It’s almost summertime.
Well, not quite, but it’s closer than it was last week, it’s nice to contemplate, and some optimistic families are beginning to think about what kind of travel experiences they’ll treat the kids to this summer when El Niño is behind them.
As a foster parent, back in the day, summer vacations with three or four kids were a must. They always chose camping trips in the Salmon River country of Siskiyou County—Yreka, to Etna, to Sawyers Bar. Chris, a kid new to the family, was wide eyed in anticipation. This would be a 10-day adventure.
“I call shotgun!” he exclaimed — a not unexpected request. Although we had a van in those days, with plenty of room to do stuff in the rear seats, there was always something magical about being up in the front seat with Captain Kirk at the helm of the Enterprise.
“No way! We don’t do it that way. Dad, he’s not doing it right!”
“Chris,” I gently explained, “This is another rule we have. We take turns, a week at a time, riding shotgun. This is Steve’s week. But on a long trip — and this one will be 320 miles each way — we trade off every 100 miles or so.”
The van was always stocked with a number of diversions. We had that 100-mile stretch from Williams to Redding to get through — incredibly boring in the kids’ perception. Paper, pencils, games, books, whatever it takes, including headphones for music I don’t want to hear. One kid is navigator, in charge of the map on which he dutifully traces our route with a marker. Want to know if we’re there yet? Just ask him.
On top of the camping gear, where it is easily accessible, is our special box containing swim suits and towels, sunscreen, aloe vera, clean underwear and barf bags. If we’re lucky, there will be a place to swim along the way — Woodson Bridge along the straight stretch, or maybe the municipal pool in Dunsmuir.
But once we’ve hit Redding and visited the Sundial Bridge, everything but the map is put away — this by previous agreement. There are too many things to see from that point on, beginning with Shasta Dam or Shasta Caverns, and one of the reasons for the trip is to introduce the kids to the wonders of Interstate 5, winding through the mountains overlooking the Sacramento River canyon.
“Winding” is the operant word now, because the possibility of carsickness rears its ugly head.
Carsickness is no fun for anybody. Having been a perpetually carsick child, I can attest to this. My father was an educator, so we spent almost an entire summer each year, driving from one campsite to another, none of them very close to each other, and all of them on winding mountain roads. We did this in a 1935 Plymouth sedan, with our gear stacked in the back seat to within 16 inches of the roof. My place in this was lying down on top of it all, as the car lurched and leaned at every bend, and I was always carsick. My father would pull over, my mother would have to get out the car because I had to crawl over the back of the front seat to get out and throw up. (We couldn’t open the back doors because all the stuff would fall out.)
In the present day, we were well prepared for motion sickness on our camping trips, but the best solution is preventive. Start early, drive slowly, stop often. Of course, air conditioning helps a lot — something the old Plymouth didn’t have.
Next week: We finally arrive at the Salmon River.
