Wandering back to Trails End

I told you in a blog awhile back about a camp that my parents and relatives went to way before I was born. Now I would like to tell you about a camp that some of the same people had when I was around. It was called “Trails End” because it was at the end of a one lane road; more of lane than a road. It was located way down in the wooded section next to Bull Run on a piece of ground purchased from Mr. & Mrs. Alleo who owned the large farm. The road went through two gates. The cows and one real mean bull shared the part of the road with you.

That lane must have been about a mile long, but when my cousins and I were kids, it seemed like ten miles when we had to walk up to the farm to purchase eggs and milk when we all would spend a week of vacation there. We also thought that mean bull was hiding behind every tree.

Today, I am going to show some pictures that I believe are from the early 50’s. I will post another blog on when it was built with some earlier pictures (when I find them). Actually, had to do these first since they were falling apart.

This first picture is of the couple who owned the farm:

Cooking out side was always fun and the food seemed to taste so much better. This picture shows my Mom cooking while everyone was sitting around telling tall tales and trying to keep upwind of the smoke:

Then everyone would sit on the porch watching the towels dry and telling tall tales:

Of course after a short rest after lunch, we all had to go on a hike. My Mom is the one on the far left and I am the one on the far right. I was always in a hurry to get into the deep woods:

I will leave you with a picture of my Mom and her Mom (my Grandma) sitting on the porch and relaxing. Grandma is in the big wooden rocker. My Dad’s Buick is parked in the background:

Hope you enjoyed traveling back in time to a place that I dearly loved, and still do. Tell you what; I will show you some more recent pictures that I took back in the year 2000.

This first one is of my old dog Buttons and my cousin’s dog on the trail to the swinging bridge:

Me holding Buttons at the bridges old anchor:

A picture of where the bridge used to be:

And a picture of Big Coon Creek, over which the bridge was stretched:

In another blog someday, I will show you pictures of the bridge and our group playing in the water.

I must get back there some day soon.