Finished the "Cracker Jack" tournament yesterday. We won one tied one and lost one. So out of the prize money except for a consolation of 3 bags of cracker jacks.
That was pretty well all day and we were too late to rent a movie, so last night was a reading night.
Will finish putting the M/H to "bed" tonight as we are off to an early start tomorrow.
Here is something I probably published before, but here it is again. I wrote this last year as some may realize from the introduction.
ENCOUNTER
My three oldest sons may remember this short story.
It was in the late summer of 1967, we lived at the Summit Lake Ranger Station about thirty miles north of Prince George. We had a small rash of fires but a cooler wet spell had moved in and I decided to take my family fishing to a lake called Carp Lake.
To get there we had to drive to McLeod Lake – another forty miles – then using a log raft ferry that we (forestry staff) had made, we crossed McLeod Lake to a landing spot at the beginning of the road into Carp Lake. This was actually a very rough fire access road that we had improved to four wheel drive access. Carp Lake was at the end of the road, another fifteen miles.
The interesting thing about this road is that it followed what had been known as the War Lake Trail and was actually part of the Grease Trail that at one time went all the way to the coast. This portion was named for the Indian warring raids back and forth between The Mcleod Lake Indian Band and the Fort St. James band.
We left home fairly early in the day and were setting up our camp by mid afternoon. I had brought a wall tent that fitted to a tent frame we had constructed the year before. In an hour or so we were well set up and then dragged the twelve foot skiff that had been stored inside the tent frame down to the lake and put it in the water. It was somewhat dried out and leaked quite badly, I decided to leave it in the water to soak and hopefully swell the cracks shut. We then spread out along the shore and tried some casting. In a short while we had a decent feed of half a dozen rainbow trout averaging about fourteen inches in length. Even Jim who was only six caught a nice one.
We cooked our fish over an open fire, supplementing them with tinned beans. The kids were all in their sleeping bags before eight, my wife and I sat up for only a short while then also turned in.
The next morning we were all up early but didn’t hurry as we had two more nights ahead of us and after all we couldn’t fish all the time.
I remember that occasionally I would get an uncomfortable feeling but had no ides why. I decided we would be extra careful and make sure no one got hurt. We bailed the skiff dry and only a couple minor leaks kept trickling in. I convinced the kids we should wait a little while longer and we headed out on a short hike, this included going out to a spit that ran out into the lake and where our lookout men had earlier in the year erected a log building. I noticed some tracks in the sand from a fairly large foot and passed it off as a “fly-in” fisherman as the area was popular with a few of the local guides.
After a weiner roast lunch I checked the boat again and decided it would be safe, so made the kids draw straws to see which would fish first as I only wanted two lines out at a time. The four of us headed out leaving my wife on shore. The fishing was a bit slow so after an hour we headed back in, but not before I promised we would go out again later. By the time I was ready to head back out the two younger boys had decided that they liked casting better than trolling so they and their Mom casted from shore and Andy who was ten and I trolled back and forth a couple hundred yards off shore.
We had been fishing for about an hour when I thought I saw some movement in the bush behind our tent. We had caught several fish so I said “How about leaving some for tomorrow and go in and clean today’s catch?” Andy was good with that so we pulled in our lines and I rowed into shore.
The “shore birds” had caught three more; we (me) quickly cleaned them all and I said I would take them to where the river ran out of the lake – it was about five hundred yards
away. I refused help with disposing of the fish parts and suggested they all gather some wood and help their Mom get a fire started. I gathered all the fish guts into a bag and quickly walked the short distance and dumped everything but the bag into the river and hustled back part way then decided to make a half circle around our camp.
I walked slowly keeping both my ears and eyes tuned in to everything around me. But by the time I emerged out of the bush I hadn’t noticed anything untoward so just joined my family at the fire.
We were well ahead of supper time so had time to sit around the fire then start preparing for a large supper that would consist of fried fish (what else?) boiled potatoes and corn on the cob.
