Campfires, Wet Dogs, and Old Stories

[Ysabel Kid]

From the Patriot Post earlier this week. I really enjoy this author's writings!

Campfires, Wet Dogs, and Old Stories
By Mike Rhinehart · June 27, 2023
https://patriotpost.us/articles/98363-c ... 2023-06-27

There’s no better place to tell old stories than around a campfire. The smell of a hickory wood campfire or a wet dog can sometimes take me back through so many memories that it is hard to select which one to relive once again. It is said when we reach the end of our days it is our memories that we will have.

Friends of my parents whose farm we frequently visited always had a sweet-smelling hickory fire going in the fireplace. I was probably four years old when we first started those visits, but I still remember that aroma as if it were yesterday.

When I was five years old, my mother took us to the October Plum Nelly Festival at Fannie Mennen’s property on the back of Lookout Mountain, Georgia. We kids were enthralled by the aromatic bonfire and the puppet shows. My mother loved the clothesline art exhibits. I still remember the wonder and smell of it all and looked forward to attending that fall event until the festival ended in 1972.

When I was 10 years old, my father took me on a squirrel hunting trip on an island located within Woods Reservoir in Middle Tennessee. My grandfather had lent me his 20-gauge double-barrel shotgun, and this was to be my first real hunting trip. While I remember most of the details of those three days, what I remember most was the hickory wood campfire each night and the men who had known and loved each other for decades sitting around it telling of their other hunts and adventures.
“My word but wasn’t that English Setter ‘Tick’ a good one!” “Do you remember that time up on the Cumberland when pointers ‘Thunder’ and ‘Ike’ could do no wrong and we hunted until dark and got caught in a snowstorm and the truck couldn’t make it out?” “Good thing old Vick always kept firewood in the back of that truck.” “We just built a big fire and made a night out of it.”

This was powerful stuff for a 10-year-old boy.

Decades later, I was fortunate to have a group of friends like this. On many occasions, we would camp on location prior to a duck hunt or a fly-fishing trip. And always there was the campfire and the Dutch oven meals, but mostly just the joy of old friends being together recounting past adventures and looking forward to the next.

“Remember that time Lab Retriever ‘Kate’ went through the ice in South Dakota and we nearly lost her?” “How about that time we were coming out of Richland Creek where it meets the Tennessee River? We hadn’t checked the weather forecast and when we came out of the high banks of the creek onto open water, we were nearly swamped by gale force winds and waves!”

No duck hunt and campfire is complete without Labrador Retrievers, and we all had good ones. All were treated as family and slept indoors, so naturally at the end of the hunt they would be with us drying themselves by the fire. Later they would crawl on top of our sleeping bags, sometimes still wet.

Hunting in the South over my Gordon Setter “Caena” with friend Bob, we would often be in damp places and have a bit of a chill at the end of the day. Bob, never one to rush anything, would say, “Well, recon we ought to have us a little fire now.” And “Caena,” who loved Bob, would curl at his feet with her back to the fire to dry herself.

None of this, of course is very unusual. People all over America enjoy firepits, outdoor fireplaces, and bonfires with family and friends and telling the old stories. Barely a weekend passes when my friend Mark Alexander does not have a roaring fire out back — in any season.

I hope families with young children are taking them on adventures and camping trips in the outdoors and at the end of the day are including a campfire to roast hotdogs and marshmallows and tell the stories and misadventures of the day. It’s a quite simple thing, really, but one they will remember for a lifetime.

Someday those adventures will become the old stories.

I believe with certainty that as soon as man discovered fire there were a group of friends sitting around it telling the old stories. As it should be.

It’s mystical and magic — and timeless.

I think now I’ll take the dogs down by the river and build ourselves a fire and speak the old stories to them. They won’t know what I’m talking about, but maybe they have their own memories of the countless fires we have shared. They will probably swim in the river while I’m getting the fire going and then will lay beside it to dry off.

Sometimes the simplest things can bring us great joy … like campfire smoke and wet dogs.

