Family Camp

It’s not often that my husband and his two siblings are in the same zip code, these days. Add in their folks, spouses, and offspring and it’s a regular family reunion. For a recent rendezvous we split the difference between our geographical locales and set up habitation at the intersection, a remote mountain campground: Olallie Lake.

Along the shore of the frigid, clear water, in the shadow of Mt. Jefferson, we spent a long weekend fishing, kayaking, hiking, swimming, and breaking bread & spinning yarns ’round the campfire.

We’d hoped this trip might be the one wherein Little Man would catch his first fish, but the trout just weren’t biting. He was content to cast and reel in his line.

Even though I got carsick on the way up and back, even though Center Sister sliced open her foot despite incessant pleas to wear shoes, even though Little Man failed to catch a single fish, and even though someone snapped Husband’s kayak paddle in half; even though we forgot our hammock and our telescope and ingested far too many Smores, we had a terrific time together… a wonderful family adventure.

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