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 With Memorial Day fast approaching I was reflecting on how I spent mine. I tend to like absolute solitude, hence my love for bow hunting at 12,000 feet, where few others venture. But this trip was different. I was excited but also not looking forward to the size of the group we would be with.It was 1600 and I was off work for a three-day weekend. I rushed home, hooked up the horse trailer and loaded the horses. After a 1½ hour drive my daughter and I finally hit the dirt road that leads to the lake where the rest of the family was already camping. As I drove into the awesome desert sunset in our new 2005 Dodge Ram Hemi, I thought to myself, "what a great ride, I can hardly feel the bumps.” At that very moment I realized that although the bumps were hardly noticeable in my new ride, in my haste to get where I was going, my horse trailer was launching into the air with each pot hole I floated over! My poor horses! I can only imagine the Bambi on ice stance that they must have been forced to take. We were camping on the shore of Wilson Reservoir in northeastern Nevada with five other families. The next morning I awoke to a crisp cool sunrise over the lake with the mountains in the backdrop! Aaahhh. But then... all the kids (11 of them) started to stir, the birds took flight, the whistle pigs (ground squirrels) found their holes and the rabbits were joining them! Then the 4- wheeler started. Now I have to admit, I have found 4-wheelers very handy at times, but in the middle of a 3-day weekend running in and out of MY camp to entertain the kids, is not one of them. My husband and some other adults took some of the kids to another lake to fish, while I opted to stay back and relax. What I didn't realize was about half of the kids and the 4-wheeler were left with me and two other Moms! I was looking for an escape, but there was no Calgon here!!! Don't get me wrong, I love my kids and in general other kids too, but I was out here to relax. (Set the kids loose - go fish, get dirty, hunt for whistle pigs, "watch the direction of your muzzle, don't shoot each other, don't drown, check in once in a while and you can do what you want!” Isn't that what camping's about?) I looked around the camper and noticed that my husband had left his float tube (Mine wasn't aired up yet!). I grabbed a pole, put on waders and flippers and drug the belly boat out to the lake. I kicked my way out about halfway across the lake and suddenly found peace. The fish weren't biting, it was pretty warm, I could faintly still hear the kids screaming and the buzz of the 4-wheeler, but it didn't seem to matter. After about a dozen more casts without a bite, I reeled my line in, strapped it across my lap, laid my head back and drifted into God's glory. I dozed in and out for at least an hour. I would wake up every time I felt myself drifting to far in one direction. (In Northeastern Nevada the storms move in so quickly, if you are in the middle of a lake the size of Wilson, there is no chance of getting back to shore on time.) I came back to camp after about two hours of sleeping on the lake and realized that had been the first time I had been in a float tube since before I had my kids. I have really got to do it more often! I got back to camp, sat down and wasn't there for more then about fifteen minutes when I realized I wanted to go back to the lake. My girlfriend has the cutest three-year-old girl, McKendra, who really wanted to go for a "boat" ride. Once again I pulled on the waders and flippers, set her on my lap and we kicked back out into the lake. Every time her mom would wave, she would quietly say "Hi Ma" as she waved back. As we would pass some of the reeds, she would shout out, "A duck!" and when I asked her what kind of duck it was, she would say "A mauw ward duck!" I wish every kid could stay three. I love that age! Off the subject a bit, she would go to every trailer after waking up every morning and after her nap and announce, "I'm here!" The other half the camp crew came back from fishing with a stringer full of trout as McKendra and I pulled into shore. Dinner! The younger boys got to shoot things while fishing and brought home a rock chuck trophy. Only to surprise me with the hide of a badger they shot the night before. We made them eat their kill! Badger roast!!! We thought we would try our luck in the river the next day. The first place we stopped I hooked into a nice trout, but after a few minutes of fighting him, he snapped my line. We rigged my line back up and our bait boy (my son Austin) put a worm on for me and not long after I was hooked into another one! This one put up a great fight, but I got him in. Talk about determination; he got himself loose from the stringer! As he swam by, my son shouts, "Mom, there goes your fish!!!" We finished our day of fishing under some waterfalls. (Who would have thought that Nevada would have their own mini Niagara?) The fish were an average size, but with the force of the water it sure made for a great fight. We ended up breaking our lines as many times as we brought fish in! My son was doing a lot of baiting! I can gut a fish, clean a deer and move road kill, but don't ask me to thread a fish hook thru a live wiggling worm. It's just not right! (Some guide I am, huh!) The weekend was soon put to an end when the storms moved in and stayed for the night. Not only putting an end to the fishing, but also putting a bit of panic into those of us that needed to get out the next morning. Our trailer is not just a camper, but a 4-horse trailer with living quarters (all steel weighing about 15,000 pounds loaded). The clay dirt roads got slick quick with the storms making for an interesting drive out. But the beauty that God brings with such weather is awesome. The wildflowers were not only in full bloom, but you could smell them in the breeze from miles away. What a great way to end what was already a great weekend. As I re-read this story, it is a little dull and slow in spots compared to my other stories, but it inspires me to find beauty and peace in all situations. It is not always about the trophy you can put on the wall, but about the trophy you keep in your heart. |
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