The Best Christmas Ever  #50

 Jimmi Clifford was not unlike any other 9 year old boy. He enjoyed hunting and fishing with his dad. He did not share the same sentiment about school, and unfortunately, that occasionally caused problems. Many days, Jimmi was in school, but had a pond or his dad’s favorite hunting grounds on his mind. So unfortunately the teacher’s directions and help did not get utilized. Now, when it came to fishing, Jimmi’s dad Billy had done a fine job of teaching him the art of using a fly pole. But Jimmi was living in a state that had a law which required all hunters to be 10 years old before they could carry a gun. Jimmi longed for the day when he reached that age. His dad would tell him that when he reached 10, he would buy him his own 30-30. Jimmi had shot a gun on a number of occasions while in the company of his father, and Billy had taught his son about the need for safety at all times. So, the only thing holding Jimmi back was his age.

Birthdays only come once each year and December 26, 2013 was when Jimmi was to turn 10. January 1 started the countdown and Jimmi could hardly wait. He had placed a calendar behind the door and drew a line through each day that passed. His dad kept telling him that he could hardly wait for December to come, and asked Jimmi if he was available to go hunting with him on December 26^th. At that, Jimmi asked his dad to come into his room. When they got there, Jimmi turned the calendar to the month of December and showed Billy that he had placed a big red circle around the 26^th. It was clear that he was anxiously waiting for that day. It was also clear that Billy was just as excited to know that his son and he would share a very special moment on that day.

February 2013 came, and a letter appeared at the Clifford home addressed to Billy. When Billy got home from work, he saw the return address and as he was reading it, his face dropped and his eyes began to tear. He had known all along that this day may come, but he was hoping that this would not be the year. See, Billy was a Lieutenant in the Army National Guard and the letter was his orders directing him to report for active duty to Afghanistan effective April 1. The letter went on to say that the tour of duty was to extend for 12 months. Billy was most worried about leaving his family, but he also knew that he would not be home on the 26^th of December and he felt like he was letting Jimmi down. All these years, they had planned for that date and now one letter had destroyed the dream they both had. He knew that Jimmi would be devastated. How did he tell a 9 year old boy that his dad was not going to be around to take him hunting as they had planned? Billy consulted with his wife and they decided to tell Jimmi that evening. When they sat down in the living room and Billy told Jimmi what had happened, he started to cry and got up saying “You were supposed to be there with me and you promised we would go hunting together. I waited a long time for this and now you are not going to be here for me”. At that, Jimmi stormed out of the room, ran to his bedroom and slammed the door. Billy felt awful and walked toward the bedroom and then turned at least six times before he decided to let it go for the night. It sufficed to say that no one in that house got any sleep that night.

April 1 came and Billy got up that morning knowing that it was the last time he would see his family for at least a year. He said his good byes, hugged his wife and then turned to Jimmi. With tears in his eyes, he told Jimmi that he would make it up to him when he returned and that he loved him more than anything. They hugged and Jimmi whispered in his dad’s ear that he would be waiting for him when he returned and they would go hunting then. At that, Billy left.

The months passed very slowly and from time to time, Jimmi would go down to the creek with rod in hand to do a little fishing. But somehow it just never felt the same as when he was with his dad. He had become the man of the house and had taken his responsibilities very seriously. He longed for the day when his dad would come home and although he had spoken to him a few times since he left, it was not the same. Jimmi became more inward and spent a lot of time in his room. Although he kept his school work up and his chores at home were getting done, he just wasn’t the same little boy.

December 24^th came and Jimmi was helping his mom prepare for Christmas day. He saw all the presents under the tree but none resembled what he wanted most, the 30-30 his dad had promised him. But he was also aware that his job was to be a big man for his mom and that was what he was going to do. When he went to bed that night, he sat alongside his bed and gave thanks for everything he had. He said he missed his dad and hoped he would be home soon. During his reflection, he never once mentioned the gun or hunting on Dec 26, although it was on his mind. That evening he was in bed early and fast asleep in no time.

He awoke the next morning, not with the same enthusiasm as in the past, and walked out to the living room where his mother was waiting. Jimmi unwrapped all the presents that he had under the tree and when he got done, he had no 30-30. With a tear in his eye, he hugged his mother and thanked her for everything. He told her that he was going out into the kitchen to get a drink and would be right back. When he returned, there happened to be another big box under the tree with his name on it. With a smile on her face, his mother encouraged him to open it which he did. When he pealed the paper off the present, a smile immediately came to his face and he shrieked with joy. There in the box was a shiny new 30-30 rifle with his name engraved on it. He turned to hug his mom and it was at that moment that he spotted his dad in the doorway to the living room. Jimmi ran to him and hugged him asking how he was he able to come home early? Billy told him that he had put in for a leave and that it had been granted. He told Jimmi that there was nothing more important to him then fulfilling his promise of the gun and taking Jimmi hunting on Dec 26^th and that was what they were going to do.

The next morning, they were both up bright and early and in the woods at the crack of dawn. They spent the whole day together, but unfortunately did not see any animals. That however did not matter to either of them. They had done what they had set out to do many years ago, and had done it together.

The week passed quickly, and before they knew it, it was time for Billy to go back. He said his good byes and they parted company. In a couple of months, Billy would be home for good and things would be back to normal. But for one week, a young boy had had the best Christmas ever. One that Jimmi or his dad would never forget. For Christmas is all about spending time with family. That is the greatest gift of all. TC and I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. And to our military friends, Peace, and come home safe.

I stayed true to my commitment  #49

I have always enjoyed hunting. It has been a part of my makeup for as long as I can remember. Throughout my lifetime, the wildlife has been plentiful enough for me to have had a number of good productive hunts. I recognize that there are years when I just don’t succeed in my attempts to get a deer, but just being in the woods is as enjoyable as shooting that big buck. Now, it is of course, much better when that does occur.

Northern Maine has had a number of issues with keeping the white tail deer population up to acceptable standards. That included the two years where the heavy snowfall sharply cut the number of deer in the herd. Snowfall of over 200 inches for the year, without a doubt, causes a host of problems for the deer who are already hampered by other problems, all of which are outside of their control. Then there are years where the climate allows them to make a comeback and the season looks as though it is going to be good again.

