Tom's Turn

Last week was the annual stake Father’s and son’s campout at Camp Black Mountain. Two years ago it rained and was so cold and miserable that everyone folded up their tents at about 3 in the morning and cleared out in the dark – everyone except those old scoutmaster types who came prepared with the special Coleman space heaters and minus 50 degree thinsulate-graphite-poly-titanium-fleece sleeping bags and slept in the back of their pickups with insulated shells and woke up in the morning to find that it was just them and 50 pounds of Bisquick and sausages.

Last year it just rained – but since it was only raining, and not cold and miserable we Bellinghamsters just shrugged and went about our business like we do most mornings most days of the year playing Frisbee, lighting fires and eating as the water dripped off our noses.

Well, this year I was prepared. I had the car loaded up without all our camping gear and regardless of the fact that I was in charge of the campfire music I had a backup plan if I even saw the shadow of a cloud. I was going to turn around and head with the boys to Yakima where we would likely get bitten by rattle snakes – but at least we would be dry.

As it turned out, mother’s day weekend was one of those rare and magical periods when the sky was crystal blue for several days in a row. We arrived early and set up our tent and went fishing. Now, I thought Brett got all the fishing genes from my family, but the fishing gene must be a latent, generation skipping gene, because from the moment we arrived Alex and Nigel just couldn’t wait to throw a line in the lake and then sit there until their hooks got snagged on the bottom and the line broke and dad had to re-tie all the hooks and weights only to repeat the process several more times.

Needless to say, we did not catch anything (except some weeds and twigs) but our Bishop (whose peace and tranquility we rudely interrupted) caught three beautiful trout which Nigel adopted while they were still flopping in the water on his string. As it got dark, the bishop, thinking he would take advantage of this great teaching moment, invited the boys to watch as he “cleaned” his fish, proceeded to slit their stomachs and rip their guts out right in front of poor Nigel who I then had to walk/carry back to camp as he sobbed all the way back asking me if the fish would come back alive and why did the bishop kill his fish?

Fortunately, the sight of seeing his new friends butchered before his very eyes sobered Nigel up for the campfire, and he just sat there quietly and listened (probably the first stage of PTSD) as I led the stake in ½ hour of campfire songs and hymns at the amphitheater on the shore of Silver Lake as the fire died down.

The next morning the boys went hiking and guess what Nigel wanted to do? Yep. Fish. So back we went where he reeled his Scooby Doo pole and passed out bait to all the fisherman while I untangled and tied fishing line for the next two hours while the guys right next to us pulled fish after fish from the water. After an hour or so they “limited out” and then as they were leaving showed us their best place to cast.

We stuck with it for another ½ hour, did not catch any fish and headed back to camp where I found the shock of my life:

Zach and Alex had rolled up all the sleeping bags, all the sleeping pads, put away the tent and loaded everything into the car. I couldn’t believe it. Even knowing that they really wanted me to let them go to our friend’s the Uibel’s house that day, I was impressed at how well they had packed up camp.

As we left Camp Black Mountain, I decided that since we were more than halfway to Mount Baker that we should go up and check it out now that ski season was over. As I mentioned earlier, there was not a cloud in the sky as we drove along the Nooksack river in our suburban with a cool breeze blowing through the open windows.

I had a flashback to eleven years ago when Zach was just one year old and we came to Bellingham for a Suzuki Piano teacher’s conference. One day, while Julia and Mom went to the conference, Zach and I decided to drive to Mount Baker. As we drove through the tunnel of trees with the occasional break and a glimpse of the majestic White Volcano in the distance I remembered thinking how great it would be to live in such a beautiful place someday – and then I realized – today was that day!

Here I was, with my four boys, singing with the windows down as we climbed higher and higher to the top of the world, where we found that we had the whole mountain to ourselves. The ski area was closed, not for lack of snow, but for lack of insurance coverage. Each year ski areas estimate their season based on historical snowfalls and then purchase insurance to cover their estimated season. This year, being a year in which the resort had to close for several days because they got TOO MUCH snow, there was still snow everywhere but no people. Well, OK, there were a few cross country skiers and snowshoers off in the distance but the rest of the mountain was ours. We ran in the snow, threw snowballs, jumped into the drifts and tried to sled on one of our sleeping mats. Then, magically, a couple in their late 40’s arrived with two sleds. The wife explained that they come sledding every mother’s day with their friends but that this year the friends could not make it so they came alone – for tradition’s sake.



They invited us to sled with them and after several great rides, the wife explained that she does not have children of her own and thanked me for giving her such a wonderful mother’s day present of “letting” her sled with my boys.

We hiked around on the snow, taking in the clear blue sky and the 360 degree view and the mountain towering in the background and we then loaded up and headed for home. As we wound our way back down the mountain I thought to myself that if I had to die tomorrow, after a day like this I would have felt that my life had been complete. I will never forget that magical day.


We came home, mowed the lawns, and slept soundly and the next day Julia came home to a dinner of roast beef, garlic red potatoes, shrimp with spicy orange sauce, and strawberries and cream for dessert.

It is a wonderful life!