We have a tradition of camping once a year with a group of our friends. This summer there was some chaos concerning the planning of this outing but, honestly, that is pretty common. However, I finally found us a nice spot at the Ledgefork Campground near the Smith and Morehouse Reservoir, which is on the western edge of the Uinta Mountains, on a weekend that worked for everyone. It was a great getaway… mostly.
We all arrived on Friday evening just in time for mallow roasting and campfire stories. The kids participated in the spinning of our fiery tales so most of them turned surprisingly gruesome or unbelievably implausible fairly quickly.
The following morning, after a night of cold-induced nonsleep, we went on a hike along the Smith and Morehouse Trail in search of a beaver dam. We were supposed to reach this stickly structure after just half a mile but, although we wandered for over an hour, that damn dam was nowhere to be found. Still, it was a lovely hike so we considered it a success… mostly.
We left the “wilderness” to eat lunch in the nearby town of Oakley at the cute Road Island Diner. This Art Deco cafe is historic, built in 1939, and its shakes are amazing. Plus, it has flushing toilets. Yeah for a break from hole go! Also, it has a roof. It started pouring while we were eating, a premonition of wetter things to come.
Some of the boys and kids in our group got a hankering to do a little fishing so after lunch we headed over to the Willow Springs Trout Farm. Hooking a fish at Willow Springs was a tad too easy. I’m pretty sure worms were unnecessary but the kids seemed to enjoy it… mostly. Generally, they did not appreciate the post-catching parts. For the record, I do not like fishing, no mostly about it.
We cooked fish and hotdogs for dinner over a fire that was unwell due to the sogginess of sporadic showers. Those showers were partly to blame for the premature death of our trip. Although most of us had planned on staying another night, it didn’t happen. Dampness, chilliness, and grouchiness jointly resulted in our camp being deserted hastily with accompanying drama. But what camping trip would be complete without someone getting tossed into the fire or impaled by a tent stake? Ok, maybe there weren’t any tent-stake impalings this time… mostly.