Unfortunately, snowfall is outside of my or anyone else’s control. But there is another thing that we can control. One that has, in my mind, increased the rate at which the deer herd is dying.  I am speaking about the “coyote”. Now many will try to tell you that the animal is not the cause in the reduction of the herd. Some have stories about snowmobiling into a deer yard and seeing the dead deer carcasses strewn along the way. They report that coyotes are the culprit. Some will say that it is the ecosystem and how it should be. They also say that we should not interfere with the delicacy of that system, and TC and I firmly agree that balance is the key to keeping the natural world in check. However, all I know is that I decided a long time ago, that I believed coyotes were a threat to the deer population and I for one was going to take action if I had the chance.  I made a pact with myself that if I saw a coyote chasing a big buck, I would shoot the coyote. Now, I had never had the opportunity to test this, but I maintained that was what I would do.

So, let’s fast forward to November 16, 2013. I was on one of my hunting excursions in the North Maine Woods. I had scouted this area for some time and had seen a number of very fresh deer tracks even as recently as that morning. The area I was hunting had been cut a number of years ago and replanted with nice spruce trees. The trees had grown to about 3 feet high which made that area a prime location for deer.  I had found a nice spot to sit on a plateau that overlooked the entire cut. From that vantage point, I could see anything that moved for a long distance. I had made it a practice to walk through the cut to this location as early as I could and to sit and not move for long periods of time. On this particular day, I was there early and in place just after the sun came up. As was my custom, I had my doe bleat can out and ready as well as my buck call. I was working the bleat pretty hard that morning, giving it a shot a couple of times and then waiting for about 10 minutes and repeating the same. About forty minutes had passed and I had just completed my most recent cycle of the doe bleat when I looked out, and there about 55 yards away straight in front of me standing on a rise was a dastardly coyote. It was clear that that animal had heard my doe bleats and had come to see what was going on. As I watched it, the coyote was looking in my direction and looking to the left and right of me to see where that deer was. For some reason, maybe because I am such a master of invisibility, it did not see me. It was at that very minute that I had a decision to make. Should I raise my gun and take a shot at the coyote knowing that if I did, I would probably  end any chance I had at shooting a deer in that area? Or, would I remain true to my commitment that if I saw one, I would shoot it. In this particular case, only half of the commitment was true. There was a coyote in my hunting ground but it was not chasing a deer. It was clear however that it was here because it thought it heard a deer calling. I decided to pull my rifle up very slowly and take a look at it through the scope. It was facing me so there was not a lot of area to shoot at. I scoped it, put the rifle down and thought about losing the area if I made the shot. I pulled the gun back up and scoped it again. All the while, this animal did not move. Finally, the pact I made with myself won over and I pulled the gun up, put the dog in my sights, snapped off the safety and squeezed the trigger. The small profile of the animal helped it because I missed. I knew I missed because I saw the ground kick up just to the left of the animal. As I dropped the gun, I notice that the coyote turned to its right and hightailed out of there on a dead run. I had never seen an animal move so fast. In no time it was running through the three foot trees and was gone out of sight. As any good hunter would do, and knowing that I had contaminated my hunting area when I made that shot, I got up and walked over to where the coyote had been standing just to make sure I had not hit the animal. I was certain that dog was in the next time zone at that very minute. As I was walking out to my truck to relocate somewhere else, I replayed the scenario in my mind over and over. Should I have shot? Should I have not? And I came back to the same result. I had done what I had said I would do and I was proud of myself. In my mind, the coyote was a predator to our deer population and I wanted to give the deer that little fighting edge. Unfortunately, I did little to help, however I had tried and that was, for me, a win. Would I do it over? Heck, yes.

TC, the boys are coming!  #48

Looking back on the years, TC and I have been blessed to have two boys. Our goal was to hopefully give them all the tools they needed to be successful when the time came to leave the nest.  That included the tools to understand the woods and how to treat the animals that live there. I always taught them to only take what they needed and to abide by all the rules and laws that governed hunting and fishing.  We spent time fishing and learning how to handle a canoe. We spent time hunting and how important it was to make sure to respect the gun and others when hunting. We watched them grow up and we were very proud of them. So when the time came for them to start their own life, there was a void that was left by their departure. As parents, you are always aware that the time will come when they move on, but you just don’t plan for that time to come so quickly.

So, when they call and tell you that they both have some time off from work and want to come visit, you drop what you are doing, and prepare for their arrival. Now, the plan was for them to fly in and spend a couple of days in the woods hunting partridge. The scouting report on birds was up and down and by that I mean some were seeing them and some were not. No matter, the time spent with family is good enough, but getting to see some birds and having them shoot them was just the cream on top of the cake so to speak.

We set out that Friday morning, destination, Ashland and some old tote roads that I had been on a week before. At that time, I had seen a few birds and was in hopes that they might still show up. Before we got to the gate, we made a decision to instead travel down the Pinkham Rd toward Portage and hunt on some roads that branch off. It wasn’t long after taking one road which looked really good that we spotted our first bird. Like clockwork, the boys jumped out and went into hunting mode. With shotguns drawn, they stocked that bird and down it went.  We continued to ride that road, which appeared to go on and on. Eventually, we turned and headed back to try another one. Before we got to the Pinkham Rd, we decided to stop and cook some lunch. One of the highlights of our trip has been to cook a hot meal on the Coleman stove we have had for years. As we were pulling into the area we picked to have lunch, Ryan got out of the truck and started to walk back to the woods. It wasn’t long before he started yelling, Bird! Bird! And there it was trying to walk up the bank behind us. Like precision warriors, they both got their shotguns out and after that bird they went. In very quick order, they aimed, fired and down went the partridge. Now we had two. We finished lunch and drove a few more roads, but didn’t get any more birds. During our ride, Ryan yelled out, “there’s a really big moose!” Off in the cutting, was an enormous moose with a wide rack looking at us. We got out, took some photos and all of a sudden, the moose wandered off not really concerned that we were there. When we got home, we fried up the meat and had them as appetizers. TC and I held back so both Andrew and Ryan could have their fill, which they did. We laid out our plans for the next day and off to bed we went.

Saturday came, and we headed back to the North Maine Woods. Again, we had food for a hot meal and the trusty old Coleman stove. We spend pretty much all morning riding the roads and as we stopped for lunch, had not shot a bird. Now to give you some idea of what was on the menu? Saturday was tacos. TC had prepared everything the night before and all we needed to do was start up the stove and heat up the meat and the shells. If you have not had a hot meal in the woods, I can tell you that no matter what you bring, it will seem like it tastes better than if you had the same thing at home, and this was no exception. At the end, we had eaten just about everything and then moved on to the treats TC had made just before the boys got home. We put in some miles that day, and although we saw some partridge, we did not get any. As I was driving home, I noticed that both Andrew and Ryan had their eyes closed which reminded me of times past  when we would go in the woods and by the end of the day, they were just plain tuckered out. That to me was proof that they had had a good time.

