping bags, mess kits, and other camping gear already. We knew everything had to be in order for our plan to work.

As we began our presentation Mama’s face was set as stone. Daddy’s eyes lit up. When he reached down and traced his finger along one of the roads on the map and made a suggestion of a particular point of interest, we knew we had him! There were plenty of relatives we could stay with once we got out west. There was Aunt Ellen in Santa Barbara, Aunt Betty in Martinez, Anna and Kitty in Santa Monica, Cousin Diane in California, Cousin Donna Marie and Russ in Brookings, Uncle George in Kent, Uncle Sid in Port Angeles, Uncle Frank in Idaho, and others. Once we got to Montana, we would stay with our Grandmother, Cousin Babs, and visit Uncle Buster and Aunt Viola.

Mama didn’t like the idea at all! Looking back, I can’t say as if I blame her. We were young. I was just eighteen when we made the trip, my sister being twenty. We looked younger than we were – like kids. There were no cell phones for communication, no debit cards or credit cards for us to use, and the car looked like it had already seen its last days.

We tried to have the answers before Mama asked the questions:
“What are you going to drive?” “The old beat up car –  it will be serviced ahead of time – and we’ll have the oil changed and everything checked out at the appointed time.”

“Where are you going to stay along the way?” “We’ll camp – in National Park campgrounds, State Park campgrounds or KOA’s.”

“What will you eat?” “We’ll take a cooler and cook our meals on the Coleman stove at breakfast and supper. Lunch will be sandwiches.”

“How will you pay for it?” “We both have jobs and are already setting some money aside. We can get traveler’s checks and carry some cash. I will send enough ahead so we will be sure to have enough for our trip home. There will be very little expenses – gas, food, camping fees (which are minimal), and we will set aside an emergency fund for car repairs or other things that might arise.”

“We promise to call home every couple of days as we were travel across the country. Once we get to the West Coast, we’ll pretty much be with relatives for the remainder of the trip. “

I remember Mama saying, “Buck, you’re NOT going to let them go, are you?” I didn’t understand her fears then. Mama thought it was foolish. (Of course she thought jumping off cliffs with ropes, backpacking and camping for fun, and jumping out of planes was foolish, too). Daddy thought it was a great opportunity. They were both right. But what adventures we had!

Stay tuned for more of the story………… Part Two

I have heard it said from folks in various parts of the country that the South does not have all four seasons.  Well, let me correct your misunderstanding. It just isn’t true in the part of the South where I live. 

As a matter of fact, we had all four seasons just a couple of weeks ago. On Monday we had heat of Summer. Midweek we had cool crisp breezes of Fall. The next day we had Spring rains, flash floods and various Spring flowers showed their pretty faces. Saturday morning, we had 3 ½ inches of snow. The kids went sledding, built a snow throne and had a snowball fight. That afternoon, it turned spring again and all traces of snow melted away.

A couple of days ago, we had a picnic, dressed in shorts and short sleeves. Today, there is a wintry mix followed by lots of rain. So – don’t believe it if someone says the South doesn’t have seasons! We sometimes have them all in one day!

“Go west young man.” When the West was expanding, pioneers looked to make their way in a new land. They were full of hope for the prospects that lay ahead in a land of opportunity. Some went west in hopes of striking it rich in the gold fields. Others looked to a world where land was plentiful. There is a certain fascination with the American Western culture that creates a romantic appeal in spite of the hardships of life in the rough and tumbling west.

A few years ago, someone mentioned the Booth Western Art Museum to me. I had no idea there was such a place here in the South. It wasn’t long before I visited the museum and couldn’t wait to take Daddy there on a day trip. After all, he was part of the Western culture.

We soon made the trip. The museum is fascinating! There are works of legendary artists. Permanent collections include the works of Remington and Russell. There is a Presidential Gallery which has portraits of every United States President that are accompanied by signed letters of each, and other memorabilia. The tribal cultures of Native American Indians are brought to life in paintings and sculptures. There are even sculptures made out of paper. 

