Camping with extended family is always a surprise - like, WHEN did Daisy start reading the Wall Street Journal! For cryin' out-loud, she is only 14! This is the time to tramp through the woods, swim, explore old ghost towns, and discover the perils of rattlesnakes.
I was just about ready to do that with a coiled, baby rattler when I heard Annie shout "Get AWAY From That Snake, Bonita!"
We were hiking to a remote homestead in the Northrup Canyon, a place filled with a pioneer woman's 'best life ever', in my opinion: A homestead in a remote canyon surrounded by fruit trees and a large garden, beautiful green pastures, and long days filled with hard work. Joella Northrup put up vegetables and fruit, raised chickens and livestock - and three generations of Northrups followed her example.We explored all the outbuildings, went down into the cellar (fortunately I had a flashlight), and marveled at how cold it was down there - perfect for storing cases of canned goods and root crops.
We spent the afternoon, had a picnic, and hiked in the woods.Northrup Canyon is near Jones Bay on Banks Lake, the location Rue picked for our first few nights of camping. It is a family favorite, my 3rd or 4th time there, so when part of the sky turned purple and ominous, we knew to finish up dinner, and stash our gear in case of rain. Within moments we had lightening and thunder, then a torrent of rain.
Annie, Rue and the kids ran for their car - I ran for my little tent!
I knew that all my bedding would get soaked if I didn't pull it away from the sides of the tent. I got inside and zipped the door shut. Then I listened. There is nothing like the drama of weather. When the storm was over I opened the flap to my tent. Everything was bathed in a soft golden light, with steam rising from the sagebrush. The air was so fragrant and clean, the storm so alarming yet joyfull. And, I saved my bedding! It is this kind of adventure that makes camping memorable. George joined us for another week of camping, up in the Okanogan. We had a few setbacks: The ferry was closed, our destination campgrounds were booked-up, we had to search for campgrounds with water, and the fatigue and never-ending labor to camp-tending was ever-present. However, sleep is sweet, morning coffee around the fire heavenly.
There were eight of us at Beth Lake Campground in the Okanogan, with Annie's parents joining us for a few days. 
Swimming, hiking, canoeing, exploring country roads and ghost towns, old schools, pioneer cemeteries and homesteads - days just packed with a variety of options. 
George and I did our canoeing in the late afternoon or early morning. 
Little Daniel sat in a dishpan for an afternoon bath. Aside from chapped lips, he did remarkably well and was a cheerful little traveler.The last days of the trip George and I headed off alone, to Leader Lake up in the Northern Cascades.
We pitched our tent overlooking the lake, had a hike and a paddle, and then a simple dinner. 
It was not quite the same, without the pleasures of the extended family. But, it was an old comfortable routine. We had just enough fuel, food and water.On the return home we visited a fruit stand. We bought Rainier and Bing Cherries, and I bought a piece of home-made apple pie after I saw the cook preparing them on sight. I told the shop-keeper that I wish I had that job - making pies for a living.
Well, that pie's crust was made from whole wheat flour and shortening, so it was grey - and tough as cardboard! The filling was flat, cold and rubbery. I spit it out. What a disappointment - I had my mouth all set for warm apple pie. So, when we got home we bought apples and I made apple pie - with a fluffy butter crust. Warm and sweet, as pie should be, with the strong presence of cinnamon and fresh-ground nutmeg. Nothing felt better about being home, than that apple pie with a cup of coffee!
George took over 600 photos, and has placed them in sets in our Flickr account, and I will post a set featuring mine.
