Category: Adventures with family

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

I have two daughters – a tall daughter and a short daughter. I gave birth to my short daughter. My tall daughter wears a wedding sapphire given to her by my son. I like traveling with both of my daughters.

Traveling with my tall daughter is always an adventure. In fact, my tall daughter adds extra adventure to our adventures. The last trip with my tall daughter was to Montana along with our spouses. We booked a room at a motel close to the airport since we had an early flight. It was rainy, cold, and dark when I got to the car early the next morning. My tall daughter stood at the back of the car with the hatch opened. She pointed to a pair of boots and said, “Do you notice anything?” “They don’t match.” They were different colors and it looked like they were different sizes, too. “Do you notice anything else?” “They are both for the same foot.” Well, I guess a new pair of boots would be the first order of business upon landing in Montana. That’s a great trick to get a new pair of boots! She makes the most of the opportunity.

A few years ago we went on a trip with some of the extended family and retraced the trail our ancestors took from New Mexico to Montana. We traveled down winding mountain roads, climbed through ancient cliff dwellings, and explored old family stomping grounds. Along Route 66, we stepped back into the ’50’s at the iconic Galaxy Diner. Before I could blink, my tall daughter was standing with the performing musician singing Rocky Top. She’s spontaneous.

My tall daughter is an Elementary School teacher. She is always seeking places of special interest that serve as teaching aids to her students. On the road through Utah, my tall daughter wanted to make such a side trip. As we wound up the road through the hills to Promontory Point, the white crusty Salt Flats in the valley below glistened like snow. On Promontory Summit we visited Golden Spike National Monument where the first transcontinental railroad was completed in 1869 when the Union and Central Pacific Railways met and opened up the west. After leaving that bit of history behind, we took back roads that led into Idaho and then into Montana. We met up with a newfound cousin, a fellow teacher who was quickly captured by the southern belle’s exuberance. She’s engaging.

There was one trip I took with both my tall daughter and my short daughter. We went to North Carolina to a conference. When we got to town, we went to the B & B we had booked. Upon arrival, we discovered that the hostess did not set us up in the rooms we had paid for. My tall daughter took charge and soon the hostess was moving out of the room that was supposed to be ours for the night. When my tall daughter is along, she speaks up for us all. She’s our champion.

I have been on various trips with my tall daughter. My husband and I have been “camping” with her and her groom in their motor home. We have visited various National and State Parks. We have traveled out west. We have traveled to Michigan. I have traveled with them in the winter across the frozen Northwest. We have hiked, picnicked, gone to weddings and family reunions or just gone out to dinner. She likes all kinds of adventures.

And – my tall daughter gives the best hugs!

I have visited many interesting places around the country, each with its own characteristics and culture. One such place was what some have classified as a hippie commune located in the Santa Ynez Mountains above Santa Barbara, California. The compound at one time was a sacred spirit village of the Chumash people.

It was later known as the Sunburst Community but is now called Flores Flats. “Flores” is a Spanish word that means “flowers.” That gives you an idea of the beauty of the area. My cousin has a lovely and unique home nestled there in the mountains among the Manzanita trees and other beautiful vegetation and foliage.

The residents there work together as a community. Their homes are made out of whatever is available. The homes without bathroom facilities share a community bath house. They often pool their resources and provide for one another. When I was there, we all gathered to share our evening meal. Someone grilled steaks, while others prepared fresh produce and bread. They rely on their gardens for food as well as a means to generate income. Many use solar power and live very simply. They have a connection to nature. Because of the age-old lingering spirit felt there in the mountains it is said, “the ancient people continue to nurture us all with contributions from their rich heritage and culture.” And so the ancient people continue to live on.

Anytime we meet up with Cousin Scottie, it’s a good day. He is a walking family historian with a genealogical chart as an appendage. I asked him once if he would will me his brain – or at least the family history it contains. He has been our fearless leader on more than one occasion, leading us through the trails of stories and history. 

The trip of 2012 was the first time I remember meeting any of my Wagoner cousins, though I had seen their folks several times. We met at Sapillo Creek, New Mexico. The plan was to meet there at the old site of the Brannin Ranch, explore the area, and then follow the route of the family exodus to Montana in 1895-96. Some of us had retraced that trail before.

After meeting, we all went to the Buckhorn Saloon in Pinos Altos for supper. We walked in the door and felt an immediate connection to the past. The dim lights, the long dark toned bar, the wall lined with bottles, the brick wall at the back of the room, the décor, and the wooden ceiling created an atmosphere characteristic of the old west era. Some of the family had already gathered. The young folks sat together and soon the cousins were well acquainted. We talked about our proposed route and got brushed up on some of the family history. Our food was wonderful, and the company was the same. It was open mic night and we got a rare treat. One of the cousins, only 13 years old, sang and played the guitar. His fingers danced across the strings and impressed everyone in the bar. 

We all enjoyed staying on the same piece of property where the old Ranch once stood. Sapillo Creek still runs through the property. One of the apple trees planted by my Great Grandfather also stands as a testimony to time. The old tree is twisted and weathered. I wish there was a magic camera on the tree that would replay all the events that took place over 125 years. We would see the uncles all covered in mud when they scared the Sunday wagon drivers; we would get a glimpse of Indians coming off Apache Hill into the Brannin yard asking for something to eat; we would see children playing in the yard; we would hear Stanton talk of the neighboring rancher’s threats; we would see the shingle maker in action; we would hear the one lie Guadalupe told of her heritage. Instead we must rely on the oral and written history that has been passed on to us.

Our time in the area was much too short. One day, I hope to go back and stay longer to explore the area. Would you like to join me? I’ll meet you at the Buckhorn!

Stepping onto the street in Pinos Altos was like stepping into the scene of an old western movie. It’s as if the tales of the Wild West came to life. Curtains of time rolled back as I stepped into the old saloon. The Buckhorn Saloon had its beginning in the 1860’s. The long bar bore scars from boot spurs and barroom brawls. I could easily imagine seeing my great grandfather and Old Moss sitting at one of the tables scattered throughout the saloon.

You can still get a drink or a sumptuous meal at Buckhorn as you experience the old west. Next door to the saloon is the Opera House that is still used as a performance venue. Musicians from all over play there. Just a walk through the Opera House is a memorable walk past historic photos, paintings and old artifacts.

Pinos Altos, meaning “tall pines,” is along the route from Silver City, New Mexico to Sapillo Creek. It is a fascinating drive. The road winds through the Mimbres Mountains, a gorgeous and unique igneous mountain range. Dense forests and deep canyons make the mountains look dark and ominous. In this ancient land of tall mountains, rivers, and high desert, you can still find evidence of the prehistoric Mogollon Indians who made their homes in the cliffs of these mountains. A visit to Gila Cliff Dwellings National Monument allows a fascinating look at their homes and culture. This was also the land of Apache Indians. As settlers moved into the area, big ranch owners brought their own unrest as these cultures clashed. Some of my ancestors called Sapillo Creek home before they left that land of gunslingers and raids on their neighbors’ homes.

Along that same road my family and I witnessed a scene that I warrant have only been seen by a few, other than the rare occurrence caught on film by a wildlife photographer. Just off the side of the road we saw a bear on the other side of a fence. Then we noticed a doe laying under the fence at the feet of the bear. It appeared the doe tried to jump the fence but didn’t make it. Within a few seconds, the bear reached into the doe’s abdomen that had been ripped open and pulled out a fetus as we watched. It’s was unbelievable!

The Mimbres Mountains are still wild and full of undiscovered mysteries.