When Solitude Calls

So what is good about rough-camping on a river or stream. It could be the smell of steak of the open fire smothered in onions or fresh fish wrapped in butter and garlic. It could be after getting the camp set up and the poles out sitting back with a good drink and watching your poles and lines as darkness creaps over the river. It could be when the fog sets in and the air cools sitting by the fire having a cup of hot chocolate. It could be when the line starts to run and rod set begins the first battle of night. He could be slap of the beaver, the chrip of the otter, splash of the gar, the great-horned owl on the palisades bluff or the bark of the fox that prick your night senses. It could be the first bird sounds of dawn, the awaking of the river, as if the river ever went to sleep. It could the smells of fresh coffee, eggs and bacon coming from the camp fire in the early morning. It could be going back to sleep for an early morning nap.

I wish I was with you in person, but I'm definitely there with you in spirit. I used to float down the Cumberland from Williamsburg to the falls when I was in school. I don't know how many times I've wished I could do those trips again, or something similar. But having 2 young kids at home makes it hard to just slip away. In meantime, I'll keep trying to satisfy my urge by getting out and wading the creeks.

When the kids get a little older, it will be time.