Okay guys. This one is so important, I haven’t even taken a real shower yet… sitting here in my grimy travel clothes to get some important thoughts out. Let me tell you about a little camp, on a little bay, on a little side, of a medium-sized island, off of a big state called California. Lost yet? It’s the Catalina Island Marine Biology Institute.
I’ve flown on a plane solo before. The first time was out and back to Utah when I was twelve (unaccompanied minor), the second was home from Utah, and this time was out and back from Utah ONCE AGAIN. So many things rock out in Utah… including BYU’s Volleyball Camp. I flew out a few days prior to hang with my rock’n Aunt and Grandma, then to the other Grandparents briefly, and off to camp for the kernel of the trip. It was a marvelous trip.
Things I learned?
• One can have church on a mountain
• Water tastes twenty times better once you realize how good over hydration feels
• All dogs are puppies at heart
• “The Office” never gets old, as well as British “Who done it?” shows. (thank YOUU Netflix!)
• Little recycled clock-compass men are adorable
• Salt Lake isn’t that far from Provo
•Saying “Goodbye” is hard
• The friendliest horses are males
• Mountain Air makes for a gorgeous sunset
• BYU is pretty quiet during the summer, until the camp kids come
• BYU truffles are the best in the world…. topping Lindor shockingly.
• Volleyball is nothing more than being uncomfortable in the squatting position, or awkwardly smacking a ball over a net. Tough stuff man.
• Guy coaches are an utter blast
• You don’t have to be some athletic god to play @ college level
• Missionaries love Hi-Chew
• A mob of hungry teenagers can be dangerous
• Seven Peaks is a rip-off ($10 for a plastic doughnut)
• The Cafe is not in the least
• Saying “Goodbye” is hard
• Advil can prevent painful misery
• Ice Cream and twelve hours of sleep in a dark Utah basement is the best recovery
• “Crazy for You” is the all-time best American play the U.S. has ever seen. Go see it.
• Do all your wash before going home to make unpacking a synch
• Saying “Goodbye” is hard
• Sometimes the best friends aren’t roommates, but strangers on plane next to you.
• Temple Run is depressing
• You haven’t felt statehood pride until you’ve flown over California as a Californian.
• Saying “Hey guys I missed you!” is really fun.
Summer days are supposed to be long and filled with antics. From pitching a half-empty bag of marshmallows back-and-forth across the street to bringing up pillows to the roof to making an epic home video of cops and robbers utilizing all of your kid-neighbors. I’m exhausted. Also, Home Videos rock, so we made one. Two weeks until volleyball camp.
Idea for this home video came from two ten-year-olds. Nothing fancy, just a little imagination and iMovie. Expect more.
See the Mistake? Apperantly you’re a hillbilly if you can’t.
This post is a week overdue lovelies, sorry about that. Well part two of the California trip was fun. Down and dirty fun not the classy kind of fun that happened during part 1. We camped down the road from weed-town (and not the dandelion kind) but all we could smell was campfire smoke and vineyards. It was a gorgeous ride up, but I was a car bum and procrastinated taking pictures for the ride home. Ha, the ride home was horribly foggy and I was horribly sad. Well here’s what happened before that.
Hendy Woods is known for the notorious Hendy Hermit who was said to live, well here:
I was telling my mom that campsite camping is just like living in a neighborhood, just without the soundproof walls. Every loud voice, cry, shout, and native american war cry is heard by EVERYONE! Especially your next-door neighbors. We had three somehow. One of which was a group of young people who didn’t seem to know that quiet-time started at 10. We’re sure alchahol had something to do with the volume oh and they had a beagle. Ever heard a beagle try to bark/howl? Ugshhhudder. The other two neighbors played battle of the guitars we observed. One cool dad would play some Coldplay, the other would pull out a campfire favorite and back and forth when the other went quiet. It was really nice accompaniment to breakfast, lunch… dinner.
There’s this awesome little swimming hole that runs off from the Navaro river. We hike down there from off the road and Bob Marley’s blasting. Should’a known.
