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Watch the slide show of our Sugar Shack Breakfast!

Yeah!

The Finally Dock

"My name is Gretchen and I have a story to tell you. Once upon a real time, three brothers lived on a lake with their dog named Nicky. They loved to fish and trap beavers and find pheasants. In the winter when there was ice on the lake they would build a sail boat-sled and glide across the lake.

But those three brothers always wished they had a dock on the lake. They wished they could sit on the dock dangling their feet into the water on a hot day, or stand on the dock throwing their fishing lines in, or just lying around feeling the wind off the water and reading books.

Now the three brothers are all grown up. They have children and dogs who love that same lake. And I am one of those children! My dog’s name is Jack because he is like a donkey. (Get it? Jack ___!!!) Jack and I love to play in the water and fish and track animals, too. And I want to learn to sail a boat and watch the birds with binoculars and catch fish and dangle my feet off the edge of a dock.

Today, just in time for Easter and just in time for the first day of trout season, we all worked together to build a dock. It was very hard to build. The reason I know is that I helped a lot. Here is how we did it:

First my uncle John bought big barrels and we filled them with 5 gallons of water. Then we screwed in the caps with silicone glue that makes it water proof. Then we rolled the barrels down the hill to the lake. I was getting hot and very tired of working so I asked my dad, “Can Ruthie and I go swimming?” My dad said, “It is too cold, Gretchen!" I begged, "P-L-E-A-S-E, Da-a-a-d?" "OK, go check the water and then tell me if you still want to go swimming.” We ran down the hill to test the water. We ran back to my dad and said, ”It’s fine, Dad!” My dad and my uncle Steve laughed. They said, “Go ahead!” They did not believe we would swim because it was a cold April day and because they did not think we were working very hard to get so hot. But we ran to the water and dove in with all our clothes on! My dad and my uncle Steve were so surprised they stood with their mouths hanging open instead of taking our pictures! They made us wait in the cold for a photo op! So we had to take a bath and wrap up in blanket and learn to finger knit.

The dad’s, who are really uncles and brothers, made a frame from long boards and screwed down the planks that made the floor of the dock. Then they strapped the big barrels underneath. Then we came out to see how it was going. We wanted to help some more, but we had a hard time getting the dock down into the water.

We made a big loop of metal rope (coated cable) so that we could pull it, like horses in a harness.

Finally the dock was in the water and it wanted to float away. We thought it would be good to anchor it to the shore, so we dug holes in the ground with a post hole digger. But Jack thought it was a game and he kept dropping his slimy tennis ball into the hole for us to fetch. Finally we got the posts in the ground and we tied the metal rope to the posts in the ground.

Then we wondered what would happen if it rains hard and the lake swells up. That is why we put square holes in the four corners of the dock and made four posts slide into each hole. Those posts stab down under the water into the mud. The dock can rise with the water and slide up the posts. Then when the water level drops the dock can slide down the posts.

This whole time we worked on the dock, we used a log as a stepping stone to get out on to it. But the log kept floating away and it was wobbly when we stepped on to it. So we wanted to make a ramp. The ramp had to rise and drop with the water level too. So we put hinges on the place where the ramp holds onto the dock. Where it touches the ground it is not attached; it will slide down the bank and slide back-up the bank again.

Now all we have to do is take our boat down to the dock, tie it up to the dock, and make a sign that says “Private” so that all people always have to ASK FIRST before they go on to our dock. Finally we will be done and finally we will be so happy that we finally have our “Finally Dock!”

"What did Ruthie learn from

The Endless Mountain Man today?

He has a very spunky niece who is

Endless amounts of fun!"

(!Go Endless!)

ASAP!

Ruthie and Gretchen All Dressed Up

First Day Ice Fishing

He woke before the alarm, before the rain, before the dawn, and much before me. He started coffee brewing, got dressed and organized, then woke me with the wondering words, “You ready?” I kept my eyes shut. Something like “yes” was lost in the groans of a loud stretch. I tried to get my groggy brain to stuff my groggier feet into the boys size 4 duck boots found at a thrift shop just for this occasion. It was then, with my bed-head hair drooping over my boot laces that I noticed how huge his boots were . . . as they waited . . . upside down . . . by the door. I sighed as I pulled myself up right.

“You ready?” “We’ll see,” was all I could say. The kitchen clock said 6:06 Am as we plunged into the damp darkness. A turkey clucked close by reminding us that time had sprung us all forward. Days were longer now, and turkey season was soon upon us. But today we would focus on this past season’s end, enjoying it as much as possible. “Do you think it will rain or snow?” I asked. “We’ll see,” was all he would say. Too dark to see the sparkle in his eyes, his voice gave away the mocking chuckle.

