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Deciding to buy her grandmother's
18-foot trailer was the easy decision, but knowing what to do next was
the problem. When Susan's Grandmother died, her Grandfather wanted to get
rid of their camping trailer, the price was within our means, so we bought
it. Oh, it is nothing fancy, truthfully, we probably could have gotten
a much better trailer for a little more money, but we wanted it for sentimental
When we bought it, the trailer
was parked on Susan's brother's property in Colorado, about 15 miles away
from the family acreage. He offered to let us keep it there indefinitely,
with no strings attached. Moving the trailer meant we'd have to build a
road, install an outhouse and haul water, all at considerable expense.
The trailer was already hooked up to a septic tank and had running water
and access to electricity--it was a perfect arrangement.
Perfect, except we'd spent
15 years building memories on land 15 miles away. Memories of the first
time Stephen saw a deer, or when Susan out fished me in the pond or watching
Jamie feeding the chipmunks. There was the year Mom and Dad and my little
sister, Lori came to vacation with us and how much she enjoyed "shooting
deer," (with a camera, of course).
So we made up our mind to
move the trailer to where our memories were. Two years ago, we hired a
contractor to build the road, and my father-in-law helped me move the trailer
on the new pad. Ron McGill went with me for a couple of days to build a
vault for the outhouse, then, a month later, the family spent our vacation
time building the outhouse and getting "settled in."
Last year, Red Robertson
found a water tank, and donated it to the cause. The boys and I went up
for a few days to install the tank and pour the footers for the deck. During
our summer vacation, our family built the deck using indigenous lumber.
The poles aren't exactly straight and some of the nails have "puppy
tracks" around them, but we're proud of what we're building. Somewhat
proud of the outhouse and the deck, but very proud of the memories.