Quite the Pickle

Posted On July 21, 2026

Everything Was Going According To Plan

Until the Moment We Walked Into a Pickle

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With six adult & two grandchild appetites gracing our camp’s picnic table, a two week family camping trip in a boat access only remote leanto site is no joke. Especially when it comes to food & beverage consumption. A fourteen day family camp food & drink menu requires detailed preparation & planning.

With four full sized coolers, two of them packed with food, one filled with drinks, & a fourth filled with nothing but ice, two big black food bins packed to the brim & a separate bread bin, even armed with a Zen Boat canoe & two motor boats making multiple trips, the food menu packing list challenges the outer limits of available boat space.

My wife, son & daughters are already at work editing & updating food packing lists for next summer’s trip.

Now don’t get me wrong. We eat very well in camp. No one wants for anything. As long as we stay on menu & stick with the plan.

There are made to order bacon, egg & cheese bagel sandwich breakfasts.

Our resident baconista even slathers hot honey on some of the bacon strips.

There is, of course, our standard camp fare of steaks, burgers & dogs, our traditional first night in camp Hunter’s Stews, I even pre-cooked a bacon wrapped mushroom, onion & pepper venision roast, which was enthousastically devoured by my son RJ, daughter Chelsea & brother Ray early on.

There are camp pizzas with a full array of availabe made to order toppings.

Camp nachos slathered with salsa, con queso cheese sauce & of course, guac.

Since, for the first time in many years, I was unsuccessful in my quest to bag a wild turkey this spring, this year I made a big pot of hamburger/vegetable in lieu of my traditional turkey soup.

***Note To Self: When planning a menu item that includes fresh asparagus, one would be well advised to execute said menu item well before Day 8.***

Day 8 asparagus gives a whole new meaning to the term “Pungent”!

(Rest assured, the Day 8 asparagus never made its way into my soup.)

There were of course S’mores & Jiffy Pop with M&Ms (“emmies”). In lieu of our tradional “Everything Cake” there were even cupcakes on hand to celebrate the array of July anniversaries & birthdays our Monroe camping clan each year commemorates.

As one can plainly see, our family’s 2026 Bull Rush Bay camp wanted for nothing, with all of the careful, year long food menu preparation being executed as planned.

Looking back now, maybe it was a warning, an omen. Suddenly, at dinner on Day 7, our picnic table broke. Now, there are rumors about just how that tragedy occurred. According to my granddaughter Ari Rae, an Uncle RJ “Power Toot” was responsible, but that’s unconfirmed.

Regardless, however it happened, one of the bench seats was suddenly split on the long axis, right down the middle. Unable in its split configuration to safely support adult weight, I jimmy rig reinforced it with one of the NYSDEC logs cut during post storm blowdown clean-up and some shims. Not the perfect solution, but as long as no one moved the table, good enough to see us through.

Still, out of an abundance of caution, not wanting to have any unsuspecting camper who followed us sit on that bench, fall through & get injured, I called my brother Ray & advised him. He said he’d text a message to NYSDEC Saranac Island’s Campground Caretaker Keith.

That was at about 7pm Thursday evening, July 9th. Bright & early Friday morning, RJ & I prepared to make our way up to South Creek for a water resupply. I had a six gallon reserve stash prepositioned there in my truck. Just as we were untying the boat & getting ready to leave, two NYSDEC boats appeared, one of them the barge, on it was a brand spanking new picnic table!

Now, to be perfectly clear, the DEC crew’s primary objective that day was quite obviously not delivering our Bull Rush Bay site a new picnic table. As evidenced by the sound of buzzing saws on the various island sites, their plans that day involved another full round of post windstorm bolwdown tree cleanup & cutting. Still, the next day delivery of a new Bull Rush Bay picnic table was greatly appreciated.

It’s a bigger and wider than the old one was. Far more stable & less tipover prone too.

As picnic tables go, it’s a beauty!

RJ & I returned with our water resupply later that morning. My daughter in law Carrie had departed two days earlier via the walk-in at Ampersand, setting a new all-time Monroe camp record for the most consecutive days in camp without getting wet.

Saturday morning, Ari Rae & Alayna’s dad Matt met Abby & I at the state bridge boat launch & came in for the day with a resupply cooler of ice. He departed that evening with my daughter & granddaughters, catching a ride with my brother Ray, who had come in for the day on his pontoon boat, bringing with him more ice.

