How to Hide a Picnic Table

Several members of the Chukar Harbor Ancient Order of Sportsmen (CHAOS) were gathered in the backroom of Abel Andretti’s Chukar Harbor Hardware Store discussing their upcoming trip to the Manasadi River. Abel’s nephew, Ruff Andretti, who worked in the store with Abel but was not an outdoorsman, showed some interest in the camping trip.

"I might come up for a few nights." Ruff said. "Relaxing at the picnic table and reading a good novel sounds … "

"Whoa, boy!" Abel interrupted his nephew. "No self-respecting outdoorsman sits at a picnic table. In our opinion, picnic tables are unnecessary and completely out of place in a forest." Largefonte and C.F. Icair nodded in agreement.

"Well, if you fellas don’t like the tables, why don’t you just move them to an empty campsite?" asked the young Andretti.

"Some people attach their children to them at meal time because the tables are so heavy a large crop of young-uns can’t run off with them." Icair observed. "Besides, if you want to move one of those tables to another campsite, you have to submit an eighty-page request to the state requesting a crane or other suitable vehicle, like a helicopter, to move the table for you."

"The problem with that approach is that the processing time for the request exceeds the maximum allowable occupancy for the campsite by about two years." Abel replied. Icair continued.

"We thought about attaching a strong line, about 4-tons breaking strength, to the frame of an eight cylinder, four wheel drive truck with a low gear range to drag the table to a more suitable location in the campground, like a deep gully." Ruff Andretti was rolling his eyes and slowly shaking his head.

"Problem is that none of us drive an eight-cylinder, four-wheel drive truck that has a low gear range, not to mention that we would have to dig said gully. Instead, we have developed another option to "eliminate" the picnic tables." Largefonte said. "We hide them."

"How do you hide a picnic table in the middle of a campsite?" Ruff asked, knowing he was sorry he asked as soon as the words left his mouth.

"It requires years of experience and cunning adaptation." Icair said. "We used to cook over open-fired coals with flimsy, aluminum mess kits that weighed about four ounces. Now we use at least two propane stoves per campsite along with stacks of paper plates and bowls, and several cast iron pans and kettles."

The younger Andretti listened intently. With his head tilted back, he stared at the ceiling. The group knew he was trying to capture every word as they explained other items that help a picnic table disappear. Things like bottles and cans, preferably partially filled with alcohol-based liquids are required for appropriate woodland ambiance. They calculated that no less than a dozen bottles and cans are required, not including any full replacements that are stored in ice chests.

Abel explained to his nephew that instead of gathering food from the forest to supplement small packets of dehydrated food, like they used to do, they now employ at least one 50-quart cooler per camper. Other necessities include several piles of canned or boxed goods, and a bag or two of pretzels or nuts.

"At least two five-gallon containers of water are required to avoid walking to the campground’s pump when we need water, usually in a downpour or in the dead of night." Largefonte added. "Of course, the presence of water containers also requires an assortment of thermos bottles, metal cups, and coffeepots."

Icair explained that other things like fly-tying benches, books, assorted pieces of fishing equipment, and a box of flies are added as needed once on-site.

"Once we even used a wash basin, a bottle of dish soap, and dishrags. Although they were creative and elegant additions to the concealment, we never intended those items to be used, of course."

"Concealing a picnic table in the middle of a campsite requires a well-planned approach and strict discipline regarding your supplies." Largefonte declared. "The camp stove(s) are placed at the end(s) of the table, just in case we have to cook or make emergency coffee," declared Largefonte.

"Between the cook stoves, we add the food, bottles, dishes, and pots to conceal the top." Abel said to his nephew who was still shaking his head, but with his eyes closed.

"We place the water containers on the benches of the table to conceal them, and to prevent any passing children from getting the silly idea of sitting at the picnic table," grumbled Erasmus B. Draggin. "If there are insufficient water containers, alternative materials like sacks of potatoes, or canned goods are added to the benches".