The trip took longer than I expected, but maybe that it was due to the lack of street lights and head lights; it was darker than I expected, and darker means more uncertainty. The coffee encouraged me to pay attention to each dim detail coming clear in gray scale. Then headlights flashed on and off, down a hill to our right. We swung in beside them and backed up to a boat ramp at the reservoir called Beachwood Lake. Jumping out to greet the others, Steve introduced his cousin, Hucky, and Hucky’s son, Tim. They stood with coffee mugs and hooded rain gear making me feel like I fit right in.

With sleds full of gear in tow, they walked to the water’s edge where liquid darkness gurgled between the rocky shore and the frozen ice capped. “The rule is,” Steve said “know your lake. And bring rope just in case!” He laughed. I didn’t. “You just have to keep testing and testing, because you never know when there will be a spring up ahead or right under your nose.” He smiled and poked my nose as though I were one of his fourth grade students. Then I had to laugh. With great strides they started out across the frozen lake.

Eventually Steve turned to check on my progress and laughed out loud, “Love that penguin waddle!” I stopped to rest. Laughing at myself, I stood up straight to take a deeper breath. I had been tensing my muscles and holding my breath far too long. Finally we were out in the middle of the lake setting up camp, as it were, sipping coffee and telling stories.
I considered it a privileged to sit and cogitate with a wildlife management specialist turned fourth grade teacher and a dairy farmer turned politician with his son listening, full of eager potential. As light crept though the wintry cloud cover, the sun peeked out just long enough to warm us up and coat the ice with sparkling silver tones reminding me of some old photographic process, or the mercury in an old thermometer. Finally able to bask in silver light, I committed myself to a deeper appreciation of every bit of the Sun’s gentler affections.

“Tip up!” someone yelled. As Steve jumped up to get his camera, I unwrapped myself from wool blankets and pulled my achy-ness up and out and into a scurry across the ice to take a peak. The glimmering detail of a multi-colored perch, “up close and personal,” is more incredible than I could have imagined. After a debate about which ones to keep, the elegant beauty slipped through Hucky’s big calloused hands and across the silvery circle of ice. Without pass port or visa, she disappeared into the deep black darkness, where, in her own vibrant world, many lives thrive beneath the face of our winter’s bleakness. Apparently, this experience is more about holding a live creature and enjoying the closeness of her beauty, than about weight, or length . . . or even supper.

At least that is what I thought till the big one came along! Then did the stories fly!?! It happened like this: Steve was experimenting with one flag that kept freeing itself from its delicate latch on the flotation device, assuming it was being set off by the wind, but when he began to pull the line up to check the bait, he was looking down into a cavernous, wide open mouth! Instinct took over as he thrust his hand into that cold water and into that big boy’s mouth! Gripping firmly to one jaw, he pulled up a 21 inch, 4 ½ Lbs bass! It was a one eyed grandpa who gazed back at us. His muscle-y body slapping against the wind as Steve held him up. “It must be hard for such an old grandpa to avoid getting caught with only one eye!” exclaimed Hucky. “What possessed you to grab him with your bare hand, Steve?” “It didn’t take but a second to realize that big daddy could not be caught with my tiny size 10 hook, so I took a chance! Can’t hurt to try!”
In the end, beside the big bass, Tim and Hucky took home two brook trout to eat, and Steve kept two little brookies for his fish tank. That, they consider is a successful and satisfying day.









As I sat myself down near a blazing wood stove with a plate full of fish, coleslaw, and a baked potato, grateful to a one-eyed grandpa for living well enough to supply such a pile of protein, vitamins, minerals, and those amazing amino acids. “I do hope I steward well all the energy you have be-gifted me,” I said to his memory as I wiped my mouth on a left over party napkin calling out “Happy New Year!” The message reminds me to be grateful for all I that have learned so far this year. Knowing full well that not one of us can stop ourselves as we spring ahead of everything we ever knew. So we might as well give in, learning to live well, while falling in, with the rhythms of the seasons in these beautiful endless mountains.

What have I learned my first day ice fishing with the endless mountains’ man?

Our stories give us courage to face all we have yet to learn!