[GunnyMack]

Wet dog, it's amazing what that odor can bring back!
My second lab , Lady, was huge for a female and boy did she love to swim! Spring break of 92 we were camping near Monument Lake in CO. There was ice slowly breaking up and im throwing sticks for her and she was like an ice breaker just busting through it.
Then one day we were duck hunting and my roommate winged a mallard landing in the pond. Each time Lady would get close the duck would dive and she dove after it. Finally she caught that duck underwater after what I though was a very long time submerged but she popes up hacking & coughing just as proud of herself as I was of her !

[jeepnik]

Man now you've done it. Lots of memories just came flooding back. While I grew up in an urban/rural area and spending time outdoors camping, fishing, hunting and just enjoying myself I went to school with lots of kids who did not.Some even had dads that grew up in rural areas but demands of job and family in the 50's and early 60's kept most from enjoying the outdoors.

About the time I was nine or ten the local Y started a program called Indian Guides (try that today). It did a couple of things like teaching Christian values, history and because it required both father and son to join fostered great relationships. Once our "tribe" was established group activites were planned. Many new to most of the kids and brought back memories to the dads. These included all sorts of crafts that taught both skills and more importantly patients.

With school ending and the fine spring, summer and early fall weather in SoCal it was a natural to plan outdoor activities. Camping was high on the list with asociated activities like fishing and tracking. One of the dads was a country boy that could probably track a snake accross granite rock. He was also an excellent and patient teacher.

This particular memory didn't have any huntiing or fishing, but it did have a dog. I had a male cocker spaniel and like dogs of legend he went everywhere with me. It was the first of the campouts and it was planned for a full weekend. Friday afternoon kids and dads piled into stationwagons and headed out to a not too distant campground. Arriving just at dusk dads and sons quickly "made camp". A open fire cooked dinner of hot dogs and roasted marshmellow followed. Then it was story time.

The fire was stoked higher (actually probably too high as it was kinda hot sitting too close) and tales of childhood adventures came forth from the dads. Most about time spent outdoors but others about life lessons learned. It really didn't take long for a bunch of kids to grow sleepy and end up being carried off to their sleeping bags by their dads.

Being an experienced outdoorsman, I needed no such help. the temp did dip a bit that night as it will do in the mountains. And, next morning there was a bit of grumbling from both man and boy about the cold. Being, already, a bit of a smartalec I piped up that I slept nice and warm with my dog cuddled up inside my bag.

After probably the greatest breakfast some oth the kids had ever had of eggs, bacon and pancakes we spent the day hiking to a nearby lake. A lot of kids learned that water can be awfully cold in even a fairly low elevation lake in summer. But half frozen kids finally gave in and got out to sun ourselves on the rocks. Properly warmed lunch of PB&J sandwiches fueled out walk back to camp.

After another campfire dinner more stories flowed, this time with kids retelling and embelishing the events of the day while dads just sat quiet and smiled. But eventually the sandman started to grab hold of us and slowly kids and dads drifted off to sleeping bags. And me, I was about to learn one of the most valuable outdoor lessons, heck life lessons I would ever learn.

One of the kids was smaller than most of us, though the same age. The night before had been particularly miserable for him and everyone knew it. Dad suggested I loan him my dog. Now we had to set up Sammy's bag next to mine so that spaniel would stay with him that night. The next day Sammy had decided two things. Campouts were a very good thing and he needed a dog.

Shortly after that trip Sammy got a dog and over the next few years our tribe went on a lot of campouts.

But in telling this story my eyes are moist and there is a lump in my throat. Sammy's name in on a wall in Washington DC.

[gamekeeper]

It's strange what can evoke memories, the smell of woodsmoke and wet dogs usually means some outdoors experience where most of us have very happy times. Music can remind us of different things. Hopefully sharing "some" of those memories will inspire the younger generation to make similar memories for themselves.

[GunnyMack]

Ahh wet dog smell, I just gave the puppies a bath- another memory !!