Sunday, July 5, 2015

Lynn's Comments: One year my dad insisted we all go on a camping trip into the BC interior. He was an amateur rockhound who loved to gold pan, and his plan was to follow the route of the gold rush to Barkerville and back.

Before we left, both he and my mom made sure we kids had everything we needed. They packed, repacked, checked, and double-checked our suitcases, and told us that if we forgot anything, we'd be out in the bush where there were no stores, we would have to live without it. Off we went in our old 1959 Chev, with a pile of supplies and suitcases lashed to the top of the car.

After a long day of driving, we finally came to our first stop; a swampy, mosquito-infested campground just north of the town of Hope. The sun had dropped below the mountains. Mom reminded Alan and I that there was nothing around us for miles, and to make sure we had everything we needed for a night in the woods--just as Dad discovered he'd forgotten the tent poles.

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