Goin' Campin' Part II--Tom's version

Sorry, Mom, but I just had to log on to your blog and tell the same story from a 5-year old's perspective--Tom's. When I read your entry today, it immediately reminded me of the story Tom wrote in his diary that I copied in my family remembrance titled, "The Man in the Boat". I think it is one that shows Tom's appreciation for Dad. It is an entertaining story that spotlights Tom's respect for Dad, and some of the "tricks" Dad used to teach us more than we could ever learn from books.

"WHO NEEDS A FISHING POLE?"
One time we went camping as a family-- (I think it was the only time)—and to me it seemed like it took an eternity to get there. So far, this "jives" with your story, Mom.
My dad had inherited an old Lincoln Continental from the next-door neighbor who had died. He had fixed all the power windows, radio and engine "stuff", and gave me my first experience in what it was like to wax a car.

-----Anyway, back to the story-------
We drove and drove and drove through winding roads until we reached an area that appeared to be little more than a turnout in the road. I remember it was called "Strawberry Creek." Well, he was close. "Peppermint", "Strawberry"--to a kid it's all the same.
We had to carry all our stuff along some trails for about a mile. Again, as a kid it probably seemed like a mile. We made camp just where a creek trembled out of a mountain crevasse, twisted and turned around evergreen stands and fern, and ended in a small pond. The total distance from the crevasse to the pond was about one hundred yards. Then, the first creek was joined by a few others at the pond and became a decent stream or brook.

We set up camp along the creek (about 25 feet away) and we kids were turned loose to explore. Personally, I was determined (as always) to have one hell of a good time. That night, I think Dad made tacos. How he remembered tacos instead of hot dogs is a mystery to me. I'm sure it was hot dogs, because I wasn't much into ANY Mexican food. Of course we had a marshmallow roast after dinner. Funny, I don't remember talking much that night.

Early the next morning, we got up to go fishing. Off I marched behind my father and brother, with my hand-me-down pole from my brother along with a small paper sack containing hooks, sinkers, and a can of whole-kernel corn.

My pole was a type commonly known as a "bait-casting" reel outfit. This was a fishing pole designed to catch fish using live baits such as minnows, frogs, and the like. To the trained fisherman, this outfit can deliver the lure or bait to a spot within one foot of his target. To a five-year-old, this was like an open bobbin of thread on a pencil with a rock tied to the end. As I cast, the bobbin spun faster than the line went out, causing what is commonly known as a "bird's nest."

It was quite a catastrophe for a five-year-old kid. I quickly learned, however, that "slow and easy" made the reel work just fine. The bigger problem was in knowing when a fish was on the line. As it was my first time fishing, I had no idea what to do or when to know that I had a fish.

Enter the "Master"!
My dad soon noticed my dilemma and came over to see if he could show me how to successfully accomplish the task at hand and "snag" one. Oddly, he seemed inept at managing the reel and was decidedly uncomfortable using the reel combo--could this be? My DAD; Righter of wrongs, fixer of things, improviser extraordinaire--boggled???

I was brought back to reality by words I had never heard before--and LOTS of 'em! He pulled and tugged, tugged and pulled and finally, in a fit of exasperation did the worst of all possible things…he got out his pocketknife. My dad was going to cut up my fishing pole! I started screaming and whining as if he were using the knife on me, when all he really did was cut the line just before the bird's nest on the reel. He quickly pulled the old line and bird's nest off the pole and then did something else I didn't expect. He set the pole aside, took me by the hand, and said he wanted to teach me an "old Indian trick"

As I followed him up the hillside away from camp, I wondered what in the world he was doing…Mom was waiting for us to bring back breakfast! He stopped abruptly in a grove of saplings and cut two sturdy pole-like lengths from the stand. "But Dad, " I explained, "we already have a fishing pole."

"I don't know what the ###//!!!???### that thing was for, but catching fish isn't one of them! C'mon, your mother's waiting on us." Down the hill we went. I didn't like the taste of dust from his boots as he slid down the shallow cliff to the creek bed. There, he took two lengths of line from my fishing pole and made us each a "Huck Finn"-type pole. "Now we'll catch some breakfast," he assured me.

I could smell the smoke from our fire as my dad baited our hooks and began to do some serious fishing. For a while I just watched HIM--his very soul focused on what I later learned was the line tension and the easily recognizable tug of a rainbow or brook trout. All of a sudden, he snapped back on the pole, as though some horrible scene had shocked him into action. To my amazement there was a fish! An honest-to-God humongous flip-floppin' trout! "Do it again, Dad!" I shouted, busting at the seams with excitement.

