Last week we left for our annual camping trip to north Alabama. I admit I was torn between camping and staying with the new kittens but my responsible 16-year-old neighbor girl readily agreed to keep the kittens and besides I knew Sam needed a vacation from SEC television and retirement activities.
We would be camping, kayaking, fishing, hiking, picnicking, leaf and rock collecting and sitting around campfires. Cooking would be minimal. We treated ourselves to unhealthy foods like Fritos, canned chili, canned vegetable soup, and ice cream sandwiches, the likes of which we sometimes avoid.
There are at least a dozen routes to Piney Point Campground, located in the Bear Creek Development Authority recreational system, and we have inadvertently tried them all. We backed into our usual site and set up camp. There was one other occupied campsite and they looked like “seasonals.”
The two occupants were fishermen. Their fishing boat, Sam said an old one with a new Suzuki 4-stroke motor, was docked below their campsite. On the first day Sam struck up a friendly conversation as we strolled by.
“I’m really a crappie fisherman,” said the guy in the gray baggie pants with the pale yellow shirt. I’d find out as time progressed it was his daily fishing outfit. Sam and the guy shared some crappie talk but not too much detail. The guy also said he was a “jugger.”
Early morning and late afternoon we’d see the two men putter out of the cove to set out their jugs. They never reported catching much, but then old fishermen never do.
A couple of days later we broke camp and headed to Mentone, Alabama, to camp at Desoto State Park. That was my idea. I wanted a change of scenery. Little River Canyon promised waterfalls, rock outcroppings, mountain ranges, interpretive centers and documentaries about the area. I love nature centers where you get the whole spiel in an hour; then you explore for yourself.
Again we set up camp but this time there were quite a few neighboring campers. As I peeked through the camper’s curtains or sat near the campfire in my canvas folding chair I noticed all the campers seemed to be retirement age.
“Sam have you noticed that all the men have gray hair but the women don’t?”
Sam laughed but made no comment. He continued to stoke the fire. I’m not allowed to stoke the fire because Sam builds perfect lovely fires that I can destroy in a matter of seconds by stoking improperly. It’s so hard not to stoke but our wood supply was low so I restrained myself.
The next day we took the 22-mile scenic drive through the Little River Canyon National Preserve where we enjoyed stunning natural beauty, perilous overlooks, and treacherous winding roads. Then we stumbled on a serendipitous moment at the Orbix Hot Glass Studio self-described as “A small glass studio nestled in the humble mountains of Alabama.”
The Dispatch Editorial Board is made up of publisher Peter Imes, columnist Slim Smith, managing editor Zack Plair and senior newsroom staff.
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