RECREATION IN THE EARLY 1970's

As a college student without a lot of money to spend, hiking with friends is a good option. Therefore on Memorial Day weekend, which coincided with his birthday, FRED decided to celebrate by going for a hike near Sequoia National Park. A bit of a drive from Los Angeles, but Fred had it all planned out.

We parked at the beginning of the trail and hiked for a hour to get to the Forest Ranger , to ask permission to camp for two days. He granted permission but warned of a mamma bar with cub who was fond of ransacking backpacks for food. He gave a DETAILED explanation of the best way to hang the backpacks from a tree since bears had learned how to get them down.

As we continued our hike we passed a couple who said they were coming down because a bear had eaten all their food.

FRED was not phased by this info.

So off we went for four more hours of hiking until we reached a beautiful little mountain lake surrounded by camp sites. Here we set up camp, pitched our tents and set up the camping stove. We were able to eat a great dinner and then into the sleeping bags. With all the talk about bears it felt a bit odd to settle down. But settle down we did.

At about three a.m. I heard a loud noise that sounded like a twig being snapped. My eyes flew open. There was a huge figure of a bear shadow on the tent. Instinct tells you to run as far and as fast as you can. But you are in a sleeping bag, in a tent, so now what. The bear shadow was moving away, so I told my instinct to be quiet and tried to be still for awhile.

Fred’s voice was asking if we were all right. Fred had unrolled his sleeping bag at the bottom of the tree he had chosen for hanging up the food. So now he heard baby bear sliding down the tree, using his claws, which had made enough noise to wake him. In the moonlight he could see Mamma bear with her nose pointing up at our food. At the end, Baby bear was unable to swipe at the rope holding our food up, so we didn’t lose it.

This wasn’t the end of the night’s adventures.

Half an hour later we did hear another group of campers making lots of noise, banging pots and pans. The best way to scare away bears, the Rangers say. The bears must have tried to get food from another camp site since they had no luck with ours.

The next day we tried fishing in the lake, but Fred had no luck. Instead the other group of campers had too many trout, so they gave us some. So we had a lovely pink high mountain trout birthday dinner with a cupcake birthday cake. We were afraid the bears might bother us again, since trout are part of their usual diet. But the bears didn’t bother us anymore.

That night we slept soundly. But it was time to have coffee and break camp. We had some breakfast and then began the hike down to the car. Downhill the going is easier but watch out for the toes! Having boots one half size too small, meant hitting my toes on the boot every step of the way. Painful, but tolerable.

Once at the car, we had to get to highway 101 to get back to L.A. Having outfoxed the bear Fred was doing very well. There was hope for a good drive down Highway 101 before the end of holiday rush began. We even managed to sneak in a stop at an International House of Pancakes on the way home. The traffic, always a concern, managed to be timed right so we only had a few slow downs.

Hiking became the most important form of recreation for me. At this time there were all sorts of drugs becoming available. Labeled ‘recreational’ there was as much a possibility of coming to some sort of bad end or even death, as being entertained. My cousin had gone for another sort of activity. I found him at my grandmother’s house doing ‘yard work’. This was a surprise because he wasn’t known for his helpfulness. Then he took me aside and whispered ‘can you keep a secret’. Of course I said Yes. He was my cousin after all. There is some weed, I mean Mary Jane, you know, that we are growing in the back.

My grandmother’s backyard was huge, it had been a Victory Garden during World War II, there had been soldiers in and out of the garage apartment. Ending up as a marijuana farm was ironic if nothing else. But this was Los Angeles, times had changed, and my cousin was trying an experiment while growing up. Everyone knew it was illegal, but it was also tolerated. You didn’t have to feel really criminal. But it was illegal.

So I went back to college, while my cousin partnered with my brother to farm and sell marijuana. Farming the stuff is almost tolerated, but selling is absolutely illegal. I was left wondering how long would this last. My cousin and brother ended up buying huge cars (a Lincoln Continental and a Cadillac) while they learned how to run a business.

About three years later everything came crashing to a halt. A neighbor of my grandmother reported to police that there was marijuana being farmed. Police arrived to tear out the marijuana plants and confiscate all the money they found. This led to some teary phone calls between my mother and my aunt. My aunt had to get a bail bond, my brother was covered by friends.

After three months in jail they returned home never wanting to go back to jail.

Knowledge they gained selling ‘stuff’ was put to use developing a business. But that’s another story.