Sunday came, and we knew that their plane was leaving and it would take them back to their homes and our home would once again be quiet. TC and I had so much anticipation and joy at knowing they were coming, but the time had flown by. As we took them to the airport, and they checked in, and we said our goodbyes, sadness gripped me and on the ride home I could tell that TC hated to see them go, because she was so quiet. But, we had had some quality time with our boys, and they had gone back to their roots which included their love for the outdoors. I guess there is some truth to the phrase, “You can take the boy away from his roots, but you can’t take the roots out of the boy. For TC and I, we just hope that they continue to enjoy all that the woods has to offer and to practice everything they have been taught. Watching them while they were here, I have no doubt that they have never forgotten that and practice it every day. That is just part of what makes a parent proud.

Time marches on!  #47

 When was the last time you heard the words, “Time passes too quickly?” Do you remember who it was that said it, and where you were when you last heard it? Did you acknowledge those words and what did it make you think of? Here’s another way to look at it. When was the last time that you had something scheduled and you really were looking forward to the day it came? After it had passed, did you find yourself saying that was really great, but where did the time go? I ask these questions, because it seems clear that every time I have an event, or I am looking forward to someone coming with me in the woods, it comes fast and when it is over, I can’t seem to understand where the time went.

Take for example my latest trip into the North Maine Woods. Almost a year ago and just after our 2012 bird hunting trip, I had a couple of my friends on that trip tell me that they wanted to come back in 2013. We decided to do it again and to use Chandler Lake Camps as our waypoint. We spoke with Jason and Sherry there at the camps and booked the date. During the time leading up to the trip, we swapped emails and decided how we were going to get there and what we were going to bring. At some point, I decided that it would be good for me to have my dad join us and an invite went out to him. He accepted and we finalized the plans. October 4 came very quickly and we all met and jumped into our vehicles and off to the woods we went. There was Lance and Jon and Steve and my dad, Bill. We decided that that first day was going to go like this. Dad and I would ride together. Lance and Jon would drive their truck in and then join up with Steve. We also agreed that we would meet around noon time at a predetermined location and have a hot lunch. I had brought my portable grill and some food in preparation for the noontime meal.

Now this trip was particularly exciting for me because Dad, who used to be a Maine Game Warden, had first begun his career on the Maine/Quebec border. His district consisted of some of the areas I planned to cover during our trip. He told me that he had not seen some of them in many years and was anxious to go back.

Over the next two days, we covered a lot of ground. In particular, we drove about 175 miles each day. Our travels took us to Clayton Lake where Dad brought me up to date on the changes there since his last visit as well as some of the things that remained the same. We visited Churchill Dam and we walked around, and took in the museum there. I could tell that just seeing the artifacts and photos as well as the new dam brought back memories to him. See, the dam was wood when he last knew of it and now it was all cement. We made our way to the Umsaskis Lake Warden Camp that he had not seen in years. His memories of that area were very interesting to listen to. He let me know that he helped build that camp. Unfortunately, it was locked and he was not able to go inside, but he spent a few minutes peeping through the windows to see the inside. He was quick to tell me that they had changed the roof but the inside was as it was the last time he had been there. He took me down the path at the warden camp to the shore of the lake and pointed out where the old David D Daigle camp had been situated and had been torn down. He even walked through the brush in an attempt to find anything he could in the old lot that would bring back some memories of that camp. Then we pressed on and eventually stopped and had lunch at the ranger station between Umsaskis and Long Lake.

At the end of each day, we would go back to Chandler Camps and meet up with the other three in our party to compare notes. During our two days, none of us broke any records for our limit of birds, but there were a number of stories shared about the day’s events. When Sunday came, we all knew that it was time to pack up, say our goodbyes and go back to our daily lives. We drove out of the North Maine Woods again very satisfied with the time spent there, the accommodations at Chandler Lake and the company we had kept during our trip. Yes, I could hear myself saying” Where did the time go.” It seemed like just yesterday that we had all met and were on our drive in. Time had not stood still and it was up to us to spend it wisely. You can never take away the times you have that you remember the most and the time spent with my dad learning about his adventures while a warden in that country during the late 50’s and early 60’s were priceless. I know that as I drive through these areas again, I will always recall the stories he told me.  He also shared his stories during the evening with the group and I was reminded that they thoroughly enjoyed his story time each night. As you could imagine, we took lots of photos, and they will all serve as a reminder of our trip, but one resonated with me more than the others. It was a photo taken by Lance of my dad standing up behind the supper table holding the back of the chair in front of him. When Lance sent the photo to me, he had already captioned it with the simple words “Story time.”  And his email that had the photo attached said, I could listen to him over and over. There was even some talk that he should consider writing a book about his trials and tribulations, but knowing dad, that will never happen. He is content to just share his stories with those around him. It’s kind of like a private viewing to those fortunate folks there at the time of his thirty six years in a warden uniform. Yes, the time went fast, but it was time I will never forget.

Jason & Sherry at Chandler Lake Camps preparing a gourmet meal.

My, What Fond Memories  #46

The other day, I was reminiscing about my younger years, and it made me stop and think about some of the adventures I had while growing up. Now, my dad was a Maine Game Warden and he began his career in Dacquam on the Quebec border. I confess, I was too young to remember, but he does show me pictures so it must have been true. He tells me that my first adventures as a fisherman were not the best. As a matter of fact, his story goes like this. He had some time off so he decided to go down and fish the river and he brought me along. While he was trying to catch fish, I was trying to preserve the fish population by throwing rocks into the water where his line was. It suffices to say that he did not bring me the next time he wanted to really bring some trout home.      

I also recall the time when he took me to Dead Brook fishing. We drove up and met the warden there, Phil Dumond and off we went. To fish this brook, you needed to wade in and cast into the water downstream. That didn’t seem very hard to me so off I went into the cold clear blue water with my pole. At some point, I decided that it would be nice to see for myself what was under the water I was wading in, and yes, I lost my footing and in I went. I was totally submerged in the water and like Rambo popping up out of the stream behind his attackers, and because the water was so cold, I quickly found my footing and jumped back up with my pole in hand. I was soaked from head to toe. I recall the ride home in those wet clothes and my father laughing at me as exhaustion set in and I went to sleep. The moral of this story is if you want to go swimming while you are fishing, bring an extra change of clothes.

