Just A Few Camp Tales

My husband has been coming to camp every summer since he was four years old.  As Huck Finn, Jerry built rafts and used sheets for sails drifting afar from the camp eventually to be rescued hours later on a deserted island.  Brook fishing was not without a few tales.  An avid angler, young Jerry was dropped off on the way to camp to dip a line into the stream.  He wasn't there long when he realized that he was sharing the fishing with a Maine Black Bear.  The rod had to be retrieved later in the day with his dad along side him.  The muddy imprints proved the validity of the tale.  It was a long long time until he went fishing alone up the stream.  

The camp property was own by five siblings each pitching in one hundred dollars a piece.  That meant for large family gatherings with lots of cousins.  Jerry and his cousin Buzzy went boating down by the landing, not too far from camp.  It was a horribly hot summer day.  Suddenly as they were rowing the boat, the sky darkened and huge winds came out of nowhere.  Both sets of parents were yelling urging the boys to hurry home.  Despite the size of the trees, they all began to bow down, parting to create a path for the tornado.  As the tornado hit the pond, it immediately threw the water into the air creating a water spout.  Parents screaming.  Two boys frantically rowing.  The funnel touched the boat and as the boys looked down  they could see the reeds that were just moments ago submerged in the water, swaying like dry grass in a windy field. Jerry was white and shaking with fear and Buzzy was hooting and hollering thinking that it was the neatest ride.  The tornado passed the boys and headed directly for the parents on shore.  They all dove into camp for cover and it veered into the woods missing any nearby structure.  Suddenly, it was sunny, but much cooler. Nearly fifty years later, my husband said that, "It was an amazing thing."