give a hoot!

 

What you see above is a collage of the Bergin Lake Shelter in Blue & Grey Park.  This is where I've been parking my truck at night.  Isn't it beautiful?  The small pond would be the perfect home for some Florida gators if it weren't for the bitter winters here.  There are two nice little park grills and a picnic table, as well as a burn pit for bonfires.  It's a popular daytime spot with families on the weekend, and an almost nightly host to the young & the restless.

Over the almost two weeks I've been here I've met some great people at this spot.  On my third night I pulled up and there was a group of kids (haha, I'm old;  18 - 26 y/os are kids) playing beer pong at the picnic tables, and one guy at the shoreline with two lines in.  Dying to know what fish were worth catching in the little pond, I made a beeline for the angler.  That's how I met Adam.  It turns out he wasn't after fish at all.  He was there to catch snapping turtles.  Turtle soup is one of his favorites.  He assured me they were legal, and we proceeded to shoot the breeze about fishing, life, the universe and everything.  Adam is probably the most country guy I've ever met, and I've met some COUNTRY folks.  It was a delight chatting with him, and he told me all about his farm, family, and all the great fishing and hunting spots in the area.  Before I arrived he had a monster hooked, but it broke his line.  The trail in the mud gave credence to the size of 'the one that got away'.  He never had any more luck while I was there, but assured me he was out there on a regular basis.  I made him promise to have me over for dinner for some turtle soup when he got one.  I should have gotten his number, but I'm sure I'll bump into him again.

Adam took his leave (when his wife called to get him home for supper), and I headed to the truck to get changed for the trek through the brush.  I almost passed on the partying kids.  On the way by, they hollered hello, so I strolled over and made myself at home.  I had a blast with them, and they all insisted that they had never met anyone quite like me.  They seemed astounded at the way I strolled up, plopped down at the table and acted like I'd known them forever.  Hey, you're the ones who said hello!  Heh.  Their jaws DROPPED when they found out how old I am.  I'm loving this baby face I cursed in my teens and early twenties.  I really enjoyed them and we had some interesting conversations.  Anthony, on the far left, has a nice piece of property and a lot of toys.  Numerous guitars, dirt-bikes and plenty of other things I'm sure.  After letting him peruse my iPod, he was sure we'd be friends.  When he heard my camping plans, he offered for me to stay at his house.  A man after my own heart.  I politely declined, explaining I was homeless by choice, and that I was loving every second in the woods.  I got to share some new music with him, and he was excited at the thought of using some of it for his dirt-bike videos.  I'm looking forward to taking him up on his invite to come ride, and I hope to share some of his action videos here on the blog.  It's been years since I was on a bike, but I'm pretty sure I've still got the knack.  The one just to his right is Michael, who's a city kid.  How he ended up with the Lone Jack crew is still a bit of a mystery, but he's got a good spirit.  We had a conversation about personal honor, which is of great importance to me, and Michael has it in spades.  The others are Casey, George, Blake and Alex.  I don't mean to leave the others out, but Anthony and Michael did most of the talking, and this post is already getting a little long in the tooth.

A few days later I was rolling in one night, and as I turned onto Brown Rd., I said to God, "I'm really tired of peanut butter sandwiches."  They were all I'd had in my pantry for the last two days.  Not two minutes later, I pulled in to find a family picnicking under the shelter.  I had barely gotten out of my truck when Travis, one of the picnickers, came over and said, "Hey, brother, how are you?  We're about to wrap up, and we've got one steak left on the grill.  Plus a ton of sides.  Are you hungry at all?  We don't want to mess with leftovers, and we hate to waste it.  Can I make you a plate?"  Why, yes!  Yes you certainly can!  I picked their brains about things to see and places to go as I munched down steak, beans, and some of the biggest, sweetest strawberries I've ever had.  They told me about James A. Reid park, which has a free archery range that includes a 'game trail' with targets set up in the bushes.  I have my bow with me, and while I haven't gotten to go shoot yet, I'm itching for some zen archery.  If my prayers keep getting answered like this I'm going to get spoiled.  It puts me in mind of Matthew 6:31-33 "Do not worry then, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear for clothing?'  For the Gentiles eagerly seek after these things;  for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.  But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you."  And how!  Amen!

Alas, not all of Bergin's patrons are cool.  A night or two later, while the rain was coming down I heard a group whooping it up from my tent.  There was something about the tone of their reveling that made my hackles raise.  The next morning I rose to discover the area was not only littered with their beer cans and garbage, but they had burned a pile of stolen traffic cones and signs on the shelter floor.  I could smell the fetid stench of melted plastic before I even got out of the woods.  There's nothing like a five foot diameter smoldering pile of toxic sludge to dampen a beautiful setting like Bergin.  So I cleaned up their trash, and collected their aluminum for the recycler.  I've continued to play adopt-a-shelter every morning it was needed.  I figured when I finally met up with a park ranger I could show them my blog, and hopefully have them see me as an ally (which happened this morning.  bureaucracy is bureaucracy.  more on that later).  SIGH!  Is it really asking too much to clean up after yourselves?  Apparently it is.  On the bright side, when my bag of smashed cans is full I'll make a little extra money cashing their refuse in.

I feel like the crying Indian,

Daniel