 Then, there was the time when I came home from school during hunting season, and dad asked if I wanted to take a ride up the Sly Brook Rd in Soldier Pond to see if we could find any deer. It wasn’t long before we came to an old potato field and at the edge of that field by the tree line stood two nice deer. We both jumped out of the car and I took that 30-30 Dad had bought for me and pointed it at one of them, fired and down it went. The other one just stood there looking at me. In the heat of the moment, I decided that I was going to run down and claim my prize. And away I went with the only gun we had at the time in hand. I remember dad yelling to me “come back with that gun so I can shoot the other one.” I was about half way down the field when I decided I had better come back and give him the gun. When I did, and as he was aiming, that deer ran off as he took the shot. No, he did not get it and I bet you know that story has kind of haunted me for years.

Then there was the time when he and I decided to go deer hunting and we drove through St. Francis and Allagash toward what was then the Musquacook four corners gate in the North Maine Woods. It had just snowed that morning and the deer tracks were really showing up well. As we were traveling, I saw a real nice doe in the middle of the road. I jumped out of the truck, aimed and fired. The deer went down and we loaded it on the truck and onward we went. Shortly thereafter, dad spotted a real fresh track in the road, and told me he was going to take it. He left me in the truck and off he went. It wasn’t long before he walked out of the woods with a big smile on his face. He had shot a real nice buck and needed help to drag it out. As he told the story, he saw the buck running and brought the gun up against a tree and fired in front of it to accommodate for its movement. The bullet hit the deer and down it went. I mention this because as we got to the Musquacook gate, we met dad’s boss, Curtis Cooper. Now, anyone who knew Curtis would tell you that he was a gruff old guy who told you like it was. Curtis had been staying in the Umsaskis Lake warden camp all week on a hunting expedition. When we got to the gate, Curtis asked us if we had had any luck. We both pointed to the two deer in the back of the truck and I wish I could have taken a picture of his face. In his gruff tone and cleaning up his response a bit, he said, ****### I have been in here all week hunting and have not seen one deer. You leave home and shot two before lunch…… I never forgot that and every time I think about it, I find myself cracking a smile.

Yeah, things change over time, and we often forget about all the good times we had while growing up. All my early years spent in Fort Kent were special. My Facebook page has a place where many of my friends post fond memories of growing up there. There are examples like the old drive in, the Century Theatre, summers at Birch Haven, Mikes ice cream stand and Rock’s hot dogs to name a few.  Those all bring back fond memories, but, many of my special memories were with my dad who taught me about the woods. As I look back, times have changed, but I will never forget those special times. Thanks Dad

As I prepare for hunting season coming in just a few short days, Dad and I are going back into the woods for a couple of days. It has been some time since we have done so and I am looking forward to it. I also think he will enjoy seeing some of the old areas he used to patrol. Much of it has changed, I am sure, but the names remain the same. I know that as we drive through some of the spots, he will have a lot of stories to tell about the time he spent there and what he encountered. Yeah, time marches forward, but it is always good to stop for a minute and think about the good things from the past. They just might make you crack a smile.

Everybody in the Pool, the Water is Nice  #45

I know you have heard the words," just when I thought I had seen it all", but truly, this time I did say it. Maybe a small explanation may help you understand why I say what I say. Let me start from the beginning. TC and I decided that we were going to take an afternoon off and do a little fishing in the North Maine Woods. We packed up the Toyota and off we went. Our destination was one of two ponds spread out a bit, but equally as good. As we entered the confines of the woods, we quickly decided to go to Ragged Mountain Pond, because I was aware of the truck traffic on the Jack Mountain Road. Now, between the six mile gate and the Machias River Bridge, we met no less than four fully loaded trucks. Let me tell you that when you meet one of them, your heart finds its way up to your throat and your truck takes a very quick turn to the side of the road. That does not even take into account the dust that is following, and the minutes that feel like hours where you cannot see the road in front or in back of you due to the heavy dust the truck has kicked up. Most of the time you just hope that there is nothing coming behind or in front of you until the dust settles and you can see again.

Well, as I said, we made our mind up after the second truck that we were going to stay away from the Jack Mountain Road and go up the Pinkham Road, over to the Pelletier and Pelletier Road and up to Ragged Pond. Our travels went fine with the exception of one truck that we met and we eventually made it to our destination. We parked at the camp site and put the canoe in the water. We unpacked our gear and out we went. It wasn't long before we felt like we were being watched. You know, that eerie feeling that someone is watching your every move. As we looked to the left side of the pond, we noticed a female moose standing on the edge of the pond just as still as could be with her ears up and her gaze turned squarely upon us. I’ll call her Rita. Then out of thin air came another one to the edge of the water and she stood there as the first one entered the water. This one will be Louise. In the next hour, Rita went from the edge of the pond to the middle with much of her time being spent under water eating. All the while, she would come up for air and give us that gaze again. Now, Louise stood absolutely still for the whole time and kept watching us for her friend. At some point, I made the decision that Rita was making her way closer to us and I pulled up the anchor and moved away. Mind you, this pond is not very big, but there was enough room for us all, as long as TC and I stayed where we were and the moose stayed where she was. Eventually Rita made her way to shore and Louise decided to show us that she was more than a statue. Then, the roles reversed and Rita stood on shore and Louise entered the pool. This time, there was no feeding as Louise decided that she was just going to stand in the water and cool off. For over an hour, Louise stayed in one spot in the pool and did not move, again all the while keeping a close eye on TC and me. Now Rita decided that she was finally going to move and she made her way to our landing spot on shore. She stood sideways to the pond and there was no way that we were going to be able to land with her there. After another hour, Rita finally moved off and we lost sight of her. It was at that point that we decided to call it a day and we made our way to shore. As we came to the landing spot, we looked just inside the launching area and Rita jumped up from where she had been laying down and walked into the trail. Startled, TC and I got out of the boat with Rita no more than ten to twenty feet from us and we pulled the canoe on shore a bit. When we did that, Rita looked at us and off she went in a flash through the woods. Now all this time, Louise was still in the same spot in the pool.

As we packed up, and I went down to the water’s edge to get the rest of our gear, Louise was still there. She looked at me, snorted and did not move.

             TC and I had never seen anything like it. We will always remember that day as the time when we had to share the pool with two moose who had one thing on their mind, cooling down and feeding. And they could have cared less about us as long as we left them alone. As I left the pond, I took a few photos and said goodbye, and Louise looked at me and blurted out a loud snort. I took it as thanks for sharing the pool with us, they really appreciated it.

On another note, I was sent a photo of Sammy Kidder by his dad. Sammy has taken up fly fishing and he caught his first fish on a fly rod in the Magalloway River in Western Maine. Nice job Sammy and welcome to the club.

