Oh, how time brings such a rose-colored filter to days gone by. The further we get away from our younger days in the sun, the more the darker memories seem to fade. And such are our memories of those innocent-yet-wild times at Disney’s Fort Wilderness. One thing is certain – if you remember most of these, then you were there – and are one of the lucky.
Riding around on the loops on your bicycle with a banana seat.
If there’s one enduring glory at Fort Wilderness, it’s got to be looping. I just don’t remember as many golf carts back in the day, but I do remember my safety handlebars and colored spokes, and maybe just a little bit of tomfoolery. And then the excitement of happening upon the Funny Ol’ Truck with all of its snacks. Did they even make helmets back then?
Eating hamburger helper before going on the Marshmallow Marsh excursion
I honestly preferred Spaghetti’O night or bologna sandwiches (or make-your-own pizza at Trail’s End), but this was ever-present. Leftovers went in the gold Tupperware container to reappear at lunch the next day. All those processed carbs were useful in that canoe race to get to that magical beachside paradise known as the Marshmallow Marsh. Our reward was a campfire, songs, stories, and fireworks, but the journey was half the fun.
sunbathing and swimming on bay lake Beach with your portable Panasonic radio.
A long stretch of white sand on Bay Lake was a popular spot for laying out in the sun (with no sunscreen) and making new friends. We listened to Captain and Tenille, Cher, Paul McCartney & Wings, and Andy Gibb on our portable radios, and never dreamed of taking pictures of just our feet.
chasing peacocks.
It never occurred to us that the loud but colorful beauty birds wouldn’t always be there. They seemed like they were native (they’re not), and wondered why they didn’t get along with the wild turkeys.
Riding the Fort Wilderness Railroad and having it break down
Train crossing. at Fort Wilderness. pic.twitter.com/31RdCkaCew
— Brian Miles (@BrianPMiles) May 15, 2015
Other than River Country, the Fort Wilderness Railroad (originally known as the Wilderness Line) is the most beloved piece of campground history. Among its problems was that sometimes the water was not filled up enough to make it all the way back around to the Outpost.
Swimming in Bay Lake with no worries because there were no sharks
Even though an alligator was occasionally spotted in the canals, it was a rarity. After the summer of 1975, it was the great white shark who terrified us more than anything in the world. Mom, are you sure there are no sharks in that lake?
Playing Pac-Man in the arcade at the Contemporary while your parents had libations at Top of the World.
Oh the mysterious night out. As late as it went on, the Contemporary had many floors of escalators and places to play hide and seek.
Washing your hair with “Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific” after a day at River Country.
Getting cleaned up from the lake water seemed so silly, but that shampoo was delicious. Unfortunately, water slide hair often required a follow-up fight with “No More Tangles.” The opening year of River Country, 1976, was probably the highlight of the decade, with all of the bicentennial celebrations including the Magic Kingdom Parade.
Playing kick-the-can in the Meadows Area when it was still mainly meadows (no pool).
Back then, the current preferred loops (100-300) were the better ones because they were near River Country and the beach. The Meadows didn’t have a pool until the 80s. It’s main purpose was for field war – putting on your tube socks and Musket Mickey shirts, and preparing for battle with those kids from up north.
Going to the 70s hot spot of Daytona Beach for a few days after the Fort Wilderness stay.
The early 70s were really at the very end of the heyday of “The World’s Most Famous Beach.” But being able to drive on the beach and discover a whole new side of humanity at the Boardwalk was a bucket list item (before there were bucket lists).
Feeling embarrassed about your Station wagon when your neighbors have a custom conversion van.
Thinking nothing of your mama smoking half a pack of Virginia Slims Menthol 100’s over Friday night spaghetti at Trail’s End.
Special dinners that went beyond the country theme gave Trail’s End a summer camp flavor that’s not quite the same today. Mom’s cigarettes gave the meatballs an extra smoky flavor, but oddly nobody really cared. Every table had an ashtray with matches.
