On Native Americans, Cows, Cabins, and Bull Fighting...

One of the best--and I do mean THE BEST--things about being an uncle on a family vacation is scaring the beJesus out of your plethora of nieces and nephews with stories about Chief Nighthawk, the ghost who lives in the woods and eats bad little boys and girls... Between Olivia's and Henry's scared glances out into the darkness and Sylvia mouthing "I hate you!" over their heads toward me, it was just one of the pleasant memories of yet another glorious summer vacation at Clemmark (okay, maybe not for the aforementioned nieces and nephs, but still all in all very pleasant...)

We went on a hay ride, took a tour of a restored mansion, shopped in a cute little town named Wellsborough, played games, ate great food, and laughed til the cows came home... (And they literally did come home!) A few of the more adventurous little cows and bulls (Go ahead, ask me how you can tell the difference!) even managed to find new ways of escaping their fenced-in pasture to take day trips through the back yard of the lodge! (Sylvia briefly tried out a career as a bull fighter but lost her nerve as the young bull stamped at the ground nervously! I'm left wondering why...?)

I managed to lose at hearts twice before managing a spectacular recovery with as winning score of -18 (Take that, Dad!) and even though most of the family made it this year, there was a turnstile at the end of the driveway. Some had to leave early due to unforseen circumstances (to which our hearts go out) while others couldn't make it until later--and need we mention that some didn't bother to show up at all? Granted, their plate is REALLY full which is a shame because they were greatly missed...

All in all, however, one thing about the lodge remains true--the longer you stay there, the lazier you get, and reintegrating into the real world on a Monday morning was very difficult to say the least!

But I wouldn't trade it for the world! The beauty of the nearly uninhabited countryside, surrounded by the mooing of cows and neighing of horses and the occasional scream of a banshee from the darkness as the ghost of Chief Nighthawk claimed yet another unfortunate child all conspired for another magical weekend, a chance to reclaim the peace we find so little of in daily life as we navigate the plenitude of tasks and errands that plague us in the real world...

It's amazing how four short days can reinvigorate you for another 361 days...

Just another 358 to go before we return...

As I entered my home that sad Sunday afternoon having left the lodge, greeted in the most fantastic manner by Beaux and Hawthorne (one might even think they missed us!), I can once again look forward to the days next summer, when every day lasts forever, every night is filled with laughter, and the 70s decor remains a stagnant, unchanging mark of the past... (I must say, it is the strangest sensation in the world, waking up and staring at that teal sink surrounded by light green walls and a brown mosaic floor in the bathroom which makes you want to scream up to the heavens, "Why, God? Why would you allow such ugliness!?!?)

One wonders how we will ever find the time to fill the days? (I'd recommend bull fighting lessons for Sylvia, but she may have other things in mind until we return...)

A Rose by Any Other Name...

According to Rich, I win "GQ Lumber Jack of the Year" Award for this photo. Mind you, the only thing we did with lumber was burn it, and we didn't jack shit, but that's neither here nor there... (Although I love his rose-colored glasses...)

I know that's not why you are here, dear reader. No, camping isn't your thing, is it? You are here for the hard-hitting, no-holds-barred commentary on god, church, politics, religion, life, and otherwise, are you not?

"After all," you must be saying, "when did Jason become this world-traveling cover model? When did life begin to center around... camping?!"

It's the simple things, dear reader. The smell of a burning log. The crisp leaves crunching underfoot with the rainbow of colors that the slumbering oaks and maples have provided. A lightly browned marshmallow smashed between two crunchy graham crackers, the chocolate melted just so. Staring at the stars, tracing the lines of Orion, the moon rise and fall, the night owl calling for information.

Oh, and the caves! They were beautiful! A little water, some minerals, and tons of times, and the most stunning formations appear. Ice cream sundaes of iron and calcite, chandeliers of salt, waterfalls of iron and granite. This needed no creator, my friends. Just time. Time, water, and a conscious mind to reflect and admire...

Time marches on, however, and all too soon I was staring at a monitor at work making green things so that people like you, dear reader, can go to the store and buy them, never realizing the headaches, micromanagement, and over-thinking that goes into such items.

Sigh.

But at least we'll always have Luray. And you won't lose a writer.

So I suppose it's win-win. (CLUE: Put those rose-colored reading glasses on and tell me how you couldn't live without reading this blog...)

Lying on our backs and counting the stars...

It was just like looking upon an old photo--the memories of hiking, playing pool and ping-pong, eating around the large dining room table. Except this time it was so much better than a photo...

I drove slowly up the now-paved road, convinced I had made a wrong turn somewhere. "Clem Mark is on a dirt road," I explained to Rich. "It's on top of the mountain--somewhere over there," I repeated again, waving my hand in the general direction of more nowhere.

But as we crested the next hill, there it was, nestled among the very same pines, across the street from the very same barn, it's wide back porch looking out over the rolling Appalachian mountains.