Life just does not seem to be fair  #44

It often takes a life altering event to snap you back to reality and make you realize that little things really don’t matter. Those events can take any sort of shape or form, but when they happen, it makes you stop and think that you really don’t have it so bad.

This week, TC’s brother Andre Cyr passed after a long battle. Andre was a kind and gentle man who loved his family with all his heart. His dog, Two Spots was his companion; Andre seldom went anywhere unless he was at his side.  Andre would do anything for you and do it with a smile. No matter what was on his plate, he would push that aside to help you. He loved his daughter and son and spoke of them often. When he did, you could always detect a smile on his face and you had the sense that he was very proud of them.

TC and I visited Andre roughly a month ago. At that time, it was evident that his health was deteriorating and he knew it. But during our visit, Andre had that smile and engaged me on his latest best fly for catching fish. See, Andre was an outdoors man. He loved to hunt and fish, and he was very good at it. During our visit, he told me that the gray ghost was really working for him at Honeywell Lake in Saint John. He told me that he was having a real hard time finding them and he was almost out. I promised to tie him some and took a picture of the one he had so I could copy the pattern for him. Well, when I got home and looked at the material needed to tie the fly, I found that I did not have a lot of the things I needed. So, I quickly made an order. As I write this, the photo is still on my IPhone and the material is on my work bench.  I expect I will tie a few up and the next time I go to Honeywell, I plan to let one go on the water, just in case Andre needs it.

I also recall a hunting trip many years ago when I lived in Fort Kent. Andre and I set out for St. Francis to hunt deer. It was a nice morning and a dusting of snow had fallen earlier. As we got to First Pelletier Pond, Andre parked his truck and we got out. He told me about the lay of the land and where I should go and we split up for the day. Now, Andre’s knowledge and expertise of the woods and outdoor recreation was very admirable indeed. As an example, he was his own natural compass when hunting in the woods. His father, Rosaire, would always comment as to how remarkable he was with his compass, but he must have possessed great instincts too. He could maneuver around the woods like any wild animal. He knew where he needed to be and where he was at all times.   Anyway, it wasn’t too long before I came upon a nice buck track that took me all over the mountain and valley. At some point, as the sun was beginning to fade, I decided to track back to the truck. Well, mistake number one was that I was using a pin on bobber compass that had somehow stopped working.  Mistake number two, was that I did not have a replacement. I started back and came to what I thought was First Pelletier Pond. I thought that the truck was on the other side, so I began to make my way around the water. I quickly determined that it was not the same pond and that is when reality set in. I began to sweat and quickly decided to calm myself down. I knew Andre was somewhere in the area, so I let a few shots off thinking he would hear them and come to where I was. I sat down remembering that my training was to stay in one place. Well, it wasn’t long before I heard some stirring in the woods and through the trees came Andre. His first comment was to ask where the deer I had shot was, saying, I heard shots.  I quickly explained what had happened and he said ok, let’s go, it’s getting dark. He worked his way out of that area and guided us back to the truck in no time. After that, I never heard a word from him about that day and my misfortune. He just knew that I was ever indebted to him. Oh, and Andre always had a real interesting greeting when he talked to you. He would say, “Hey there feller.” If he was speaking to his nieces or nephews, he would address them as “Hey there young feller.”   Those sayings and his voice are ringing through my mind right now.

Andre was also the king of the scratch tickets. Each Christmas, we would all gather at the Cyr home where all the family members, spouses and grandchildren would spread love and cheer. As the gifts were being handed out, Andre would get up and give each nuclear family member a Christmas card envelope. That envelope was full of scratch tickets. He loved doing that and was always around while you checked them out to see if you won. If you did, he would beam from ear to ear with pleasure. If for some reason, you were not able to make it, when you did get there, you knew that there was an envelope waiting for you with your name on it.

Andre does not need a compass anymore. He does not need guides or a waypoint either. TC and I keep comfort that he is in a far better place where there is no more sickness and hurt. He probably has his fishing pole out and is not far away from wetting his hook. Andre, I will get that fly tied for you and know that we love you and will miss you. May you now rest in peace, feller.

No Outside Intervention Needed  #43

How many of you remember the slogan, “Maine, the way life should be.” I believe that was a saying the Maine Tourism Bureau used to attract people to enjoy our great state.  I am a Mainer through and through. I was born here, I was raised here and I chose to live here because of all the things available to me. Back when I was younger, I learned to hunt and fish and enjoyed every minute of it. I was taught at an early age to only take what you need and do not take any more. Obey the laws and understand that they are put in place for a reason. We also always heard, “preserve for others in years to come.”  I recall a Maine Inland Fisheries and Wildlife poster, that incidentally I still have, that shows a fisherman with a whole mess of fish and a young boy standing next to him saying, “Gee Mister, will there be any left for me?” As a sportsman, it is my responsibility to protect the resources for people in years to come. I always put my trust in people who assess our wildlife and determine the best way to make sure that the balance is appropriate. Maine employs a number of biologists and they are responsible to provide solid information and evidence as to how that can be done. Although, I don’t always agree with them, their track record has been pretty darn solid.

So, it really irks me when I hear that someone or some group, most often not even from Maine, is trying to tell us how we should do things. Some of these people come to Maine and have a huge capital backing from outside influences that have a set agenda and their job is to change our state to conform to their beliefs. You could say their theme is, “Maine, the way we think it should be.” They don’t listen to the biologists or the people in Maine that have been close to the ground on these issues, no sire re Bob, they just have an agenda and they don’t care to understand anything but what they believe is best for them.

In the coming months, I have no doubt that you will see a lot of information on the television, mail and newsprint supporting one of their causes.  Back in 2003, they did the same thing and the people of Maine saw through it and voted it down. I’m speaking about the Maine Black Bear and the attempt to stop the hunting of them. They will tell you that they support the humane hunting of these animals, but their definition of humane hunting will do little to help keep the population down. The Maine Inland Fisheries and Wildlife Department estimates that there are currently 30,000 bears in the Maine Woods. Hunting them like you hunt other animals will not help. Bears are elusive animals, and if you see a bear, it is for a very short period of time and they are usually on the run to get out of there. They have a very keen smell and know when you are around. When was the last time you were walking through the woods and saw a bear standing there looking at you? Or when was the last time you were driving down the road and saw a bear and it stood there while you got out and took photos. Although that does occasionally happen, I would submit that it does not happen frequently enough. The Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife Department maintains that if we do not keep the bear population in check, we will have what we call great unforeseen consequences. Bear will continue to populate and their need for food will drive them into populated communities. That, my friends is not good.

