Hunting Camp

Hunting Camp

Finally, the time was here. It was fall break, and I was round ten years old and had nothing to do but sit around and enjoy life. This area was covered with dirt, and no matter how hard I tried, I would get filthy. I could not wait to get home to take a nice shower. Even though it was so dungy, it was a nice place to sit around and clear my mind.

As we grow older and return to the places of our childhood, we are often surprised to discover things are not as we remember. My memory as a child of a place, such as a family vacation spot, will be very different from that of an adult's. Particular details like size, glamour, and level of excitement are often escalated in the eyes of a child.

In the middle of September, my mother and I would go to the store to buy tons of food for hunting camp. At last, after being at the store for hours, we would be on our way to Black Mesa to meet my dad and my brothers. Hunting camp was the highlight of my year. For five years, we would go to the exact same campsite.

At this campsite, the air was fresh, the sun was out, and all I could hear was the beautiful sound of the calm river flowing downstream. Our camp was setup right next to the clear stream. My brothers and I would always throw rocks and sticks into the river. We loved to watch the huge fish jump far above the water, and dive back in headfirst.

We never stayed in a tent because of all the moisture that the river would give off. In the mornings, when we did stay in the tent, my family and I would wake up feeling drenched with water. We had a new camp trailer that was big enough to fit five people. The trailer was white with a maroon stripe going down the side. It had a huge dining table that turned into a double bed. There was a bunk bed, which also has departments in for different storage. A hallway leads to a king size bed where my parents slept. All of the sheets are grungy from all the dirt that was brought into the trailer.

In the mornings, I could feel the moisture of the cold air from the inside of the camp trailer. Every morning, my dad would wake up to go hunting. My nostrils would fill from the luscious smell of the brew from the freshly made coffee that my mom would make for my. Dad would always take my brothers hunting with him. Mom and I called them the three mighty hunters.

At about 9:00 every morning, my mom and I would start to cook breakfast for the boys. My favorite breakfast to cook was egg casserole, also known as quiche. We would get all of the ingredients together to start our creation. We never knew what we would put in the dish; we would just start throwing different things in there. The smell of bacon sizzling on the frying pan would make my mouth water. Finally, after finishing the creation of food, we would put it into the oven to cook.

While waiting for the boys to get back, I would get a horrifying feeling in my stomach. "Did they get something?" "Did a bear find them?" I was always so nervous. I would just sit in front of the campfire waiting impatiently for their return. The sun would gleam on my rosy cheeks as I sat there. Looking at all of the green around me would always bring a smile to my face. Even though Hotchkiss had beautiful plants, they never seemed to be as gorgeous as the plant growth in Black Canyon. I could hear the blissful birds chirping in the blue, clear sky. If I were lucky, the birds would be interrupted by the call of an elk shouting out to the cows. I loved that noise! Every time I heard it, I would go get my mom in the camp trailer so she could hear the large animals call from nature.

After hours of waiting for my brothers and my dad, they finally returned to camp. They were filthy with mud from the four-wheeler flicking it up onto their faces. They were usually wet from the moisture of the entire plantation that they would walk into. I could tell that they were tired because they were always out of breath.

We would take our breakfast outside, and, as a family, we would sit around the campfire. The lawn chairs that we would sit on were so uncomfortable. They were starting to rip on the bottom. Every time that my dad would get back from a hunt, he would tell the whole hunt from start to finish. Every hunt consisted of; Kenneth needs to learn how to walk quietly. Learn to pick up your feet son." All those two would do was complain Kenneth would reply, "That was Doug, not me." Nag, nag, and nag!

In the early afternoon, my dad would let me take the four-wheeler out for a spin. I would start up the engine, and hear the loud roar that the machine made. I shifted in high gear, and was on my way for an adventure. I would drive about 25 mph, just enough for the chilly wind to blow through my hair. Every so often, a bug would hit my face;