Prelude

When I was about nine years, old, my parents and their best friends decided to try camping. Our family had five kids and theirs had two, the older of whom had cerebral palsy. My father worked as an aircraft mechanic, and his friend was an electrician. Needless to say, neither family was wealthy. So camping seemed like a great way for the families to take a little vacation. It was going well; we kids were building things with rocks and sticks, and the adults were sitting around enjoying themselves. Mid- afternoon, I needed another rock and saw some sitting in a ring around the campfire, which had been burning all day. I walked up and grabbed this beautiful round rock; what a shock! I burned my hand and dropped it. None of the adults seem to notice, and I walked away nursing my burnt hand and feeling quite embarrassed. Lesson learned!

Well, my parents decided that camping was so much fun that they went out and bought a bunch of camping equipment. For the next several years, we camped nearly every weekend in the summertime. As soon as my father got home from work on Friday evening, we all piled into the car and headed up Angeles Crest Highway into the San Gabriel mountains to one of several campgrounds. We’d play and explore until late Sunday afternoon when we’d head home. There was always at least one hike.