Temporary galleries have rotating exhibitions, from ten to twelve a year. We had the privilege of being there when Ansel Adams’ phenomenal photography was on display. He was a highly gifted unparalleled photographer and environmentalist. On my last visit, the photography of Bob Kolbrener was on exhibit. Kolbrener continues in the pattern of Adams’ traditional “straight photography.” His artistic eye captured the western scenery and culture over a 50-year period. The purity of the black and white photos of both artists gives dimensional depth and detail.  I stood before both exhibits in wonder. 

The best part of the day was being with Daddy. Every exhibit we looked at brought a story of some kind. His love of history and love for the land of his birth made his face glow and his eyes water. He stood a long time in front of one of the statues of a cowboy outside the building. The accompanying plaque read, “Here, the rancher pauses for a moment of gratitude for having the basic necessities he needs to maintain his way of life.” Leaning on his cane, Daddy looked up at the rider on horseback, understanding that way of life. A moment of reverence was shared – one old cowboy to another.

My Daddy was my sidekick for several years. Often, when I was off from work, we would go on an adventure. I got out my map, drew a circle with a hundred-mile radius from our town, and searched for interesting places within that radius that we had never visited. 

We took many day trips. Sometimes we would just go to lunch and take a ride through the countryside. Sometimes, others were able to join us. At least once a year in the fall, we would drive through the mountains to apple country to stock up on apples. We stopped at scenic overlooks and took in the gorgeous views. A few times a year, we went to “the Pocket” and hiked through the wildflower trails, and visited the falls. State Parks were a favorite place to hike a bit and have a picnic. (I think a picnic is an adventure all by itself.) We visited waterfalls and parks in Georgia, Alabama and Tennessee. We visited historic sites depicting the rich Indian history of the area, military parks, museums, the Planetarium, the bat cave, Reflection Riding, toured replicas of the Nina & Pinta, and had other fun excursions.  

Shortly before Daddy died, he said, “We’ve been lots of places together, haven’t we?” “Yes, we have.” “And I’ve enjoyed every one of them.”  “Me, too, Daddy, me too.”

One of my fondest memories from the trip my sister and I took across the country in 1975 was our visit with Cousin Donna Marie. We pulled up in her yard in our old beat up jalopy and she ran out to meet us. Though she was close in age to my mother, she had the energy of a teenager. We immediately knew we were kindred spirits and would have the time of our lives.

Donna Marie was always ready to head out on an adventure. First, we explored the area where she lived in Brookings, Oregon. We rode to the coast and climbed down the cliffs and explored tidal pools teeming with life. Waves of the Pacific Ocean crashed onto the beach and showered the rocky pinnacles just offshore. The wind whistled through natural bridges created by years of water and wind pounding the rugged cliffs. We wandered up and down narrow trails in awe of the wonder of creation. It was like walking through an ancient wonderland of sagious Sitka Spruce trees. Moss draped from low hanging branches and over open archways like whiskers hanging from an old man’s chin. The sound of the ocean was hypnotizing. We had to pull ourselves away from the scenes and sounds that drew us like a magnet.

We made random stops and explored along the Pacific Coastline as we drove to Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park. The park, established in 1929, is named for Jedediah Smith who was the first white man to explore the interior of Northern California in the 1820’s. We pitched our tent on a soft bed of layers of decomposing Redwood needles and camped in the old growth of Redwoods. Our food was cooked over a campfire surrounded by river rocks, the limbs of the Redwood titans far above us reaching into the sky. We met up with other cousins and swam in the cold Smith River.

Our adventure took us to Crescent City, California where we saw evidence of the Tsunami of 1964. We gathered for lunch, met cousins we had never seen before and made a shaky human pyramid. We visited a sawmill and toured a house made of all kinds of wood. An elaborate staircase led upstairs to several rooms, the walls and floor of each covered with a different kind of wood. My favorite was the room of curly redwood. The rich colors and smells still linger in my memory.

After other adventures, it was time to continue north. We pulled out of Cousin Donna Marie’s driveway a lot richer because of the bond of friendship and family. We knew our paths would cross again.

Some people are fortunate enough to have a few special friends along the path of life. Others surround themselves with a whole network of friends. That describes my oldest grandson. He’s the guy that would come to Sunday dinner and have one to six friends with him. He carried that characteristic with him to college.