"Ice chests are located on the ground to conceal the legs of the table." Icair added. "That way we can slide them under the benches at night to prevent raccoons from stealing our food. Hey, that’s the one redeeming value of a picnic table, Abel!"

 Ruff Andretti opened his eyes when he heard his uncle speak.

"C.F. came up with one last devious technique to properly hide a picnic table." Abel said to his nephew. "We suspend a tarp over the table in such a manner that when we are gathered under the tarp enjoying the campfire (or the rain) and eating, our camp chairs provide additional screening of the picnic table."

 

Icair also keenly observed that everyone who passes by stares at the strangely sagging tarp and doesn’t notice the table, but tarping a campsite is another topic.

The photo below demonstrates a CHAOS picnic table early in the process of being properly concealed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Royal Dun

 

Family Camping

Family Camping

It was Father’s Day and the Manasadi River Hex hatch was on. More accurately, the Chukar Harbor Ancient Order of Sportsmen (CHAOS) hatch was on. This when CHAOS fathers find it strangely attractive to bring their children along to an otherwise fine time of courtship between fish and anglers. As the adults set up camp, the children are off to explore and impose upon other campers.

CHAOS children occupy themselves by gathering green leaves and wet twigs for the campfire, and exploring the riverbank. Small children learn about water depth and velocity by tossing anything within reach into the river. Sticks, pebbles, boulders, bugs, turtles, and snakes have all been instruments of such learning. On this particular trip, Prentice N. Largefonte closely observed their activities and waxed philosophic, as he was wont to do around an evening campfire.

"Imagine what it must have been like for the prehistoric men who camped here some 20,000 years before us." Prentice said to the group that had gathered around the campfire.

"They were lucky to survive the mosquitoes without bug dope." Ivan O’Dodge muttered as he sprayed his hands and rubbed the oily substance on his unshaven face.

"I don’t mean the things they had or lacked." Prentice replied. He pointed to several children trying to roast marshmallows in a fire the size of a Viking funeral pyre. "Just think; our ancestors were once the children gathered around those night-fires. They listened to their fathers tell stories of great hunts and big fish, just as we listened to our fathers, and our children listen now."

"They probably listened to your ancestors thump their chests, and boast about their spearing skills." Flint Locke harrumphed.

"Nothing’s changed in 20,000 years!" Icair laughed and waved his arm to indicate those present. "A bunch of grungy Neanderthals, with scruffy kids, exaggerating around an evening fire".

"It’s not so much the stories, C.F". Largefonte was still staring into the scotch in his tin cup. "We teach our kids the same skills learned by our ancestors when they were kids. Things like building a shelter and cooking over a fire. The culture of family camping hasn’t changed much since then."

"OK, I guess some things are the same." Abel Andretti chimed in. "We still teach our kids how to make a shelter, even if it comes in the form of a tent these days."

"And how to forage for food …from an ice chest". O’Dodge added as he put some more marshmallows on his son’s six-foot roasting stick, now burned halfway through. "Then we teach them to protect their food by placing the ice chests under a picnic table bench before going to sleep."

"That just entertains the raccoons by providing them with a short puzzle to solve before they raid the contents." Icair added. "However, I do recall Abel teaching his kids how to find the North Star.

"That would explain why his family came from out West!" O’Dodge grinned.

The banter continued into well into the night and contained no TV, cell phones, video games, or Facebook. It was comforting to know that CHAOS offspring will be proficient in their ancestral skills. Things like building a campfire the size of a Viking funeral pyre, tarping a campsite without setting the tarp on fire, uphill hiking in waders, recognizing Poison Ivy by touch, properly hiding a picnic table, and cooking with sand are important and valuable skills.

Royal Dun

Its Cone Season

It’s late spring, and while the Trilliums and Morels are popping up in the forests, traffic cones are popping up along our roads. The arrival of the orange cones signals the narrowing of roads, lane closures, and bridge reconstruction. Alternate routes are forced upon us. Orange signs with arrows point the way of detours, although I never signed up for any tours.

