DAY DREAMS IN CAMP. 



A. W. CONNOR. 



Our camp names were Jakie, Ikie, Butter 

 and Jimmie. It was when summer was 

 holding full sway, that we began to have 

 visions of shady woods, and clear running 

 streams in which lurked gamy trout, and of 

 lily bordered lakes, the home of the spor- 

 tive black bass. We had camped in the Al- 

 legheny mountains at different times, but 

 had never been North. Jakie thought 

 Northern Michigan would give us a realiza- 

 tion of our dreams. 



After much planning, preparation, and 

 many days of waiting, the time for our start 

 rolled around. Our good-byes were said 

 with happy hearts and we steamed out of 

 the. Union station. This was our first va- 

 cation and camping trip after 4 years of 

 hard work and close confinement. Arriv- 

 ing at our destination, 2 days later, we 

 bought our supplies, got our camping out- 

 fit together, and embarked in 3 row boats 

 for a 12 mile pull to camp. Our course lay 

 through a chain of small lakes and rivers. 

 It was yet early morning when we made 

 the start. Birds were singing in the trees; 

 wild ducks would rise as we rounded every 

 turn; the air was filled with perfume. Over 

 us towered the majestic forest, outlined 

 against the azure blue of the morning sky. 

 We passed into a narrow, swift running 

 rivulet with water clear as crystal, wending 

 its way through a grand old forest of pines 

 and hemlocks. On we went into another 

 lake, then into another rivulet, each offer- 

 ing new attractions and new beauty. All 

 went merrily until we were about 3 miles 

 out, when we discovered we had left the 

 centre pole of our tent behind. This meant, 

 of course, a 6 mile row to get it. Jakie, 

 who is always an obliging soul, volunteered 

 to go back for it. We lightened his boat 

 of its freight, and he returned while we pro- 

 ceeded leisurely onward. 



At last, when he had overtaken us, we 

 sighted a small promontory, jutting out 

 into the lake, which showed cleared space 

 enough for our tent, and an ice cold spring 

 of water near by. So we hoisted our flag 

 and christened the place Kamp Kolumbian. 



Before sunset we had our tent pitched and 

 soon after supper were in bed and asleep. 



Next morning we were up early and 

 ready for the sport.. Ikie and I could not 

 wait for breakfast, but gulping down a cup 

 of coffee, we went to try for bass. We had 

 made about 3 casts when Ikie hooked a 

 bass which tore through the water like mad. 

 Before he*had his fish landed, I had hooked 

 another. When I struck he made a wild 

 rush for a bunch of lilies, bending my pole 

 almost double. He ran out half my line 

 before I could stop him, then made for the 

 centre of the lake, jumping clear out of the 



water. By this time he had nearly all my 

 line and almost before I could realize it, he 

 was coming, back toward me. Then my 

 hopes sank. I thought I would lose him, 

 but my reel took in my line at a surprising 

 rate of speed that left no slack. Then he 

 rested a few seconds and was off again. 

 He ran my line out 6 or 8 times before I 

 could land him. He weighed 4^4 pounds, 

 while Ikie's went a half better. We hooked 

 one, turn about, until we had 3 apiece, 

 which we concluded was enough for camp 

 use, also sport enough for one morning. 

 We returned to camp after only one hour's 

 absence. 



The day was a perfect one, bright and 

 sunshiny and the night was warm. After 

 supper we took our mandolins and guitars, 

 sat on the grass in the moonlight and 

 played and sang. Next morning we were 

 out again, exploring, hunting and fishing 

 and when we returned to camp we all had 

 our share of game. Jakie and Butter 

 brought in a brace of plump canvasbacks 

 which made our dinner all that could be 

 desired. At night we again enjoyed the 

 moonlight. All the rest of our stay was 

 only a repetition of these first days and 

 nights. We had but one slight sprinkle of 

 rain all the time we were out. We had 

 splendid trout fishing. There wasn't a 

 trout stream within 5 miles of camp that 

 Ikie didn't know all about and if there was 

 one place better than another in the stream, 

 he could pilot you direct to the spot. On 

 bass fishing Jakie was authority. He would 

 tell you where the gamiest bass lurked. 

 Butter and I were supposed to know all 

 about the feathered tribe. With this strong 

 combination we never wanted for sport or 

 an abundance to eat. When we wanted a 

 duck there was always one ready; when we 

 wanted a bass there were always 3 or 4 

 tied to our boat landing. 



The time soon rolled around for us to re- 

 turn home. We did no hunting or fishing 

 that day, as we had plenty to eat until our 

 departure. We all stayed close to camp 

 and were loth to leave the place. It was 

 like parting with an old friend. 



After dinner we packed up and loaded 

 everything into our little boats and as we 

 drifted out from our landing into the lake, 

 we took a last look and bid farewell to 

 Kamp Kolumbian. The happy days and 

 nights spent there will long be remembered 

 by all of us. Our trip down was delightful. 

 The evening was clear. The water was 

 smooth as glass. The afternoon passed all 

 too quickly. The sun had sunk to rest when 

 our boats grated on the sands of the landing, 

 recalling the fact that we were still on earth 

 and must again take up the burden of life. 



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