Father's Day Weekend in Red River

A scenic drive, a small mountain town, and a comfortable RV park make for a nice June outing. Over Father’s Day weekend, we took a trip to Red River, New Mexico. Red River is a cool mountain town in northern New Mexico about 40 miles from Taos, New Mexico in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. This was our first official trip in Connie, our “brand new to us” 33 foot Class C RV. This trip was hastily planned and so we booked the only available site at Roadrunner RV Resort that is located 1 mile from town. We opted to stay there since our family was there as well.

Preparation for our trip was surprisingly easy. We only stayed Friday - Sunday so we did not need much to get us through the weekend. Roadrunner RV Resort has full hookups so we did not have to concern ourselves with filling up Connie’s fresh water tanks and we had already packed most of our camping supplies. All we had to do was get the refrigerator turned on (push a button) and load up our food and beverages. I did add some water to the fresh water tank for the toilet in case we needed to use it on the short drive over to Red River from Albuquerque.

One of the neat things about this trip is the drive. It is about 3.5 hours but the varied terrain going from Albuquerque to Red River is interesting to observe. The route took us from Albuquerque to Santa Fe to Espanola, north to Taos and Questa, and finally, east to Red River. The most boring leg of the trip is the Albuquerque to Espanola stretch, mostly because my wife and I have driven this route so many times to visit family. However, Espanola to Red River is beautiful!

Things get interesting once out of Espanola and headed up the mountain past Velarde. The drive is along the mountain side on a 2-lane highway that borders the Rio Grande River. This stretch of river is very popular for rafting so it is fun to watch the many groups of rafters headed down the river bobbing up and over the rapids. During wet years (yes, we have those in New Mexico) the river can look absolutely violent with its white capped rapids as it rages southward. Unfortunately, this year, New Mexico has been dry so the river looked lower than usual and not as lively. Some of the climbs are pretty steep but overall, the drive up the mountain is not too bad even in a loaded RV. One of the coolest sights is a few miles out of Taos. After climbing over a steep incline, you can see the Rio Grande Gorge. It is quite the spectacle looking out over the flat mesa and seeing a large crevice cut through it. If you have never driven over the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge west of Taos, I highly recommend it!

Circumventing the Taos Pueblo due to construction was actually a treat. All the times I had visited Taos I never ventured much from the main town. Having to take State Road 240 gave us a chance to survey the “suburb” neighborhoods of Taos. There were a lot more houses out on the western end of Taos than I thought. The land is pretty open as well with a lot of the houses sitting on large plots of land. The road needed some work but it added to the rustic feel of the area.

My favorite part of the drive was from Questa to Red River. At this point, you are in the mountains again and it is very green! I was surprised how green it was considering the drought conditions. It is gorgeous country. Once in Questa, we took NM-38 east to Red River. There are some great US National Forest Campgrounds off 38. All of them were closed due to the lack of rain, but I believe they are now open. I would definitely stay at these campgrounds as they are set within pine trees and are near hiking trails and the town of Red River.

We drove into Red River and had to go through town to get to Roadrunner RV Resort. Surprisingly, Red River was pretty quiet this weekend despite a wine festival going on at Brandenburg Park. The campground closures probably had something to do with the lack of crowds. Roadrunner RV Resort is popular and for a good reason. Their check-in process is smooth and flawless. You drive up and you are greeted at their gate by someone with all the information you need about the park and Red River without having to park and leave your vehicle. This is so convenient when traveling around in a 30’ plus RV. The sites are close together, but most RV parks are set up this way. The best sites are on the south end of the park, which includes an “over 18 only” area and some of the more spacious sites that back up to the river (sites 59-70). Most of my family had these sites. The reservation process can be done on-line on Roadrunner RV Resort’s website.

Roadrunner is set up nicely for families. They have tennis courts, a playground, a dog run, and multiple road loops that make it difficult to speed, allowing people to walk around the park without having to worry about reckless drivers. There are quite a few sites with trees and shade and most sites will accommodate large rigs. From my experience, the 30-Amp, water, and sewer connections are all conveniently placed and service is stable. They also offer free Wifi but for a $5 per day charge, the Wifi is much faster and more reliable. I give Roadrunner RV Resort 2 thumbs up!

