Once our cabin was built vacations to the mountains were easier on Mom. Instead of having to camp or feel like she was intruding on Grandma Russell, she now had her own place to take the kids when they needed naps or some time out. We went to the cabin often. Since Dad worked at the High School he had lots of time off in the summer. He was always busy doing something to make more money, like drawing house plans, but he made time for the cabin.
The trip up was almost as exciting as being there. We usually went in our green Ford pick-up truck. It was rickety and old, but there was plenty of room in the back for our clothes, food, and all the equipment Dad needed for whatever project he was planning to work on that trip. To Dad, vacation time meant working time at the cabin. He liked to fish and swim and hike, but he got the most fun out of planning, building, and improving. For Dad, working on the cabin was the best fun of all.
Once everything was piled in the back of the truck Dad and Mom and us four kids would squeeze into the front, and off we would go. It was pretty crowded on the seat, but this was before the days of seat belts and child safety seats, so sitting on the floor of the cab was perfectly acceptable. There was a small hole in the floor boards, about an inch across. Through that hole you could see clear down to the road underneath, and whatever we were driving over. Plain black asphalt wasn't very exciting, but if we watched long enough we would sometimes see the white stripe or yellow dashes painted on the road. Looking through that hole was also kind of hypnotizing, and it often put us to sleep. Mom didn't complain about that.
Dad liked to sing, so the truck was usually ringing with songs. Dad sang about
"K-k-k-Katie, Beautiful Katie,
You're the only girl that I could ever adore-ore-ore-.
When the m-moon shines, over the c-c-c-cow shed,
I'll be waiting at the k-k-k-kitchen door."
or
"Daisy, daisy, give me your answer true.
I'm half crazy, all for the love of you.
It won't be a stylish marriage. I can't afford a carriage.
But you'll look sweet, upon the seat of a bicycle built for two."
Sometimes he would sing us a song he learned when he was in high school
"There was a lady sweet and kind, fairest of all that met my mind.
I did but see her passing by, and yet I'll love her, till I die."
We always sang
"I've been working on the railroad, all the live long day.
I've been working on the railroad just to pass the time away.
Can't you hear the whistle blowing? Rise up so early in the morn.
Don't you hear the captain shouting? Dinah blow your horn.
Dinah won't you blow, Dinah won't you blow, Dinah won't you blow your horn,orn,orn.
Dinah won't you blow, Dinah won't you blow, Dinah won't you blow your horn?
Some one's in the kitchen with Dinah, some one's in the kitchen you know,oh,oh,oh.
Some one's in the kitchen with Dinah, strumming on the old banjo.
And he's singing, fee, fi, fiddlie, I, oh. Fee, fi, fiddlie, I, oh,oh,oh,oh.
Fee, fi, fiddlie, I, oh! Strumming on the old banjo."
Mom liked the song about,
"Down in the meadow in an iddie biddi pool,
Lived three little fishies and their mommy fishie, too.
Swim said the momma fish, swim if you can,
So they swam and they swam right over the dam.
Boop boop diddly waddie audum choo,
Boop boop diddly waddie audum, choo,
Boop boop, diddly waddie audum choo,
And they swam and they swam right over the dam."
We had so much fun on those trips to the mountains. Sometimes we went the long way past Globe. That road climbed up the Sierra Anches mountains and went through the little town of Young. Then we would turn onto Chamberlain Trail, drive by the Bar-X ranch, and eventually get to the cabin. That route was kind of boring. It was hot crossing the desert until you finally started climbing up into the mountains. We all preferred the other way, through Payson.
That road was called the Bee Line Highway, and it seemed faster. Once we were out of town we would watch for familiar landmarks. Soon we would see Sugar Loaf mountain on our left, then Bear Rock (a big boulder on the side of the road that was shaped like a bear, where some creative traveler had spray painted eyes on his face.) Pretty soon we would pass Mount Ord, the tallest mountain in the range, topped with a look out tower way up high, and then we dipped down into Sun Flower, a tiny community strung out along Sycamore Creek, that consisted mainly of a store/gas station and a few houses.
There were camp grounds under the trees at Sycamore Creek, and we usually stopped. At least one of us kids would need to use the potty, and we all loved getting out of the truck and stretching our legs. There was a distinct smell along the creek, not necessarily a good smell, but a familiar, happy odor. Perhaps it was a combination of sycamore trees and forest service outhouse deodorizer mixed together. Whatever it was, it was a smell only found there, in the Sycamore Creek rest area.
After leaving Sun Flower we started watching for a glimpse of Roosevelt Lake many, many miles away to the south. Pretty soon we passed the turn off to Gisella and Roosevelt Lake. Right after that came Rye, a little community famous mostly for the acres of old bikes collected in a lot, waiting to be sold.
Then came the long, long hill we had to climb to get to Payson. That hill seemed to stretch on forever, with all kinds of false alarms where we were sure we had reached the top only to find another hill behind it. All of the kids would be sitting up on the seat by then, straining their eyes for the first glimpse of a building, so they could be the first to shout, "I Spy Payson!"
Payson was a wonderful little town nestled in the pines. There was a lumber mill on the west side of the road, with a big, teepee shaped metal building that always seemed to have smoke rising from its rounded top. It put off the most wonderful smell of newly cut pine and fire. It was heavenly!
On the right side of Main Street was a general store, with a real wooden sidewalk. On it stood a carved Indian and a bear! Oh, the kids loved to see that! Dad usually stopped at the store to get fishing hooks or something else he needed, and the kids would always follow him inside. It seemed dim and dark in the store, where there was a long wooden counter topped with glass jars full of wonderful things to buy, especially licorice whips. Dad always bought a thick rope of strawberry licorice for the kids, and a black licorice whip for himself. Once back in the truck Mom would tear the strawberry rope into pieces for everyone, and it was so sweet and good. But we all had to try just a little taste of Dad's candy, too. It smelled wonderful, and a little bit was good, but we never wanted to eat very much of that rich, black licorice.
After Payson we soon drove through Star Valley, with hundreds of white flowers growing in a big, green meadow. Then came Little Green Valley, then Kolh's ranch, (we would all look out the window here to see if we could see the swimming pool behind the main building), and then Christopher Creek. That was a lovely little summer community. We loved to see the creek rushing by as we crossed it's bridge. Then came Sharp Creek, and finally, after waiting and waiting and waiting, The Turn Off!
The real name was Colcord Road, but for us it was always known as the Turn Off. Now we were truly in the mountains and almost to our cabin, and life was good!
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