Dribble Castles 'n' Sand in yer Shorts

Summer vacations!  Who doesn’t love ‘em?!  Kids look forward to them... adults plan and save for them.  The destination can be anywhere, as long as it’s a chance to get away from the norm, and relax a little bit, have some fun with family, and generally make more memories.  Our family went to the beach when we were kids.  Other families will visit the mountains.  Some take long trips, some just a short distance from home.  Wherever we go, whatever we end up doing, whoever we end up doing it with... vacation is a highlight of the year.

When we were growing up, our vacations were a family event, involving both of Mom’s brothers and their families, her Mom and Dad, and a family that may as well have been kin for as much as they did things with us.  The adults would get together throughout the year and plan everything out.  For most of my childhood, we all went to a campground in North Myrtle Beach, SC called Ponderosa Family Campground.  I’m told the campground isn’t there anymore, but it sure held lots of memories for us, and was a yearly destination that we all looked forward to.

Ponderosa Family Campground, N. Myrtle Beach, SC

Our group consisted of 5 families, made up of 10 adults and around 10 or 11 kids.  The families would always reserve campsites that were back to back and side by side, so that we had a big area for all of us.  Someone always brought a huge roll of heavy duty plastic that was strung up in the trees to create a make-shift cover over the whole area.  It always rained sometime during the week or two that we were there, so the adults had learned to plan ahead.  Dad and my uncles would take marbles, wrap them in an edge of the plastic, tie a string around it tight, and that would hold that section of the plastic, which was then tied to a tree.  All around the edge they went with this method, until the whole area was covered.  They planned it out so that the plastic only overlapped in areas that it was ok for a dribble to get through when it rained.  After a big rain, we’d take brooms and gently nudge the puddles that had collected to the outer edges of the plastic.

Planning was something that Daddy and my Uncles were good at.  They thought about this trip off and on all year long, scheming better ways to do something than the year before.  One year, Dad decided to make a big wooden box that would fit most of the kitchen ware, as well as the camp stove, and some of the foodstuffs.  He built in sides that dropped down to be used for places to prepare the meals, a place to put the camp stove when it was in use so it wouldn’t be dangerous, and other custom made sections.  It was painted with gray “porch paint” so that it would be waterproof.  It was all designed specifically to fit on top of the car we had at the time.  In later years, it was modified just a bit so that it would fit exactly in the back of the station wagon we had.  The whole thing had legs on it once it was assembled at the campsite, and was a very convenient place for Mom to fix meals. 

Many of the meals were shared between the families, and we always had fish one night before we left since the men folk always went out deep sea fishing one of the days we were there.  Mom was in charge of the meals at our campsite, and would think of some of the most ingenious ways to save on space when we were packing.  She’d freeze spaghetti sauce ahead of time, for example, and use that (and other frozen food) instead of ice to keep the food cold on the way there.  As it thawed, or we used the food, we’d get bags of ice to replenish the cooler. 

Getting there was one of the best things about the trip.  We’d all leave together and caravan down to the campground... 4 or 5 cars, all together, joking around on the walkie talkies that Dad and the uncles used for keeping up with each other (mind you, we didn’t have cellphones or gps, so CB radios and walkie talkies were what they used).  When we had the station wagon, Mom and Dad would pack the car so that it was level with the windows all the way to the back.  On the top, Mom would make a pallet (bedding made of blankets) and our pillows.  My sister and I would ride on that all the way to the beach.  Nope, no seatbelts or seatbelt laws back in those days. 

For many years, we all slept in tents, those large ones that sleep 6 or 8 people. Every day we'd have to sweep the sand out of the tents before we went to bed, because try as we may, sand would get tracked into the tents during the day. Some nights would be sweltering hot, but other nights, when it rained, we'd be lulled to sleep as the raindrops splattered through the tall pine trees that surrounded us and onto the tent.  There were, of course, the usual disasters of sleeping in tents when the tent would leak and things would get wet, but we'd just pull everything out, string up ropes for clotheslines, and dry it all out the next day.  We were all too happy to be there, having fun at the beach, to let stuff like that cause more than a pause to handle the situation, then back to the serious business of having fun.

One of the highlights of the trip was Grandmother’s Sour Pickles.  I believe she used straight apple cider vinegar, and nothing else, because those pickles sure were sour.  She’d make a huge gallon jug full.  We’d love going over to her picnic table and getting a sour pickle out and seeing who among us that it puckered up the worse. 

The campground was situated within walking distance of the beach, but between the beach and the campground was a little inlet with a walking bridge over it.  It was named The Swash by the campground, and was over your head deep at high tide, but wading height at low tide.  It was always a fun place to swim because there were no waves to knock us down.  At night, we’d take bits of raw chicken and some string and go to the bridge and try to catch some crabs.  I didn’t mind eating crab meat, but I didn’t want to be around when they were being cooked.  I didn’t like to hear their tiny screams as they were being put into the water. 

There was always something going on around there with that many people.  Sometimes we’d walk to the general store that the campground had and get ice.  We’d always get a little extra money to get us a piece of candy.  The whole while we’d be scoping out the other merchandise because my sister and I knew we’d be allowed to get some sort of souvenir before we went home.  Sometimes we’d all pile in cars and go to some of the other sites in Myrtle Beach... rides, gift shops, and sometimes even a seafood restaurant.  The Gay Dolphin Gift Shop was always a family favorite.  Not only did they have tons and tons of trinkets, tshirts, and other gifts, but they had this sculpture sort of thing in one of their windows that had oil that dripped down thin wires that made it look like a cascade of water droplets all the time.  It always fascinated us kids to see that thing.

Dribble Castl

Going to the beach was a daily event.  Mom and Grandmother taught us how to make “dribble castles”, where you take really wet sand, and dribble it through your fingers to create a mound of wet sand droplets all piled up.  If you kept moving to the side, you’d eventually have a wall.  More would be added to create turrets and arches and other features.  Then there were the “reliefs” that we’d make.  Sand would be piled up and shaped into some sort of shape, like a mermaid, and we’d gather the tiny shells always on the beach to make the scales of the mermaid’s fin.  Frisbees would always appear at some point and we’d run all over the beach catching and tossing back.  Sometimes one of the cousins would have a skim board.  I never became very good with the thing, but it was always fun to watch as one of the boys would sling it across the area where a wave had just washed up and running, jump on it and glide across the water.

Toward the end of our time there, there’d always be a night when we’d go to the beach and shoot off fireworks.  We were in South Carolina after all, and that’s where they sold the “good” fireworks.  There were always roman candles, sometimes a few mortars, and certainly sparklers and bottle rockets.  It was a great way to wrap up a couple weeks of nothing but fun every day.

All too soon, it was time to pack up and go home, so into the car everything would go, and once again the caravan would form up and off we’d go back home.  I remember that home always looked a little different when we’d get back, as if something inside of me had changed more than something about the house changed.  My world had gotten a little bigger.  I had spent days in the sun with family and friends, and had so much fun. 

The heat of the summer waned on, and soon enough fall arrived and the promise of new adventures at school.  But then, that’s a story for another day.  Summer was always one of our favorite times of year because it held the promise of summertime adventures with our cousins at Ponderosa Family Campground.

Every time I stand before a beautiful beach, its waves seem to whisper to me:
If you choose the simple things and find joy in nature's simple treasures,
life and living need not be so hard.

~ Psyche Roxas-Mendoza ~