Big Trouble at Maramec Spring Park

I’m in trouble. Not in trouble like the time during trapping season when I left 7 whole froze raccoons under a tarp on the floor of the basement to thaw on the same day the real estate folks brought a family from California over to look at the house. While the real estate agent and the whole family were in the basement, who would’ve guessed that the little 5 year-old girl would’ve went strait over to the freezer and pulled back the tarp? I mean really, who could’ve seen that coming? I guess that kid got the shock of her young life (parents did too probably!). I figure they probably had nightmares about a Hillbilly Amityville Horror of sorts, and, of course, they didn’t buy the house. I wasn’t there when it happened but my wife, LaDonna, told me all about it and she wasn’t too happy then either. Yes, I’m in trouble again but this time it’s a different kind of trouble.

This past weekend was my wedding anniversary and my wife and I went camping and fishing at Maramec Spring Park just outside of St. James, MO for the Labor Day weekend. On the morning of our last day, after having some frustrating technical difficulties that brought all my fishing activities to a screeching halt for the remainder of the trip, I came back to the camper, told my wife of the issue, and said, “I’m going to get everything ready to go.” But what she heard was, “Spending time with you on our anniversary is not why I’m here. If I can’t fish then I’m ready to go home.” You reckon this is what the preacher was talking about when he preached on marriage and the occasional communication disconnect?

Maramec Spring Park is owned privately by the James Foundation and located 8 miles from St. James on the Meramec River. Today, just like the past, all activity within the immediate area is a result, either directly or indirectly, of the beautiful Maramec Spring, which is the 5th largest spring in Missouri. Daily it gushes out 96 million gallons of crystal clear Ozark Hill’s spring water. Trout fishing and wildlife watching within the 1,856 acre park is outstanding.

For the anglers, the Missouri Department of Conservation stocks the spring branch with rainbow trout daily from March 1st through October 31st. Ultra light equipment works best for the finicky rainbows in the spring branch. Saturday I was using my Fenwick ultra light rod with an open face Pflueger President reel. For a lure I used a yellow 1/64 ounce jig. All pretty typical equipment for Missouri trout parks…except for the line. Have you ever noticed how there’s always a guy who can walk up during any time of the day and seem to get trout to bite? I learned from my dad and his fishing buddies years ago the trick is in the line. Fish spook as a result of the shadow cast by the line on clear and bright days. Therefore visit any big box department store’s sewing department and ask for transparent sewing thread. This is the equivalent of about ½ pound test line and casts very little shadow (and it’s much cheaper). It works great but be aware to adjust your drag very light! Saturday morning at the whistle the four fish limit took about 10 casts. The rest of the day was given to hiking and wildlife viewing.

For the photographers, white-tail deer abound in the wooded ridges and the lush bottom fields in the park. In the evening the deer come out in great numbers to feed. Picture taking opportunities are everywhere in the early fall before the rut starts. The deer hardly pay attention to stopped vehicles watching them as they feed. They also pay little attention to hikers as long as they keep their distance at about 40 yards. Numerous does and two bucks stood and stared as my wife and I trekked over a ridge just northeast of the spring in the middle of the day on Saturday.

And finally, for the history buffs, the museum and ruins of Meramec Iron Works are located in the middle of the park. Established in 1826 and in production through 1891, the Maramec Iron Works spewed fire, slag, and iron to fuel the fires of industry of our growing republic. The remnants of the works are visible today around the park and the museum provides fascinating models and pictures to help the inquisitive mind understand the complex workings of the Maramec Iron Works.

Fishing, wildlife watching, history, and camping all wrapped into one great weekend. As I sat in camp under the cover of the hackberry, sycamore, and elm trees and enjoyed the cool breeze while contemplating the hot water I was in, I decided my wife was right. Even though I still haven’t figured out how she heard something I didn’t say (I’m beginning to think I was momentarily abducted by aliens and an evil imposter was put in my place to disturb the perfect universal harmony between hillbilly husband and wife on their anniversary camping trip), I shouldn’t want to leave just because I couldn’t fish one morning of our trip. I mean, how great is it that I have a wonderful lady that is willing to go camping and fishing for our anniversary in the first place. Only in these Ozark Hills my friends, only in these hills. We are truly blessed…you think the preacher knows about the alien abductors and the communication disconnect thing? So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

Night Fishin’ Table Rock

Republic, MO angler Scott Bollinger and one of many nice bass caught on a Chompers jig and trailer.

All through the 1970’s we always took vacation in the late summer. This was much to Dad’s chagrin; he would have much rather taken vacation during a better time of the year to hunt or fish. However, Mom made him go because it was the only time my sister and I were out of school. So, even though it wasn’t the preferred location and activity for the girls or the perfect time for the boys, every year we went to Indian Point campground on Table Rock Lake for a week of camping and night fishing.