We were just putting the potatoes on to boil when I happened to glance towards where the river was and I spotted the figure of a man back in the trees a bit. Quietly I told everyone to just stay by the fire, “It looks like we have a visitor, so I’ll just go see where he’s camped.”
I walked slowly towards the figure, he started to take a step backwards then stopped and just stood there. I stopped a few yards away and said, “Hello, you camped nearby? Can you go a cup of coffee?”
He stared at me for just a second or two, then nodded and said, “Yeah.” I said, “Well come on over, it’s boiled campfire stuff but we like it.”
He nodded and stepped forward. He was young, probably younger than me. He had quite a scruffy growth of face whiskers, but not a real beard. He was probably about six feet tall and his clothes appeared to be of good quality but strangely enough for those days were a type of camouflage.
“You must have been around earlier today, I think I may have seen you while we were fishing.”
He looked up quickly then glanced away, “Uh yeah I was here and saw you fishing.”
He came up within a few feet of me and I held out my hand, “Hi I’m John, c’mon and meet my wife and kids.”
He touched his hand to mine then looking down said, “Paul.”
I turned and said over my shoulder, “C’mon, we’ll find that coffee.”
I headed back to camp and he followed along behind, I couldn’t help but notice that in spite of the boots he was wearing, he moved almost silently and I had to glance back a couple of times to see if he was following.
I introduced him to my wife then the kids and we all ‘hunkered’ down around the fire; at first it was pretty quiet except for the crackling of burning wood, so I told him who we were, where we were from, just trying to get over those first moments of awkwardness. He listened but kept glancing around as he nursed his coffee. I finally said “So Paul where are you from?”
He mumbled, “Uh the states, Idaho.”
“A ways from home.” I replied. “How did you find your way here?”
“I saw the lake on a map and decided to come.”
As you can imagine I could have been quite apprehensive, but I felt no threat and there was this feeling that he was very sad or something akin to sadness.
I suddenly of a flash of insight and said, “I see you’re wearing camouflage, are you an army man?”
“Uh yeah, I guess I still am.”
Note – back then we didn’t have TV where we lived and very little radio, our only newspaper was the Prince George Citizen and it didn’t carry much world news. Canada was not involved in the Vietnam war so I had only a vague awareness of that conflict. As I indicated before, the significance of this encounter never really hit me until many years later.
I nodded then said, “On leave eh, were you overseas?”
He stared into the fire and the smoke in a wayward change drifted across his face, his face twisted in a look of pain but it wasn’t the smoke that caused the look. Of that I was certain.
He almost visibly shrugged, then said, “Yeah I was there. Just got back a couple weeks ago.” He looked up and looked me right in the eye, “That’s why I’m here.” He waved his arm, “Out there.”
I had heard a few of the stories coming out of Vietnam and I suddenly caught on, I could see the pain in his eyes.
I looked at my watch and said, “Hey, it’ll soon be supper time, we got lots here, would you like to eat with us?”
He hesitated then slowly nodded. “Sure, thanks.”
I said, “Okay. My wife and I will get things going, if you want to try for a couple of fish for later, you can use my rod. Andy and Steve can show you where we cast from.” I knew that he had been watching us but thought there was no harm in pretending I didn’t know.
Between the three of them they caught four nice fish and returned to the fire just as everything was ready. Supper was a quiet affair with the three kids doing most of the entertaining. I knew by now that the war was a non subject and anytime the kids wanted to go there, my wife and I steered them on to something else.
After supper we cleaned up the dishes and soon the kids were in bed. He stayed with us at the fire until it was quite dark then suddenly stood up, thanked us for dinner and the loan of the rod. “I better go now, thanks again.” He turned and disappeared into the darkness his fish in hand.
We never saw him again, I never saw any further movement in the bush near our camp. Whether he moved on or watched from further away I have no idea.
He was there then he wasn’t.