He looked down at me and, seeing my disbelief and wonderment, put the fish back securely on the hook and placed it back in the water. "Hold this," he said, and put the fishing line in my hand so that I could feel the snapping of the line as the fish tugged at it.

We caught a whole stringer full of fish for breakfast that morning using Dad's "old Indian trick". I remember we didn't even use a frying pan to cook the fish. Dad threw a couple of flat rocks directly into the campfire to get them hot, and we cooked the fish right on the rocks. Delicious!



In loving memory of Tom Farnsworth

Goin' campin'!

Let me tell you a story about camping and me!!!! I like being in the woods and all that and as I've said before, I love a lake or stream or even a creek for that matter! BUT! I also like a comfy bed at night and a bathroom, etc. One Memorial Day or Labor Day, I'm not sure which, the three boys that I still had at home begged their Father and I to take them camping! To show you how much camping we did, we didn't make any reservations and thought we would just drive from the San Fernando Valley to Lake Isabella to go camping. My brother Don told us he had a nice big tent and sleeping bags, etc. for camping and we were more than welcome to borrow them. So we got the "equipment" and took off on this "Holiday weekend" after Cappy got off work at 5:00 P.M.! Wrong!!!!! We ran into the most traffic I had ever seen and we lived in L.A.! We absolutely crawled behind every R.V. that was ever made and followed all the directions to Lake Isabella which turned out to be the biggest mudhole I had aver seen and of course, no place to camp! Someone told us to go on up into the Mountains a little farther and there was a "Peppermint Creek" campground and we might be able to get s place there. We got a place and that is what it was, a place to put up our tent and they did have little fire-box type things to cook on but no bathrooms or any of the amenities so we could clean up, etc.!!! It was getting late so we proceeded to put up the tent and try to fix something to eat!!! Thank heavens for hot dogs!!!. We were right along the edge of "Peppermint" creek which was sort of pretty in a "small" way. There was a small waterfall which made a wading pool for the kids and of course we saw a small fish or two sailing along in it!!! It was too late for anything except going to bed that night and I swear that they put my sleeping bag on the only fallen limbs and debris around. We could hear coyotes howling in the night and after a certain time, I had to use the "bathroom" which Cappy told me would be a log to hang my fanny over! I was scared to death that some animal would take a bite out of me to say nothing of all the mosquitoes that we had seen around the tent!!! I made Cappy go with me because I didn't know, either, if there were other campers beyond where we were! He checked it all out and told me he would stand by and make sure nothing would "eat" me! Well, I'm not sure if I slept or not all night, but the next thing I knew Tommy was up and wanted to go fishing! We had a couple of fishing poles but they were for Cappy and Bill, I don't think Steve got into the fishing thing! Cappy cut a willow "pole" and put some of his fishing line on it and a safety pin for a hook! In the meantime, I'm trying to wash up in the creek and get to finding the cereal we had brought along and of course, we did have bacon and eggs. Cappy took Tom and got him situated by the little "falls" and came back and got breakfast while I folded up the sleeping bags, etc. (Oh yes, we planned on staying another night!) I sat aroung on a camp stool most of the day etc. but one of the best parts of the day was that Tom caught a fish with his willow pole and a safety pin for a hook!! He, of course, had to have that for his breakfast! The day was not too warm, after all we were in the mountains! There was another camper or two around and I visited with some of them, etc. We had dinner, (from some of the things that we had brought to eat!!!) That night was as bad as the first night for me but I did manage to "bathrooom" before it got dark. Early the next morning, we broke up camp and started home. Everybody that lived in So. Ca. had the same idea!!! We had to follow the Kern River for a little while and what should happen but we got a flat tire!!! As Steve can tell you the road up there is not an arterial highway and we pulled over as far as we could to fix the flat and at this place, the River was "way down there!" After a lot of cussing on Cappy's part, the tire got changed and we were on our way again. Then we hit Highway 99, which was the main highway into Los Angeles in those days! Traffic was backed up all the way over the Grapevine, and we didn't get home till about 8:00 P.M. or after and we had left camp at about 9:00 that morning!!! Everybody was tired and cranky and hungry, etc. AND I VOWED AS OF THEN, THAT THERE WOULD BE NO MORE CAMPING FOR ME!!!!!! I do remember going one more time after I moved up here to the Valley going up to Silver Lake, and that, even though it was somewhat better, was IT!!!!!!!!!!