It has become a tradition to have our Thanksgiving celebration in Bridgeport. All of my immediate family, along with Will's comes to the cabin for a few days of eating, skiing, eating, snowshoeing, and did I mention eating?
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Oh, Christmas tree(cutting)!
It has become a tradition to have our Thanksgiving celebration in Bridgeport. All of my immediate family, along with Will's comes to the cabin for a few days of eating, skiing, eating, snowshoeing, and did I mention eating?
Duck hunting with Will
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| Stout catching the shell... when he should be catching a duck. |
Chapter Five: The Shack
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| "The Shack" |
A few weeks later my sister, Kara, and I came back to the Eastern Sierra for my interview. We camped in my car at the Shady Rest campground. We explored the area and then headed to Lee Vining in the afternoon.
Chapter Four: The Runner
There are three types of people that “leg it”: walkers,
joggers, and runners. Walkers come in all varieties. My mother is of the
serious variety. Joggers are recognized by the spring in their step. In not so
subtle contrasts, runners are measured by how they take flight. My dad has been
a runner all of his life.
Ever curious about my dad’s routine of running at the beach
after work, I was in the sixth grade when I asked if I could run with him. The
way that my dad tells the story is that we drove down to the beach and planned
on running four miles on the sand; my dad was expecting to cut the route short, thinking that I would wear out early. My dad describes this event, with a slight smile on
his face, that to his surprise, I dashed to the lead with him in-tow. Voluntarily
running a few steps behind, he remembers thinking that I would fall off the pace quickly in
the soft sand. After about half way through the run, seeing that I continued to
lead, he hurried to run evenly with me. Now to his amazement, I surged to keep
him behind. Nearing the end of the run, together we locked into a tug-of-war as we
traded pushing the pace. With a wide grin on his face, my dad gives his
conclusion to the story: “That is when I knew the girl could run.”
Chapter Three: Foxey and the Animal Control Officer
Able to chase his dreams after college, it was no surprise to his parents when he announced that he was moving to Bridgeport, a small town surrounded by world class fishing and hunting opportunities. To support his outdoor habits he found a county position working as an Animal Control Officer. When he is not working for Animal Control he is in his natural habitat on the Bridgeport Reservoir guiding fishermen.
Chapter Two: Mountain Dreams
Arriving at Lake George, the rising sunbeams brightly reflected
off the Crystal Crag fin in contrast with the dark edges of the bowl that made
up this glacial lake.
Chapter One: Foxey's Story
Well Bridgeport is a town with no stop lights, population 800 (and in the winter it dwindles far below that) and no Starbucks. No franchised restaurants at all actually.
Bridgeport is a seasonal town that some people drive through on their way to Yosemite or other popular summer destinations. Families come to camp, hike, and fish in the areas surrounding Bridgeport. Bridgeport plays the spring-pad for the family summer campers. They come to sip their last taste of civilization before they head out into the wilderness- a soft serve ice cream from Jolly Kone, a freshly baked loaf of High Sierra Bread, the use of a flushing toilet...
