Then the reality of our life takes over my musings. Three children. My job. Then the reality of our life takes over my musings. Three children. My job. His job. Mortgage payments. So many obligations, so little time.

I continue driving. The sun rises into full splendor. Snow-capped peaks to the west beckon. Should we consider a ski trip this weekend? The kids are growing up so quickly; every moment with them is precious. Already the oldest has threatened "last holiday with mom and dad." I realize that sometime in a nebulous future, my husband and I will have the time to spend together, just the two of us, travelling where the wind blows...dreams of freedom, escape from the daily drudge of responsibilities are appealing fantasies, but would I trade away today on wishes for tomorrow?

At this point in our lives, each day revolves in great part around the routines of our three children; Mike and Alishia, now teenagers; and Lacey, eight years old. In the future we hope for the blessing of many years shared, years in which we will relish our solitude while basking in the joys of future generations. For now, the reality is a family vacation that takes place with children, cousins and assorted "tag-a-long" friends.

Each summer we spend weeks on the road, and at our customary campgrounds that have become as familiar and dear as home. In the months preceding a trip, we enjoy hours planning departure dates and developing supply lists. Preparing and packing the trailer is a team effort that takes days to accomplish. The holiday itself is often shorter than we would wish, yet provides prize photos and sweet memories that will last a lifetime.

It is fifteen hundred kilometres from our doorstep to destinations in Terrace and Kitimat in northwest British Columbia. This was a daunting drive when we had three impatient youngsters and a puppy. There are stretches of highway where the plaintive cry "Are we there yet?" still echoes in my mind. The trip is easier now as the children, no longer infants, are as eager to arrive as we are. And the trip is made much quicker without the unavoidable rest stops every 50 kilometres - or less. (Top)

Our first recreational vehicle was a prehistoric, fifty-dollar tent trailer - it folded down to an eight-foot square box for towing. The most costly contribution to modernizing the trailer was the purchase of two new sheets of plywood used as mattress supports. A piece of scrap carpet from the basement covered the wooden floor. Half a can of paint worked wonders on the outside boards.

There were benefits to a pint-sized unit. The tent-trailer was maneuverable. Single handedly anyone of us, including Lacey, could drag it into an ideal position. A single Coleman lantern provided heat, even on the coolest of nights. All I can say in retrospect is that we're glad the kids were small back then. Andre and I slept on one side of the trailer and they slept like a litter of puppies, arms and legs intertwined on the other. As holidays went, there was a great deal of closeness between us as a family, but absolutely no marital intimacy during those two weeks!

Thankfully, my husband doesn't like to sleep within two feet of our children anymore than I do (don't believe it when you hear someone say that children don't snore!) and by the next spring we had purchased our Westwind trailer. Bunk beds, washroom in the back, kitchen, living area and the piece de la resistance; a master bedroom complete with locking door! Our RV holidays (and marriage) would continue!

As travellers we relish familiar traditions. The first morning on the road is a stop outside of Banff at the Timberline Lodge where we indulge in a restaurant-cooked breakfast. The breathtaking Columbia Icefield section of the highway challenges Andre's driving skills and the truck's engine, but is the best area to spot mountain sheep and agile goats. The stop at Mount Robson is for ice cream cones, a run through the small meadow of wildflowers and impromptu chats with tourists in the parking lot.

Counting bears is another time-honored ritual. One year we spotted thirteen, a record number, including two grizzlies. Favorite picnic stops beckon when we travel and I prepare lunch in the trailer while kids, dog and dad all gambol along a riverbank, skipping and searching for lucky feathers.

Salmon fishing and the opportunity to visit family in the city of Terrace are the two reasons for this lengthy pilgrimage. Our children have come to love angling and they are avid fishermen (and fishergirls). When the kids were younger we constantly watched and worried about them. As youngsters, Mike and Alishia insisted on clutching their own rods. Our concern then was that they would catch a fish bigger than themselves.

Mike was eight years old the first time a giant Chinook took his hook. Stubbornly he refused to let go of the rod, until the fish pulled him into the river shallows. Realizing the impending danger of being swept into the current he finally accepted Dad's help in catching and releasing his first Big One.

Our annual trips have done more for us than provide a needed getaway; they have bonded a family unit of five individuals. Our holidays have made us friends.

Speaking of holidays, we need to book some soon. Last year we left a deposit for our favourite spot on the Okanagan Lake. I must call to confirm. After that we turn north again for the annual fishing expedition. It's time to check our gear, pick up a few extra lures, and ensure the camper wintered well.

So many campgrounds, so little time. (Top)