Busnut campout
Friday, July 27, 2007
Our last leg of the Oregon Trail journey had us parting ways with the Trail to head southward into the Sierra Madre Mountains of Wyoming to meet up with a fellow busnut and his family and extended family for a weekend of fishing, eating, hiking, and more eating. Craig Shepard of MN kindly invited us to his annual family camping trip, and gave us exact GPS coordinates to find his spot just over Battle Pass on State Hwy. 70… and boy were those coordinates exact. After huffing and puffing our SpaceShip bus over the pass, about a mile later my new GPS software on the laptop said “turn left in 0.2 miles” and I turned precisely into the secluded spot to see Craig’s MC9 for the second time in as many months.
Craig was off fishing with the kids, but his wife Teri introduced herself and showed us a few places we could park and set up camp in their circle. And we quickly did just that.
Logan and Sage were anxious to go fishing all week, so they jumped at the chance when Teri offered to take us down the hill to a stream in her parents’ “mule” (this cool 4WD ATV).
A few bumpy minutes later, and we were in this beautiful valley, mountains surrounding us, as we descended into the Battle Creek drainage. Teri then commenced to showing the boys all that she had learned about trout fishing in this part of the world and the boys soaked it up like a sponge.
After nearly an hour of countless casts and snagging their hook a few times in the shallow rocks of the stream, Logan caught the world’s smallest brook trout.
We soon headed back as the rains began to come down. Craig and the gang was back soon after that, and they all started making dinner in the rain. I met Craig’s brother John, and his wife and kids, along with Teri’s folks and aunt. They all welcomed us like one of their own!
As the cooks were digging into the night’s fare, they discovered what they’d thought were hamburger patties in a Black Angus Beef box were actually the biggest hot dog wieners I’ve ever seen. The franks dwarfed the buns we ate them on, but they were amazing, juicy and huge. The rain continued to pour in buckets, and all of us sane people took shelter as best we could under the two screen shelters… but my kids and Sage were undaunted and felt the need to keep the campfire stoked for the promised Smores.
The kids did get their Smores for the soakings they took, and we soon retired soggily to our bus to dry off, watch a movie, and wait for Sage’s family (Karl, Elise, and Wyatt Thomas) and Darlene to arrive later that night… which they finally did. Somehow they spotted us in the dark and in the rain. We helped set up their pop-up tent trailer and then all got some much-needed rest.
The next morning brought blessed sunshine. Another busnut family arrived in their GMC Buffalo conversion, and I spent quite awhile talking to Allan and admiring his handiwork.
A little later, we took a little hike back down to Battle Creek.
After that, we all jumped in cars drive closer to Battle Lake, a little gem nestled in the valley above our campsite. It sits on private land, but the owners graciously allow public access, as long as they hike in on foot, which we did. A nice hike later brought us to this magical place with the clearest water surrounded by towering pines and the steep slopes that feed it fresh snowmelt for most of the year.
We had a picnic lunch on its shores, and Karl and Sage, and Logan and I fished and fished and fished for those elusive brook trout. I’ve never fished in a lake where you could actually see the fish you’re trying to catch. It was pretty cool. Logan and I eventually made our way east away from the crowd of kids and chatting adults and I quickly got two fish on two casts. I was able to reel in the first one, but the second one got away (no… really!).
It ain’t big, but it’ll sure taste good. We kept up the fishing, but the bites came fewer and far between. Logan eventually caught one, which is always good for us, since we’ll have a much easier time getting him to leave.
This, of course, re-doubled Karl’s efforts to catch something before we left.
But it just wasn’t to be. The fish just weren’t jumping at the chance to leave their beautiful little lake. As we were packing up to leave, Craig came by with a whole stringer of fish. Since he’d grew up in the area, he had a certain “leg up” on where the fish might be biting, and told us he’d been fishing the beaver ponds below the lake. But even then, he said it wasn’t a very good day for fishing.
I guess it still “beats working”, as they say. We hiked back to the car and trudged back up the rough 4WD road, past old miners cabins and mines that had once yielded tons of copper in the early 1900s. Back at camp, we relaxed a little, and then started making the big dinner. Everyone contributed something: Hamburgers, chicken, pasta, and quite a few… fish!
The cooks went after it in their screen shelters or buses. I um… took a lot of pictures. Oh, I did help Craig bottle up some homebrew and tightened a few lugnuts on Allan’s coach.
And Karl showed us how to split wood for the campfire. Soon enough, we were all filling our faces with good food, sharing in good conversation, and enjoying the great outdoors at 9,000 feet.
We all ate, chatted, and sipped around the campfire, until the sun went down and the marshmallows came out. The kids roasted Peeps, which turns out to be far superior to the lowly marshmallow, in my book. There’s just something about that sugar-coated skin that starts to caramelize and turn crispy while the inside is hot and gooey… yum!
Once the sun was finally down, and it’s glow finally extinguished, most of us headed up to Battle Summit in cars to try to look at the skyfull of stars. Once up there, we were hampered by the near-full moon, that shone bright enough to cast moon shadows all over the rocks. Someone did spot a satellite racing across the sky, and we all drank in the enormity and solitude of the slightly-blue heavens.
The next morning we woke up to our normal visitor, and I was able to get a few blurry shots of him.
After a second (or third) breakfast, The Browns and the Thomas’ started breaking up camp to head down to Saratoga for some hot springs and warm pool adventures. We all said our goodbyes to our gracious hosts and their families and friends, promising to do this again next year. And we will! Good food, good friends, and good fun… how can we refuse!
August 7th, 2007 at 7:15 pm
Ok Ok You have convinced me I will come live with you after I retire.