Wilderness Blues- Ramblings from the Great Land

Ihope everyone had a pleasant Thanksgiving. We were blessed with two this year. The one at the farm was especially enjoyable though because I had a chance to visit a place that was so much a part of my life. We drove out on the logging road that eventually led to within about a mile of the farm. Years ago the only way to access the farm was by boat, or perhaps walking, which I did once. It was quite an ordeal that included wading streams, crossing muskegs and slogging my way over dangerously sticky mudflats. I was fortunate that I didn't get stuck on the flats or cross paths with a brown bear. Anyway, this trip only entailed having what few teeth I have left jarred almost loose by the potholes in the road. There were a couple of scary moments going across a couple of the bridges that spanned Game Creek too, but on a scale of one to ten, they wouldn't have warranted more than a five. After parking the car we walked down a well marked trail through a patch of old growth spruce an...

Back in October, signs went up around the town announcing what has become an annual event out at Game Creek. The entire town is invited to come out and enjoy a Thanksgiving dinner at the farm. This year the celebration was on November 8. It actually works out better to have it early. The most recent snows would have made it impossible to travel by car or truck if it had been delayed. This was only the second time that I've been able to attend, but both times have been memorable. The tabernacle was decorated as ornately as it could be and the food was delightful. I noticed that all the residents of the farm stayed in the kitchen and waited on all of their guests to get their plates before finally serving themselves. The warmth and hospitality was refreshing and once again I was very pleased to be able to attend. After dinner there was a beautiful slide show with scenes from around the area and several musicians performed as well. Before dinner I had an opportunity to walk aro...

One of the highlights of my trip back to my home town of Marion was driving down the street where I grew up. Of course after thirty or so years everything on Belmont Street was different. If I didn't know where my house was located I wouldn't have known it. The hill that we sledded on so many winters ago, the one that seemed to take forever to get back to the top of, it was just a small incline, almost unnoticable to me now. Everything seemed so much smaller- our house, our street, the hill. So many changes have taken place, which only makes sense; nothing can stay the same. It just seems like so many of the changes aren't necessarily for the better. The high school where Jan and I met has been expanded and is now the middle school. They built a new high school out on the edge of town- way out where everyone has to drive to now- no more walking to school. They changed the name of the street the school is on from Seminole Avenue to something like President's Way or some ...

This is a picture of me with a bass that I caught on my trip south to Ohio. My friend, Bill Snyder, insists that the fish weighed in at an impressive four pounds, where as I was thinking it was hard pressed to make a pound, but what do I know? I don't want to sound vain, but I'm not used to catching such small fish. Don't get me wrong, it was a blast to be fishing in a still body of water and not have to look over your shoulder for Brown bears. We were guests at his sister and brother-in-law's farm pond and aside from the frigid wind and unseasonably cold temps, I was delighted to be there. Bill and I started the day at the Whetstone River near Mt. Gilead at a pool that I had some fond memories of. It had been over thirty years since I'd wet a line there and over the course of time the pool had shrunk and the gravel bank had grown up with brush and trees. Of course all that brush and overhang wasn't conducive to fly fishing, and Bill promptly got his fly caugh...

We finally made it back home to Alaska after almost three weeks of visiting family and friends. Dorothy had it right when she said, "There's no place like home." Even so, we still had a good time. I had the chance to visit some of the places I hadn't seen for over thirty years and it was comforting to know that some things don't change. A case in point is the Mohican State Forest in eastern Ohio. It's a land of rolling hills and clean water and the trees were in all of their Autumn glory. I took my wife and mom with me and even bought a three day out of state license to try a little fishing in the Mohican River- or maybe it's the Clear Fork- I'm not sure. In any event it's clean and supports a population of trout and smallmouth bass as well as rock bass. There may be other fish there as well, I can't remember. On this particular October day the weather was uncommonly cold and it almost felt like it could snow. We had brought along some food f...