Vacation offers breath of fresh air -- literally
Tuesday, July 20, 2004 7:34 AM PDT
By Dawn Johnson-Deal
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E-mail this articleThe life of a single working mom tends to be scheduled down to the minute. It only makes sense that to truly enjoy a vacation, we need to schedule a time for no schedules.
I found the perfect trip for the boys and me. No trains or planes to catch, no televisions, phones, computers. And if the boys got on my nerves, no witnesses.
We ate when we were hungry and slept when we were tired. It was wonderful.
Eco Park Resort is a family-owned paradise near Mount St. Helens, 24 miles east of Castle Rock on Spirit Lake Memorial Highway -- fewer than 50 miles from home. We rented a cabin for three nights, but our stay seemed much longer, like I'd been away from work for weeks. I can't remember the last time I was so relaxed.
We entered the park and checked in at the office. Had I made the right choice? Would the boys be bored out of their minds? Would they drive me out of mine?
Travis, 15, and Jacob, 11, are techno junkies. I could hear the "I'm bored" followed by the whining screams of torment, "I should have brought my Game Boy!"
We drove into the lush green of the park with its manicured lawns, winding paths, young shade trees and wildflowers. I felt like Dorothy seeing the Technicolor of Oz for the first time.
Our log cabin was at the top of a hill. Inside the 14x18-foot space we found a queen-size bed and two bunks with fresh bedding, a table, chairs, work counter and a water cooler. A refrigerator, stove top, lights and heater were all fueled by propane.
Opening the back door I literally gasped. I've lived in Washington since 1965, but I'm still amazed by its splendor. A back porch swing overlooked a grassy hillside and a pond laced with cattails. This was backdropped by trees as far as the eye could see. We unpacked our car, organized our supplies and prepared a picnic out on the grass. A variety of birds sang among the trees as I soaked in the surroundings. The boys were unusually quiet doing the same.
Our afternoons were spent taking walks, playing cards and horseshoes and having heart-to-heart talks. I taught the boys backgammon and they proved to be formidable opponents. Luckily, I never play for money.
The resort's Backwoods Cafe didn't open until 4 p.m. the second day, so we made dinner in the cabin the first night. Travis wore a proud mischievous smile when Jacob and I returned from a walk around the pond. He'd set the table without being asked, using red and white checkered napkins and red plastic glasses, plates and utensils from our picnic basket.
For dessert we gorged ourselves on roasted marshmallows at the community fire pit. We enjoyed visiting with the other campers as we tempted third-degree burns on the sticky wads of melted sugar.
A couple of gardener snakes had made their home in the rocks around the fire pit and slithered out when the heat became more than they could bear. We watched with amusement as city folk carried on as though they'd had a near death experience.
Turning off the lights as we crawled into bed, I realized this was the darkest room I had ever slept in --- no hall light, no street lights shining through the window. This was a tangible black you could almost feel.
The chirping of frogs made it hard to sleep. I grew up near a marsh, but the frogs had always been muted by freeway and train noise. Mountain frogs have the stage to themselves. The boys weren't bothered by the verbal amphibians, unable to hear them over my diesel engine snore.
Unaccustomed to such peace during the day, Travis insisted on music. This being the age of the compact disc, the only cassette tape I had in my car was Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon." We listened to it 20 times on his battery-operated tape player. We'll see if this causes any long-term psychological damage.
The only clock we had was in the car, and I liked it that way. I only had to check it twice, while waiting for our horseback rides. We took two two-hour excursions, one to the mud flats and another to the sediment dam on the Toutle River.
We'd heard cougars live in the area. Travis asked me, "What if a cougar attacks you, Mom?"
"I'd hope he's hungry," I said. "I'm a big meal. I'd hate to go to waste."
I rode Joe, a dappled grey. Jacob rode a quarter horse named Sonny, and Travis road a paint named Coaster. They'd never ridden before and took to it like pros.
We galloped up hills and maneuvered along wooded trails, some better than others. On the first trip, I ran my knee into a tree. I saw it coming, but I couldn't move out of the way fast enough. SMACK! The pain burned sharp in all directions from the wound, but I ignored it in my attempt to watch the other trees ahead.
It would not happen again. Heading back to the stables, I strained to keep Joe from trotting like a jackhammer, jarring my joints and rattling my teeth.
The aches and pains of this vacation are still with me, but I smile with each twinge. We took a vote and it was unanimous. I'll be feeling these pains again next year. We've already made reservations.
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