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Caves and Creeks

It’s been a while since we’ve had a chance to vacation with Jason’s family so we were happy that our schedule allowed us to go camping with them up American Fork Canyon on his mom’s birthday. It was a weekend of a little exertion and a lot of ease.

Do I look cool? I was actually rather hot and soggy.
Do I look cool? I was actually rather hot and soggy.

We started the outing with a trek to Timpanogos Cave accompanied by Jason’s parents and brother. We’ve done this hike several times in recent years but the cave, really three caverns connected, is a fascinating hole wholly worthy of multiple visits. Although intense, the overheating brought on by our trudge across the sun-blasted switchbacks leading to Timp Cave was over quickly. We were unpleasantly sweaty when we entered the monument but cooled promptly thanks to its 60s insides.

The formations inside Timpanogos Cave look like God's doodles.
The formations inside Timpanogos Cave look like God’s doodles.
The trail to Timpanogos Cave winds across rockslide regions and cliff faces.
The trail to Timpanogos Cave winds across rockslide regions and cliff faces.

We spent the rest of the night hanging out with Jason’s family at the Little Mill Campground. Many of the camping spots at Little Mill are pretty compact, as in sardines in nylon, but the spot Jason’s parents reserved for their RV was shaded and roomy so everyone convened there. We devoured more tinfoil dinners and birthday cupcakes than we should have while conversing around the jigging flames of a hearty fire. It was great getting to visit with no time constraints and only the chatter of the American Fork River to distract from our chatter.

Jason's family takes pictures on this rock every time they hike to Timp Cave.
Jason’s family takes pictures on this rock every time they hike to Timp Cave.

We had planned on going on a hike the following morning but the appeal of lounging got the better of us so that’s all we did until Jason and I had to depart.

This gnarled root marks another standard picture spot for the Sabins.
This gnarled root marks another standard picture spot for the Sabins.

The perfume of the pines, the allure of cave squiggles, the warm turbulence of the fire, the sizzle of crisping potatoes, the contrast of the spotted sky, and the relaxed company of family made for a mighty fine camping trip.

Rachel August 10, 2016 No Comments

A Reunion Recap

Family reunions are peculiar things. They are entertaining reminders that being related is relative.

I don't know most of these relative strangers.
I don’t know most of these relative strangers.

For most of us, the family-reunion experience follows a predictable pattern. Swarms of largely-unfamiliar faces make you wonder how it is that one couple managed to produce such a wide variety of progeny. Streams of shrieking children flow without purpose, leaving havoc in their wake. Questions about your life choices, lot in life, and living will stimulate endless debates amongst the few attendees that you do recognize. Piles of potluck food prompt you to pray for luck as you fill your plate. Yet, despite their recognized shortcomings, family reunions are a summer rite of passage that cannot and shouldn’t be avoided.

Watching the bubbles coalesce was rather amusing.
Watching the bubbles coalesce was rather amusing.

Reunions are one of the few times, outside funerals and weddings, that extended families conglomerate. And why wouldn’t you want to conglomerate and communicate with a bunch of people that you are mysteriously related to through a few knotty twists in your family tree? Just admit it, those knobby loops are mighty intriguing and often amusing.

My jumping skills have not been tested for many years but I've still got the rope stuff.
My jumping skills have not been tested for many years but I’ve still got the rope stuff.

We recently went to Jason’s family’s reunion. His Aunt Kathy did a great job organizing this one, a daunting and frustrating task no doubt. There were games for the kids, lots of delicious and not-so-delicious grub, and bubble soccer. Plus, some multigenerational jump roping, which spontaneously erupted and I participated wholeheartedly in.

Jason jumped like a pro... and so did that kid.
Jason jumped like a pro… and so did that kid.

Thanks Kathy for getting the entire gang together. You can’t have summer without a reunion, as everyone knows since we’ve all tried.

Rachel August 7, 2016 No Comments

Ledgefork… Mostly

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.

Our camp spot was a double that offered ample room but not ample shade. Luckily, it was too cold for shade to be in demand.
Our camp spot was a double that offered ample room but not ample shade. Luckily, it was too cold for shade to be in demand.

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.

Jason should be logged with the boys. He has all the energy and naughtiness of one.
Jason should be logged with the boys. He has all the energy and naughtiness of one.

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.

Half the kids hiked without complaint; the other half gave up after a few minutes.
Half the kids hiked without complaint; the other half gave up after a few minutes.
Our hike, though longer than anticipated, was refreshing.
Our hike, though longer than anticipated, was refreshing.

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.

We gave up on seeing that damn beaver or its beaver dam eventually.
We gave up on seeing that damn beaver or its beaver dam eventually.

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.

The kids liked the drama of fishing.
The kids liked the drama of fishing.

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.

Rachel July 21, 2016 No Comments
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