When I was 10 years old, my Dad and I went on our first “just the two of us” road trip, up to Yosemite for a few nights before picking up my brother at Scout camp at Bass Lake. I remember that trip so well, mostly the Yosemite part, and I can trace my love of travel and my start as my Dad’s travel buddy back to that trip.
I went back to Bass Lake today, 50 years later, because its only about a 20 minute drive from my weekend campsite. I couldn’t find the old scout camp, not that anything man-made would look even vaguely the same after all those years. The lake still looks the same, though, and the view felt familiar in a very vague way as did the drive down to it.
I thought about cycles and circles and how much I missed my Dad today. I stood on the shore of the lake and looked out at it for a long time, thinking about us there back then and all the years and trips we took after that. Maine, Quebec, Vancouver Island, roadside geology of Arizona, Boston, Seattle — we definitely got around, my Dad and me.
Dads reading this: you never know what will spark your kids. Just keep trying, and someday, something will click in your daughter and she’ll have found a lifelong passion. That’s what happened to me, even though my Dad never realized it until I told him so in a birthday card several years ago. He remembered the trip, he just never knew it was such a life-changing event for me. I didn’t know it at the time, either, it took a few decades to come to fruition but he planted the seeds in that August road trip.
This was a photo my Dad took of me at Bass Lake with my first-ever camera around my neck. There you go, my two lifelong obsessions: water and photography.
Fifty years later, I’m still in love with both of them. So here is this year’s edition of me and my current favorite camera in front of Bass Lake.
I don’t have a photo of my Dad at Bass Lake, but I have one I did take at Yosemite. My Dad was 41 years old in this photo.
And the snap below is probably one that only my siblings will appreciate: the Plymouth Fury that was our hot ride and the old canvas tent that our family used whenever we went camping. Let’s just say the Fury was a cool car and the less said about that tent, the better!
Miss you, Dad, today and always. Thanks for taking me on that road trip.
Janice says
November 6, 2016 at 8:14 AMAnnie, that was so beautifully said… and it made my eyes all misty. I just moved my dad to Assisted Living and am thankful that he still remembers me and is still with us. He and I shared some passions when I was a child that we enjoy even now, although to a diminished degree (books and music). As I read your words, I felt the magic of my own early days with my dad.
I’m glad you urged people to continue to try to find these passions with their children. I’m working on it! Maybe I’ll go camping w/my kid somewhere beautiful this year and see what happens with a new camera.
Annie says
November 6, 2016 at 2:25 PMMoving a parent to assisted living must be hard, especially the memory loss part. I am glad he still knows you and can enjoy the music and books. Now, yes, go make some memories with your kid. Take the camera, take a picture of the two of you in the adventure (which is the photo I wish I had now).
Daniel MacRae says
November 6, 2016 at 6:40 AMAnnie I truly love your story about your Dad! Your writing and pictures are wonderful. It made me feel a bit nostalgic about my Dad and how he helped me grow into adulthood. It is amazing how the simple times with our parents have such a strong bond in our minds. I hope my simple walk in the woods yesterday with my grandchildren and Brittany dog will be remembered by them forty plus years from now!
Annie says
November 6, 2016 at 2:26 PMWe never know, do we, Daniel? I think they will remember the time you spent with them, that’s the precious part of life. Thank you for reading and answering back, too.
Bruce says
November 6, 2016 at 5:23 AMBeautiful story, Annie! Love the way you show the past in the today. Keep remembering Dad this way. I will try to write down some of my road trip memories with Dad to share because as you point out it was just you and him.
Deirdre says
November 6, 2016 at 4:28 AMAnnie just so wonderful to wake up to a cloudy day and read such a wonderful wonderful tribute! You dad must have been amazing but he lives on in you for sure❤️❤️
Leslie Sharpe says
November 6, 2016 at 3:20 AMI love this piece! It’s one of my favorites you have written so far.
Annie says
November 6, 2016 at 4:06 PMWow, thank you so much for that, Leslie. I think it’s the personal pieces that are hardest to put out there, but those are the ones (so far) that resonate with people.
Martha (pretend cousin) says
November 5, 2016 at 10:45 PMAh Annie– loved reading this… your Dad sounds like such a cool guy, & what great memories you two made together. To be cherished forever ! Hugs to you, Cuz!
Annie says
November 6, 2016 at 4:05 PMThank you, Martha! He’s from the “other” side of the family (not Wynn/Wynne) but still good 🙂
DrDaddyBob says
November 5, 2016 at 8:57 PMAnnie,
Nice. Hoping my kids will remember me with anything like those feelings. Worried that my son will not be able to function without me.