Most of our time on Friday was spent setting up camp, testing out all of Connie’s features, and finishing up some work tasks that I had to get done (the reason I paid for Wifi!). One of the things that I immediately noticed with a motorhome compared to a tent and a popup camper is just how simple everything is to set up! Within 20 minutes we had the connections going, the slides out, and Connie leveled to perfection. My wife did not yell at me once! It was glorious. 😀

On Saturday, we decided to visit Red River and check out the wine festival. We leashed up the dogs, put on our sweaters due to the cloudy, fresh weather, and started the less than 1-mile walk into town from Roadrunner. It was perfect weather and miraculously, much needed rain started falling and continued on-and-off until Sunday. The wine festival was pretty small and we were kicked out within 20 minutes because our dogs were not very well-behaved, according to security. No matter though. The 2 wines I sampled were not worth writing about. It is hard to beat the wines from Gruet, Acclaimed, and M'tucci's Rosso (I am a red wine kind of guy). We spent most of the afternoon wandering around town, watching the family’s kiddos have fun on go carts, checking out the shops, and scoping out the breweries and restaurants for dinner. I guess the dogs were better behaved because we received no other complaints. 😀 Once we decided on plans for the evening we grabbed a coffee from Steam Coffee and Tea and hiked back to Roadrunner in a steady drizzle.

We rested for a few hours and by early evening we started getting ready to head out. We set the AC in Connie to a comfortable 75 degrees for the dogs (their first test alone in the RV) and got picked up by my cousin to head back into town to eat at Brett’s Bistro. Folks, if you go to Red River and do not eat at Brett’s, you are missing out! Our entire family met up there and everything that was ordered from salads to steaks was absolutely delicious! Make sure to go hungry because the portions are massive. My wife and I ordered the chicken fried steak and got the “large” plate to share rather than the “extra large” and it was more than plenty to feed the both of us. The meat was perfectly cooked, no grease, minimal fat, and no nervy bites. The mashed potatoes were tasty and the vegetables were not overly fried. Would I go back? Most definitely! And I will try the filet mignon!

After dinner, we (the entire family) walked over to Red River Brewing Company and Distillery for dessert and drinks. The weather was cooler and still pretty wet but manageable. The nice patio at Red River Brewing also had a huge outdoor fire pit that gave off plenty of heat to hang out outside and enjoy the mountain scenery. Everything was perfect! My wife and I ordered their beer flight to start and could not have been happier. All the beers were very good and after wiping out the flight, I ordered the “Bad Medicine Honey DIPA” and sipped that while waiting for my carrot cake. The carrot cake was good and not too sweet. I enjoyed it. However, the dessert winner by far was the pecan pie cobbler. Yum!

The moment of truth came later in the evening when we went back to camp to see how the dogs fared alone in Connie. As we walked up to Connie, Baxter and Beau were sitting in the passenger seat looking out the window. We opened the door and Josie was laying down on the sofa. We looked around and everything was intact! They passed the test with flying colors!

Like most camping trips, we wish we could have stayed one more day, but responsibilities. 😞 Red River, New Mexico is a cute, mountain town with good restaurants and where outdoor activities abound. For our next trip to the area, I would love to try to hit the hiking trails and try some fishing out at Fawn Lakes or in the Red River. As for Connie the RV, I think she is going to work out just fine.

The Great Reset

 It has been 2 years since the COVID-19 pandemic started and with life finally beginning to get back to normal, I sit here and cannot help but be grateful for what I consider my “Great Reset” that 2020 brought upon me. Because of the draconian lockdowns, many of the things that I liked to do were taken away overnight all in the name of “2 weeks to stop the spread!” However, “2 weeks to stop the spread” provided me the opportunity to appreciate my family, get back to the outdoors and camping, and get creative with my workout routine that had gotten staler than a loaf of bread left on the kitchen counter.

