The rays of the sun are growing stronger with each passing day. Yet the air was cool when I arrived at camp. But that’s to be expected.
Since the building was closed at the end of flintlock deer season, the heat has not been turned on. Chances are it will be colder inside than out.
With the key in the lock and a twist of the wrist and a little nudge from the shoulder, the door swung open. A rush of cool air greeted me upon entering. But I expected it to be that way.
The last time I visited camp was simply to conduct a walk around and check to make sure all was OK. At that time there was over a foot of snow on the ground. Now it was brown grass beginning to turn green and sticks and small limbs were scattered about. A cleanup was in order, but that would have to wait for later, for now more important tasks were at hand. Right now, the first order of business was to build a fire to take the chill off the inside of the building.
As the warmth of a fire began pushing out the cold, I unpacked my gear. It was a familiar chore but one that is enjoyed. All the while there were thoughts of days when the camp was filled with stories and laughter of the older members who used this place to begin and end a thousand and one fishing adventures. And what a time the guys had.
This was the place where men and boys of all ages were introduced to leek soup. Fishing camp wouldn’t be the same if we didn’t have a bowl of the onion soup from the wild. But more importantly, this is where the fun of fishing was shared.
Now some of the old-timers will rejoin us here, but only in spirit. Dad and Uncle Bill are gone, and not a single member of the group who founded the camp back in 1946 remains today. However, their sons and grandsons are there. They look forward to arriving here the same as I do, but not tonight.
In the past, my visit prior to the opening day is to check things out and do a little pre-season cleanup before the others arrive. But not this year.
The camp is in great shape, but this year we’ve decided not to open for the opening days of trout season.
Some of our camp members live within areas of the state where there are growing concerns regarding the spread of COVID-19. We enjoy sharing time with each other, but choose not to do so in the best interest of each other. After all, this will pass. The time spent together is not worth the risk.
Several weeks ago we decided to cancel our spring work weekend. Even at that time we felt that the chores at camp could wait. We felt the decision was made in everyone’s best interest. Camp can wait, and so can the fish.
For the most part, the die-hard anglers within our group will fish streams closer to their homes. Fortunately, some of us reside nearby, giving us the opportunity to enjoy the solitude of a mountain stream or two.
In the future I will visit here again, arriving well before daylight.
No doubt a turkey or two will be gobbling within earshot. And there are areas where sometime before the season opens, I will listen for birds in the early morning hours.
Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to hear more than one from the end of one of the ridgelines I like to set boot tracks on. But that won’t be the only area that is checked out.
On this visit there are several spots I would like to visit. Along the way I’ll check on stream conditions too.
This is a case of having the best of both worlds at hand, and making the best of an unexpected situation called COVID-19.
A day while being surrounded by nature provides an experience you can’t put a price tag on. Yet so few choose to do so. For me, seeking out the solitude of a mountain stream or hearing a bird gobble before the season brings a smile to my face.
No doubt I’ll return to camp and enjoy an early lunch. It will be a meal that was packed at home and brought directly to this spot with no stops along the way.
By afternoon, my boot tracks will be setting in the soft soil somewhere on the mountain.
I will be visiting the remote areas where my brother or my son-in-law and our two grandsons would usually accompany me. But not this year — yet I won’t be alone. After all, it’s a good bet that the cry of a raven will be heard during the sojourn. And it’s anyone’s guess what else will be encountered along the way.
This season things will be different in a number of ways. I understand that, and my hope is you can do the same.
Charlie Burchfield is an active member and past president of the Pennsylvania Outdoor Writers Association, an active member of the Professional Outdoor Media Association, Outdoor Writers Assoc. of America and the Mason-Dixon Outdoor Writers. Gateway Outdoors e-mail is GWOutdoors@comcast.net
