My dad taught me that the best time to catch fish in clear water was in low light hours, when the fish couldn’t see the boat. Only one other fisherman was out as early as us, but we both knew that more latecomers would be arriving with the light. Finally, we arrived at the spot where we loved to fish. Every year we went to the exact same place on the lake because this is where we have always caught the most fish. I always liked to sit in the back of the boat and fish straight out behind us.
He lives about ten minutes north east of the Wisconsin dells on 500 wooded acres. We always stop somewhere on the way up to eat together. It is usually culvers but it has been something different in the past twelve years I have been hunting. After we arrive at “Deer Camp” as we call it, we head right to bed because four forty – five come pretty quick. So once again we wake up early and get in our scent free showers and our cups of coffee.
Each weekday morning he would arise before everyone else, load and fire-up the small woodstove in the living room so that we would awaken to a warm house. By the time my mother aroused my brother and me at 6 a.m. for school, Earl was already gone to work. We would arrive home from school before he finished working and anticipate his return. We would listen for the sound of Earl’s work truck pulling into the yard and run to meet him on the porch. Earl would crouch to greet us and sometimes swing me into the air playfully.
For breakfast that morning we fried up some bacon, eggs and brewed some coffee. There is nothing I loved more than having bacon and coffee to start my day off. While the parents cleaned up, us kids went down to the lake looking for crawdads underneath rocks. I was always afraid that the crawdads would pinch me, but that didn't stop me from trying to catch them. My brother and dad were always the best at catching the crawdads and when we caught enough, we would cook them up and eat them.
This was it, are summer vacation, finally it was time to get out of the intense heat and bordom of Ridgecrest. We packed are bags, grabbed are fishing poles, loaded the camper and were on are way. Our drive lasted for four very long hours before we got to the Postpile campground. We hitched are camp and made ourselves right at home knowing we would be there for a while. We could'nt ask for better weather, the sun was blazin and the temperature was an awesome 85 degrees for fishing the San Juaqin river.
It all started Wednesday night as the staff decided to have a night swim. In order for this to happen we had to wait for the campers to go to bed. When they were finally asleep we got ready with all are swimming gear to go have fun. Then we all met back at the main lodge waiting for a small bus to take use to the lake front because it was mile walk from the lodge. I was really excited to go because I had never done something like this before at night.
November 2011, the first year I got to go hunting with my dad. I got excited for this year because I became old enough to shoot my first deer with my dad in the hunting stand. I thrived to get my first buck all through November (SV). The night before opening day my dad and I usually go out to chat with my uncles and tell hunting stories at our shack. My uncles always tell old stories of when they got their first buck, and I became nervous knowing I might have a chance at one tomorrow.
We spent summers and as many weekends as possible at the cabin, and some of my favorite memories are of the times we spent there. My sister-in-law, Susan, lives in Oklahoma, near the Kiamichi and Ouachita Mountains. There are tons of parks, rental cabins, and campsites all around her home, so when Susan suggested we find a place in the area to have a family reunion, we all agreed it was a great idea. Only about half of our family members were able to come to the reunion, but we ended up with seventeen people, so we needed a place with several cabins, and/or a large campsite. Susan found a camp on Coon Creek called Camp Israel Folsom, which is part of the Cumberland and Choctaw Presbyterian Churches.
Over the next year he had saved up enough money to buy his hound dog. He hiked over the mountains to the nearest town post office because that’s where his dogs where going to be until he picked them up. He got to the post office and put them in a potato sack bag and headed for home. His grandpa had given him a coon trap so he could train his dogs. He named his dogs Little Anne and Old Dan.
Cottonmouth snakes were everywhere, as well as muskrats and otters. Our group of canoes was so strung out, I did not know if we were a hundred yards out or a mile apart. The float was really fun for everyone in the end though. One thing I learned is to not stand up in the canoe until I had gotten more experienced. I fished the whole trip, although I do not remember catching any keepers on the river that trip.