The best outcome of the pandemic lockdowns was definitely the time spent together with my family. My son came home from school in Minnesota in March 2020 and stayed home until August 2020. This was the longest stretch that he had been home since 2016! Although he got royally screwed out of the end of his Senior year of high school, I loved having him back in the house again. The conversations, laughter, arguments, and the full house were a blessing I will never take for granted. Because we had planned to have a graduation party at our house later in the summer, my son, daughter, wife, and I spent much of March through June working in the yard together. It was amazing how much we accomplished and we had our yard looking the best that I could remember since we moved in in 2013. Picking up leaves, trimming trees and bushes, sweeping, hauling away trash, planting new shrubs and trees, and making small repairs around the house were quite the bonding experience. It is quite surprising how hard work can bring a family closer together. I do not know how they feel about it, but I get sappy looking back at the spring of 2020. **tear drop**

Because of the kids’ participation in sports, our family camping trips came to a screeching halt sometime in the early 2000’s. Soccer and gymnastics practices, matches, meets, and out-of-state travel took much of the weekends and vacation time that we had. As a result, camping became a fond memory. With everything locked down, the itch to get out of the house was definitely needing to be scratched. Camping became a perfect outlet. By June 2020, it was clear looking at data widely available that the COVID-19 virus was affecting elderly and those with health issues more severely than young to middle aged healthy persons so we took our chances and hit the road to the great outdoors. I am glad we did because camping memories are some of the best a family can make. We bought an “instant cabin” tent from Costco and camped off forest roads with cows out to pasture in the Jemez Mountains near Fenton Lake, drove to a new destination near Chama at Trujillo Meadows where the kids created their own boat out of their air mattress to float in the reservoir, we met friends in Heber, Arizona at a cabin and played board games, cornhole, horseshoes, and beersbee, we discovered the beauty of Pagosa Springs and the nearby Teal Campground next to Williams Creek Reservoir, and we ventured off to the other side of the Jemez Mountains near Cuba and enjoyed a new forest road spot suggested by a good friend. Mother Nature refreshes the soul, makes the stress of civilization go away, and allows the mind to wander. The summer of 2020 will definitely be one I will not forget.

Finally, COVID-19 really did something strange to me that was completely unexpected. It made me miss the gym IMMENSELY! I never truly knew just how much being active kept my mind in a stable state. When gyms locked down, I took a couple of weeks off from working out, mainly due to all the yard work we were doing. I did notice, however, that the yard work was not satisfying my need to work out to maintain a healthy state of mind. I like lifting weights and running but without a gym with weights and a treadmill, I was forced to rethink my fitness regimen. I began running outside on the trails near my house and going to a nearby park to do push-ups, lunges, pull ups on the monkey bars, squats, and step ups on the benches. After a few weeks of this, I began feeling physically and mentally well again.

Because I was going to the same park around the same time everyday, I met a young man with a disability who would ride his bike to the park. One of his jobs was to refill the doggie poop bags provided by the City of Albuquerque in the receptacles near the playground. He would tell me the same story every time I saw him about his job at Smith’s and how customers can be real pain. I loved it and it took me back to my time working for the City of Albuquerque Therapeutic Program during college. I will need to do that workout again and see if he still shows up! Since 2020, I have been more consistent with my fitness and have never felt or looked better.

2020 was a difficult year, but somehow we created lasting, positive memories during that time, reminding me of a quote credited to Epictetus: “It's not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.” I cannot agree more.

The First Fish Part 3: The Catch by Mark A. Trujillo

The Catch 

Grandma and Mother set up their chairs next to each other and talk about the latest news, gossip about who has a new boyfriend and girlfriend, and the day’s plans for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Boo is standing with his hands in his jeans pockets looking serious and determined. After all, he is experienced in catching fish having caught his first the prior year. He glances over to Grandpa and Pookie and asks, “Any bites?”