Back then we didn’t have a lot of extra money and Dad said you couldn’t fish from a camper so we camped in a tent and spent the money on a bass boat. I completely understood and agreed with that course of reasoning, but the girls just didn’t agree at all. They would have preferred a camper (or fancy hotel) over a bass boat. The nerve of some people! While they were comfortably and peacefully sleeping away the night on the soft ground, in the pleasant 85° night air, in that nice tent that even had a mosquito net that kept out some of the critters, Dad and I were fighting off the mosquitoes and slaving away all night in the Bass Cat trying to catch the next day’s dinner. Remembering back today I’ve come to the conclusion that those two were just downright selfish. But Dad and I stood our ground and didn’t give an inch; we kept the boat.

Ed Larson with a good bass caught dragging a jig over a point in 25 feet of water while the dam was running water.

Last week I revisited all those old memories as I went night fishing on Table Rock with an old high school friend, Ed Larson, and my brother-in-law, Scott Bollinger. Ed was our guide. Ed is a former professional Table Rock Lake fishing guide and the current General Manager for the Table Rock Bait & Tackle Company. The company produces the Chompers brand soft plastic baits and a compliment of premium jigs and spinnerbaits. My brother-in-law Scott, a formidable fisherman himself from Republic, MO, was our boat captain and we took his Ranger boat for the trip. Both of these fine fishermen are accomplished tournament competitors and they each know the lake well. I was confident we would have a great trip.

We put in at Kimberling City about 7 pm to start our night. The lake was at 913.5 feet and a quick call to the Army Corp of Engineers verified that they were running water through the dam. This was a good sign. When there is water running through the dam it creates a current across the points in the lake and the fish will suspend on the points and wait for dinner to come floating by in the current.

To take advantage of the feeding fish we employed two different tactics during the evening. First, while the water was running we positioned the boat in 25 feet of water just off a point at Mill Creek. We tied on Chompers skirted brush jigs with blue flash skirts and the new Wild Hog soft plastic trailers. This was a deadly combination as we traveled back and forth across the point dragging the jig and trailers across the bottom at 25 feet.

Proof they were trying to make me look bad - they took the picture while my eye was closed and they cut my fish in half! The One-Eyed Hillbilly and a nice bass caught in submerged timber using a new Chompers wobble head jig and worm.

Second, after the water stopped running later in the evening and with the boat positioned 25 yards out from some submerged timber under about 40 feet of water, we tied on new Chompers wobble head football jigs with 10 inch blue fleck plastic worms. The wobble head is a great jig that produces great life-like action. We pulled the worms through the timber waiting for the bass to attack. Throughout the course of the night, with each bump we each set the hook on several largemouth and a few Kentuckies. It was a great night-fishing trip in the Ozark hills.

Sadly, there was a conspiracy effort under way during the trip. After dark I hooked what I’m sure was a wall-hanger and my brother-in-law accidentally missed him with the net. Scott says the fish shook off the jig right at the boat but I think he knocked the jig out of the fish’s mouth (on purpose) with the net frame. Since it was dark I can’t be sure. It seems it was a team effort too because Ed said he saw the fish and that it looked to weigh only about 3 pounds. I’m sure it was 9 pounds if it was an ounce. Scott and Ed, of course, deny any conspiracy. As the night wore on and the wind came up they wanted to call it a night and seeing the writing on the wall, I knew they were teaming up for my misfortune so I reluctantly agreed. We wrapped up the trip and headed home.

The last time that I wrapped up a summer night fishing trip on Table Rock was 30 years ago. Dad and I had to race a thunderstorm back to the boat ramp at 3:00 am. We were just ahead of the wind and rain as we came in to the buoys at the marina. As he jumped out on the bank and headed up the hill he said, “Some poor soul is going to be very unhappy when they get back to the truck tonight.” You see, up in the parking lot where Mom and my sister had left the car and trailer there was a rig in the lot with some very dim headlights that someone had accidently left on when they exited the vehicle earlier in the evening. Just about the time the storm hit with full force Dad was walking back down the boat ramp and carrying on something fierce and I knew we were the poor souls! We got soaked. You don’t reckon the girls did that on purpose do you? Maybe we should’ve got them that camper. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

For more information on great Chompers fishing tackle visit http://www.chompers.com/

To get up to the minute information on generation schedules and lake levels visit Southwestern Power Administration at http://www.swpa.gov/generationschedules.aspx and the US Army Corp of Engineers, Table Rock Lake, at www.swl-wc.usace.army.mil/WCDS/Reports/Data/Tabrock.htm

Greg Stephens is a life-time student & 35-year veteran of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to http://www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com/.