Tadpoles! This was a pretty sweet highlight of the trip. And this trip was a highlight of my life. Why? I’ve been so swarmed with school and the world and human stuff it was invigorating to leave it all for… well clean air. Coming back I cared less about how my hair looked but appreciated that it was clean at all. I hold a respect for the Hendy Hermit. Maybe he lived by something we’ve all forgotten. That we are made of nature so why not embrace it? Hm, NOW look who’s sounding like a hippie?
So this would be part one of my (cheater) west coast tour. Two missions to complete. One down, one to go, both on opposite ends of cali. Well, not quite.
Mission one was in fuchsia. Go to socal, (the desert), attend a graduation and return home in one peice. Mission two has yet to be completed, but will be blogged about at a later date. I’m blogging now somewhere in the middle chugging gatorade. (Halftime)
Yes, we’re getting to the graduation in the desert. My cousin actually, you could call her my role model. Also it was my first graduation, and it was LONG! Plenty ‘o time to snap some shots of juvial almost-adults in gowns. Here’s the story:
The American River.
And chock-full of gold.
You know, the sparkly… sought-out kind,
by 49ers, hilbillies, and a couple of elated history geeks with their kids?
A good omen perhaps?
Kiddish elation. Let’s call it sugar or the fact that it’s 10:00 in the morning.
Lollygagin’ and chatterboxin’ about,
“How much gold we gon’ get!”
Where fools are made:
You hear “Gold Panning” and the general audience thinks of a murky river rushing along
with a shriveled up old timer hunched over a tin pan filled with rocks and mud on it’s bank,
his long grey beard trailing in the current.
Our envisioning of this trip was more like Gold Rush on Discovery Channel.
And then we got there. And we saw why people are fools for Gold Panning.
It’s like Pirates of the Caribbean.
Our eyes bulged and gold nuggets appeared where our pupils had been.
Whaaaat? It’s all just PEBBLES?
Little guy on the top right-
“Augh! Not stupid rocks again!”
A flake perhaps?!
And I quote my little cousin Aiden,
“There’s nothin to do here… so I’m gonna dig a hole.”
Welp. That’s what we get for cheating Aiden. Sorry bud.
Went for a walk. Loved this rustic home that some lucky gold-lover lives in.
That lucky gold-lover probably runs the park office, and has dressed it up pretty cute too!
“Well hey there Steve!”
Heh heh you get it? He’s a 49er, and Steve Young was a… oh NEVERMIND.
Lunch, candy and running break.
then some jumping still-shots. Heck yes we’re epic!
Found this on probably the “most panned spot on the American River”,
It’s not just Californians who love their gold… or their dogs.
We headed down the stream a bit, this time with fishing poles and barbless hooks.
That lasted for about… ten minutes. I started eyeing this rock-island and thought
myself crafty enough to contrapt my across with a rock bridge. This was all for the sake of my dinky
vans and ill-protected feet from the snow-cold water. After twenty minutes of careful contemplation, I found my way across
and did a little happy dance when I got there. I then look up to hear this splashing…
Sigh. Boots are lovely.
Science Camp Rock Paint:
Rub two wet river rocks together until you get a murky, watery paste.
Swipe across limbs and/or face and then do a rain dance.
On second thought, have someone else do your face… especially if you’re eight years old.
And here we say adieu, to you gorgeous American. Let your synthetic glitter dazzle(v) future tourists
and give them an oh so temporary gasp of hope. A hope for fortune. The same hope the 49ers felt those hundred sixty or so years ago,
but that was actually genuine. Genuine gold nuggets that is. Those pigs.
A clearly disappointed wave, returned by the camera-bearer. But… we’re they’re ride home.
And a clearly sorrowful little boy, no gold= no joy.
It’s okay little cutie, your sad attempt at a smile has shown me that it doesn’t matter how much of a reward we found,
but the stories, lessons and laughs that brought us close were the gold.
The 49ers were still pigs though.