• Its rare that something as simple as a trip can stay with you for as long as you live. I've learned the hard way that sometimes its easier to let go of things if you hate something then it is if you love it. I spent from the age of Four to the age of Twelve living on a small base in Lemoore, California. Every year at least once we'd travel a good two to four hours north to the Sierra Nevada’s and spend at least the day there. I could probably count the times we spent camping on one hand. We didn't do it much. We normally went during the early spring but on this trip we went in the late winter early spring. It was possibly the very last trip I will ever take to those beloved mountains.

    The drive was normal despite the cold we were all pretty much silent. My dad sat driving first and for the first couple hours everything went normal. We went down the road lined with twisting trees, the car still cool from the early morning air. My dad driving quietly, my mom doing her homework trying to graduate from a university. My older sister staring blankly out the van window listening to music, and my little sister working on homework she was behind on with her sunglasses on and her gaze mostly out the window. She was listening to music too. I was just taking everything in. I knew there would come a time that we left home but I didn't want it to be so soon. My gaze went from inside the car out to the fields of left over corn stalks and dried up cotton plants. Most of which was in at least a half inch of water from all the rains that year. I wasn't listening to music this time. I didn't want to, I wanted to take everything I saw in. I didn't think about it then but I knew this was our last trip.

    After a while we stopped where we always did a convenient little store with a bathroom. I never looked at the name. It was on the edge of a steep down slope that was covered with a sandy top layer, bushes, thorn covered plants, and other things to get hurt on if one were to fall or miss step off the edge. There was a railed porch all the way around the building so you got a good view of what were to come if you fell. It was beautiful none the less. When we got back in the car after stretching our legs in this small area we could look around and see the foot hills spotted in cattle free grazing on property. It never ever smelt up here. The air felt nice on the lungs and the valley’s cow smell was finally out of your system. It would take another hour or so to get there. Once we did the view was breath taking. Along the winding road into the Park was a huge natural exposed side of the mountain to the left and to the right…to the right was a beautiful tree covered mountains and steep, and rather deep slope smothered in trees and plants. Below at the bottom of that was a river fed by a water fall you saw on your way in just a few minutes later. During this time of year when the snows weren’t melting yet it was sort of dried up but I only needed to see the weathered rock to remember what it looked like all the other times. Once it had been frozen in place not moving all the water froze as it fell. It was beautiful, another it was roaring so loud you could hear it over the car, these pictures were what I saw as we passed the dried up water fall. Not fed by the melting snow yet. Not enough rain either. IT was a bad year for rain and the winter was still young. I wasn’t worried.

