Camp Coffee

Posted On September 6, 2024

There’s a spot on the deacon’s log

Near the end of the lean-to

Where I like to sit

Soaking in the rising sun’s first warming rays

Listening to our propane fueled pot percolate

As I watch morning coffee’s slow drip

Contemplating today’s yesterdays and tomorrows

Breathing in that fresh brewed camp aroma

As I sit anticipating

Each new day’s first sip

**********

Successfully orchestrating an extended stay family camping trip boils down to planning, coordination, cooperation, logistics…

And coffee.

Lots of it.

Due in equal parts to the upper locks rebuild, circumstance, site availability, and a vote, our family’s planned ten-day 2024 Bull Rush Bay camping trip would take us through Labor Day weekend, or meteorologically speaking, Middle Saranac Lake’s first sips of fall.

Multi-generational family camping traditions evolve beyond second nature. They become part of us. So, as I loaded my Zen boat to trek down through South Creek a day ahead of everyone else as my family’s one-man advance party, I had given it nary a thought, until I encountered a Canadian woman unloading her kayak for a day trip on the lake.

“How long are you heading in for?”

I held up both hands, all ten fingers extended.

“Ten Days?! Wow!”

She seemed visibly impressed.

Apparently, ten days is longer than many folks go into camp for. Fourteen days is the maximum legally allowed at a single stretch in the Saranac Lake Islands. Our family has done that many times. Back before the reservation camping system was put in place, we would go in for stays even longer. So, to me, ten days would actually be only a medium length stay in camp.

I enjoy going into camp a day early for a quiet night to myself. My primary missions as advance party are establishing a base camp and beginning the process of stockpiling firewood.

Once I had base camp set up, I started scouting. I soon spotted a pair of massive birches that had snapped off at the base and come down in a tangle. One of them was hollow, straight grained, nicely seasoned, and splintered up the trunk. I immediately set to work harvesting a good supply of camp wood from that one. After I cut several nice lengths from the top of the stump, one section at a time, I worked my way up the trunk. Because it was hollow, I could split my way up with my eight-pound maul. It easily split into manageable thirds. So, I’d give it a couple of good whacks and then cut out and harvest a section.

It takes a good bit of wood to fully fuel family fires for ten days in camp. Especially once August’s temperatures dip into early September. I suspect many folks vastly underestimate just how much work is involved. I estimate we burned at least a face cord and a half during our ten-day Bull Rush Bay stay. That downed birch gave us a solid base supply, which I and my son augmented through the course of camp with a variety of smaller downed and dry hardwood and pine logs. Keeping our family properly supplied was not an event, but a process.

I got an unexpected visit from one of my many readers as I was busy setting up camp. He too asked “How long you in for?” I again held up all ten fingers.

“You lucky son of a bitch.”

I simply shrugged. I’ve lived my whole life on this lake. Maybe I am lucky. But as any true Adirondack outdoorsman will attest, that “luck” comes hard earned.

He then spotted my canoe.

“Hey! There’s your Zen Boat!”

“Yup.”

He then remarked “I’m surprised to see your camp so well provisioned.”

I thought to myself “This is our family’s annual camping trip. Why would it be otherwise?”

In addition to my Zen Boat and if needed, my four-man Grumman canoe, my adult son and daughter now each own their own 16-foot LUND motorboat. My brother Ray has two boats of his own, our dad’s trusty StarCraft and a pontoon boat, both conveniently moored at his private lakeside home’s dock on Lake Flower, just a forty-five-minute boat ride downriver through the Saranac Chain of Lakes’ two locks sets below us. So yes, as a family, we are lucky to be uniquely positioned, as are many Saranac Lake rooted families, to be well stocked in camp.

At about that time, after dealing with a brief flat truck tire delay, my son, daughter and wife arrived with two fully camp loaded boats. We spent the rest of the afternoon unloading gear, pitching tents, and completing camp setup.

We topped off camp’s first day with a campfire roasted dinner of Hunter’s Stews, our family’s traditional first night in in camp meal. My wife and daughter made them this year, taking on a camp chef role that I previously have filled. I guess as my sixty first birthday fast approaches, it’s time for me to start sharing the load a bit more and passing the torch.

Another torch got pass during this iteration of camp. I gave my son RJ my father’s leather sheathed camp axe. I’m not sure how long Dad actually had that axe, possibly since his Wanakena days. As far as I can recollect, it is the only camp axe my dad ever carried.

So, with my daughter having added a second boat to our family’s fleet, the “camp comfort” packing list suddenly expanded. Dramatically. First, my wife and daughter decided they EACH needed their OWN queen-sized air mattress. Then, they jointly agreed that an aircraft carrier sized floaty was now a Monroe camp necessity. I must admit, they did get their money’s worth out of that one.

