My dad was born in Meeker, Colorado, on December 21, 1930. From the ages of seven to eleven he and his parents lived on top of a mountain about 30 miles southeast of Meeker, a place called Camel Creek. My granddad was a cowboy and worked as a �Cow Puncher�, herding rancher�s cattle to graze on the lands of the White River National Forest.
A few summers ago I drove up to Camel Creek with my dad. As we drove �up the river� dad started telling me stories of his life at that time. He remembered where everyone lived along the highway, the name of each ranch and the owners.
We turned at the base of Camel Creek, drove up a dirt road, and turned into the valley at the top of the mountain. The view was breathtaking. At one end of this enormous valley stood the little cabin where dad had lived. The clothesline posts where Grandma would hang clothes to dry still stood in their place. We walked through the barn where the horses were kept, and walked along the same fence that still surrounded it. Inside the cabin was the stove that Grandma used for cooking, and as I climb the old creaking stairs, the loft that had been dad�s bedroom. The view from the front of the cabin was breathtaking. Off in the distance we could hear birds singing and coyotes howling. A bull elk took a path across the valley not too far ahead of us, and a few minutes later a bear took the same path. To me, it seemed like a wonderful way to grow up.
As we leaned on the old fence that surrounded the barn dad continued to tell me stories. He had worked with his dad herding cattle, he packed salt for the cattle to lick, and chopped wood. He pointed to the pond next to the cabin and told me of how he used to fish. He said there was never many fish in it, but he used to pretend. He said the pond did have a lot of frogs which he caught for his mom to cook for dinner. One of his most important jobs was to hang a red flag on the fence for his dad to see if the Game Warden was around. This would signal him to not come home yet, as he would poach deer and elk for meat and didn�t want to get caught! Dad pointed to a place up in the trees not too far from the cabin, and recalled the day his dad built a meat shed to store meat and screened it in to protect it from predators. But, that night a bear went in one end and out the other, demolishing the shed, and taking the deer he had stored with it.
My dad rode his horse to school every day in sun, rain and snow. He had told me he was sure it was at least five miles one way. Later that afternoon, when we drove to where the school house stood and clocked the mileage, we found that it was just over a mile one-way. Dad shook his head about that for hours saying �I was sure that was at least five miles!�
Dad looked around the area close to the house and remarked that he could not remember where the outhouse used to be. He said, �I never did like that outhouse, so there is probably a good reason I can�t remember where it stood!� |
