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If we have wonderful memories of something, should we try to do it again? Or can some experiences not be replicated, some places not be revisited?
Take camping. I have great remembrances of Girl Scout camp as a child, and camping with a friend’s family in Yosemite as a young teen.
Flash forward 20 years to camping with my own family, including with friends on Mount Diablo — campfires crackling in the night with my husband playing the guitar and the children lustily singing after finishing their s’mores. Even the joy of rising and exiting the tent into the dewy morn.
So should I try to organize a camping trip with friends? Actually I have mentioned it and the prevailing response was: Been there, done that.
How about my daughter’s family? They have made a tentative start, buying sleeping bags and a tent, but so far the equipment has only been used for dad-kid campouts in their backyard. They might consider a camping trip with Grandma — perhaps I should offer to plan, pack and cook all the dinners.
When we were first married, we kept it simple. We headed off to camp at Pinnacles National Park frequently, loving its hikes through the caves. It was basically a sleeping-bags-on-the-ground affair.
A few years later, when my husband was stationed at Beale Air Force Base outside Marysville, we bought a motorcycle and our camping trips became even more basic — supplies had to fit behind me.
On one trip to Yosemite, we awakened at dawn to falling snow. I remember stopping along the road as did another couple on a motorcycle, and the guy said, “I was hoping it would snow!” Biker humor. We headed for a motel and went through our week’s cash in two nights.
We went camping a couple of times with my in-laws, Harry and Juanita Ciardelli, who lived in Pleasanton. Once was in the Sierra so the younger generation could go whitewater rafting, leaving the toddlers happily playing in the dirt under their grandparents’ watchful eyes.
Another time we all went to Lake Del Valle. My in-laws always brought folding chairs, which my husband and I eschewed at the time as unnecessary, just one more thing to pack, but now that sounds smart. Campgrounds might have sturdy tables and benches but they are lacking in comfy seating.
Digging a bit deeper into my memory banks, I recall the discomfort of a sleeping bag, and surely at my age it would not be any easier to haul myself up from the ground. And the preparation, packing everything needed for eating, sleeping, etc. — and for a modicum of comfort.
I also now recall that for family camping we had to own enough equipment for a hassle-free trip, including lanterns and a camp stove. And I remember returning home to a lot of unpacking, a ton of dirty laundry and the car to be washed. Camping is not actually a vacation — it is a getaway.
Camping close to home would not entail snow. The biggest drawback might be discovering what is open and how to navigate new safety rules.
Mount Diablo State Park is allowing some camping but warns it is experiencing a water shortage as the springs on the mountain have been reduced to a trickle. The water faucets in the picnic and camping areas are turned off, according to the website, although portable toilets and a hand-washing station are available at Rock City.
At Lake Del Valle there is NO water to use in the park as a new water system is being constructed. Day users and campers must bring in their own water. And no swimming is currently allowed due to unsafe blue-green algae levels.
The water problem certainly takes the fun out of it. And adds to the fire danger. Smoky Bear always kept me vigilant; these days I wonder if I would dare light a match.
Still, such wonderful memories. The birds who would come to investigate and look for crumbs, the quiet of the woods at night except for mysterious woodland sounds. I am fortunate to have this in my memory banks.
But for my next getaway, how about a nice hotel near the ocean?
Editor’s note: Dolores Fox Ciardelli is Tri-Valley Life editor for the Pleasanton Weekly. Her column, “Valley Views,” appears on the second and fourth Fridays of each month.
