Double Yolk Tuesdays

Baldy went camping this weekend and wants to tell you about it. Here is his story. It's a bit long. I hope you enjoy it.


Here are a couple of highlights from my weekend. Some of you know various parts of this story, but I don't think anybody has heard it all yet. Most people haven't heard any of this yet. I started to write an e-mail earlier today to explain it, and realized there was just too much.

This past weekend (mid March), I went camping and fishing with Steve and Christian. I guess you could say it was like a bachelor party, but instead of someone getting married, Steve was about became a dad. His wife is due with their first child in early May. We thought it would be fun to get out for a guys only weekend before Steve went into daddy mode. We settled on a weekend of fun at a small canoe rental & campground near Steelville, MO. The place is owned by a crusty old Marine vet. The overall experience felt like it was straight out of a movie. The best summary I can come up with is a cross between Napoleon Dynamite and Deliverance.

We arrived at the campground around lunch time on Friday. The first thing we noticed when we pulled up was the large number of chickens with lots of roosters mixed in. There was a small dog running around with the roosters. Everyone seemed to get along just fine. Upon entering the small country store/office area, several things jumped out at me.
#1 There is a cot in the store area with well worn bedding.
#2 The cot is positioned so anyone using it can watch a large TV. Every time we were in there, the TV was tuned to something related to NASCAR.
#3 There is a small table with a shotgun sitting on it.
#4 There are 2 loose shotgun shells on the chair next to the table.

During our initial conversation with Skip the owner, Steve asked about the shotgun. Skip said, "Oh, that's my dog catcher." Apparently the area dogs like to go after his chickens. He continued, "... a neighbor will ask if I have seen their dog. I'll say, is it red? They say no, and I tell them it is now!" I understand the need to protect the chickens, but I think I would refrain from telling paying customers the true purpose of the "Dog Catcher".

Friday afternoon, one of the workers drove us up the river to drop us off. We never caught his name, but I'll call him Bob. We followed Bob to where we would pull off the river and parked my vehicle. Then we rode in the Suburban with Bob to the starting point. Steve and I noticed a couple empty Natural Light cans in the back, but didn't think much of it.

During our short drive, Bob assured us that this stretch of the river was great for catching small mouth bass. Recently, a couple of guys caught 40-50 fish each. He also warned us about a couple tricky spots in the river where we might need to just pull off and carry the canoes.

After we got the canoes off the trailer, we were getting everything ready to go before putting in. Bob had pulled away, did a U-turn and was driving back by us. As he passed, he was drinking a fresh Nattie. I thought back to the empties in the back and wondered if they were still cold. The time on the river was uneventful. We stretched 3 miles into 6 hrs of fishing. I caught 0 fish, but enjoyed being outside. It was a beautiful day. We navigated the tricky sections with no problems and finally got off the river around 7:00.

On our way back into the campground, we stopped by the office to let them know we were back. We chatted with Skip a bit while there. Like most crusty old fishermen, Skip likes to tell stories. His obvious favorite was the time him and Bob were fishing. He hooked a fish and started reeling it in, but his line snapped. He insisted he had a fish, but Bob thought it was more likely he had snagged a tree. Skip tied on another lure and cast out to the same spot. He quickly hooked a fish. This time he got it all the way in. Once he got it in the boat, he saw there was a second lure hooked on the fish's mouth. Skip then looked at us with a serious look in his eye and said, "I sh** you not. It was this big." He held his hands wide like all fishermen do when telling stories. We gave him the obligatory impressed looks and went on our way.

We went back to get the fire started and get our tasty kabobs cooking. The evening was a typical night of guys camping; drinking, eating, talking, laughing and lots of fire poking. We all piled into my condo tent around midnight to get some sleep. It was a bit cold and I forgot to bring extra blankets. I survived the night by wearing lots of layers, including a winter hat and by holding a couple of Hot Hands packets. At various times throughout the night, we heard coyotes howling. At one point, it sounded like they were on either side of our tent discussing whether or not there was anything worth eating in our tent. A bit later, I heard the chickens go nuts and a dog started barking. There were no shotgun blasts though. Around 4:30, 50 roosters started crowing. This continued until we were all up for the day, well after 7 am. Needless to say, I did not sleep well.

I started that morning with an overwhelming urge to find a bathroom. My options were a long hike to the office to look for public facilities, a tree, or the outhouse about 4 campsites down from us. I chose to christen the outhouse for the new season. It was far from the best bathroom I had ever used, but it sure as heck beat leaning against a tree. I only provide this personal detail because it helps lead into another bathroom story later on.

After everyone was up we got the fire going and started working on breakfast. We cooked up some egg beaters and sausage links using Steve's camp stove while letting a pot of coffee percolate. After a quick discussion, we all agreed that we were too old and too tired to spend another night out in the elements. We decided to definitely not camp again that night, but hoped it would warm up enough for us to go back out on the river. We waited an hour or so, while we started packing up the site. We left most of the stuff in the tent and headed up to the office around 9. It was 46 degrees.