“Nothing yet.” Grandpa responds. Father sits next to Boo, sips his coffee, and occasionally looks at Pookie and Grandpa, hoping that one of the kids will get a bite soon. He is not sure how long Boo and Pookie will tolerate waiting for finicky fish.

They all quickly glimpse at each rod, hoping at least one will bend with the weight of a trout’s nibble. The disappointment among the fishermen is evident and the slightest twitch of a fishing rod ignites excitement. Grandpa decides to reel in his line, grunting as he gets up. He picks up the rod and slowly turns the reel to bring in the hook and bait. The hook emerges from the water looking like it has just drudged the bottom of a lettuce bin of a salad bar. “Lots of seaweed here!” Grandpa remarks, “Gonna switch to fireballs.”

“Nice fish there, Grandpa!” jokes Grandma. Grandpa ignores her and walks back to his gear.

As Grandpa tinkers with his rod, Father notices Boo’s little Batman rod twitch quickly twice in a row. “Boo, check your rod.” whispers Father, “Reel it in slowly.” Boo jumps up and excitedly grabs the rod. “That’s definitely a bite, Boo!” Mother exclaims.

He starts reeling in the line when a fish jumps in the general direction of where his hook is located. Boo smiles big and Pookie runs over to his side. The fish is definitely on the hook as it jumps and splashes while being reeled in by the little fisherman. As he turns the reel, Boo is breathing heavily, not out of exhaustion, but with anticipation. Father sees the fish a few feet away make one more desperate attempt to escape the hook with a panicked jump and splashes into the water. Boo, not expecting the fishing rod to lighten up, jerks the line out of the water and the hook buries itself in the tackle box behind him. “Damn!” Father shouts, “Almost got ‘em.” Boo and Pookie let out a disheartened sigh.

Grandpa says, “Oooph! Bummer! Let’s get a fireball on there.” Father puts his hand on Boo’s fishing line and follows it to the tackle box. “Hold the rod, Boo.” Father instructs him. He pulls the hook from the tackle box along with half of the other items in it and begins the arduous task of untangling the mess.

Grandpa finishes with his rig and casts his line into the water. He remains standing, looking at the water intently. “Fish are up. Lots of little bubbles on the surface.” he says pointing. Pookie nods, “I want a fish.” Grandpa walks over to her and her fishing pole. He hands it to her. “Let’s check your line.” Pookie holds the rod and begins turning it with Grandpa crouched over, hovering above her. They get the hook, add a fireball, and cast it back out into the lake. They both sit down and wait.

Father and Boo have Boo’s hook cleaned off and baited. Father tells Boo to cast his own line this time. Boo carefully swings the line back and then forward. Unfortunately, his forward swing is too forward and the weight, hook, and bait splash loudly a couple feet from shore. “Ooops!” Boo exclaims. “Haha! Nice!” says Father, “Give it another try.” Boo brings the hook back up, being careful not to reel the weight too far into the tip of the rod. He swings back, then forward, and gets off a nice cast. The line travels in an arch like a rainbow as little water droplets drop off into the lake. The baited hook and weight make a bluuunk sound as it hits and goes under the water. “Good job!” Father congratulates Boo, “That was a good one!” Boo smiles broadly with squinted eyes. He tightens his line with a couple of counter clockwise reels and props the rod up on a rock.

Suddenly, Grandpa seizes his fishing pole with the obvious bites making the rod bend. “Got this one!” Grandpa says enthusiastically. The kids are wide eyed watching Grandpa reel in the nice size trout as it flips and flops on the water not wanting to leave its habitat. Grandpa easily brings the fish in and holds the fish by its gaping mouth and one of its gills. He grabs his Leatherman from his belt holder and removes the hook from the fish’s mouth.

“A stinky fish, Grandma!” yells Boo. Grandma smiles and says, “It’s your and Pookie’s turn!” The kids are rejuvenated with the catch and hope is restored between them. Father hands Grandpa the rope to tie the fish down in the water. Grandpa weaves the rope through the trout’s gill and out the mouth and sticks the stake into the soft shore line allowing the fish to remain in the water but captured until it is time to return to camp. Pookie stares at it-amazed.

