Minivan Memories

The smell of the campfire, the mountains in the distance, your favorite pet by your side and the feeling of absolute freedom. Camping as a kid was one of the best weekends you could ask for. I remember me and my two sisters craving to go to the rocky mountains for the weekend just to have an excuse not to shower. I feel like everyone has these memories, the traveling memories as a kid with your family on the open road. Whether it was to a favorite campsite or visiting family members in a distant city, we all have memories that will stick with us forever and will affect our family line for years to come. I feel it is important to share these memories with people, the more we share, the more likely people are to continue to go out as a family for vacation and not sit down behind a TV for hours on end. So here is mine, this is what I did with my family every other weekend growing up, it is what shaped my worldview, and what put me on the outdoor path that I still follow today.

It's springtime in Parker, CO. Back in these days, Parker wasn’t a major point on the map in the Colorado area like it is now. Me and my family were normal-sized, three kids, two parents, and a dog. Me and my two older sisters went to school every day and sat through boring classes just waiting for the weekend. Once the Friday bell sounded it was off to the races. When we got home, our bags were packed from the night before and our dad had already connected the pop-up trailer to the back of our puke green Ford Windstar van. The mountains were calling our name and it was just a short hour drive to our favorite camping spot.

A lot of memories were made in the back of that van. Me, being the youngest, would get stuck in the back squished between a window and our big Husky/Malamute mix whose name was Dinky (ironic I know). I have fond memories of looking out at the massive peaks around me deep in the Rocky Mountains, dog slobber on my face. My dad would have an old JVC camera and would stop on the side of the highway to let me out to pee and then promptly open the camera to videotape me, my pale butt cheeks showing on the side of I-70.

Camp set up would begin at night, headlamps on our heads. I still have the sight in my head of opening up the sliding van door and seeing Dinky take off into the night. Usually to go play with some horses in the distance and return to us in the morning with the smell of horse poop on his breath. My job (which I was quite bad at) was to help my dad crank the pop-up trailer into place. I would give it a few hard cranks, my seven-year-old arms not being able to take it. Then my dad would take over and pop it up within minutes. I always looked up to my dad in those moments. His goofy sandals and jean shorts on, I always wanted to be as strong as him.

Sleep is what came next. Exhausted from the trip, we would go to our normal sleeping spots within the trailer. Mine was on the kitchen table that could convert into a bed with an extra cushion. This was of course because I was the only one that could still fit on it. Perhaps my fondest memory of camping was the smell that woke me from my table bed. The sweet aroma of a fluffy pancake is what awoke me. Bacon on the side and loads and loads of syrup. Whole milk to drink in a blue Coleman mug. My dad was a master tent chef, every bacon strip was cooked to perfect crispiness and the pancakes were straight out of a dream I had the night before.

Our days were filled with regular camping activities. Mom would usually read by the trailer, dad would teach me a new outdoor skill, my sisters would find a group of girls from the campsite and run to God knows where. Nights are what brought us together. Campfires are always a gathering place. I miss those days with my whole family by the campfire, roasting marshmallows. I can still remember everyone’s preference. Well, that is because everyone liked theirs brown except me, burnt to a crisp. It is all about the smoky flavor I would tell them.

The last day was always the hardest, sisters said bye to friends, I rode my bike around to remember everything about the campground, dad and mom packed up everything. It was like packing up and switching towns every weekend. I remember these feelings just as much as the good ones, that’s what makes me keep going to the outdoors. The feeling I got from these memories will hopefully be the same memories I am able to give my future children.

That is the reason that I write this post, I want these memories to continue for everyone. We all have those memories, the travel or the fun. It is important that we hold on to these memories so that we can share them with the future. One day, these memories of mine will be taken over, but they will be taken over with new memories that I will make with my family. So whether you are creating new memories or holding on to old ones, make sure that we share these times with loved ones so that they can experience them too.