My dad liked to fish, and I guess mom did too. Probably she mostly just herded kids. My siblings and I were always up for an adventure in camping. We drove to
Flaming Gorge at least once every summer. The ride was sooooooooooo long and terrible, and from Lone Tree on, it was just a terribly bumpy gravel road for about 30 miles, which seemed to last forever. I just hated that part. I don’t really remember the fishing all that much, but I do recall a few things.
Many times we went with Grandpa and Grandma Tonks. Once, I vaguely remember a small hotel room, but we usually stayed in our canvas tent. Our sleeping bags were these huge affairs (with ducks and geese on the flannel interior) that kept us so warm. Mom and Dad zipped them together, and we all climbed inside. The lantern would hang from the top of the tent, and the mantels would glow dimmer and dimmer after the gas was turned off. I loved to look at them as I fell asleep, and Dad would always tell us stories, and scratch our backs.
There was a place called Echo Canyon, or something like that, where if you hollered, your echo would come back at you. There was an area downstream from the dam, where a big
flash flood occurred in the 60’s. A few people were killed there in a campground. I believe the flood happened at night while they were sleeping. We took pictures, with us kids standing down in the big gullies and washes that were made when it flooded. You could only see our heads poking up, level with the asphalt in the road. I felt scared, and I worried that another flood would come and get us.
Another memory which stands out, is after we had been playing in the water, Grandma Tonks took our picture and I was posing (as usual). She made a comment about how I NEVER took a serious picture, and I always had to pose and ruin the picture, and she was so disgusted. I don’t know why I remember that, but I do. (See picture below)
We didn’t have a boat; we just fished from the shore, but one time in the summer between my 7th & 8th grade year, we went with one of Dad’s friends, Newell Cutler, on his boat. That was a fun day. I caught the first fish of the day, then absolutely NOTHING the rest of the day while others were catching them right and left. Mr. Cutler let me steer the boat for a little bit in some of the side canyons. This was a BIG thing for me and Mark and Erika, because we had NEVER been on a boat before.
After the trip with Newell Cutler and his boat in 1973, I didn’t see the Flaming Gorge area again, until 2008. Wow……..35 years !! Roger and I swung by there this past summer, on our way back from Rock Springs. As we drove through the little town of Manila, we only saw the reservoir from a distance, and didn’t even get a glimpse of the dam. During the drive from Manila (on a fully paved asphalt road) to Lone Tree and Fort Bridger, I kept trying to "catch a glimpse" of my childhood, but the scenery and green tinged mountains barely stirred a distant memory.
