Dad cooked dinner that night using charcoal briquettes. After the meal he made sure the briquettes were out by pouring water over them. He wanted to use them again the next night so he put them back in the bag and put it on the ground next to some other camping equipment. That night, I woke up in the middle of the night. I poked my head out of the tent for some fresh air. It took me a long time to realize what was going on. Something was glowing a dull red. After a while I got out to get a closer look. It was the coals! And they had come back to life and had burned a hole through the bag. Closer inspection revealed that they had also partially melted the side of the ice chest. I moved the bag which still somehow had one side and a bottom. The camp stove and extra gas in the can were close by. If they had caught on fire it might have been a lot worse. Dad felt bad, but we were all grateful that a melted ice chest was all the damage.
We went on family hikes, and we also went on hikes by our selves. I enjoyed going off into the forest and studying the scriptures for hours on end. On the last night, Dad had us hike to a hill and watch the sunset. He also had us say our prayers up there. So ended our last camping trip before I went on my mission.
Coming Tomorrow: My Sister Julie
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