In the office, we found Skip, his grandson (7 or 8 yrs old), and Bob the driver sitting in the dark watching some sort of racing program and drinking beer (not the kid). There were several empty cans littered around the store/office. We chatted for a bit. Bob was disappointed with our lack of fishing success the previous day. He told Skip about the 2 guys who caught so many fish on that stretch except this time, they caught 50-60 a piece. He then independently confirmed Skip's story from the previous day about the fish with 2 hooks in his mouth. This gave Skip a chance to repeat his line, "I sh** you not. It was this big" while holding his hands out wide.

We were a bit worried about the weather. Bob dubbed himself an amateur meteorologist and checked the forecast for us. He determined that there was rain in the area but it wouldn't hit us. He also told us there was a high of 58 forecast for the day. I was skeptical as I had been monitoring the temperature with my car's thermometer. It had been pegged at 46 degrees since I got up. I must admit, I was a bit crabby and not feeling well after our campfire breakfast. I was not excited about the coming day. My insides were still a bit unsettled from my earlier trip to the outhouse. I thought about suggesting we call it a day and head home right then. But, I knew Steve and Christian really wanted to get back out on the river. I inquired about a real bathroom and learned there was a public men's restroom with free showers around back. I took advantage of this perk while my friends went back to get our gear together for a day on the river.

This camp ground bathroom with free hot showers was certainly better than the outhouse. That's the best thing I can say about it. There were two stalls with doors made out of unfinished pressed wood. An old towel was draped over the edge of the sink near the shower stall and some flip flops were in the corner. As I did my business, I noticed empty beer cans on nearly every flat surface above the floor. I thought back to the previous morning when Bob told us he was planning to clean the restrooms that had not been cleaned since the previous fall. At that time, I assumed they had not been used for the past several months. I was obviously wrong. While I pondered this, I realized that there was just a thin metal wall between my backside and the office. I could hear Bob talking to a co-worker as if they were in the next stall. I knew this meant they could hear me just as easily. I told myself that their early morning beer consumption would hamper their hearing, but I tried to be discrete anyway.

I listened to Bob tell the co-worker about two Texans who dumped their canoe in the middle of the hot summer. He had warned them to not wear waders, that they might fill up in the river and pull them under. It was plenty warm and waders were unnecessary. The guys were excited about fishing and wanted to use all of their top of the line gear. Bob laughed as he related how the guys finished their float with no poles and said, "We almost drowned!". It turns out they lost their gear in the deep fast water of the tricky turn Bob had warned us about. Bob assured them that someone would pull it out and turn it in. If it showed up, he would ship it to Texas. After they left the office, Bob grabbed Skip and proceeded to the same stretch of river looking for fishing treasure. He made several dives to the bottom and collected $400-500 worth of poles and tackle while Skip fished the hole. He figured anyone stupid enough to wear waders on a float trip when it is 100 degrees did not deserve to get all of that stuff back.

The co-worker related a story of how she once caught a trout while wading in the river. When she released it, it followed her back to the shore. She watched as it kissed her foot and swam away. She insisted it was a very spiritual moment. Bob just laughed.

I finished up and walked back to the campsite to help get our gear together for another day on the river. We did the same thing as Friday. We followed Bob to the pullout (a different one this time) and then rode with him to the put-in. This time, he purposely avoided the main roads (i.e. paved) and babbled on about cops operating a speed trap. The last thing he needed was to be pulled over hauling a trailer with no plates after already having 2 beers that morning. Bob assured us the trailer was legal. While bouncing along the gravel back road, passing hand painted signs saying "Keep Out, Private Property", he cracked open a Nattie and then asked if we minded if he had one. I thought it best to just go along with him and keep quiet. He then shared how the the previous day while we were fishing, him and another worker split a bottle of Crown Royal and went out on the river for a bit. I guess that is why the bathrooms did not get cleaned.

We soon came across a cow standing in the road. Bob stopped, cussed a bit and told me to get out and tug on the cow's ear. I laughed and said, "No way. I'm not touching that cow. I'm a city boy." So, slightly buzzed Bob hopped out, gave a little yell and the cow moved along. We continued on our way up the river.

Oh, when we were loading our gear in the suburban that morning, Bob noticed that Christian had a can of Skoal with him and asked if he could have some. He spent the entire 15 minute drive spitting in a cup & drinking his Nattie. ugh. After dropping us off, Christian or Steve offered him a Bud Light. He gladly accepted. That means he was on his way to having 4 beers in him before noon.

This time, we covered 9 miles in 6 hrs. We started slow and spent a lot of time fishing a few good holes near the start. Once again, I caught 0 fish. It was a chilly morning on the river. I had 3 layers on my upper body along with my winter hat. My jogging pants pulled up a bit when I sat so that my sock-less ankles were exposed and cold. I did everything I could to avoid stepping in the river. I knew wet shoes would be a bad idea. Fortunately, the sun came out in the afternoon and made things a little better. I came to appreciate that when Steve and I got caught in a current headed for a narrow passage between 2 downed trees. I hopped out in the knee deep water and grabbed the canoe to prevent the inevitable tippage. It was cold, but the sun was out and I warmed up again quickly enough.

