There
are two camping trips that stand out in my mind. One took place when I was a
child and is the only vacation that I remember in my childhood. I do not
remember much about it except we traveled in Dad’s big farm truck to
Yellowstone National Park. We took all the mattresses and bedding out of the
house, and I suppose that we had some kind of tent. The mattresses were stacked
in the back of the truck where the children rode.
When we camped the mattresses were
put in a line with Dad and Mom’s bed in the middle, the boys’ bed on Dad’s side
of them and the girls’ beds on Mom’s side. I think that we were gone from home
for three days, but I do not remember anything about the actual park – just a
little about the excitement of going on a vacation, the ride in the truck, and the
sleeping arrangements.
The other camping trip that I
remember well took place about 35-40 years ago. I cannot remember for sure, but
I think that my youngest son was the baby. I think that this was the trip where
I found him sitting in a pan. Our family of seven, plus Grandma and Grandpa,
flew to our cabin on the Iliamna River in the Cessna 180. I do not remember
anything special about the flight to the cabin or the flight home. It was what
happened between the flights that I remember.
There was a terrible rainstorm in
the mountains that caused the water in the river to rise. The cabin was usually
25-40 feet from the river in normal conditions. The water rose so high that water
was up to the cabin and my husband had the airplane tied to the porch of the
cabin. I was terribly afraid because I had all these little children and two
old people. (I was probably in my mid- to late-30s, which would make Grandma in
her mid- to late-50s and Grandpa a few years older – far from “old.”)
I was mainly concerned about our
safety if the river kept rising. I did not worry at all about my husband going
out in the rushing water to care for the airplane. My concern was how to get
the children, plus Grandma and Grandpa, up the steep mountain behind the cabin.
I worried all day as I watched the water rising. We went to bed in the loft with
the water still rising, so I worried all night.
My husband was not worried at all,
but he slept on the kitchen table in order to care for the airplane. The water went
down during the night, and he was up several times during the night to move the
airplane back inside the normal river banks.
I suppose that there was nothing to
panic about – but I panicked. My stress over the rising water blanked out a
much more dangerous happening. It was on this trip that my oldest daughter
opened the back door of the cabin to lead the children out to play. This was a
normal occurrence, only this time she heard a voice telling her to take the
children back into the cabin and close the door. She obeyed the voice. She took
the children back into the cabin and closed the door. They ran to the window
and saw a bear walking beside the cabin, right under the window. They would
have met the bear at the corner of the cabin if she had not listened to the
voice. I forgot all about this experience until I overheard my daughter sharing
it with two of her nieces after their baptisms. She told them to always listen
to the still, small voice to stay safe.
I have been thinking about the rising water at the cabin a lot recently as I
watched the devastation from Hurricane Harvey in Houston, Texas. My experience
was nothing compared to the experience of the Texans, but I have an idea
of how they must have felt as they watched the water rising around them.
No comments:
Post a Comment