The season of orange cones means it will take longer to get to our favorite streams and lakes, cutting down on precious fishing and camping time. Even worse, it can mean that good roads with sand and gravel are being converted to paved roads. Paved roads are highly toxic to animals as evidenced by carnage never seen on a "good" road .

However, I do appreciate the unseen protesters who erect their signs at every road construction site as a call to "END ROAD WORK".

Royal Dun

Drunk Proofing a Camp

The late June day was warm and humid. As evening came, the wind died down providing near perfect conditions for the Hexagenia Limbata hatch. Several members of the Chukar Harbor Ancient Order of Sportsmen (CHAOS) entered the water and fished the Manasadi River well into darkness, hoping to catch the elusive Hex.

Zane S. Yewar arrived at camp too late to be properly rested for night fishing so he decided to set up his campsite while the others fished. When the sun goes down the air chills considerably along the Manasadi, even in mid summer. Zane started a campfire at dusk and by 11:30 P.M., the group had trickled back to camp, shed their waders, and put up their rods. They soon settled in next to the fire with a cup or can of their chosen beverage.

"Didja catch anythin?" Zane slurred his words having had a considerable head start on the post-fishing libation. Despite the likely conditions for a hatch, there were only a handful of flies in the air that evening and even fewer rises. None of the CHAOS anglers had any action despite Prentice N. Largefonte’s fine riverside lecture to the trout on the virtues of practicing their rises in the darkness.

"You’d think that if Nature compels us to stand in a cold river and cast our flies into the inky blackness of a new moon, that she would require the trout to show the same dedication to their end of the sport." Largefonte mused to no one in particular. He fixed a Manhattan and sank into his camp chair. He sipped his drink, closed his eyes, and stretched his legs out as he enjoyed the warmth of the fire.

"I had three solid pauses," said Abel Andretti. "Broke all three off when I set the hook. It must be that cheap imported tippet material I bought the other day."

"I saw where you were standing," Flint Locke replied. "You can probably go back in the morning and pick your flies off that stump." Andetti ignored Locke’s quip and took a gentle sip of his Old Bold Mold Scotch. Maybe he would check out that stump tomorrow, he thought to himself.

"Did you have any trouble setting up camp, Zane?" Locke asked Yewar, noting the younger man’s state of early insobriety.

"Nope!" Yewar uttered as he popped the top on another can of beer. "My gear ‘s always drunk-proof. It’s a technique I learned from watching you guys over the years."

"I don’t recall ever discussing how to drunk-proof a camp." Locke responded.

"You didn’t, but watching the members of this fine outfit has taught me plenty." Yewar said waving his left arm as if including everyone.

"Like what?" Prentice opened one eye and peered at Zane. He was half curious and half fearful of what he may have passed along to the young man.

"Well, for starters, you should load your booze into the car first. Then, all your other camping gear is stowed on top of the booze. That way, when you’re unpacking, the tendency will be to set up camp before drinking." Yewar said.

"A fine and thoughtful observation." Nodded Locke. "Go on."

"Special attention is required to only purchase camping gear that you can assemble and break down when you’re in the dark or your vision is blurred beyond all recognition." Yewar stated.

"Such finely honed skills do, of course, require considerable testing under a variety of lighting and weather conditions." Andretti observed.

"That’s true." Locke agreed. "Why, I had to consume several cases of beer, over several camping trips just to learn how to operate my lantern."

"It was several years before I realized I wasn’t setting up two tents at a time." Tom Morrow chimed in.

"There is one thing you left out if you’re drunk-proofing your camp." Largefonte said as he closed his eye, leaned back, and slowly sipped his Manhattan.

"What’s that?" asked Yewar.

"Don’t invite him in the first place."

Royal Dun