zion

Over thirty years ago, I was driving back to the Midwest from California for the summer with my children.  Just me. My husband had to work. Friends of ours from San Diego were headed the same way, so we decided to caravan.  However, they were planning to camp their way to Nova Scotia.  I borrowed some camping gear and followed them out of town.

My first and last camping experience was in Zion National Park.  We arrived at our campsites in the ninth year of a nine-year drought.  It was hot and it was dusty.  I recall taking my towel to the shower house, and setting it on a bench.  By the time I got out of the shower my towel was covered with a layer of red dust.  I hated it.  

However, there were some other great and funny memories from that Zion visit.  The kids had so much fun swimming in the Virgin River where it ran shallow by the campsite.  We hiked a lovely trail to a waterfall, though I don’t recall much water falling…drought, remember?  But on the hike my son Court (three and a half years old at the time) asked Clint, the dad of the family we were with, a deeply penetrating question:  

   Court: “Clint, do you think Davy Crockett picked his nose?” 
   Clint, without a hint of mockery: “I think he probably did, Court, but I bet he didn’t do it in front of anyone.” 

Greatest answer ever!

This week David and I are driving across the country, headed to our summer place in Michigan.  Our first stop was Zion National Park, my first time back since 1989, and David’s first visit to the park.  We checked into our hotel room after a long day of driving.  I was delighted that David was up for heading out to the park.  It was perfect timing.  The late afternoon sun accentuated the rich colors on the cliff faces.  

It was still 100 degrees, and it was still dusty.  But we weren't camping!

Love, Liz