Lakes Basin, 2009.

Lakes Basin has always been such a special place for me. I have secret caves and special rocks that are still there, twenty years later. It's like the ghost of me is still there, playing, brown from the dirt, oblivious to the mosquitos and scrapes accumulated along the way.

We went miniature golfing Tuesday morning. Ethan was most fascinated with an old rusty wagon they had for a decoration. He did build his confidence though--every shot was a "2"--the first original whack and then the whack that put 'er in the hole, after he picked up the ball and placed it about two centimeters away. This little mountain shot was the only one he couldn't place his ball near the whole, and he still made it.

The acoustics in the nasty toilet pit bathrooms was awesome, despite the poo smell. Every trip to go pee also included a free Ethan concert for the whole campground as Ethan filled the large, mountainous air with "O When the Saints Go Marching In". We'd hear applause as we walked back to our campsite.

Joey and Ethan collected wood together a couple of times a day. They had a lot of fun hanging out at the swimming hole together.

Our first and only hike. Riley got back to the campsite with bumps all over her face. Then she barfed, outside. I put her inside the tent to get away from the bugs. Then she barfed, inside. I checked on her a half hour later and her face looked like a boxer, or a pit bull, only fatter. Her eyes were barely there, she was so swollen. I was sure she was going to die, sure she had the plague. I begged neighbors for allergy medicine. Then, she started barking at other dogs that would go by. This dog never ever ever ever barks. So then I thought she had rabies or something.
In the morning she was pretty much fine, still just a bit swollen on the right side.
This, among other things, is why I am NEVER taking my dogs camping again.

Me and the little dude.