Up Your Tuba, Yuba

We have decided that we are most likely not a backpacking family. It's fine and all, but we're more of a car-camp-on-the-beach-and-swim family.

It was beautiful, see-through river water and big ridges of rock and pines aching towards the big cumulous sky.


But the tent was a bit small, and Oz was shoved up at our feet against the nylon wall, sighing and grunting loudly whenever we moved. No bed to get under.

Then Dan got sick the last night and projectile vomited about 8 times out the door of the tent. I scraped it into the leaves the next morning with a big stick. He had a hard haul out the next morning.

Not enough sleep for any of us. Though the hobo packs and grilled salmon were delicious.