So, if you are asked to sign a petition to put the bear referendum back on the ballot this fall, think long and hard before you do so. If they are successful in getting their agenda passed, I am very concerned about what will come next. Will they move to stop hunting and fishing altogether? Will they take away the freedoms we have had in Maine forever?  Do you believe they know more about wildlife habitat and how best to protect that for future generations than the people who do it for a living? Ask yourself, have they ever spent any time in the woods themselves? Will they try to change the great Maine heritage and the way life has been for many years before them?

There is also one more part of this that deserves to be brought up. If you talk to many of the sporting camp owners, they will tell you that one of their best seasons, monetarily, is bear season. Although that season does not take a very big number of bears each year, it does help the economy and our sporting camp industry.

Let’s let Mainers that know about the woods and the animal population decide how best to keep the population in check and not out of state interests with deep pockets. Don’t succumb to the ads that will run because much of the content in those ads cannot be substantiated. They will try to play on your emotions and tell you that they know what is best for us Mainers.  Let’s tell them that we are Mainers and we know what is best for our state, and we don’t need any outside help, thank you. Let’s preserve the way Maine should be. I like it just the way it is, no outside help needed.

Here is a metric from the SAM website.

In the last ten years, the black bear population has increased by 67% to over 30,000 bears. Just last year nuisance bear complaints increased from 396 in 2011 to 828 in 2012.  To read the entire article, you can check out the Sportsmans Alliance of Maine website by going to: www.sportsmansallianceofmaine.org

Our Second Annual Fishing Trip  #42

I always look forward to this time of year when many of my friends come to Northern Maine and we spend three days in the North Maine Woods fishing. We are fortunate that two of the guys in the group have a camp that we use as our jumping off point.

Now, the cast of characters includes a guy from Minnesota, another from Pennsylvania and some from central and southern Maine. It is always good to have them here and to catch up on their stories from the year gone by.

To set the stage for this weekend, if you watch the Voice or listen to country music, you know who Blake Shelton is. Blake Shelton just happens to have a song out right now, and the lyrics just seem to fit and tell the story of our group once we get to camp. It starts like, “Well the boys round here, drinking that ice cold……. “Then if you don’t know the rest, it goes like this. “Chew tobacco, Chew tobacco, Chew tobacco, spit…. And there you have it. You should now have a mental picture in your mind of nine guys on a fishing trip.              

It’s one thing to find a weekend that we can all commit to. It’s another to find a weekend where the weather will cooperate. During this trip, the entire weekend was fraught with rain, heavy at times. I dare say that we must have gotten at least three inches in the three days. Did that hamper our fishing trip, heck no; we braved the rain and cold and fished from daylight until dark.  We hit a number of ponds in the area and did remarkably well with some of the trout measuring upward to 14”. We also walked down through the woods to a thoroughfare between two lakes, waded in and caught some salmon, which we released instantly. If you have never caught a salmon, you are in for a treat. Once you hook them, they jump right out of the water a number of times before you can get them reeled in and released. It is just good fun.

As always, we did have an educational component to our trip. Here are a few highlights of what we leaned.

    

Cameras do not float

Black bears can come out of nowhere and are faster than a speeding truck

Trees don’t move, even when a fly rod is pushing them

Beavers are not always man’s best friend. If you break their dam to get to a pond, they will come and rebuild

Ear plugs don’t always prevent the sounds of snoring. Especially when the snorer wears them

You should always put your rain gear on in a rain storm. It is no good in your fishing basket. HOWEVER, if you forget to wear it, it can serve as a set of dry clothes for the ride back to the camp.

Always have a backup power plan because generators are not invincible

When it comes to food, you cannot possible eat everything you think you should and do bring.

Float tubes are a valuable commodity to have. They do not go as fast as a canoe in the event of a lightning storm no matter how big the flippers or how hard you kick.

And as our trip came to a close, we were happy that we had all gotten together and we promised to do it again next year. I sensed a bit of sadness that it was over and we were again going our separate ways. The fishing had been great, the group time was excellent, and the stories told and new ones made will last until we do it again next year. To all of you on that trip, Roger, Mark, Scott, Corey, Doug, Matt, Jeff and Jon, thanks for another memorable weekend. Until next year.

One afternoon, we split up and a group of guys went to a certain pond. On the way to the pond they ran into a bunch of pesky beavers who had dammed up the road. The guys decided to teach the beavers a lesson, so they began breaking out the dam so the water would drop so they could go through to the pond. As they were doing that, they noticed that the beaver came out of his house to investigate. That darn beaver kept his eye on them the entire time they were there. Eventually, the guys dropped the water enough so they could drive through. When they were done fishing, they started up the road and came to the beaver dam. That beaver had dropped a tree over the area they had broken out. More than likely, he was not wasting any time in getting his house in order. Beavers are true engineering marvels. I remember watching an episode with TC called “North American Beaver” on Nat Geo. If you get a chance to watch it, it is definitely worth your time. We could take a lesson from them because, they never give up, no matter what they are facing.

 

When the rubber meets the road #41

Late spring is one of the better fishing times of the year. The trout are still on or near the top of the water and they are taking both dry and wet flies. As summer comes around and the water begins to warm up, they tend to go to the bottom and that is a whole different type of fishing.

Late spring is also the time when the woods crews start to fire up their equipment and the trucks begin to haul the wood to the yards and that means that the woods roads, abused by the spring mud and frost are in need of some TLC. Road graders are everywhere, and you can tell where the cutting and hauling will be taking place, because those are the first roads they hit. Usually the cutters and frequent travelers, have geared their vehicles up to accommodate the road surface. But, if you are running four ply tires that come on most vehicles, you could be in for a treat.

Woods roads are constructed to withstand extremely heavy loads and traffic. They have been built with something called, shale. Now, shale is rock that has been split. It can be very sharp and ruthless on rubber tires, especially on four ply tires. In the spring, road crews fix areas that need new culverts or need the water diverted in another direction. After they are done, they lay a layer of shale over the affected area and voila, you have an instant tire cutter.TC and I have tried every which way to lower our chances of cutting tires. That includes, but is not limited to, going very slowly over the shale to try to avoid having the tires get punctured.

