MOHAWK - Discovering the Valley of the Crystals Copyright 2004
Chapter 19 - Recreation
Family Fun
Discovering With Grandkids
For a week or so each summer we provide shelter, sustenance and
“opportunities for discovery” for our three oldest grandchildren.
This year Jack (12) and Andi (9) bunked with us for a week. Steven (10)
joined the fray for the last three days. Each day we tried to do something
memorable. This year we hit the jackpot.
We didn't know the canoe was leaking. Left to right - Jack, Andi, Grandma Gert and Steven.
Muck and Nettles Are Always Memorable
Hard to tell what youngsters consider memorable. At times their good
times (and bad) are the result of long-term plans and preparation.
Sometimes it's the incidental stuff that impresses them. Take for instance,
our mandatory hike on the first day. There was a time when all the
grandchildren enjoyed the adventure of a hike in the woods, but now they
go along to make me happy.
This year the highlight of the hike for Jack was
when muck sucked off one of his rubber boots. When he yelled, “Grandpa
help!” he was standing one boot and one sock deep in black ooze.
We extricated both feet and boots, removed the sock and turned it inside
out in just a few seconds. Jack continued the hike carrying a muck filled
sock, no worse for wear.
Andi sees almost any obstacle as a challenge. Case
in point. As we approached a stretch of trail that passes through a patch
of nettles, I warned, “Don't touch the plants. They can cause stinging
and itching that lasts about 15 minutes.” Didn't seem too big a deal
to Andi, so she gave it a try. Fortunately, she only got a few welts.
The stinging and itching didn't seem to bother her one bit. Tough little
girl.
Jack's Steele Creek Rainbow Trout
Our grandkids know how to fish. They've caught
buckets of sunfish and a few trout and bass from a neighbors pond using
a spincast outfit rigged with a bobber and a worm. But that's different
than stream fishing. Stream fishing requires some casting accuracy with
an open-faced spinning reel, plus the strength and agility to wade through
butt-high water running over rocks and logs. So the rule around here is,
you have to be 10 to go stream fishing.
A couple of years ago I took Jack on his first stream
fishing trip. As reported elsewhere, we fished Steele Creek and did quite
well. Jack caught several small rainbows and learned the basics of casting
under overhanging branches and “cranking” a Phoebe through runs and pools.
It was indeed a memorable experience for both of us. Since then he always
asks to go stream fishing when he comes for a visit.
They say you can't go back to relive the good times.
Well, Jack and I proved that wrong. We went back to Steele Creek. When
we approached the long pool below a waterfalls, I told Jack to take it
slow and easy by casting as far as he could, then cranking the lure through
the pool. Cast and retrieve twice, then move up two steps and repeat. A
small trout took the lure on the fourth retrieve but shook loose.
We could have climbed up a rock outcrop to fish
the pool from shore, but that would spook fish, so we waded in the creek,
at one point with silt up to my knees and Jack's butt. He didn't get another
hit until he dropped the Phoebe into the froth at the bottom of the falls.
Jack's rod bent almost double as a good rainbow struggled to shake loose.
Jack landed an 11 ½-inch rainbow trout---perhaps the biggest rainbow
trout in Steele Creek.
Jack caught that trout “all by himself.” He
cast the lure, retrieved it and fought the fish to the bank. He was real
proud of that fish, but the most memorable part of the trip was wading
in silt up to his butt. Go figure.
Andi’s First Stream Trout Was
a Whopper
Andi
wanted to go stream fishing so bad I could taste it, but she didn’t
complain when we told her about Jack’s big rainbow. Fact is, she
was so good about it, I changed the rule. Girls --- we have only one granddaughter
--- can stream fish when they’re nine.
When I woke her up early the next morning she was
raring to go. After a quick breakfast at the Sweet Basil in Barneveld we
fished Cincinnati Creek. This was her first time stream fishing, so, as
I had done with Jack on his first trip, I let her cast, but if she couldn’t
reach the pool, I made a cast and handed her the rod. She hooked
a foot long trout on the second cast but it came loose almost at our feet.
I plopped the lure into the upper end of the same
pool, felt a good hit and handed the rod to Andi. The rod bent to
the water and a big fish flip-flopped on the surface.
I yelled, “It’s a good one Andi!”
She yelled, “Help me Grandpa!”
When we got that deep-bodied, bright yellow, red-spotted
fish to shore, it measured 16 ½ inches. We caught and lost several
more trout, but none of them were as big as Andi’s first stream trout.
Lucky little girl.
Canoe Trip From Purgatory
Last year was our first annual---Jack, Steven, Andi, Grandma and Grandpa---canoe trip through the rapids on West Canada Creek. The river was up and we made the 1.4-mile trip in less than 20 minutes. It seemed reasonable that we could do as well this year. Think again!
This year the river was down, we forgot that youngsters grow a lot in a year . . . and the canoe leaked. The low water and added weight caused our normally incident-free run to be an hour-long ordeal.
We made it through the first water-spraying rapids in good stead: grandkids yelling and screaming, and Grandma holding her paddle over her head in a sign of victory. From then on it was scary. We scraped bottom so many times one of the patches in the 30-year, old thin-skinned aluminum canoe tore lose. The canoe was so low in the water we had a difficulty controlling it. Where we had previously floated unimpeded, we bottomed out on underwater ledges and rocks. We got hung up four times and got turned around three times. I had to get out to pull the canoe loose twice and almost lost it once. We finally made it to the riverside trail near the lower end of the run. While the “gang" walked to the landing, I dumped water from the canoe and paddled it downriver to the landing.
Grandma fell in while we were towing
the water laden canoe to shore.
We were all wearing life jackets, so we were in no
danger of drowning, just getting very, very wet. We
got very wet from the spray and from the water in the bottom of
the canoe, and while we were walking to shore, Grandma fell in. Sorry,
didn’t get that picture.
This was no where near as scary as the Canoe
Trip From Hell, but our final all-together canoe trip through the rapids
definitely qualified as a Canoe Trip From Purgatory.
Campfires Have a Special Attraction
We rounded out our week-long activities by shooting a pellet gun and
a bow and arrow. By the time the week was over, soda cans were falling
like flies, and the archery target actually had holes in it.
An evening campfire was on our agenda, but it rained
almost every night. Miraculously, the last night was clear, so we collected
all the dry wood we could find and built a roaring fire. For about an hour
we roasted marshmallows and made smores. This was my first time squeezing
a hot marshmallow and a square of chocolate between graham crackers. Jack,
Andi and Steven had made smores with marshmallows heated in a microwave,
but never with fire-roasted “mallows.” Jack announced that the fire-roasted
kind were much better.
When everyone went in the house to play cards or
watch the Olympics, I sat by the fire for another hour and a half.
Not sure why I enjoy watching a campfire at night. Must be primordial.