Diggin’ Roots and Remembering Old Lessons

Ginseng - close-up of a 3-pronger. 3 compound leaves with 5 leaflets each and the berries just beginning to form in the middle of the leaves.

Don’t you just have to grin every time one your parent’s lessons from your childhood presents itself in everyday life? It’s amazing how little we, as children, thought our parents knew compared to how wise we later discover they actually were. Unfortunately, it seems we only discover this revelation after we become parents ourselves. >Seems to be one of God’s little ironies – parents have most of the answers but we, as children, can’t absorb the answers until after we’ve learned by fire. And man was that fire hot this weekend when I was reminded that those same life-lessons my parents preached back then still hold true today even within the laws of nature.

Side view of a 3-pronger with developing seed pod in the middle.

I remember Mom telling me, “Anything worth working for is worth working hard for.” And Dad used to say, “You don’t appreciate something you get for free as much as something you have to work for.” Needless to say, outside of birthdays and Christmas I got very little given to me! Want a new fishing pole? Then haul some hay. Want a new gun? Then cut and sell some firewood. Want some ginseng? Then scout the woods in August and harvest in September while sweating profusely, getting poison ivy, avoiding copperheads and rattlesnakes, and getting full of chiggers and tiny seed ticks.

After fighting all the creepy crawlies there's no doubt Ginseng is worth working for. The One-Eyed Hillbilly with a beautiful 3-pronger.

Harvesting ginseng, or Seng’n as it’s known in root digging circles, is a true Ozark adventure and you will work hard to accomplish the task. Once you’ve invested enough time to regularly recognize the plant in the wild you will have developed an appreciation for the root digger’s grit as well as an appreciation for the natural health treasure you’ve found. And trust me, a time investment it is, for just as a morel mushroom hunter would never give up his favorite mushroom harvesting beds, a root digger will never voluntarily take you to his favorite wild ‘seng hunting grounds. You will have to learn on your own. And, like morels, ginseng is worth its weight in gold for some folks. Ginseng folk lore mixed with some actual scientific studies has created a reputation for the root that makes it a naturally grown panacea, or cure-all. If it even almost lives up to its reputation it’s easy to understand why pharmaceutical companies are, to this day, studying and analyzing the compoundsfound in ginseng in order to determine why those compounds provide relief for the various afflictions and diseases commonly treated by this root.

If you want to find out for yourself about the benefits of this world renowned root, start with the basics. Generally you find ginseng on north and east facing slopes in well drained, rich soil that has abundant leaf litter. The plant grows best in areas with a dense tree canopy shading out approximately 75% of the direct sunlight. There are a few signature trees, plants, and weeds known to grow in the same general areas as ginseng and when you find these different plants you are generally on the right track. Elm, sugar maple, and oak are some of the trees that tend to grow in the same soil and terrain as ginseng. Jack-in-the-pulpit, Christmas ferns, and goldenseal are a few of the plants, or “good weeds” that often grow in the vicinity of ginseng. From the description you can see ginseng grows in the thick, dense areas that aren’t easy to get to.

Jewelweed for getting rid of poison ivy after hunting ginseng.

A mature ginseng plant stands approximately 6 to 18 inches tall. It will have 3 to 4 compound leaves (prongs) with 5 leaflets each and in the late summer red berries are present in the middle of the prongs. Missouri Department of Conservation regulations state that only 3 pronged mature plants can be legally harvested and the 3 prongs must remain attached to the root during transportation to the harvester’s home. Legal harvest season for ginseng in Missouri is September 1 through December 31 and selling season extends through March 15. Personally, I do not harvest any ginseng for sale at the market. I believe we should take great caution in this enterprise for fear of over harvest, much like the market hunting of wildlife in the 19th Century and the wildlife disaster that resulted of this ill-conceived practice. I enjoy harvesting from Mother Nature only what I can use personally. And, state law dictates that the seeds of the ginseng plant must be planted within 100 feet of the harvested 3 prong mature plant.

Jewelweed Poultice applied to area with poison ivy. In a sauce pan in 1 cup of water, simmer crushed leaves and stalk. Pour contents on a piece of gauze and apply to effected area. It works!

I believe the Creator has presented man with very few ailments for which he has not also provided a remedy in Nature. The Indians and mountain men knew these natural cures and remedies that today many have forgotten. This past weekend I ventured to find some ginseng for harvest later in September while keeping the ancient health and healing lore of our forefathers alive. In today’s world I believe there is great wisdom in trusting to the old ways of those who entrusted Mother Nature for their sustenance, health, and healing. This past weekend my parent’s old lesson of appreciating what you’ve worked for came to the forefront. I got poison ivy, chiggers, and a load of seed ticks while hunting in the August heat. Man, I sure appreciate those roots a whole lot more than any that someone would give me…I think. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

Pink Boots and Archery Season Preparations

The culmination of properly tuned equipment, shooting practice, and precision scouting. The One-Eyed Hillbilly with son, Jason Bass and his 10 pt bow kill buck.

