California Dreaming-San Bernardino Mountains
California Dreaming-San Bernardino Mountains
One wonderful thing about the valley here, is that you can turn in almost any direction and see mountains.
When I was a girl, my summer camp was in this mountain range. We would leave the hot and often smoggy city, and ascend the hills until we reached our destination.
Smoky the Bear calmly let us know how high the fire danger was on our way up. Woodsy the Owl reminded us to give a hoot and not pollute.
BTW, you can read the rest of my adventure in the California Dreaming series by clicking the links below:
Why I was here:
- Things Not To Say (when mom gets cancer)
- Photography California Dreaming {Home}
- Photography California Dreaming {Beaches}
- Photography California Dreaming {SoCal Orange Blossoms}
- Photography California Dreaming {The Foothills and Valleys}

Even though I loved the mountains and looked forward to camp, once I got there? I was a bit scared to be left.
One year, my parents stayed to visit friends who worked at the camp, that they’d known for many years. Apparently, as the story goes, a camp employee had to go and ask my parents to leave.
To go home! Because Christa could see them and was crying.
Jeesh. I don’t do that anymore, thankfully.

It didn’t matter if the mountains were misty or full of sunshine. They were magical all the time.
We’d hike up the mountain alongside the river, watching out for bears. Collecting beads by day, and singing campfire songs at night.
My aunt worked there a few summers in the kitchen (that helped a lot with my fear), and as a teen I even got to come back as a junior counselor. There were a few intimidating moments, but it was largely a wonderful experience.

Funny the things we remember. The smell of something in the air will transport us back to another time. A quick glimpse of a road might remind us of a long-distance road of our youth.
The sounds of the winds high above in the pines sing the summer lullabies of long ago.
Would you believe the city of San Bernardino is under this rolling fog bank?

Everything changes, yet in our minds, nothing ever seems to alter our memories.
They are stationary snapshots of our experience.
These mountains? They are a snapshot of my life.