So Go Endless!
ASAP

For more information or to visit the Endless Mountains' Man,
Email: RuthAnnPurchase@gmail.com

theendlessmountains'blogger

Sweet Steam

TODAY I AM A MAPLE TREE TAPPER

Sweet steam fills my lungs as I scrape the laddle handled strainer cross the top of the frothy tray of hot maple sap. All that back breaking labor of tapping trees, running lines, cutting logs, hauling wood, chucking it into this valley where there are no roads, then stacking it up by the shack to feed the fire under these steaming trays: it must be a labor of love!

When we finally hear sap bubbling and boiling after its long journey down the tall trees on the hill side, running into buckets hanging from the maples, or flowing down through a web of blue tubes as gravity pulls toward the holding tank below, into a filter inside the shack, and down to the steaming trays of sweetness, it is love at first smell! Oh, yes, love at first smell!

My host, Steve, has invited old friends, neighbors, and even one of his students to join us this morning for a sugar shack breakfast. There is so much to learn about this process and about these people; they are gathered around heaps of breakfast food set out on a buffet table made of propped up logs beside a camp fire, where each person leads me down another path into even more facinating topics.

I could not get enough of the amazing chef who is actully a dairy farmer and whose wife is an herbalist, much less the a passionate animal rescue fanatic who is building a chord wood house and telling me about cutting bottles in half to wedge in as window. (I really want to visit him bcause he might take me on a mountain tour on horse back!) His lady friend is the Wellsboro Women's Choral director and has a cabin on Pine Creek in the bottom of the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania!

Then there is "Kenzie," a cheerful and hardworking forth grader whose grandfather owns this land. I call him Captain Bob, partly because there are so many "Bobs" around here I need to keep them all straight with titles. (I am not even counting all the "bobs" they boast about which are actually bob cats!) But more than that, I call him Capt' Bob because he sails! And sings! And makes lots of music on a homemade steel guitar! And invited me to a band jam coming up soon! Yeah! I think I will write a song just for that occasion.

SO WHAT DID I LEARN FROM
THE ENDLESS MOUNTAIN MAN TODAY?

There is an endless wealth of learning to be mined in these endless mountains . . . if you don't mined learning!

My advice to you?

"GO ENDLESS!"

As soon as possible!

Look for my Sugar Shack Breakfast slide show on PicasaWeb called "Sugar Shack Breakfast"

Or just come up for a visit and smell for yourself!
The syrup, Silly!
The syrup! ^~^

Today I Am The Endless Mountain Man's Blogger

My cell phone stopped working just past Williamsport, Pennsylvania as I drove from Philadelphia toward the center of the state, then up north to “canyon country.” Exiting PA 15 at a town called “Liberty,” nearly out of gas, I wondered if I would find my host without the use of my cell phone. The gas station attendant reassured me “Wellsboro is easy to find and so is Steve.” She claimed that being a 4^th grade teacher for many years means: “EVERYBODY knows Steve!”

Over the hills through Morris, past Stony Fork., then turning right, I recognized the gas lamps glowing down the center of the main street. Finding the donut shop open, I asked for a phone book. The girl at the counter offered to call Steve herself declaring, “Oh, yeah, EVERYBODY knows Steve!” In a matter of minutes he was unfolding his 6 foot 3 inch frame from what looked like a miniature car. After a warm greeting, I jumped into his car. It turned out to be a normal 4-wheel drive Subaru Outback dwarfed in the darkness by his bulky body. Whisking me off to a bowling alley, I was grateful to find that Krout’s Kitchen was at the other end, and, of course, Steve had taught the owner’s son. So when Steve told funny stories about their now full grown son, they had to top his, by telling about the day a mysterious stench filled the restaurant till someone discovered leather gloves left to smolder on the wood stove heating the bowling alley next door! Everybody in the restaurant was laughing. This felt like a big extended family teasing each other. Even the waitresses were once “his kids!”

Steve filled the night with stories of hunting and fishing and brothers who had moved a way, one a scientist preventing bio-terrorism, the other, a state policeman. With a bittersweet, melodious voice, he explained how he had chosen to stay behind, tending to the land, the grandparents, and “his kids.” I began to understand that “my kids” refers to the whole town! Everyone is related to someone who was once his student in elementary school, or the Park Service safety courses, or in Judo class! (Did I hear correctly that he got his black belt in Japan?!?) I think these mountains will be full of surprises!

So what did I learn on my first day with the Endless Mountain Man? Funny enough make the whole town laugh, patient enough to teach children to hunt and fish, this guy can make ANYONE feel safe!

My advice to you?

GO ENDLESS!

RuthAnn Purchase is a free lance writer and patron of the arts and the woods.

For more stories or to visit the Endless Mountains' Man contact RuthAnnPurchase@gmail.com