I slowed down. I wanted this to last forever, never to end! I had never thought to see it again. When my father had been laid off ten years ago due to "corporate restructuring," we had thought the company lodge was one of those things now past. The summers of star gazing, hiking, and romping in Tioga County were over--or had been over.

We were the last to arrive--the rest of the family who had said they would go had left for the lodge on Thursday night, but I couldn't get off of work Friday morning. I had to wait with grand impatience as they all called to say they had arrived, or had just left, but now I was here as well.

A great time was had, new memories were made, and most of the in-laws were introduced to the tranquil escape of our childhood. Many of them thought it a myth, others a rumor, and yet others that it must be 20/20 hindsight that made
Clem Mark so grand, so peaceful, so... Seventies decor...

Of course, the seventies decor remained, and rather than being a gaudy sight, it was a comfort. The barn across the street may have a new roof, there may be a few more houses dotting the roadside on the way up to the lodge, the road may now be paved, but here--here at Clem Mark, time had stopped.

And indeed, through the eyes of my nieces and nephews, I saw the magic come alive again. "Can we play pool?" "Who wants to play ping-pong?" "Are we really going to hike all the way up there?"

We did "hike all the way up there," and then some. Wine tasting, feeding the horses, playing games, talking, catching up, resting, and of course, the gratuitous eating. It wouldn't have been a family vacation otherwise. And the nights spent sitting out on the grass, watching the stars? The Milky Way so clear you could just reach up and take a swipe! Shooting stars seemed to also make their home here (along with a few "UFO" sightings! LOL!), and between the utter darkness of the night, the complete absence of traffic, people, and lights, and the knowledge that we would always have this together--
this night, this moment, this vacation...

Who knows if we'll ever get there again--indeed, I don't expect the opportunity will come again, if only to keep my hopes from getting too high. Rich made sure to capture every waking moment, even going so far as to record an entire breakfast around the large dining room table! Many photos were taken, and though some very dear and wonderful people couldn't make it, hopefully, if the opportunity does come again, this time the pictures can be completed.

Of course, these moments go all too quickly. Before we knew it, Monday morning had come. Time to clean up and clear out. Leaving wasn't as hard as I expected, if only because too much of a good thing never can stay as good as you expect. If I had the opportunity to stay, I still don't think I would choose to, if only because it would ruin the magic, the small place of reality where time does stop and memories last forever... But where new ones can still be made today...

One Happy Island...

It was so awesome! I'm tanner than I've been in years (if we exclude sun burn on the legs that haven't seen sun light in five+ years), so rested and relaxed...

We went snorkeling three or four different times, did a dinner cruise off the coast, ate and drank at least two places a day... It was such a blast!

We stayed at the Little David's Aruba Guesthouse, a small B&B near the center of the island. Every morning included breakfast (fruit, eggs, coffee, water, milk, tea, toast, etc., etc....) and directions from our hosts to different places to go and see on the island. We had more seafood than I've ever eaten, saw more things than I thought we would. Every day brought dazzling sites and more iguanas than I thought existed in the world!

The snorkeling was amazing! Our host had told us to take a loaf of bread, but before we had even opened the bread, we were surrounded by fish! All colors, shapes and sizes! It was like being in a freakin' huge aquarium! There were even some "Dori" fish and "Nemo" fish! Unfortunately, we didn't see any sharks (Rich was thankful, at least...), and apparently moray eels don't come out except at night. We did see one sea turtle when we went on the submarine tour, which totally rocked! We went past some coral reefs of dazzling color, then went around a ship wrecked just off the coast... Words can't describe the color (neither could the DVD camcorder, unfortunately--everything looks green-ish blue), but Courtney brought along an underwater camera, so hopefully those will turn out great!

We ate Portuguese one night, Indian another, but mostly we found out-of-the-way Aruban restaurants to eat at, and we've never eaten so good! Yellow-fin tune, red snapper, mahi-mahi, grouper, calamari... You name, we probably ate it!

One thing I was disappointed to see were American fast-food joints everywhere! Wendy's, Subway, Burger King, McDonalds, KFC... That's capitalism, I suppose.

One other strange thing was that you weren't allowed to throw anything--anything--into the toilets, including toilet paper! Poop and pee only. Toilet paper and ladies products were to be disposed of in a trash can beside the toilet. That took some thinking on the throne I wasn't used to!

Plus, there was no such thing as "hot" and "cold" water. The water temp was what the water temp was! It wasn't hard to wake up in the morning, that was for sure!

Everyone was friendly, too! Didn't meet a single Aruban who wasn't ready with a smile and some very dry humor!

I wish I could go blow-by-blow as to what we did, but that would make for a very boring post, but suffice to say, we will be back again and again! You can view just a sampling of the 1000+ photos Courtney and Trace took at my MySpace here.

Now... Back to life...

Bonvoyage!

Two week hiatus in Aruba! See you all when I get back!