The fish is quite beautiful. The shimmering of its scales is enhanced by the morning sunlight and the occasional sparkle of the lake’s water. Its mouth slowly opens and closes and its eyes stare off on either side of its head in a permanent state of surprise. The silvery scales mesh effortlessly with the pink and red scales running through the middle of its greenish-gray body. A perfect pattern of random black spots decorate the slender, streamlined physique.

Entranced, Pookie begins to carefully bend over to try to touch the fish. “Pookie! Hold on!” Mother warns. Mother rises from her chair and walks over to the rope. She lifts the rope and fish from the water and holds it for Pookie. The wet fish is still lively and swings back-and-forth in the hope of escape, splashing Pookie in the face. She turns her head slightly, her eye closest to the fish closed and her other eye open, glancing sideways at the flopping creature. She reaches and cautiously feels the wet, slimy scales not sure what to make of it. She pulls her hand away and giggles. “Still want to catch one?” Mother asks. Pookie nods yes and sees Father pull up on his fishing pole, reeling in another fish. Boo begins performing a dance and shakes his hips happily.

“All right!” Grandpa exclaims, “They’re definitely biting now!” Father lands the trout though not as smoothly as Grandpa. Father pulls out the hook, loses his grip on the fish, and drops it in the dirt. The fish flops frantically on the ground while Pookie and Boo laugh hysterically watching with tears in their eyes as Father tries to pick it up. He finally gets control and ties the fish up with the other. Miraculously, the trout is still alive jerking its tail in the water trying to swim away from the shore. “Ay, que fisherman!” Mother jokes. Father shakes his head, removes his cap, and wipes the sweat from his brow. He looks at Mother with a funny face, shakes his head mockingly, and goes to work on a new rig.

Not much time passes when Grandpa nets another trout and then he has to assist Boo with his second ever catch! Boo is happily grasping the fish on his line with both hands while Grandpa pulls out the hook. Mother forces Boo to take a picture with his trophy despite his eagerness to get back to fishing. “OK, Boo. Stand right there with your fish and let’s get a picture!” Boo walks over to where he thinks Mother is pointing, head down, and obviously annoyed. He holds up the fish, but his Mother is not happy with the smile. “Boo, smile! With TEETH!” she commands as she demonstrates. Boo smiles, satisfying his Mother and restoring peace to the lake as Mother takes the picture.

“I don’t have a fish!” Pookie is now reaching the peak of frustration. She puts her head down, her little pig tails swinging downward, and crosses her arms. Before her pouting begins, Grandpa sits cross-legged in the dirt, “Come here, hita. We’ll get one.” Father brings in Pookie’s line to freshen the bait and to help distract the little girl with another cast.

Pookie strolls over to Grandpa and sits with him. Father hands over the rod to Grandpa and he casts the line into the lake. Boo and Father exchange glances, hoping that the fish continue to bite!

Some time passes, and the bites come less and less frequently. With the mid-morning sun comes the heat that drives away the trout and forces them into greater depths. At this point, Grandpa needs to stretch and Mother takes over helping Pookie monitor her fishing pole. Mother helps Pookie bring in the line with an empty hook. “Maybe they are biting down there.” Father observes.

“Can you tie another weight on there?” Mother asks. “Sure.” Father says. Father ties another small lead weight and then adds another hook slightly higher up the line than the existing one. He gives Mother some of the marshmallow bait for one hook and he adds a fireball to the other.

“Well, here goes nothing!” Mother says as she casts the line. She brings her chair over to the shore and Pookie sits with her with a serious frown.

Father and Grandpa are relaxing in the sun, talking about work and the next home project Grandma will be hankering for once camping season is over. “Ya, your mom is wanting tile downstairs and we need to get the extra bedroom painted.” “That’ll be nice” Father replies. Grandma smiles.