Well, first, my trucks have always been outfitted with tires with either 6 or 10 ply and I have never had any problems. Unfortunately, my new truck has 4 ply and I just had not gotten around to changing them yet. So, when TC and I headed up into the woods this past weekend, I knew I could be in for trouble when I got to my first repaired culvert, one of many that we crossed over. We made it safely to our destination pond and had a great time fishing. When we returned to the truck, I noticed that the low tire pressure indicator was on. Now, that indicator never tells you which tire is going down. I guess they just think that it should be evident. Well, I am here to tell you that is not always the case. I walked around the truck looking at all four tires and not one of them looked differently or low on air. So, we took off for home. On our way there, we must have gone over 5 or more repaired culverts, all with a nice coating of shale. After going through the 6 mile gate, we stopped to take another look. It was at that moment that I noticed the right rear tire was down significantly on air. I told TC that we would try to make it into Ashland and find some air. Now, mind you it was now close to 9 pm and the streets were beginning to roll up for the night.  We stopped at the Shell station on Main Street and I asked the lady there where I could get some air. She informed me that she had some and was happy to put the hose back out for me to use. I was able to fill the tire up to 32 lbs. and then we headed for home. I am happy to report that we made it all the way and the indicator light never came on. The next morning when I got up, I went out to get some things out of the truck and the tire was still in good shape. You can bet that I will have it checked and most likely replaced, before I go into the woods again, but we had survived our day on the shale roads.

Don't get me wrong, fixing the roads is an important part of the process in what goes on in the woods each day. Without the repairs, the roads would not be at the level we are accustomed to for the remainder of the year, and the road crews do a fine job of keeping them in top notch condition.  If you plan accordingly, you will be much better off in the long run. At the least, have a very good spare. I have two just in case and when you are 70 or 80 miles back in the woods, you need all the help you can get.

On a different note, TC stated while on our way to the pond, “If we don’t catch any fish, I hope we can see some wildlife, especially a black bear. Low and behold, she got what she wished for. On our ride out, we were treated to views of four moose, numerous rabbits, a yearling deer and our favorite, two Maine black bears. One was so fast, that we just saw the hind end go off the road. The other was a year old bear that was in the middle of the road about 25 yards from us when we drove around a corner. The bear started running to the side and stopped, looking straight at us. It checked us out, got part way up on its hind legs and then decided that it was time to vamoose, disappearing into the trees.

All of these things make this little corner of the world so enjoyable to be a part of. It also inspires me to share it with whomever will read my blogs. It's just good stuff!

The Systematic Approach to Tying Flies #40

A week or so has passed since I was involved in a meeting at work where we took a sort of test to evaluate our personality style. It was no surprise to me that I was rated as Systematic. Now, a systematic personality is a person who needs a lot of information to evaluate things before they make a decision. Information such as data and metrics help me make decisions. The lack of that sort of information drives me to ask questions and seek more information so that I can process it in my mind, and then make an informed decision. I also need to see, in my mind, the finished product in some form or I have to research it until it makes sense.

Well, it should be no surprise to you that when I was asked by some folks to tie a certain fly for them, first I had to look at it, think about it, and then go to you tube for some more information. Unfortunately, that did not satisfy me. So, I sought information from a reliable source, and I knew that he would help me through it.

Let me start from the beginning. While at fourth Musquacook Lake, I was asked to tie some flies for the people there. The fly looked rather simple to make. It was made with two components, chenille and marabou. It seemed quite easy, but there was one thing that concerned me. I had never used marabou before and I was not sure how to transform it from the package to the finished product. My first stop in trying to understand it was You Tube. I watched a video on how to use it, but it really did not give me what I needed. So, I decided that it was time to ask the expert.

So, Saturday, I decided to head to my old stomping grounds, Fort Kent. TC and I headed up RT 161 to one of my most favorite places on earth. We both grew up in Fort Kent and have a lot of special memories of that place. The people there are so friendly, and I always enjoy going back, although many of my friends are now gone, some of my old friends still live there. Once in Fort Kent, we headed for the home of my 87 year old fishing partner, Rosaire. Now, if you have been reading my blogs, you know about Rosaire. You should remember that there are three rules in play when dealing with Rosaire. They are:

1.) Rosaire is always right

2.) When you know Rosaire is wrong, he is still right

3.) Rosaire always catches the biggest fish each year.

We stopped at Rosaire’s place and I told him that I needed a lesson in how to use Marabou. Of course, first, I had to listen to him tell me that he had been fishing that week and he had caught a lot of fish. I asked him where they were, and he said that he had let them all go. Right away, I remembered rule #3. Now at 87, you can imagine that he does not get around as well as he used to. I have known Rosaire for well over 35 years and have been fortunate to have fished with him. I don’t recall too many times when he caught the biggest fish but, again, I remembered rule #1. Rosaire took me down to his fly tying room and I told him what the fly looked like. He pulled out some gray chenille and some marabou, and we proceeded to experiment with the pattern in my head. Rosaire gave me the skinny on how to use marabou, and talked me through it until it made sense. After about an hour, we had copied the fly to the tee and I had a much better understanding of the use of marabou. From the systematic point of view, I had what I needed and was ready to tie some myself when I got home. Once again, Rosaire had helped me when You Tube could not.

As I left, it saddened me that he was having a bit of a hard time getting around. Slowly, his fishing was taking a back seat to his aging and that was unfortunate, but beyond control. Still, it made me happy that I could take some of his vast knowledge and put it to good use. I know for sure when I am stuck, Rosaire will be there to help me and get me through the systematic way of thinking that drives me. The results are far better than any computer video.

Oh, and as for rule #2, you can tell I am processing when I have a smile on my face on certain things he is saying while he is talking to me.

Sound the Retreat, TC, Head for the Truck #39

What could be finer?  It was a beautiful Saturday morning, nice sunshine, warm temperatures, and little to no wind. Sounds to me like a recipe for a trip to the North Maine Woods. So, TC and I loaded the truck and away we went. This time, we brought the 17’ canoe with the motor in case we decided to do some trolling. We also packed TC’s spinning rod in the event we saw a stream that peaked our interest. We made a quick stop at Ben’s Trading Post to pick up some worms, yes worms. In all my days, I never thought that I would have to buy worms with so much dirt everywhere. But then again, I never thought we would have to pay for water either.

We headed to the woods and in no time, we were at the six mile gate.  Ed was on duty and in between printing the pass; he let us know that the bugs were pretty bad. I was not buying it, as I had just been in the woods last week and there were none to be found. No matter, I want you to know that I am pretty tough. I have never run away from bugs in the woods. If you venture into the woods, you just know that you are going to run into them at some time. You learn to co-exist with them, and they make things like OFF and CUTTERS to help you cope.

