Spring Fever

When I was little, it was a family ritual for us to caravan the paterfamilias side down to southern Utah every spring. Talks of where the annual Bailey trip would begin in January for the long weekend somewhere in March or April. My Grandparents were avid outdoors people and they passed their love affair with nature onto generations to come.

Home movies document the pilgrimages off to Bryce Canyon, Zion, Canyonlands, Carmel Junction, Dead Horse Point, and Escalante. They began with my father and his siblings in their youth and chronicle my cousins and my growing years. These trips are very strong childhood memories of mine. I remember cooking breakfast outdoors when there was a spring snow, bad Bailey motels where my cousins did not want to get out of the car, family baseball games on golf courses in pj's, dancing around the fire to good music, roasting marsh mellows (ultimately getting into my hair), family hikes, me getting stuck in some Anasazi's old hole in the rock dwelling, Grandpa birding, and some really bad rendition of "Hey Mr. Tambourine Man," my uncle had that my father borrowed for one leg of the drive.

I even have memories of the trips where I wasn't able to go. For instance, the year I took the AP English test and Mom and I stayed home. We got a call from my Grandmother asking if we had heard from my Dad and brother. When we said no and asked why, she simply replied, "Oh, never mind." Turns out my Dad and uncle got into a testosterone sibling fest and got themselves stuck 4-wheeling in the middle of nowhere. I think that was the first time my brother told my father to fuck off. Dad ended up bribing some guy to take him back to town and tow the cars out. He left my brother with my uncle and cousins on the "primitive" trail with matches. It was a bonding experience, that's for certain.

Every spring, I get an itch to be outdoors and travel to some sort of State or National Park. Its a good thing I married a boy scout whose idea of fun is to hike unmarked deer trails, grow your own hops for beer making, and climb waterfalls. Last weekend we stumbled across Fort Harrison State Park. Alas, its no Bryce Canyon, but its the closest thing to nature in the city we can find. There are picnicking areas, a duck pond, horse stables, a historic army post, and preserved green space. All of the "hiking" trails are paved, but then again, so are Zion's. This weekend we went back with Edgar and bought a State pass to all of the recreational areas. Grandpa would be proud.

For a mere $36 we can explore forests and state parks where apparently there are wild turkeys and "good squirrel hunting." While the squirrel hunting doesn't float our boat, the potential of kayaking down the White River or hiking through the waterfalls certainly does. Besides, while there may not be the glorious sandstone of Southern Utah, in Indiana there are historic underground railroad houses in a preserved piece of green space.