Summer Vacation

Of all the trips and vacations we took when I was growing up in the 1960's and '70's, the two weeks we spent camping across the western plains and throughout the great Rocky Mountains, was clearly the pinnacle of our family travels. Although we took several nice vacations that included trips to places like Dallas, Texas, New Orleans, and Silver Dollar City, nothing compared to our two week long camping trip the summer of 1970.

During that vacation, we saw the Rocky Mountains for the first time in our young lives, the Bad Lands of South Dakota, the awe-inspiring Teton Mountains, the site of Custer's Last Stand, the Crazy Horse monument, the raging Colorado River, and assorted National Parks and land marks too numerous to mention. If it had historical significance and lay somewhere between Missouri and Montana, the Robertson boys saw it first hand.

I vividly recall seeing several brown and black beers close up and personal from the safety of our car while driving through Yellow Stone National Park. We saw Elk, mule deer, buffalo, and just about every other critter that roamed the wilds of the western United States. We fished, hiked, waded, played in the snow, pulled off to take pictures at points of interest and sometimes, just drove around to find places like Devil's Tower or Spanky's Barber Shop.


But the thing I remember most about those 2 wonderful weeks, was camping out in our big Sears and Roebuck cabin tent. I remember the clang of the tent poles every night as my 2 brothers and I helped Dad put it together while Mom perepared supper on the Coleman stove. I remember the hiss of the Coleman lantern as it did it's nightly work of lighting our camp site. I recall blowing up air mattresses and rolling out our Sears sleeping bags so they'd be ready when Mom or Dad said, "Boys, time to hit the sack". I remember exploring around our various camp sites as if we were the first human beings to set foot in this new un-explored wilderness.  I'll never forget the time Mom came out of the bathroom at our Wyoming camp site and saw what she thought was a horse standing there and staring her in the eye (it turned out to be a cow Moose).
I remember lying in my sleeping bag at night when Dad turned out the lantern and listening to all the night sounds from the comfort and warmth of our family tent. I fondly recall waking up and going outside in the early morning to be greeted by the crisp clean mountain air and walking through the sometimes frost-covered grass on the way to the bathroom, intent on creating the illusion of having taken a shower.

One of my greatest memeories of all time is the sound and aroma of bacon frying in the skillet sitting on top that old Coleman 2 burner stove. I recall the distinct sound of eggs cracking as Mom banged them on the side of the skillet. And of course the best part, sitting on the ground or on a near by pic-nic table with my family, eating a camp fried breakfast of bacon and eggs. The only part I didn't like was having to clean everything up and pack it all back into the trunk of our '69 Plymouth. Knowing how Moms and Dads are, however, I'm sure they actually did most of the work while Larry, Mark and I carried out our final explorations prior to departing for our next destination.

When I think about those 2 weeks we spent as a young family camping from our humble Missouri home all the way to Wyoming and back, I can't imagine a better way to have spent the first part of our 1970 Summer vacation, or a more meaningful and fun memory created for 3 young boys growing up in small town America. As the narrator in the opening segment of the movie "Jerimial Johnson would have said: "You kain't go no better"!