I hope our wilderness excised his torments and if it did I would like to think that perhaps we helped a bit.
That was pretty well all day and we were too late to rent a movie, so last night was a reading night.
Will finish putting the M/H to "bed" tonight as we are off to an early start tomorrow.
Here is something I probably published before, but here it is again. I wrote this last year as some may realize from the introduction.
ENCOUNTER
My three oldest sons may remember this short story.
It was in the late summer of 1967, we lived at the Summit Lake Ranger Station about thirty miles north of Prince George. We had a small rash of fires but a cooler wet spell had moved in and I decided to take my family fishing to a lake called Carp Lake.
To get there we had to drive to McLeod Lake – another forty miles – then using a log raft ferry that we (forestry staff) had made, we crossed McLeod Lake to a landing spot at the beginning of the road into Carp Lake. This was actually a very rough fire access road that we had improved to four wheel drive access. Carp Lake was at the end of the road, another fifteen miles.
The interesting thing about this road is that it followed what had been known as the War Lake Trail and was actually part of the Grease Trail that at one time went all the way to the coast. This portion was named for the Indian warring raids back and forth between The Mcleod Lake Indian Band and the Fort St. James band.
We left home fairly early in the day and were setting up our camp by mid afternoon. I had brought a wall tent that fitted to a tent frame we had constructed the year before. In an hour or so we were well set up and then dragged the twelve foot skiff that had been stored inside the tent frame down to the lake and put it in the water. It was somewhat dried out and leaked quite badly, I decided to leave it in the water to soak and hopefully swell the cracks shut. We then spread out along the shore and tried some casting. In a short while we had a decent feed of half a dozen rainbow trout averaging about fourteen inches in length. Even Jim who was only six caught a nice one.
We cooked our fish over an open fire, supplementing them with tinned beans. The kids were all in their sleeping bags before eight, my wife and I sat up for only a short while then also turned in.
The next morning we were all up early but didn’t hurry as we had two more nights ahead of us and after all we couldn’t fish all the time.
I remember that occasionally I would get an uncomfortable feeling but had no ides why. I decided we would be extra careful and make sure no one got hurt. We bailed the skiff dry and only a couple minor leaks kept trickling in. I convinced the kids we should wait a little while longer and we headed out on a short hike, this included going out to a spit that ran out into the lake and where our lookout men had earlier in the year erected a log building. I noticed some tracks in the sand from a fairly large foot and passed it off as a “fly-in” fisherman as the area was popular with a few of the local guides.
After a weiner roast lunch I checked the boat again and decided it would be safe, so made the kids draw straws to see which would fish first as I only wanted two lines out at a time. The four of us headed out leaving my wife on shore. The fishing was a bit slow so after an hour we headed back in, but not before I promised we would go out again later. By the time I was ready to head back out the two younger boys had decided that they liked casting better than trolling so they and their Mom casted from shore and Andy who was ten and I trolled back and forth a couple hundred yards off shore.
We had been fishing for about an hour when I thought I saw some movement in the bush behind our tent. We had caught several fish so I said “How about leaving some for tomorrow and go in and clean today’s catch?” Andy was good with that so we pulled in our lines and I rowed into shore.
The “shore birds” had caught three more; we (me) quickly cleaned them all and I said I would take them to where the river ran out of the lake – it was about five hundred yards
away. I refused help with disposing of the fish parts and suggested they all gather some wood and help their Mom get a fire started. I gathered all the fish guts into a bag and quickly walked the short distance and dumped everything but the bag into the river and hustled back part way then decided to make a half circle around our camp.
I walked slowly keeping both my ears and eyes tuned in to everything around me. But by the time I emerged out of the bush I hadn’t noticed anything untoward so just joined my family at the fire.
We were well ahead of supper time so had time to sit around the fire then start preparing for a large supper that would consist of fried fish (what else?) boiled potatoes and corn on the cob.
