Goliath

            In the past, the weather gurus only gave names to hurricanes or tropical storms.  Since 2012, they have also given names to winter storms.  In each instance, a specific set of factors has to be met in order for a name to be assigned.  Right now winter storm “Goliath” is moving across the United States.  In the form of tornadoes, rain, sleet, ice and snow, “Goliath” has leveled neighborhoods, caused severe flooding, and left many without power as lines have fallen, in addition to contributing to major accidents and pileups on roads and highways.

            Today’s adventure in the storm started as a text to my cousins when I sent them a copy of a picture last evening that my Dad had from the opening of trout season back in 1971.  It was taken near Wolverine, Michigan on the ridge above the West Branch of the Sturgeon River.  It’s simple enough as it shows an old friend of my Dad (Lee Sperry) and his station wagon.  Apparently Lee had driven in, and then they had parked at the top of the hill and hiked down to the river (Dad’s journal says the water temperature was 39 degrees).  The crazy thing is that the picture was taken on the last Saturday of April.

Opening of Michigan's Trout Season-1971

            In the texting dialogue that transpired with my cousins, someone stated, “I thought we were dedicated.  We’re cupcakes compared to that.”  What we may lack in snow when we go out fishing, we make up for in endurance. (See Past Entry: “Bogged Down”)  I’m sure if we had the opportunity to fish in such conditions, we would.  The stories my Dad tells that ensued from that snow laden trip of 1971 are legendary; big brown trout and steelheads both caught and lost.  In addition, my Dad hooked a brown trout that wouldn’t even fit in to Mr. Sperry’s net.  He ended up losing it, but Mr. Sperry went back a few days later with twenty pound test line, caught it on his own, and only managed to store it in his freezer by bending its tail to fit it in.  Who wouldn’t want to be a part of an adventure and story like that?  Hence my texting response of, “Speak for yourself…it’s suppose to be nasty out tomorrow and I’m going to be out in it…guaranteed…and you know you’d join me if you lived closer.”  It was friendly texting banter, and set the challenge in place.

            It was about that time last night that my sister Becky showed me a quote she thought I might like from a cookbook she had just gotten as a gift (entitled “Scandinavian Christmas” by Trine Hahnemann).  It stated, “Remember there is no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothes.”  If you’ve read any of my blog entries from last winter you’d know I would agree with such a statement.  I’ll go out in most weather if I’m dressed for it.  With the storm that we had predicted for today, the correct clothing would make it great weather to be out in.  Perhaps that’s why the cousins texted today to see if I’d gone out.  They wanted to be a part of it.

            Unfortunately the outing today wouldn’t involve trout fishing since it wasn’t the right time of the year or season.  Fortunately I was able to get things together and head out for a few hours.  I debated on whether or not I would take our older dog, Kati.  She’s almost 85 years old now in human years.  She limps and moans more than she used to, but when it came down to it, I just couldn’t keep her back.  For as long as I’ve been hitting the woods and cooking out, she’s been with me.  I wouldn’t want someone to hold me back from going at that age, so in the end, I lifted her into the back of the Jeep with Kora (who leapt in as easy as a light, summer breeze).  It wasn’t really that long ago, maybe a year, that Kati would have jumped up and in just as easy.  You can’t blame Kora; it’s just that in her zest and zeal of adolescent nimbleness and quickness she doesn’t realize ole Kati would have matched her in her prime.  Luckily Kati doesn’t hold it against Kora and Kora listens and follows everything Kati tells her.  They are a perfect fit for each other.

Kati and Kora eagerly await the command "Come!"

            The ride out to the forest preserve was slow going as the roads were covered in snow and slush.  It had started at 6:00 this morning and had been consistently precipitating all day at a rather steady rate.  It wasn’t snow or rain that was falling, and I wouldn’t have called it sleet either.  Instead it was closer to little BB’s of ice.  Once parked, I put on my packs, took a quick picture of the dogs and then hit the trails.  We hiked through the hardwoods down to the river’s edge.  

Due to the unseasonably warm weather this winter, I couldn’t get through the wetland areas to places I like to visit.  Typically they are frozen over.  I could have thrown some logs across the waterways to walk on, but the dogs would have gotten wet and suffered.  Instead I worked my way upstream and eventually to the campground area where I decided to make a fire and cook a meal.

            Perhaps only two or three times out of all of the years I’ve cooked out in the winter have I had to resort to a match when I couldn’t get my flint and steel to work.  Today was not one of those days.  In fact, today was a first.  I couldn’t get a fire going with my flint and steel or the matches.  One other time did exist, when I was out with my friend Louie.  That, however, was more due to location and available tinder/wood supply, because even though we did get a fire started, we just couldn’t keep it going.  I worked at it quite a while today, with both tinder I had brought, and tinder I had collected, but it was too windy and everything was wet.  It was a “one-two punch” I couldn’t overcome.  By the time I finally looked up, Kati, who had lain down beside me, was covered with a layer of ice.  I apologized to both dogs and then packed up.  They had been looking forward to their cut of the meal I was going to cook.

            On the hike out I found some bark from a yellow birch tree.  I collected some and brought it up to the old, limestone picnic shelter made by the CCC back in the days between The Great Depression and World War II.  I tried to get a fire going in the shelter’s fireplace, since its roof and partially walled sides blocked some of the wind and precipitation, but it was still to no avail.  I was able to get a spark on my char cloth and produce a nice glowing ember with smoke, as I had back in the woods, but it just wouldn’t pop into flame.

            We continued our hike and piled back into the Jeep.  The dogs had done great.  Kora was a picture of energy and Kati seemed to gain strength the longer she was out in the elements.  By the end, Kati was steadily running and doing so without a limp from the arthritis.  You could tell she was proud of herself, and indeed she should have been.  I think Kora even took notice, and indeed she should have.  After letting Cindy know we were back to the Jeep, I was notified that I needed to pick up some pizza on the way home.  It’s one of the perks of living near civilization, especially when one can’t get a fire going.  Traveling out and back I averaged 35 to 40 miles per hour, under sub-par conditions, while driving in four wheel drive.

Once home, the dogs got their food!

I picked up pizza for the family on the way home

            Goliath won today, but have no fear, I’ll restock my tinder supply and chances are I’ll get a fire going the next time I try.  I had had visions of writing about how I had slain the giant of a storm, but sometimes the weather has other plans.  One must always be adaptable or risk serious consequences.  It’s probably best not to be vain because in light of the fact that as this storm has raced north and east across America, it has left people homeless and dead.  Obviously nothing can be done to conquer such power when unleashed to its fullest potential.  May the people affected so dramatically by the storm, find relief and peace.  Still, for the winds, temperatures and ice pellets I had to deal with here in Northern Illinois, it was definitely adventurous.  Perhaps someday I’ll go trout fishing in such circumstances; perhaps with my cousins.  Perhaps, like my Dad, we’ll catch brown trout of 12, 13 and 15 inches, see and lose some big steelhead, and battle an unseen brown in a deep, dark hole.  At this point I’ll simply be glad to get outside, have my dogs with me, get a fire started, and cook a meal.

            See along The Way…