Everything to that point was going according to plan. RJ & Abby spent Saturday evening inventorying, re-icing & reorganizing coolers & food bins in preparation for RJ’s planned camp departure first thing Sunday morning. By the time they were finished, we were consolidated down to one food cooler, one drink cooler & one food bin, stocked with just enough of everything to get my wife & daughter through the final six day stretch run of camp.

Just enough.

Of everything.

Exactly.

Sometime midday Sunday, my brother Ray called.

“Hey, if me, TJ (my nephew), & his girlfriend come up for an evening fish, can we borrow your fire? We’re bringing our own dinner. Might need a fork & a plate.”

“Absolutely. We’ve got forks, plates & plenty of fire. See you when you get here.”

Sunday was Day 10 of our family’s planned 14 day Bull Rush Bay camp. By Day 10, no matter how many ice resupplies there are & how carefully we execute camp menu planning, the remaining camp menu revolves around dry goods, boxed meals, bacon, eggs, whatever cheese & bread items have not yet succumbed to mold, what remains of our condiments, and of course, hot dogs.

By the time my brother & nephew arrived, it was early evening. Robin & Abby had already eaten. My brother had a cooler with some venson burgers & cheese. We gave him plates & forks. He borrowed our fire. As they sat down to dine at our camp’s brand spanking new table, Ray asked,

“We didn’t bring any condiments. Got any ketchup?”

“Uh-Oh” I thought. My wife & I exchanged glances.

Then my brother inquired,

“Hey, got any more of those really good pickles?”

My wife saw the look in my eye & slowly shook her head as Abby opened the cooler. The message was clear.

“Don’t you dare say a word.”

Quite the pickle.

I stood there & watched as my nephew proceeded to put a big handful of what was left in our pickle bag onto his burger, then reach back into the bag for another. My brother Ray did the same. They both slathered their burgers with much of what remained in our camp ketchup squeeze bottle.

In deference to my wife, I went for a walk. When they finally finished dinner & went fishing, I begged off. I knew if I had boarded that boat in that moment, there would likely be two less passengers on board coming back from that fishing trip than there were going out.

While they were gone, I surveyed the damage. The five smallest pickle slices remained, along with about six squirts of ketchup.

A year’s worth of camp preparation & planning, a week’s worth of careful menu execution & cooler management, two adult women, a dinner menu consisting primarily of hotdogs, six days left in camp, five pickle slices & six squirts of ketchup left to divy between them .

While they went fishing, my wife reeled me in.

“Richard T. You will not say a word. Your brother Ray does a lot for us. He brings us ice. He takes out our garbage. It’s just pickles & ketchup. It’s no big deal. We will be fine.”

Now, one thing I’ve been married long enough to know, when my wife starts a sentence with “Richard T.”, it’s time for me to shut my mouth, pay attention, & listen. Plus, deep down inside, I knew she was right.

Still & the same, it seemed to me like a waste of a perfectly legitimate excuse for chucking my little brother & nephew both in the lake. Instead, they departed just before dark, with a wave.

The next day I came up with a camp pickle replacement plan. We cut a dozen or so slices off of our remaining zucchini & tossed them in the bag of dill pickle juice. After a 24 hour soak in the cooler, they actually came out pretty good.

The ketchup dilemma was harder to solve, the other remaining options being mustard & mayonanaise. Is mayo even a legitimately safe to eat topping for hotdogs?

My wife & Abby nursed that ketchup bottle along until Wednesday, when I rowed my Zen boat out to South Creek for an ice/ketchup/dill pickle resupply trip to the Stewarts in Tupper Lake.

Whilst at Stewarts, I picked up two hard packed ice cream pints. A camp first. I thought my wife & daughter deserved a reward for being such good pickle sports.

So, we survived a pickle without anyone ending up in the lake or any new warrants. We’ve adjusted our camp packing list. Going forward there will be TWO ketchup bottles, just in case.

Pickles, however, are a whole ‘nother matter. Those jars are just too big for us to pack two of them. So from here forward whenever my brother’s pontoon boat appears, Monroe camp standard operating procedure will be:

“Uncle Ray’s pulling in.”

” Quick! Hide the pickles!”

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Until Our Trail Cross Again:

ADKO