The Mine

The truth of the matter is that I never saw him actually fish. He was more interested in other things.

After he caught up with his dad and brother and set his favorite rock next to the tackle box, he noticed an opening in the cliff wall that was behind them. It was about ten feet tall and five feet wide and dark. He went dashing towards it and disappeared inside.

Then he came dashing back out into the sunlight.

"Dad! I found a... I found a... I found a mine!!"

His dad didn't seem particularly interested. But his older brother looked over at him, set down his fishing pole and went to the opening himself to have a look.

"See? I found a mine!"

"It's not a mine," his brother said. "It's a cave."

"But I found it!"

And they both disappeared inside.

They weren't in there long, and from the look of it, I suspected it didn't go back very far. The older brother lost interest and returned to his fishing. But the boy's elation at having found the place didn't let up. For some time, he kept running inside, shouting about his discovery, and running back out.

His mom and sister walked up to the opening and looked in.

"Mom! I found a mine!!"

"It's a cave, not a mine!" his brother said.

"Whatever," the boy said and dashed back inside yet again.

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Buffalo Point campground
Buffalo National River

11:41:19 PM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: []  

Tough Indeed

As we came around the bend at Buffalo Point, the river widened, the water became still, and our inner tubes almost came to a standstill. To the right, a creek came winding out of the woods with water so cold that fog billowed out where the stream met the river. To the left, a tall dune of rocks stood beside the river on the inside curve of the bend.

There was a family fishing there: a father, two boys, a girl, and a mom. The dad and the older son had just moved a bit upstream with their poles. The girl had evidently lost all interest in fishing and was walking up the hill of rocks to her mom, who was coming down from their campsite. The youngest boy was having trouble keeping up with his brother and dad, trying to figure out how to carry his fishing pole, a large stone and a tackle box all at the same time.

"Dad, wait!"

The man looked back and mumbled something.

"Can I bring my rock?" the boy shouted.

"Yes, you can bring your rock, but bring the tackle box, too."

The boy looked down at the tackle box as he held the stone with both hands with his fishing pole barely hanging under one arm pit.

"But dad! I can't!"

The man was reeling in his fishing line. Without turning his head, he said to the boy, "Be tough, son." He paused for a second and then continued, "If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough!"

He looked at us with a dad's smile on his face.

The boy set down his stone, picked up the tackle box and ran it and his fishing pole over to his dad. Then he turned and ran back to where he had been, picked up his stone and ran back.

He was barefoot, running on round stones the size of very large potatoes, carrying a larger one in his hands, pushing himself to go so fast that he was barely in control. I was sure he was going to wipe out. He didn't.

Tough indeed.

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Tubing on the Buffalo National River

11:19:30 PM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: []