Tuesday, March 21, 2017
Woodsmoke, Scotch, Sausages, Biscuits, and Trout
I don't have sausage pictures? Must be they don't linger in the pan. No, they don't I suppose.
I don't know about you; but, in this cave, the bears have Civilization Disorder [C-D].You'll find it in the icd-10 classifications under "longish impotent winter" and "bloody slow spring."
It hasn't been a bad winter. It has been an ineffectual winter with inconsistent spells of hope randomly thrown about.
I need to get to the woods.
I need to reek of wet wood smoldering as I read another couple of pages of The Nick Adams Stories before herding the coals back to a blaze.
I need scotch out of a camp cup.
I need my pipe and another bowl of Frog Morton on the Town cut with Old Gowrie.
I need sausages in the pan and biscuits from the fry-bake sequestered in tinfoil and endangered by the small jar of honey I know is in the bottom of the cooler.
I need the lack of a cell phone signal, a porch light in the distance, or my wife's cats crawling on me as I sleep.
I'm torn between camping at the Au Sable River State Forest Campground and Canoe Camp -- fishing the upper mainstream of the AuSable -- or wild camping at Pipe Springs on the North Branch and fishing it. Seeing the brookies take dries through most of the winter from the blogs of some New Englanders makes me want to try dry flies on the North Branch.
Swinging streamers and my large dark soft hackles -- stonefly nymphs? -- on the mainstream before canoe season is also tasty. Slinging the drifting streamer through the submerged wood pulls hard.
Whatever it is, camping is around the corner. An inch of rain due this weekend on both these rivers so I'll wait a week.
But just a week,
Where is that scotch flask now?