CHAPTER 1
Hauser Creek Canyon to Customs House

Hunkering down by a low burning mesquite wood campfire that evening, I took a slow drag of cold, strong, boiled coffee, and feeling to the tips of my boots the old-time trail boss, the Indian guide, the cavalry scout, I gave it to my family straight—"Here's the way it is. Tomorrow we are getting up at the first light of dawn, throw a diamond or two, and head north."
"For sure?" was the answer I got from five faces dancing in the flickering light.
"Yup," I said, looking at each one of them hard," but I want you to understand one important fact. I figure we've used up all our good luck. On the other hand, we don't deserve any more bad luck. So, from here on, we're traveling on plain old dumb luck."

That's as good a way as any to begin a saga of a very ordinary American family about to embark on a very unusual vacation. How did that next morning begin? Today I almost hate to write about our beginning, as looking back on the first few days almost seems impossible that .....

Well, imagine the opening scene of an Italian Western film epic. The unusual theme music of a drum played with chopsticks, accompanied by a twang of a musical saw, and the hum of comb and tissue paper, fills the air.

Dawn breaks, and two hours later, the hero sticks his head out of a tent to find his faithful horses making a raid on the oat supplies. Quick as thunder he jumps out of his sleeping bag, shouting, both to awaken his sleeping family, and to frighten the horses away.

Close-up of a frightened girl looking out of her tent, saying, "Dad?"
Flash pan to horses raising heads out of grain sacks, chewing contentedly.
Return to girl "Dad'"

Then, a long, slow, zoom shot out that reveals a campground crowded with recreational vehicles, weekenders, visiting girl scouts—all turning to stare at this strange macho figure standing in the center of attention, yelling, in his Fruit of the Loom jockey shorts. Cut!

I would have given just about anything then and there if we could have quickly tossed a diamond or two, and exited stage right. As it was, I didn't re-appear out of my tent for another half hour. Bernice got up to build a fire to coax my trail crew out of bed, but had trouble trying to cook breakfast while entertaining all the guests we attracted who had ambled over to ask, "When ya hitting the saddle for Canada, little lady?"