My father was an avid fisherman and we often traveled far distances to fish at the most desirable locations. We fished a lot in New York's cities reservoir system. The bulk of their watersheds are in the Catskill Mountain region of New York State, which was about 2-3 hours from where we lived.
My trusty Datsun 1200 coupe also served as our sleeping quarters as we often stayed overnight. How 3 grown men got a good nights sleep in the back of this car still escapes me.
On this fateful summer trip, we fished at The Pepacton Resevoir,
a sprawling lake near Liberty, NY. Our plan was simple, as we would arrive late afternoon, fish till it got dark, go back to the car, sleep, and then get up as early as possible and fish in the morning.
The path to the part of the reservoir we wanted to fish in was probably a mile long, all downhill to the water, all uphill back. It was almost as wide as a car, but overgrown in spots. It was probably there as a fire road. As it got closer to the water, it was much less defined and sort of petered out. We sauntered down with all of our fishing gear and some food and water as well, and spent that late afternoon fishing the resevoir. In the many times we fished there, I never encountered another fisherman in the area.
Nighttime came quickly and with that came a darkness that is only experienced when you are in a remote area like this where there is no ambient light at all. We had a few pretty crappy flashlights with us. We stowed our fishing stuff by some trees so we would not have to lug it back and forth to the car, and then we were ready to head back up the trail to our car.
As we turned towards the woods where the path was, one thing became alarmingly clear. While it was easy to see the path back to the car in the daytime, it was impossible at night. Everything kind of looked the same. We started to walk a pathway, only to have it dead end in a maze of prickly bushes and shrubs. Over and over again, we would think we found the right "entrance" to the fire road, only to find that it wasn't the right one. We went right, we went left, and became increasingly stressed as we wandered back and forth for probably an hour.
We had to get back to the car, as sleeping on the water's edge would have been meant not only a horrible nights sleep, but danger as well, as there were plenty of bears in these woods. It was a hot summer's night and by this point we were very tired and thirsty, having finished the last of our water a while ago.
I know I speak for the three of us when I say we were scared and panicky. We also felt so dumb that we hadn't marked the entrance to the fire road back in some manner. I for one had given up, imagining a pretty horrible, sleepless night , being sweaty, hungry, and thirsty.
I don't know if it was my dad or my younger brother who finally found the path after what seemed like an eternity. While we didn't wander like Moses for forty years, it sure felt like it. It was so great to finally get back to our car, quench our thirst, and eventually bed down for the night. We made plans right then as to how we would mark the entrance to the path the next time we fished at Pepacton.
I was speaking to my younger brother about this story a few years ago, and we were both reliving the experience. He then told me something I hadn't known. Just before we found the path, he had prayed fervently that we would. Thank God for answered prayers!
Enter my mom. Heated words were exchanged between this great couple who rarely fought over anything. The battle of words continued until my dad reached his boiling point. In one seamless motion, he shut off the frying mushrooms, walked over to the back door, and propped it open with one hand. He then flung the frying pan and mushrooms out the door into our back yard, which was four feet away from the door.
