One constant in my life as a boy growing up in Utah, was my family’s annual vacation to Yellowstone. Every year during my youth, my parents loaded the family in the car and made the long drive to Wyoming.
As an adult who considers the Westin “roughing it,” I marvel at the accommodations that I thought were so wonderful as a child. My parents rented camper cabins in the park. They were log cabins, and we camped. There were bed frames of wire springs with a mattress on top but no sheets. There was a wood burning stove, but no restroom, no showers, and no heat in the cabin (except from the stove). The bathrooms and showers were community affairs, centrally located in the cabin complex.
I loved sleeping in sleeping bags on top of the mattress. I loved waking up before dawn to go fishing with father and brothers and sister at the Yellowstone river. I loved returning home with the fish we caught and entering the cabin now warmed by the stove with the aroma of bacon, pancakes, and hash browns filling the cabin.