    We made our way up towards the higher mountain area. We passed our normal camp sight and went further up. It was practically and unspoken rule that was broken just then. We always camped at this one place. It was just a walk away from my families favorite get away trail. Normally we ended up with the same uneven sloppy camp ground made mostly of clay for ground. We grew to love and enjoy it. IT was that one or another just across from it that was large and grassy with just as many trees. Instead we drove past it and up more. Coming to a camp ground that I was not familiar with. IT was one that my mom had brought me when I was much younger and I couldn’t remember. We got out all our camping stuff and set it up. It was going to be two days here enjoying ourselves. I loved the new area it was beautiful. My dad worked on putting the tent up trying to make sure it was in the perfect spot. The next morning he would really regret where he put it. In the mean time however it was perfect. My mom, both my sisters, and I worked on moving the food and drinks we brought into the bear safe storage. We had a slight misshape with a yellow jacket trying to make itself at home in here but we took care of it. After the long work that lasted for a bit we sat down and ate lunch. After lunch we got everything sealed up again and went for a walk.
    We went to our usual camp ground area and made our way down the road to a graveled area for cars. We never, ever used our car to get here. Then we went up the thin hardly noticeable path up to a winding oak tree. We knew that we were almost to the river by this point. We called this tree since the first time we saw it, Grandfather Oak. He was wide and tall but his branches reached out onto the path like it was hugging you. Along the ground acorns laid scattered and along nooks and crannies you’d find a bug or sometimes nests of birds. It was something that for me was stronger than any religion could be. This tradition, seeing this tree of all things a tree, touched my soul more than any preacher will ever be able to. So many fond memories came from that one tree. IT winded around like it always had with beautiful leaves springing out at you. After a time, too little for the last time being able to see Grandfather Oak, we moved on. Making our way to the new bridge they put it. It was a nice shiny suspension bridge. I can still remember the old wood and rope suspension bridge that had been there before. This new one didn’t make me feel any safer. I never enjoyed crossing this bridge for I knew that the river below us and the smooth waterless, at the moment, rocks next to us could go very fast. As the snow melted the smooth harmless rocks under and near the bridge turned the river water into rushing rapids. The river even though it seemed calm moved fast and smooth under the surface. IF ever you felt the water run across your feet and hands you wouldn’t care about going down stream. IT made you feel wonderful all over. So fresh and cold. When we got to the other side smooth rocks met us and we slid down them like always. It wasn’t just a slide it was a slight climb to the small sand bar below. IF this had been a good year then it wouldn’t be there in the spring but I wouldn’t find out if it would disappear under fast moving water or not this year. For it was winter and the snow was building not melting.
    My mom sat on the sand just looking at everything. My dad played with the water with his hands and my sisters and I, even though we knew very well we weren’t supposed to get in the water leaned as far as we could in without getting wet and pulled out and river stone…none of which would stay with us. We placed them back into the water before we left the sight from which we got them. We stayed there for a short time, normally half our day was here but not this time. We made our way back to our camp sight and ate. I didn’t really tell what anyone was talking about, or even what we ate, I could really care less. My mind was drowning in sadness as I thought, that was it, that short time was all I’d get of my favorite place in the world. After a few marshmallows roasted over the fire we all turned in for the night. The next morning I was woken up bright and early by my younger sister who desperately needed someone to wake up and go down to the bathrooms with her. Which we did. However upon our return we spotted several deer, one was a male with long horns that made it even more stunning for me. Slowly getting back in the tent we got comfy again and waited for my parents and other sister to wake. That’s when we realized that we were sitting in a ten that had ants crawling on it. Few got in but I wasn’t liking it. After everyone woke up they were basically out of sight. I figured it was just my mind tricking me.
    That second day we all got in the car again, after securing the camp sight after breakfast, and made our way up to Mora Rock (At least that’s what I think its called.) We started up the stone steps that were made from the rock itself. Slowly going up and farther up. The sight was beautiful but my stomach couldn’t handle anymore. IT was doing flips over and over as we got higher. About three fourths the way up I couldn’t make myself move any further. Needless to say I took in the view and my family split up for brief time. Myself and my mom made our way back down and my dad and my sisters went up the rest the way. After getting back to the car my mom and me were talking about how the trip was going when two deer came out of the wooded area around it. One of which walked right next to my window. I was in complete relaxed mode seeing that they were calm enough not to run around this area. After a while my dad and sisters came into sight and got into the car. We quickly told them about the deer and got ready for the car trip back. Not that it’d take very long. Before we did however we stopped at a rest stop that we had gone when I was six. Looking around we stopped and ate a light snack and found another hiking trail.
    It was instant I wanted this trip to last forever so I pointed it out and voted we should go. We followed it through a cold damp area, it was only cold because of all the shade the trees put on us all at once. Little light came through in the beginning of the trail. We walked along it till we came to a spot that was railed in that looked right out onto a rushing, low, rapids part of the river. IT was beautiful. My dad found a secret way down lower right along the river bank and brought us down. Once down there we were alone and had a family talk. All of us answering the question that they, my parents, had been bugging us, the kids, about. “If you were to bring someone here and they asked for your favorite place. Where would you bring them” my answer was quick and true. I would take them strait to grandfather Oak and then here, to this beautiful part of the river where the water could n** at your feet and you could watch natures magnificent power run over rocks and sweep swiftly by. That was our last relaxed time however. I remember smiling and laughing a lot down in the under area of that over looking perch above.
    After getting back to camp we packed the car again for our trip home. As my dad took down the tent he found that indeed there were ants all over it for he got stung a couple times but we got them off and needless to say few if any were really bothered by them. On our way home we stopped at a nice sit down restaurant and talked about the trip over dinner. Then in the cover of the dark we made it back to base. I didn’t sleep at all on the way home I just took in everything I could. I didn’t want a detail left out.
    Its been two years now since I saw that place, it saddens me to remember. I miss it more than anything else, besides my dad who’s deploying. This memory will remain with me for the rest of my life. That trip was the first day of a major change in my life and I never want to forget it.