In addition to the small cooler I brought in with my wild turkey soup making supplies, four full sized coolers and three locking bins full of food made their way into camp. Two coolers were fresh food filled. A third held cold drinks. One cooler came into camp filled with nothing but ice.

There were many debates and discussions over how much food we required for camp. In the end, in addition to various and sundry other camp food and goodies, the final packing list included six pounds of bacon, forty-eight hot dogs, three dozen bagels, ninety-six Debbie’s Donuts, and forty-eight eggs. Yes, you heard me correctly. Our family went camping with forty-eight eggs. When I heard that I told my wife we’d be better off next year just bringing in four free range chickens instead. Needless to say, our party of six campers and their four canine companions didn’t want for anything and ate very well.

Breakfasts consisted of bacon, egg and cheese bagel sandwiches with butter and creme cheese (camper’s choice-two varieties).

And of course…

COFFEE!

Coffee being the only human camp food I consume, through the course of each day, I alone required three pots.

One key ingredient that coffee requires is water. Lots of it. We came into camp with a five-gallon jug full of water, ten one-gallon jugs, and three cases of bottles. Anyone visiting friends in camp and wondering what they should bring, I can almost guarantee that there are two things always needed. One of them is drinking water, the other is ice.

I made a big pot of wild turkey soup for dinner on Wednesday, another camp chef tradition. That meal alone required three gallons of water.

One of my most special private moments each summer in camp is when I strain off a canteen cup of wild turkey soup broth for a taste. Taste buds remain on the sliver of tongue I have left post surgery, and despite the logistical difficulty of a rather embarrassingly messy (and somewhat medically risky) process, I savor one brief taste of my soup. It’s akin to a blind man being allowed the gift of sight, once a year, for five minutes.

My granddaughter Ari Rae also came in on Wednesday. Her dad met us in Star Lake and, along with three fresh bags of ice, my wife and daughter ferried her in via the Ampersand walk-in.

This is her third year in camp, even though she’s still two. Her parents did not come with her this year, for one very good reason. Her mom was nine months very pregnant, and contrary to any romantic ideas floating around in certain unnamed camp heads, I put my foot down. I was NOT writing a story about my wife (a retired maternity nurse) delivering our second grandchild in an Adirondack Lean-to!

Ari Rae was a trip in camp.

She had to climb every rock.

She was curious about everything.

Which was great, until she started licking a mushroom like it was a lollipop!

My son’s wife joined us on Friday, along with six more bags of ice and Finley & Ellie, their two canine campers.

There used to be a two dog camp limit, but apparently the regs have been updated and that has fallen by the wayside, which was good, because with Finley & Ellie’s arrival, added to my daughter’s shelties, Khalisi & Gypsy Rose, for the next several days we were a four canine camp.

Which was entirely justified because at least that many pups were required to properly celebrate Khalisi’s ninth birthday.

The majority of camp life revolved around meals, campfires and snacks.

(I call Jiffy Pop “Iffy Pop”)

RJ and I went fishing each evening. The bass fishing was good. I spent the winter repairing my vintage South Bend reel for the trip. It lasted until the final day, when it finally once and forevermore gave up the ghost. Regardless, we caught a respectable number of bass, both large and small mouthed, several of them good sized. I did notice that some of them were somewhat oddly lime colored.

The late August weather was great during the first half of our trip. Saturday it rained. Sunday the wind was blowing a gale. Sunday night it just got plain cold. At some point RJ and I used my army poncho, a good sturdy limb and some bungee cords to set up a wind break. Monday’s temperature reportedly reached seventy-four mid-day degrees, but July’s summer’s sun same thermometer reading carries far more warmth than early September’s brisk mid-day seventy-four.

Despite the chilled nighttime temps, I slept every night in the lean-to.

Ari Rae walked out like a big girl on Saturday.

RJ, Carrie, Finnie J. and Ellie Mae broke camp first thing Tuesday morning.

The plan at that point was for my wife and daughter to stay in camp until Wednesday afternoon, with me following on Thursday. However, SOMEBODY had other plans, which required a late Tuesday afternoon change of plans scramble.

My wife, daughter, Khalisi and Gypsy Rose were headed home. It turned out to have been a good call not to bring my nine months pregnant daughter to camp, because she was headed for the hospital.

I stayed behind for one final night long lean-to campfire.

And one last cup of camp coffee.

Fall’s early colors were coming in strong as I rowed My Zen Boat out of camp Wednesday morning.

**********

Until Our Trails Cross Again:

ADKO

Oh! And P.S. Robin and I are grandparents again. Meet Alayna Grace Marra, 6 whole pounds and one ounce. Born Thursday, September 4th. And NOT delivered in an Adirondack lean-to, but in a hospital, like normal people.