Nov. 07, 2007 - 23:10 MST

A BOY�S MOUNTAIN MEMORY

I loved going to the mountains when I was a kid. Few and far between were the times as it was the time of The Great Depression and things were tight. Most of the times were trips for a picnic with family, for the day. At which times between eating too much and becoming exhausted by climbing hills too much, I would ride home happily tired.

But there was a time or two, nestled in my memory amongst other treasures, that we camped out for a night or two.

I remember one time, coming slowly awake, frigid air scented with pine assaulted my nose, noticing the tent above I became aware of the urgent call of nature pressing upon me. I reached out from under the covers, pulled my underwear under the covers for a second to warm it, then scrambled into my clothes and hunted for a bush and privacy.

As I emerged from the tent the smell of hot coffee and hearing as well as smelling the bacon being prepared, I hurried about my business and returned to the fire.

Uncle Abe remarked, �Looks like we have a hungry boy here, tuck this in and there is more for you."

Welcome it was indeed, pancakes and gravy, bacon and toast. To top it off, I was given a steaming mug of coffee with a bit of milk in it. In town coffee was almost verboten for me, Dribs and drabs for me on special occasions. So a grown up mug of coffee was a real treat.

Thinking back over the years, I remember that coffee served me happened more often as I aged and had less milk in it - - - until I got old enough to be allowed to pour my own. A long about then I inherited the duty of making the coffee, as befitted my age.

I was planning on a lot of running and climbing those pine scented hills, breathing that wondrously crisp air that day, so I didn�t overeat, came close though.

For this city boy nights and days in the mountains were great experiences, long remembered. The days of roaming, and doing off the cuff orienteering were part of my growing up. I never got lost, confused at times, but managed to find my way back to camp.

Part of the adventure was the sudden start of wild life as I wandered. Most of the time I didn�t see what made the noise, just heard the thumping of flight. Occasionally though I would sight an animal in flight and be thrilled to the core. Feeling like one of my forerunners, out in the wild of the wild it seemed.

Like all things, the outing ended, the creekside left behind, the pines still standing sentry and we would head home. I hated going home from the mountains, it was downhill, the lower we got in elevation the hotter and muggier it got and the closed house seemed as if it would never air out enough to get comfortable.

Those nights I would put my pajamas on and lay on top of the covers and dream of the fun I had up there, where the skies and clouds are near, the air crisp and oh, so clean, the aroma of pine and greenery and the mountains surrounding me as if in the arms of Mother Nature.

I have some of them, taken out, polished, admired and put lovingly away. A BOY�S MOUNTAIN MEMORY . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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