We used to go up to a cabin in Hobble Creek Canyon. It was generally the same group of people, Brent and I, my parents, my brothers and my Aunt Chandra and my cousin Stef. We would hang out, play a lot of games-it seems like Cataan really should have been settled by now-eat tasty food and just relax. We would also watch movies, and after awhile it became a contest to see who could bring the stupidest movie. I usually won that particular competition.
The most fun I ever had at the cabin was one October when we had three four-wheelers at the cabin. It had been raining, so the roads were fairly muddy. It was the afternoon of our last day, and for some reason Nate, my dad and I decided to go out for one last ride. It was freezing, it was muddy, and it was raining. I could barely see more than a few feet in front of me, and by the time we got back to the cabin we were all absolutely covered in mud. During the whole drive the thought that kept me going was that when I got back to the cabin I could get into the hot tub that was waiting for me. My dad was thinking the same thing. Unbeknownst to us, Nate had already drained the hot tub. You can imagine our disappointment when we returned to the cabin, muddy, wet and freezing, and there was no hot tub waiting for us. Since my shoes and pants were covered in mud, I ended up wearing my pajamas home. And since I had no extra shoes I seem to recall Brent helping me into the truck in my stocking feet.
Even though it took awhile to warm up, and we had to tease Nate about draining the hot tub for years, that is still one of the best times I ever had at the cabin. We haven't been up in a couple of years, and I'm not sure if or when we will go up again. Now that my mom is gone it's hard to muster the ambition to go up. My memories of the cabin are so full of memories of her that I just don't know if I'm ready to go back.