We were just putting the potatoes on to boil when I happened to glance towards where the river was and I spotted the figure of a man back in the trees a bit. Quietly I told everyone to just stay by the fire, “It looks like we have a visitor, so I’ll just go see where he’s camped.”
I walked slowly towards the figure, he started to take a step backwards then stopped and just stood there. I stopped a few yards away and said, “Hello, you camped nearby? Can you go a cup of coffee?”
He stared at me for just a second or two, then nodded and said, “Yeah.” I said, “Well come on over, it’s boiled campfire stuff but we like it.”
He nodded and stepped forward. He was young, probably younger than me. He had quite a scruffy growth of face whiskers, but not a real beard. He was probably about six feet tall and his clothes appeared to be of good quality but strangely enough for those days were a type of camouflage.
“You must have been around earlier today, I think I may have seen you while we were fishing.”
He looked up quickly then glanced away, “Uh yeah I was here and saw you fishing.”
He came up within a few feet of me and I held out my hand, “Hi I’m John, c’mon and meet my wife and kids.”
He touched his hand to mine then looking down said, “Paul.”
I turned and said over my shoulder, “C’mon, we’ll find that coffee.”
I headed back to camp and he followed along behind, I couldn’t help but notice that in spite of the boots he was wearing, he moved almost silently and I had to glance back a couple of times to see if he was following.
I introduced him to my wife then the kids and we all ‘hunkered’ down around the fire; at first it was pretty quiet except for the crackling of burning wood, so I told him who we were, where we were from, just trying to get over those first moments of awkwardness. He listened but kept glancing around as he nursed his coffee. I finally said “So Paul where are you from?”
He mumbled, “Uh the states, Idaho.”
“A ways from home.” I replied. “How did you find your way here?”
“I saw the lake on a map and decided to come.”
As you can imagine I could have been quite apprehensive, but I felt no threat and there was this feeling that he was very sad or something akin to sadness.
I suddenly of a flash of insight and said, “I see you’re wearing camouflage, are you an army man?”
“Uh yeah, I guess I still am.”
Note – back then we didn’t have TV where we lived and very little radio, our only newspaper was the Prince George Citizen and it didn’t carry much world news. Canada was not involved in the Vietnam war so I had only a vague awareness of that conflict. As I indicated before, the significance of this encounter never really hit me until many years later.
I nodded then said, “On leave eh, were you overseas?”
He stared into the fire and the smoke in a wayward change drifted across his face, his face twisted in a look of pain but it wasn’t the smoke that caused the look. Of that I was certain.
He almost visibly shrugged, then said, “Yeah I was there. Just got back a couple weeks ago.” He looked up and looked me right in the eye, “That’s why I’m here.” He waved his arm, “Out there.”
I had heard a few of the stories coming out of Vietnam and I suddenly caught on, I could see the pain in his eyes.
I looked at my watch and said, “Hey, it’ll soon be supper time, we got lots here, would you like to eat with us?”
He hesitated then slowly nodded. “Sure, thanks.”
I said, “Okay. My wife and I will get things going, if you want to try for a couple of fish for later, you can use my rod. Andy and Steve can show you where we cast from.” I knew that he had been watching us but thought there was no harm in pretending I didn’t know.
Between the three of them they caught four nice fish and returned to the fire just as everything was ready. Supper was a quiet affair with the three kids doing most of the entertaining. I knew by now that the war was a non subject and anytime the kids wanted to go there, my wife and I steered them on to something else.
After supper we cleaned up the dishes and soon the kids were in bed. He stayed with us at the fire until it was quite dark then suddenly stood up, thanked us for dinner and the loan of the rod. “I better go now, thanks again.” He turned and disappeared into the darkness his fish in hand.
We never saw him again, I never saw any further movement in the bush near our camp. Whether he moved on or watched from further away I have no idea.
He was there then he wasn’t.
I hope our wilderness excised his torments and if it did I would like to think that perhaps we helped a bit.
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