When I was a kid summers were simple. They were about riding my bike from dawn to dusk, hanging out with my best friend Mike and honeyed iced tea at my Grandma's house. And the highlight of the summer, the camping trip. Every summer we took a two week camping road trip. There were short weekend trips and I loved those, but it was the long trip that the summer was built upon. One year we did Dinosaur National Monument in Utah. Another year it was Yellowstone.
Imagine three kids stuffed into the back of a Vega station wagon, camping gear packed in the space behind the back seat and a rented carrier strapped to the roof. We had all of our own gear. A 4 man tent, sleeping bags, Coleman camp stove and lanterns. The whole deal. When we wren't on the road we kids were camping in the back yard.
The summer I always think about though, was the summer at Ruedi Reservoir. That was the year that we didn't have a goal destination. We just hopped in the car and drove and somehow that's where we ended up. We'd only planned to stay a few nights and ended staying for most of the vacation. The streams feeding the reservoir were running and the water was high. We found a great spot near a large stream and put up the tent. The stream was gorged with trout. They were beautiful. You could hardly throw your line in without pulling out and big, fat fish. My mom cooked them up in a pan on the coleman to over a grate on the fire. I remember one fish that got caught up on some rocks in the stream. The line was tangled, but the fish was still on the hook. my sister, Rhonda, waded out into the stream and brought back the fish. She got the credit for that one even though it was on my hook. Fair enough. Then there was the night a huge storm blew in and the tent stakes pulled out of the ground. The only thing that kept the tent from blowing away was the weight of 2 adults and 3 kids. My dad and I ran out and pounded the stakes back in then we all huddled in the tent until morning broke.
We revisited Ruedi again a few years later, but it wasn't the same. The streams were low and the fish not biting. We moved on pretty quickly that year.
I think about why I travel sometimes. It's not really the traveling for me. It's not the sights and the marvels. It's the being in a place, living there. I don't really travel like most people do. I go places and I live there. I walk the streets, or hike the trails as the case may be. I don't sight see. That was what that one summer at Ruedi Reservoir was for me. I can't help but think it had something to do with why I travel as an adult.
Imagine three kids stuffed into the back of a Vega station wagon, camping gear packed in the space behind the back seat and a rented carrier strapped to the roof. We had all of our own gear. A 4 man tent, sleeping bags, Coleman camp stove and lanterns. The whole deal. When we wren't on the road we kids were camping in the back yard.
The summer I always think about though, was the summer at Ruedi Reservoir. That was the year that we didn't have a goal destination. We just hopped in the car and drove and somehow that's where we ended up. We'd only planned to stay a few nights and ended staying for most of the vacation. The streams feeding the reservoir were running and the water was high. We found a great spot near a large stream and put up the tent. The stream was gorged with trout. They were beautiful. You could hardly throw your line in without pulling out and big, fat fish. My mom cooked them up in a pan on the coleman to over a grate on the fire. I remember one fish that got caught up on some rocks in the stream. The line was tangled, but the fish was still on the hook. my sister, Rhonda, waded out into the stream and brought back the fish. She got the credit for that one even though it was on my hook. Fair enough. Then there was the night a huge storm blew in and the tent stakes pulled out of the ground. The only thing that kept the tent from blowing away was the weight of 2 adults and 3 kids. My dad and I ran out and pounded the stakes back in then we all huddled in the tent until morning broke.
We revisited Ruedi again a few years later, but it wasn't the same. The streams were low and the fish not biting. We moved on pretty quickly that year.
I think about why I travel sometimes. It's not really the traveling for me. It's not the sights and the marvels. It's the being in a place, living there. I don't really travel like most people do. I go places and I live there. I walk the streets, or hike the trails as the case may be. I don't sight see. That was what that one summer at Ruedi Reservoir was for me. I can't help but think it had something to do with why I travel as an adult.
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