Little campers

I was raised a camper. My mom tells of my first trip @ 4 mos old when it was so cold she'd nurse and change me in the car with the engine running and of the trip a year later when I spent the weekend with my head (yes, my head) down in the dirt. And Dave has stories of camping in Alaska with his folks, one involving a bear, his brother and the tent...

My family didn't rough it for long (we got a pop-up when I was about 7), but I will always remember the summer trips with my family up and down the East coast, from Canada to Virginia. The car ride, the familiar gear, packing only as much as would fit in my cubbie - that was camping.

We seem to be on a good start of continuing the tradition with our girls. Even though our tent is rather large, has a door (yes, a door) and a light (yes, a light) and even though we haven't ventured past a three-hour radius outside of Seattle, I can quite certainly say we camp. And they love it.

In August, we set out to the Hood Canal/Bremerton area with most, but not all of the St.Pierre contingent (Amy and the boys were home in ME...). It was pretty hot by Seattle standards, but we were able to keep our cool.