Red Rock Canyon

During my childhood, my family liked to go camping.  It was cheap, “kinda” fun and got my parents out of Los Angeles for an easy weekend escape.  And we usually did it in the summer.

But one weekend—or it could have been Spring Break or some other holiday—we loaded up the Chevrolet station wagon and headed in the direction of Las Vegas. We were not going to Las Vegas; we were going to camp at Red Rock Canyon. 

My father put up the large, musty tent in the dark and my mother heated Dinty Moore Stew on the propane cook stove.  Dinty Moore Stew was a favorite of mine at the time, unless I got a chunk of beef that was more fat than meat. I loved the soft texture of the potatoes and carrots.  I don’t think I’ve eaten it since I was a child, but they still make it.

The next morning, I caught a horned toad and held it in my hands without either the fear or revulsion I’d probably feel now. Oddly, I grew up being afraid of the big alligator lizards and smaller relatives that seem to litter the streets with their dried up carcasses on the walk home from Ivanhoe Elementary School.  But for some reason, the horned toad—or horny toad as we called it—seemed like a cute little pet.

As the day progressed, the desert winds picked up.  Red dust began to swirl and howl around my family’s canvas enclave.  We ate a sandy dinner in the tent, gave up any notion of watching a clear sky for shooting stars and went to sleep in our sleeping bags lined with duck patterned flannel. The next day, my parents decided to pack it in.  I let the horned toad loose and we loaded up the car. 

On the way back to Los Angeles, somewhere in the middle of the desert, the car broke down.  My mother, sister and I decamped to a very rudimentary motel room.  I suspect it was in Barstow.  My dad organized a tow truck and I remember sitting in the front with the driver.

Funny, isn’t it, where some memories just stop.  I have no memories of getting home, or getting the car fixed.  But I guess some camping trips were not meant to happen.  And one horned toad went on to live a life of freedom.