One of my favorite places as a child. A bear tore open one of my parents Duluth packs, and licked all of the cast iron skillets, while my mother hugged us all underneath her in her sleeping bag, while Dad made a hole in the back of the tent so that he could carry each one of us to our pink Chrysler-New Yorker stationwagon, where we were locked in for the rest of the night, sleeping in a big kid pile with the backseats folded down. You cant buy excitement like that as an eight years old child. :D
Posted on: Tue, 20 May 2014 18:22:49 +0000
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