Grandma Henke

Long before you saw production line campers sitting on the backs of trucks with their top lip resting on the roof of the cab, we took a family trip to Dead Horse Point, Utah, in Dad’s red flat bed truck and his home made camper.    It was not much of a step above “roughing it” by today’s standards but we thought it was quite an invention.   It consisted of a rounded top that was hooked to poles at the sides that were lined with canvas, and another canvas hung at the back. 

We loaded up our camp stove, bedding,  boxes of food, ice chest, water … and all the other supplies we could fit in and took to the road.    I don’t remember much about the ride to the canyon that looked 2,000 feet down onto the wandering Colorado river.    My memory starts at the canyon itself.                                                                                                                                 

Check out the pictures of Dead Horse Point on Utah State Parks.   The giant canyon was magnificent in its beauty but terrifying to an 8 year old girl in that the edge of of where we camped was a sheer drop off of 2,000 feet.    This was before the days of protective fences, paved paths, and modern campgrounds.     It was drilled into my mind clearly that it was dangerous for me to get too near the edge and I didn’t even like to get near enough to look down at the view when Dad had hold of my hand.

It was cold at night so we all snuggled deep in our beds in the back of  dad’s truck.    Going to the bathroom at night was cold!    One night we heard Dad get up out of the back of the truck and then we heard him getting himself a nice cold drink.    Here he is outside in the cold standing on one bare foot, then the other and he hears, “Me too, Dad.   Me too, Dad.   Me too, Dad.   Me too, Dad.”    

We went on a long hike through the desert and Bill and Chick graciously hauled Ann and I on their backs when we complained of the sand in our shoes.  That couldn’t have been easy but they were always in competition so they acted like it was.  Ann and Bill are on the left and Chick and I are on the right.  Somewhere along that hike I ended up sitting in a mean cactus and the family played “she loves me, she loves me not”, as they picked the nasty prickly needles from my bottom and the back of my legs.     They were too jovial about it … I don’t recall thinking it was so funny at the time.

The only road from the highway to Dead Horse Point fifty-five years ago was a primitive one of sand and dirt.    On the way there the sand had been damp but on the way out it was dry and dusty.  Ann and Bill (the two oldest siblings) abandoned my brother, Chick, and me and moved to the cab of the truck and Chick and I curled up in the back to take a snooze. The old truck stirred up a storm of twisting sand and dust as it made its way through the sagebrush and cactus and after a while the two of us had to crawl under the blankets to keep the sand out of our eyes and nose.   It seemed like a long time of driving before we made it to the highway and Mom came back to check on us.    The back of the truck was covered in a thick layer of sand and so were we.    We had it in our hair, ears … everywhere.

The next thing that happened is the craziest memory of the entire trip.   They were driving through the then quite small town of Moab and Mom spotted a full irrigation ditch that had widened itself along side a big gnarly shade tree.    She made dad pull over and right then and there she had us four kids stripped down to our underwear taking a bath on the side of the main road of Moab.   She washed our hair and our clothes, shook out the blankets, and cleaned up the camper.    It had been a hot ride for Chick and I as we’d climbed down beneath the blankets for protection and the cold water was a refreshing reward.    My sister, the oldest of us kids, was a little more bashful about it than the rest of us … but she does love to tell the story now!

If you are ever in Utah you have to make sure you take a tour of the National and State Parks that are here.    They are absolutely spectacular.   We live an hour from Zion National Park, and 2 hours from Bryce Canyon National Park.   We are maybe 3 hours from the North Rim of Grand Canyon.    Just ten minutes from home is Snow Canyon State Park.   We have forty-five State Parks in Utah.   It is a great place to plan a vacation around.