Boo is tired and struts over to Grandma and sits in her lap. His eyes are heavy from a long morning of fishing. Boo’s head is bobbing up and down. His eyes shoot open after every downward tilt of his head is met with an upward thrust. He is not going down without a fight! Finally, after a few minutes, Boo’s head stays down, finally surrendering to the warmth of the weather and the warmth of Grandma.

Mother’s head is starting to droop as well when she looks up with a start. “I think I feel a bite!” she tells Pookie. Pookie looks at the tip of the rod with a smile.

“Wait a sec...” Father says looking at Pookie’s rod, “Yup, you got it!”

Pookie takes the rod as Mother passes it to her. Boo wakes up startled as Grandma starts clapping for Pookie chanting, “Good job, Pookie!”

Mother and Pookie stand from their chair and start reeling the line back to shore. Boo is up now, cheering on his sister and doing his hip-shaking fish dance. A fish jumps and splashes and Pookie starts reeling faster and faster. Mother has to slow her down so she does not jerk the fish off the hook. Father walks over to them and takes over while Mother gets her camera. Father keeps his hands close to Pookie’s but allows her to get her fish. It feels like an eternity to the campers, but the fish is finally visible in the shallow water next to the shore. Pookie lifts the tip of the rod and swings the fish over, almost hitting Father with the writhing trout! “Whoa!” Father exclaims laughing. Grandpa is smiling broadly, happy that the little girl finally has her first catch.

Father takes the hook from the trout’s gaping mouth and strings the fish on its own line for pictures. He gives the strung fish to Pookie. ”My fish! I got a fish!” Pookie says excitedly. “We both caught fishes!” she tells Boo.

Mother holds up the camera and instructions are not necessary. Pookie holds the line above her head, the fish held slightly up to her chest, and with a proud, beautiful smile and a slight little lisp exclaims, “Chhhheeeeeetttthhhhhh!”

The End

The First Fish Part 2: The Lake by Mark A. Trujillo

The Lake

“The lake hardly looks real” Father tells Mother as they unload from the truck. “I know. It’s very pretty!” replies Mother gazing out over the lake in the distance.

Grandma, Mother, Grandpa, Father, Pookie, and Boo all gather at the back of the truck. Grandpa drops the tailgate and begins distributing the supplies. Boo and Pookie eagerly grab their fishing poles and smile at each other. “We’re going to get those fish, Pookie!” says Boo assertively. The certainty in his voice reassures his younger sibling and she responds with a little giggle, “He, he. Yup!”

Boo and Pookie lead the pack from the parking lot. Boo jumps on a log separating the lot from the path down to the lake shore and turns around impatiently. Pookie not so confident in her ability to hop on the log, hands her pole to her brother, bends over, and lifts one leg over the log and then the other. Boo jumps down and exaggerates his landing like a ninja ready for battle. Pookie takes her fishing pole from Boo and they continue down the dirt path.

The dirt path, surrounded by green underbrush, pine trees, and the occasional aspen, drowns out some of the sunlight, making the day seem earlier than it is. Looking up through the foliage, the baby blue sky overhead is only a sliver of its true self. An occasional cool breeze blows through the pines and aspens creating a soft howling sound that echoes throughout the canyon. An occasional pine cone drops from somewhere in the forest making a dull thud while a single squirrel stands on its hind legs with a nut in its front paws, cautiously observing the six campers. After what seems an eternity to the young fishermen, Pookie and Boo finally reach the lake. The adults catch up shortly after and start surveying the lake shore and the lake itself.

“That spot over there looks pretty nice.” suggests Grandpa. They walk over to the spot and Father and Grandpa begin checking the kids’ fishing rods and showing them how to carefully place the bait on the barbed hook. Boo and Pookie are fascinated by the fluorescent, glittery marshmallows and eagerly reach out to get the fish-enticing treats. Father quickly moves the bait jar away from their reach and hands them one marshmallow each. They play with the marshmallow slowly rolling it in their little fingers making a small ball. “Just like playing with your boogers!” Boo exclaims. Grandpa and Pookie laugh out loud.