A few months ago, we took a quick trip to Montana where he is attending school. We landed, make a side trip to get boots for my tall daughter (see previous post about My Tall Daughter) and then headed to the apartment my grandson shares with another student.

He was excited to see us. When he knew we were coming, he said he wanted to cook for us. Several of his friends were already there when we arrived, having come through his revolving door. We sat down at the table set with a complete set of English china made by Johnson Brother’s around 1940.  (He is a bargain shopper and got the whole set of dishes for $15.) He made antelope stew, which was delicious, baked wild rice with various herbs and dried beets, fresh green salad with avocado and other healthy food, rolls, two kinds of bread from the bakery, and pecan pie. 

Everything was wonderful! But the best part of the meal was the fellowship with those who sat around the table. As I watched and listened to the interaction between friends, I couldn’t help but be impressed. There was great diversity among those sitting around the table. I was surprised to learn that some of them didn’t even know each other before that day. As far as I’m concerned, these young people are the cream of the crop. 

Among the guests was a young man majoring in Economics and Finance and is an IT specialist. He has traveled several places including working on a fishing boat in Alaska and hiking across Nicaragua. Several of the students that sat at the table are Art majors. One young lady spent time in Italy for an art study and hopes to be able to explore French art as well. One wants to teach at a college level eventually. A vibrant charming young lady from Colorado graduates this month with a degree in Psychology. Her passion was infectious as she talked about her love of scientific studies focusing on the relationship between Alzheimer’s and gut microbiomes. A Music major with a focus on production and writing, talked of his passion for production and writing songs. He sang one of his compositions and played his guitar for us. He also studies Engineering and is an extreme kayaker. One young man works at Gibson Guitar. He also does wood working, having learned the art from an older gentleman. Among the friends was a student practicing sustainable farming and agriculture. She has been so successful, professors use her practices to teach others. A couple of the students also play in a band. Some do archival work at the Art Museum and set up exhibits. Others take part in community service at a local church. There was also an English Lit major working on a minor in Photography. He’s my favorite!

Many of these students that shared our table are outdoor enthusiasts. Their sports include skiing, ice climbing, rock climbing, snowboarding, hunting, biking, rafting, kayaking, backpacking, camping, rafting, and extreme sports. These young people are passionate about what they do – whether it’s their studies, work, outdoor activities, or community service. They are able to look to the future, not hindered by obstacles. They are all intelligent, motivated, talented and fun to be around. I felt it a privilege to sit around the table with that group of friends. Sitting with them, I was given new hope for the future. 

“And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.”

Sunlight filtered through the needles of the giant trees. Webs that hung from scraggly limbs refracted rays of light shooting rainbows toward the ground. Drops of moisture looked like strands of pearls laying against the moss that clung to misshaped branches. A thick canopy stretched across the top of the forest, branches reaching from tree to tree embracing each other to form a network of protection for the life that lived and moved beneath their boughs. Huge ferns and other plants formed a dense carpet under the umbrella of trees, digging roots into the earth to drink from the rich soil. Some of the giants rested their weary feet in the creek that wandered through the primordial woodland. The smell of saltwater from the Pacific Ocean hung heavy in the air, the only breeze in the top of the tall gentle giants.

“Come to the forest for here is rest.”

Trails led deep into the woods. Hollowed out tree trunks gave the perfect place to find refuge from wind and rain or a place to hide. Eerie shadows danced along worn paths and moved from tree to tree. Walking along the path was like stepping into one of Tolkien’s magical forests, a mystical land, a realm where elves are kings and black deer their mighty steeds. 

The Redwoods in Muir Woods are gentle giants that have stood their ground for years, the oldest over 1200 years old. The majestic cathedral of ancient trees is opened to those who would venture through its doors to capture the reverence and awe that moved the hearts and minds of men like John Muir. The Redwoods beckon visitors to enter their peaceful kingdom and to serve as advocates to preserve their heritage and their future.

“The world’s big and I want to have a good look at it before it gets dark.”

quotes of John Muir