Wednesday, July 22, 2009

down by the river

This past weekend the tribe of Hinton convened at a Missouri state park for our annual reunion. It was a multi-generational shindig of the fishing sort. Before I break down this year's whopper of a trip, (did you like my pun?) I must re-visit my archives and make sure I'm not THAT girl who recounts the same story year after year, blah blah, caught the biggest lunker, blah blah blah.

Aw, bloggers! My very first post on our little blog was about Roaring River! This trip recap was back before I knew how to put pictures on the Internet. Thank goodness I finally figured that out. Why else would you guys have kept coming back? And somebody PLEASE look at what a cue ball head Chica used to be!

*Sigh* nothing like a little stroll down Archive Avenue to remind me what not to retell.

Here she is in all her beauty. Roaring River. Its name is a tad deceiving. It conjures up images of raging waters surging over ten foot rapids, when in reality, what you see in this picture is just about as wild as it gets. What it lacks in oomp, it makes up for in beauty.

The water is so clear, you can see every fish in the river. Which I've come to find out, is a double edged sword. You can see each fish approach your line, suspense mounting as you lure your unsuspecting, breakfast seeking prey to its certain death by metal hook. Seems like witnessing this scenario would be a huge advantage for a fisherwoman, right? Wrong! Because just as you're warming up your voice for your battle cry of victory, that same unsuspecting, breakfast seeking prey takes one sniff of your neon worm and flits away to bigger and better things. Namely, everyone else's fishing lines. I'm not sure if you've picked up on my dejected, bitter tone, but I got schooled. The fish weren't falling for it. I fought the river and the river whooped me.

To ease my pain, and nurse my pride I stepped away from the fishing pole and picked up my camera. Might as well document everyone else's success, right?

My handsome husband. I won't tell you how many fish he caught, but I'll give you a hint. {We'd never make it on a deserted island. Even if the deserted island came equipped with fishing poles and tackle boxes.}

Daniel's Uncle Jim. Now, if he were on the deserted island with us, we'd totally survive.

A little cousin. Chances are he caught more fish than our family combined. Where was Chica when we needed her? Hiding in shame? It's about time she starts earning her keep! That's why you have kids!

Auntie Sandra! She always catches the river's limit: 1,100 fish. Just kidding. I'm not sure what the limit is. Considering I can't even catch one, the sky's the limit for me!

If catching no fish with him is wrong, I don't want to be right.

If we hadn't had stopped fishing to take this picture, I'm sure we would have caught something. Yes, I'm certain that was our problem. We missed our window of opportunity!

Later that afternoon Dan and I went on a hike. Isn't Southern Missouri purty?

We took Reesie to the hatchery, where they keep all the fish until they're ready to be stocked in the river. In order to feed the fish you have to buy the park's fish food, which they keep in this thing that looks like a bubble gum machine. Try to picture Dan standing there in sweltering heat, inserting quarter after quarter to crank out this nasty fish food so our 14 month old daughter can throw stinky pellets at fish she can hardly see. There I was, lugging around 50 pounds worth of stroller, diaper bag, sunscreen and camera equipment. We cracked up at how ridiculous we had become.

But then we capture moments like these and it makes it all worth it. Right after I took this picture, Reese tried to eat the fish food. That kind of put a damper on the moment.

This picture is just outside our cabin. Our air-conditioned cabin, hallelujah. That's my kind of camping. See Lisa's hand? She got some new bling recently and is still getting used to it. :)

Chica was a little attention deprived by the time we left.

Actually, she's wondering where her meal time audience went.

Hanging with her grandparents.

We'll be back Roaring River. And if Chica's face is any indication, we will have our vengeance.

The End.

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