Father takes Pookie aside and begins showing her how to bait the hook. He carefully takes the eye of the hook with his right hand and begins molding the little ball of bait around the hook with his left, making sure to leave just a little of the sharp tip of the hook exposed. He gives Pookie the rod and instructs her to gently dip the baited hook into the water so the bait will stick to the hook when casted. Pookie nods and walks over to the water’s edge. She begins lowering the rod slowly but then inadvertently hits the casting button on the rod. The bait splashes into the water. Father looks at the surprised little girl and says, “Oops! That’s why you have to be careful. Look at the bait.” Pookie turns back to where the bait splashed down and sees the glittery ball of bait floating away.

Pookie looks down dejectedly. “It’s OK though!” Father consoles her. “We can put more on.” After adding another bait to her hook, Father walks with Pookie to the water’s edge and this time helps her. He takes the little fishing rod and casts the line into the water, the small lead weight and bait making a small, circular ripple on the lake’s surface.

Grandpa walks over to Pookie’s fishing spot, having already helped Boo get successfully situated. “Now, you have to be patient and quiet to catch a fish” Grandpa informs the youngsters. He kneels down on one knee and Pookie leans against him, both gazing out across the lake to where her hook is submerged.

The campers with their fishing rods propped up and strategically positioned for catching fish can finally take in the true beauty of the mountain lake. In this morning hour, the lake is quite still with an occasional mountain breeze causing little waves to form and smoothly glide away from the fisherman, keeping the fishing lines taut. When the waves’ momentum gradually dies, the lake reflects the canyon cliffs and trees that encompass the watery oasis. Occasionally, a small bubble can be seen a few yards from the shore signaling the presence of a hungry fish or two while overhead, a hawk squawks while hunting for breakfast of its own. The sun leisurely makes its way over the trees and the canyon and illuminates part of the shore, exposing green moss where land meets water. Newly born minnows are also visible and scurry away for deeper depths with the slightest noise.

“Just like a postcard.” Grandpa whispers and adjusts his cap.

The First Fish Part I: The Campground by Mark A. Trujillo

The Campground

Dawn arrives in the mountains, casting a smoky light over the landscape. The smoke from the campfire slowly glides through the air creating a hazy, translucent window overlooking the incredible view of pine trees that surround the campground. Silence abounds except for the occasional crackle of the fire. Even though it is deep in the summer season, a welcome chill is in the air, inviting a slight shiver from the little girl.

The little girl is excited. This is the day she is going to catch a fish! How does she know? Her Grandpa says she will. Even though it is early in the morning, the little girl is awake and lively. She shuffles around the fire, kicking up dust, and giggling to herself. Despite her excitement, she is patient. She stops shuffling when her Mother comes out of the tent.

“Come here, Pookie! Let’s get your hair combed!” her Mother commands. Pookie glares disappointingly at her Mother for a moment but eventually begins her slow walk toward the tent.

Pookie sits in her small pink camping chair, ignores the dust that that has accumulated on her tiny digits, and stuffs her two middle fingers into her mouth without hesitation. Her Mother grimaces. It is better than the alternative, which involves wrestling, tears, and hair that isn’t combed.

Her Grandpa, Father, and older Brother are gathering the supplies and loading up the white Ford F-250. Her older brother by 2 years skips around with a Batman fishing pole, the red and white bobber swinging back-and-forth. “Boo Bear! Careful! You don’t want that hook coming off and getting you!“ his Father tells him. Boo stops for a second but continues his skipping display, deciding that the risk is worth it.

“Ah! Let him be! He’ll be fine!“ Grandpa says. Father rolls his eyes knowing there will be no wrong done by the offspring this weekend. “Coffee, dad?” asks Father. Grandpa gives him an affirmative nod. The coffee pot sits on the camping stove making percolating sounds, steam rising from the short spout. Father searches the camping supplies looking for the white styrofoam cups that he knows he packed but have now suddenly disappeared. Frustrated, he looks over to Mother and asks, “Hey, have you seen the cups, babe?”