Well, we got to our destination, and got out of the truck to untie the canoe and get our stuff ready, and I want to tell you we got our first dose of reality. The bugs were there in full force. We knew then and there that we had a fight on our hands. But remember, we don’t back down……

Now, SIMULIUM YAHENSE, or black flies are little flying bugs that tend to be a big nuisance.  When they bite, you know it and you continue to remember for several days afterward. They thrive on buzzing around you, or by you, like Maverick did when he buzzed the tower in TOP-GUN. There is one exception, the black flies don’t stop after one time, no sir, they continue and continue until they get you or you get them, or you retreat to a place where they cannot get you.

TC and I hurried up and got the boat on the water. By then, there was a good breeze and I thought we would escape them. Ah! No… It became quickly apparent that they made the trip to, and they brought reinforcements. They harassed us, landed on us, bit us and we just kept adding fly spray to no avail. A pair of loons on the water kept a watchful eye on us the whole time we were there. They probably had made a bet as to how long we would last. Then the rain came and I was certain that the flies would leave. Wrong again, they stayed and for some reason, I really believe they brought additional platoons. They were everywhere.

Two hours went by and finally we decided to retreat to the truck. Before we landed, TC made a plan to load the canoe real quick and throw everything in the back of the truck and go down the road a ways where we could regroup, and at the same time escape them. Someone in the fly platoon must have heard our plan, because as we landed, the entire army was there to greet us. It was horrible. I don’t quite remember how long it took us to pack up, but let me tell you, I don’t think I can ever do it that fast again.

Once down the road, we stopped and tightened the canoe and took off our rain gear. At that point, I realized that we had lost the battle. We had fought hard, but could not claim victory. They had driven us out of their territory. There was one thing that I kept thinking about as I drove home. I had lost the battle, but not the war. TC and I lived to fight another day and we will be up to the challenge. And, no, we did not stop to do some stream fishing. Now, I wonder what I can buy that will be better than OFF and CUTTER.

One final note, TC did catch her first trout on her new fly rod. See, the trip was not a total retreat!

Crandy!!!!! Kevin!!!! Turn up the heat. #38

I firmly believe that relationships are built on trust, understanding and enjoying someone’s company. Now, I realize that living in Northern Maine can be a recipe for any kind of weather, no matter what time of year. So far, 2013 has not been a disappointment. We have had a period where the temperatures were in the high 70's and people were concerned about it being too dry. But, just as fast as that came, so it went and we are now in an extended period of cold weather and rain storms. Regardless of the weather, when it was time for me to meet up with the two Green Mountain boys and Mark for our annual fishing trip in the North Maine Woods, I knew that the weather was not going to cooperate. The forecast called for temperatures in the low to mid 40's and rain the entire weekend. I packed just about every item I had that would keep me warm while on the water and off I went. Mark and I met Kevin and Crandy in Ashland and then we drove to the 6 mile checkpoint. Rita was there tending the gate and was quick to tell us that we were not the only hard core fisherman braving the inclement weather. In fact, she let us know that there were a number of people in the woods, many of them with the goal of tenting out. We told her that we were not that hard core, and were headed up to do some fishing at fourth Musquacook Lake. I took care of some early business and bought annual gate passes for TC and I so we would be ready for the season. Once through the gate, we headed up the Reality Road. The temperatures were cold and the rain was falling, sometimes sideways with the help of the wind. About an hour or so up, we made a left turn at the Musquacook four corners and drove until we came to the gate of the road where we were staying. We met our hosts, Jason and Sherry in the yard and after saying our hellos unpacked and headed out to do some fishing on the lake. The wind was blowing and the rain was falling, but that did not deter us from catching a few nice brookies. In toll, over the next two days of trolling, we caught over 15 very nice sized trout. We only kept five and put the rest back for another day. The wind blew so hard at times that we had a hard time keeping the boat from blowing off course. Thank goodness for the Scott boats. They are amazing in any kind of weather or choppy water. Every time we returned to the camp, the fireplace was going strong and the camp was warm which felt really good, given that our clothing was soaked and we were cold from the elements. Crandy introduced us to a game called LRC. I am not really partial to games, but I have to admit, this one was fun. In a world where we spend so much time and energy trying to develop new things that nobody has thought of, this little game is simple. It consists of three dice and some little green chips. The dice have L for left, R for Right, C for center and a dot. You begin with three green chips and you roll the dice. If you roll an R, you give one chip to the person on your right. If you roll an L, a chip goes to the person on your left. If you roll a C, a chip goes in the center. If you roll a dot, you keep all your chips that you have. The game goes on until only one person is left with chips. That person is the winner. Crandy told me that the game was designed for hikers on the Appalachian Trail. It kept us laughing each time we played it.

Fishing is just one of the reasons that we take this trip, now in its second year. The other and most important reason is that Mark and I get to spend time with Crandy and Kevin. They are both avid fisherman having fished all over the United States and Canada. I have always enjoyed their company and think of them as really true friends. There is nothing like fostering relationships, and spending time with them is very important to me. There is always something new to learn from them. Crandy has taken up fly tying and we often compare notes. Unfortunately, the time passed far too fast and Sunday was upon us. The Green Mountain boys had a long trip back to Vermont so we got up early and packed all our things. Sherry was there to make sure that we had a great breakfast to get us on the road. We said our goodbyes and set off for home. As we got to Ashland, and Mark and I took a left to drive back to Presque Isle, Crandy and Kevin went straight for their ride down route 11 to Sherman and then onto interstate 95. I got a text message from Crandy around 6:30 that evening telling me they had made it home safely. There really isn't anything better than spending time with good friends, having great food and catching lots of nice fish. The only downside is that it comes and goes far too fast. I can't wait until next year when we meet again.

On another note, Jason and Sherry tell me that they have pealed 56 logs using a draw shave knife on their quest to build a new log camp at Chandler Lake. If you have never seen or used a draw shave knife, it is not easy. There is a lot of hard work and effort that goes into moving that knife up and down the log to remove the bark. After you have done it for some time, it tends to give you a false sense that you have special powers. I need say no more because one of the readers of my blog will know exactly what I mean. I am really looking forward to the finished product, but there is a lot of work to be done before that. I will keep you posted as the building goes up.

Oh, and one final thing. I would like to thank Jason’s son Jacob for all his hard work this weekend. Jacob is a remarkable young man. He is a true sportsman who loves the outdoors. As we came to the dock, Jacob would be there to greet us, ready to tie up the boat and help us with whatever we needed. He kept the wood box full all weekend and even cleaned our fish. He is a nice young man with a solid work ethic.