Today we have a guest post from Melissa who blogs over at
My PB+J. We are all talking about our childhood summer vacation memories. You can find my story over on her site.
Hey everyone! My name is Melissa and I live in the Northern County of sunny San
Diego. My blog is mostly about My PB+J, also known as my two-year-old daughter
Payton, my nine-month-old son Brayden and my hubby of five years Jimmy. It
hasn't quite hit the high temps here but since it's summer I thought I'd share
one of my favorite family vacation memories.
As school would get out it was time for our family to pack our 1988 station
wagon and head up highway 395 to Mammoth Lakes. My Dad complaining that we
were leaving way later than he had expected as he was tying down the boat while
I was noming on frozen green grapes and my sister captain crunch in the back
seat. We took turns playing our travel sized games and of course asked, 'are we
there yet' enough to bug the shit out of our parents. As we made the scenic yet
boring drive we ended up at our usual camping spot at Twin Lakes five hours
later.
My sister, Lindsay, and I would go adventure while my parents would set up
camp. We always came back and hung our heads in embarrassment that our parents
were still rocking the 1960's army green canvas tent vs. the nice colorful vinyl
ones. My dad would make sure everything was setup and then he would make the
best camp food. My all-time fav was his peach cobbler, I am drooling right now
thinking about it. As the sun was setting we would anticipate the s'more making
and soon it was bedtime. One thing that is very common in the Sierra Nevada
mountains are bears. That first evening we heard some scuffling within our site,
my Dad whispering to stay quiet and not to make a move. The cool, crisp morning
was upon us, waking to the sound of my parents coffee boiling and to find my Dad
up cleaning the mess from the night before. The bear had a hay-day with our
site. The igloo had been gently opened without a scratch yet the brown bear dug
deep for a bottle of Hershey's syrup to which he pressed his sharp nails in,
guzzled some and squirted it all around.
Our days were filled with fishing in my parents paddle boat. My Dad who
loves to fish spent most of the time baiting, casting and fixing crossed lines
vs. actually setting some bait of his own into the gorgeously green-blue waters.
We'd duck our heads as we paddled under the bridge and then made our way to our
site. My sister and I got this brainy idea that we would take the boat out on
our own, of course, without telling our parents what we were up to. We quickly
got stuck on stringy moss, I climbed out into the chilly water and went to fetch
Dad for help while she sat helpless in the boat screaming . Trips to the general
store were a must and where my parents dear friends could always be found. We'd
pick-up a lollipop, a pack of Dr. Pepper gush gum and a can of cold soda. On our
last night we'd get one hot shower after a week of roughing it and soon we would
be back in our driveway in Murrieta.
Camping was and will always be where my heart is during the summer months.
In my adult years we have only been once seven years ago and I miss it terribly.
There of course are so many stories and memories of our trips. I anticipate the
day where my sister and I can bring our families together for a camping trip;
complete with our Dad's peach cobbler, of course!
Do you have a favorite camping memory?
xo -
Melissa
the first fish I caught, age four.
circa 1986