“They should be there!” Mother replies. “You need to look around. They’re not going to jump out on their own.”

“Ha ha. Funny!” Father retorts. He continues looking. Mother observes the spectacle for awhile with a handful of Pookie’s curly hair in her hand. She expertly parts Pookie’s hair down the middle and creates a pig tail on the right side of Pookie’s head. She ties down the pom-pom looking glob of hair with a few flips and snaps of a tiny clear rubber band. “Don’t move, Pooks!” Mother warns.

Mother walks over to the camping supplies with a thoughtful, annoyed frown, her eyebrows shaped in an upside-down “V”. Father is still bent over looking for the cups and fails to notice the imminent danger lurking behind him. Mother finds a hidden brown grocery bag buried behind the garbage bags and the battered box used to store the camping stove. She slaps Father on the butt. “Is this what you’re looking for, Sherlock?” Mother asks sarcastically, handing over the new package of styrofoam cups to a surprised Father.

“Oh ya! Gracias!” Father acknowledges with a wink and grin. He walks to the stove, picks up the gurgling pot, and pours the steamy liquid in three cups. The warm aroma of the freshly brewed coffee and its tantalizing strings of ascending steam add a cozy touch to the already inviting atmosphere.

Mother takes her coffee, sips, and returns to taming the other side of Pookie’s hair. Grandma finally emerges from the travel trailer with a wide smile, “Good mooorrnnnning!” She walks over to her seat next to the fire, situating herself so that she can see all the bustling. “Who is going to catch a stinky fish?” Grandma asks.

“MEEEEEEE!” Brother and Pookie screech, waking every living creature on the mountain range.

The Little Ones by Mark A. Trujillo

The garage door creaks and groans when it opens as the early morning chill of a new winter day begins. I patiently stare out of the garage as the door rises gradually, slowly exposing the sunlight in ever expanding slivers of light. The little ones, eager with anticipation, ignore patience, and bounce up and down and tug at their leashes with the hope that their journey will soon begin. I wait a while longer and walk toward the door as the little ones pull with an excessive ferocity and excitement. Who am I to question that excitement? Everything is relative - is it not?

The disappointment is palpable as I stop our advance down the driveway to close the garage door. The stares from the little ones are piercing and their whines and barks tear at the heartstrings. They say the little ones have no concept of time. I guess “they” never took their little ones for a walk. I chuckle at the absurdity of the little ones and the minute I beckon, “Let’s go?” the little ones, tangled in their leashes, suddenly become calm. The intertwined leashes become taut as the little ones separate from their impromptu wrestling match and begin walking.

The blue canopy overhead, the occasional cool breeze, and the tranquil, desolate street invite us to continue without worry for an eternity. During our little journeys, I feel as though the world perceived by the little ones and my world are synced in a rejection of the confines of home to the wide open possibilities of the outside world. They seek relief from being imprisoned within our home and the occasional backyard experience, seek relief from the same smells and triggers, and they seek the possibility of finally coming face-to-face with that pesky dog that they can hear barking in some unknown yard in the distance.

Without their daily journey, the little ones’ madness is palpable, culminating in mischievous deeds, chewed objects, unrelenting digging to nowhere, unnecessary barking, and ceaseless pacing in search of a little purpose that is out of their grasp. On our little journeys, all their troubles and madness seem to disappear and their purpose is abundantly clear-keep moving, keep observing, and keep discovering.

Perhaps humanity can learn from the little ones’ experiences on their little journeys. Purpose is what keeps humanity going, keeps humanity sane. The moment we stop moving, stop observing, and stop discovering is the moment that humanity ceases to progress. In a world where automation, the constant bombardment of information, and the ceaseless temptations of technology distract humanity with the frivolous, it can be difficult to appreciate the world external to our technological devices that keep us confined in our own small electronic yards.

Life’s purpose is not as difficult to find as humanity seems to think. A willingness to ignore all that distracts in favor of a little journey may be all that is needed.