When I was in 4th grade my large family moved to a small logging town called Hyampom in Northern California. We lived at the base of a mountain range along the South Fork River. A creek descended down the mountain in a small gorge beside our house. We had lived in the San Joaquin valley for many years prior. We felt so blessed to live in this rugged terrain that was “Open Range”. We could explore anywhere we wanted as there were not many “NO TRESPASSING” signs.
My older brother Terry and I loved climbing the mountain behind our house. We would follow the deer trails that led to the top of the ridge. The forest was filled with Sugar and Ponderosa Pines, Douglas Fir, Manzanita and Oak trees. We enjoyed building forts under the trees and stock piling fir cones for use in a possible “pine cone fight” or two. This was similar to a snow ball fight… without the snow.
Our favorite thing to do on our mountain, was to climb to the top of the ridge and sit on a large boulder high enough to give us a fantastic view. We called it our mountain, because we felt that not many eyes had seen the beauty we were privy. We would look out across the beautiful Hyampom valley, and speculate if “Big Foot” was real or not. We wondered if we would ever see a moose. Many times we were delighted to see deer or bear tracks. Sometimes we were lucky to actually see a buck or a doe. We would roam along the creek looking for gold and usually were rewarded with a salamander instead. My father had hiked with us a couple of times and taught us how to recognize animal tracks. He showed us how look for specks of the gold and how to pan for it in the brooks and streams.
The mountain’s down grade was so steep that it served as a fantastic slide when it came time for us to go back down the hillside. In the late summer we found the perfect hillside to give us a great thrill and we were successful sliding on our backsides in jeans. Looking back I can just imagine what our mom thought about the beating our trousers took. She never scolded us or discouraged us from our regular trampings over the mountain. We often went by ourselves with the occasional sister tagging along.
On Thanksgiving morning, we suggested a hike to our siblings with the idea of treating them all to a slide down our famous hillside. They all agreed knowing that it would be hard to be in the house all day waiting for Thanksgiving dinner. Mom was thrilled to get six of her children out of her hair as she worked hard preparing our feast. So the six of us, ages 14 to 3…set out on a grand adventure. It had been raining off and on for the past week. In anticipation of a muddy slide, we grabbed cardboard boxes to aide in our decent. Once we reached the top of the slide, we saw just how wet the ground appeared and were glad that we had brought the sledding materials.
It was rather slow going up the hill with a three and four year old, but we had lots of experience helping mom with our younger siblings. We oldest four, were considered the “Big Kids”. There was a four year gap between Kandee the fourth and Kerrilynn the fifth and then Todd was a year younger. I was excited that we had talked the oldest, our sister Kathy… into hiking with us. The baby Kellie – was left at home with mom, which was most assuredly… a rare treat for the two of them.
Once we got to the top of the hill, we piled onto our flattened boxes and enjoyed the most amazing time. The wet hillside made for a very fast and bumpy thrill ride, which was over a quarter of a mile long. The “sibs” were laughing and screaming at the top of their lungs. I was excited they had loved our adventure.
When we all arrived at the bottom of the hill, we became aware that we were covered with thick mud. Unfortunately it also began to rain. We would have to quickly make the 3 mile trek back home. We decided to take a short cut through a meadow to the dirt road that led to our house. Our shoes sank several inches into the sticky mud. We had to help the “little kids”, trudge through the muck and the mire. By the time we got to the road we were exhausted and covered with mud from head to toe.
It seemed to me that it took forever for us to arrive safely home. When we opened the back door, the smells of baked turkey and pumpkin pie merged together in the most welcoming way. Mom’s expression of horror at the sight of six muddy children was not so welcoming. But soon she began to smile and then started laughing. Realizing that she wasn’t mad, in relief we began laughing too and shared our exciting adventure. Mom called to dad to come see what his children had been up to and before we too long …we were all laughing.
We peeled off our coats and put the muddy boots on the back porch. I seem to remember that we all had to take baths before we sat down to eat our Thanksgiving dinner. This gave mom enough time to make the gravy and biscuits and put the finishing touches on the table.
I remember that it rained throughout the night. We put on a Thanksgiving skit for our parents-which continued to be a tradition in our family. And so our day ended that particular Thanksgiving, inside our cozy warm wood stove home. We were six clean, happy, and turkey filled adventurers. My favorite Thanksgiving of all.
Happy Thanksgiving to you all. May your memories be as warm as the Reason for the Season!