Later on, we encountered another cow. This time, a big white cow stared us down as we approached a cattle crossing. Immediately after the crossing area, two downed trees blocked the river. We pulled off on the gravel bar. We then noticed a mama cow with two babies staring at us from the bank. She started pawing the ground as if she were getting ready to charge. We quickly carried our canoes around the tree, but waited to watch the cows. Eventually, mama and her two kids made their way across the river. The water came up to well over the mama's knees. I was a little afraid the baby would float away, but he made it. The first big cow continued to stare at us until we left. It was a bit creepy.

After several hours on the river, we decided to start pushing harder to make sure we finished before dark. As we approached the pullout around 5:00, I decided to take one final cast for good measure. As I cast, something seemed odd. I looked up at my pole and realized the upper 6 inches were missing. I reeled in my lure and found the missing piece hanging on the line. I was a bit confused as to how this happened until I remembered that at one point, Steve lost his balance and fell backward off his seat onto the bottom of the canoe and my pole. I was not too upset about the cheap pole. It had not caught a single fish for me in two days of trying.

Upon returning to the camp ground, we packed up our stuff and headed to the office to settle the bill. We spotted Skip around back with a few employees and family members. Skip was holding a headless featherless chicken over a large pot on a makeshift table. They waved us on back. It turns out that they were in the middle of butchering chickens. Their goal was to do 20; 5 that day, 5 the next day, and 10 more the following weekend. There was quite a bit of chicken blood splattered around. Their dog was running around trying to lick it all up. We learned that the grand kids get to pick the chickens that are next in line. They took great joy in singling out the mean ones. The young grandson attempted to tell Christian something, but he sounded a bit like the old chicken farmer from Napoleon Dynamite. Christian just smiled and nodded, not having a clue as to what the boy said.

Skip went off to wash his hands and instructed the boy to let us into the office. After paying the bill, Christian offered his remaining Skoal to Skip. Christian only uses the stuff when fishing or camping. He was either going to give it away or pitch it. Skip glanced at it and reluctantly accepted. He pointed out that mint Skoal gives him heartburn. He prefers regular. He further explained that he had chewed Copenhagen for 34 yrs until he got sick and had surgery on his mouth and jaw. He did not provide details but we all assumed cancer of some sort. After his surgery, he couldn't stand the taste of Copenhagen anymore. So, he switched to Skoal. Apparently Skip did not see the connection between 34 years of chewing tobacco and his illness.

We started asking about the chickens. That is when we discovered he had 150. I asked an innocent question about how many eggs they produce each day. Skip said they get up to 40 a day. Steve followed up with an equally innocent question about whether they sell them at a farmer's market or something. Skip's response was, "No. We eat the f*** out of those eggs." He went into detail about a favorite egg dish of his. I don't recall all of it but I think it involved a dozen eggs, some syrup, sugar, milk and maybe some powdered sugar to go on top. Skip was practically drooling as he described it.

I guess Skip liked us. He gave us each a dozen farm fresh eggs that had never even seen the ice box. By the looks of them, they had not been scrubbed or cleaned like the nice white ones you get at Schnuck's. Skip must have gathered them himself. He had us open the cartons so he could point out special eggs. One in particular he identified as a double yolker. I guess that is good, but that sounds a bit weird to me. He then told us that each week they have "Double Yolk Tuesday" as a little something to keep the kids going.

We took our eggs and headed home. I dropped off Steve and Christian and made it to my house around 8:30. I was exhausted and ready for a long hot shower with no empty beer cans in sight. Katie and Lily were hanging out with our friends, Lou and Sarah, watching movies for the evening. I considered joining them but opted to stay home and go to bed early. As I headed to bed, I did my usual night time routine of making sure all the doors are locked, including the door to the garage. This would be a problem in about 2 hours. Katie got back home at 12:30. She did not have a key to the garage door with her, I was knocked out, the cordless phone was in the living room and our door bell was broken. Below are some excerpts from an e-mail thread describing the lock-out.

Katie:
"As I was driving home I thought "I hope Greg didn't lock the door." I know he does that out of habit. He's locked me out when I've gone to work out after dinner. Anyway, sure enough, the door was locked. I called and left a message. Then I called again and left another message. Then I just started pounding on the door. Our doorbell doesn't work right now either, so going to the front door wasn't even an option. Grr."

Greg:
"You could've knocked on the window, but that would've scared the crap out of me when I woke up."

Katie:
"Yeah, but I wouldn't have wanted him to come after me with a bat or something. Been there, done that."

...

Katie:
"It happened when we were in our apartment. We had plans to go to a high school football playoff game with a friend, but Greg got sick. I went ahead and went anyway. Well, when I came home, Greg had been in a medicine induced sleep. He heard me coming in, but was kind of out of it. I guess he thought someone was breaking into the apartment or something because he came out of the bedroom with some sort of weapon (a piece of wood? Part of the bed frame? I don't remember) raised above his head like he was going to whack the intruder with it, except that it wasn't an intruder. It was his wife and it scared the ever-living daylights out of me."

In the end, Katie made enough noise to spook Norm. His barking startled me awake. I quickly realized what I had done and rushed to open the door. I found a not so happy Katie holding a sleepy Lily. Everyone seems happy now, so we'll just put that behind us.