CREEDE, COLORADO

 
When I was about thirteen, my family finally realized that Texas sucks in August, so we started meeting up with a group of friends in Creede, Colorado every summer. We never hauled a camper. Instead we loaded ourselves and all our gear into my dad's station wagon, and made the two-day trip packed in like sardines, with Dad smoking cigars the whole time. No wonder I was always carsick! It was worth every miserable second, though, to escape to those cool days wading in the river, and chilly nights gathered around a campfire. We didn't actually "camp out", but when we first started going there, the log cabins had no indoor plumbing, and we had to cook over a wood burning stove, which is about as rustic as I ever plan to get, thank you very much!