I believe kindred outdoor souls gravitate to one another. Whether it is the first time crossing paths with new friends or a reunification of old friends after a long separation, warm and friendly conversation about the common bond of the Great Outdoors is always the result. Both of these scenarios played out last week while I was down in Clearwater Lake country. As for old friends, the last time I had a conversation with Alan Chitwood was just before I walked out of the Doe Run Lead Smelter for the last time in August, 1991. Other than brief passing glimpses at two funerals, I hadn’t seen Alan since I spray-painted his work boots pink (for the 2nd consecutive year) as I left the smelter heading back for my last fall semester in college. I was told he threatened to …”steal the handle bars off that little one-eyed *†#!@*!#’s Harley-Davidson the next time he comes to the smelter!” I never went back.

Last week I drove up to his house in Ellington, MO, not on a motorcycle but rather in my old hunting and trapping jeep. He was standing at the carport and as soon as I exited the jeep we exchanged ornery grins, shook hands, and struck up a conversation about fall hunting season just like it was 1991. Food plots and the upcoming Missouri archery deer season were the topics of choice. This year Missouri archery season begins Wednesday, September 15th, and extends through Saturday, January 15th, 2011, with an intermission during Missouri firearms deer season from November 13th through November 23rd. The season limit on the archery tag is two deer with only one antlered buck legally taken before rifle season. There are bonus antlerless tags available after you’ve filled your first tag. It has been my experience that success during archery season entails early preparations including three important steps.

The three steps for beginners and old seasoned veterans alike are equipment tune-up, shooting practice, and scouting. Purchasing new equipment or taking your existing equipment into the local archery pro shop for a tune-up is critical. The last thing you need when that 180 inch buck-of-a-lifetime comes walking by is for your equipment to malfunction. If you don’t have the time or just can’t do an adequate job yourself, do yourself a favor and let your local professional provide 30 minutes of disaster prevention in order to avoid a lifetime of ‘what-ifs’. After proper tuning, get to shooting. Practice from every conceivable angle. If you hunt from a tree stand shoot from an elevated position. If you hunt from a ground blind, practice from inside the blind. If possible, shoot at 3-D type targets. Every ounce of realism you can incorporate in practice will provide better success in the field. Finally, scout like a mountain man with the fine-tuned preciseness of a watchmaker. Proper and precise scouting and stand placement will determine whether that buck crosses by your stand in range at 30 steps, out of range at 85 steps, or beyond your sight all together.

As far as deer patterns are concerned there are three distinct phases of archery season. Early season (Sept. 15 through approximately Oct. 15) is a time that a hunter can capitalize on eating and sleeping habits of the deer herd. The deer activity during this phase is a continuation of what the deer have been doing all summer long. Finding travel lanes between feeding and bedding areas are very productive. A hunter has to fight off the bugs but it is really the last chance to catch a buck in any kind of repetitive cycle before the rut starts and his travel habits turn helter-skelter. After the hormones fire-up and the rut gets in full motion, hunting rub and scrape lines as well as travel bottlenecks are good producers for mature bucks. The rut, including the span of time through the second rut in December, is the 4-6 week window when the big bruisers who would not generally make an appearance during daylight hours start making mistakes. With proper decoying, scent and scent control, and calling, this is a very exciting time of the season. Finally, during the late season phase the deer tend to mimic the habits of the early season. They become focused on high calorie food sources to store fat through the winter. Travel routes between food sources and bedding areas are once again in play. Be aware during the late season that while the habits are similar, the food sources of choice can be very different from the early season.

As Alan and I wrapped up our conversation planning an October fishing trip on Clearwater Lake, it occurred to me that the outdoor spirit is alive and well in the Ozark Hills. We talked of hunting, trapping, and fishing seasons past as well as the old days at the smelter. There were just 30 of us working in the plant back then and we all shared at least a few common bonds between us. Besides the workplace, the great majority of us were active participants in the Great Outdoors. And, after 20 years that bond is still alive. I hope you try to pass on to a young person that same Ozark outdoorsman spirit. It generates dividends for a lifetime even if you paint your buddy’s boots pink (he didn’t get my jeep’s steering wheel either). So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

Of Pirates and Mountain Men

Several years ago singer and songwriter Jimmy Buffet wrote a great tune called “A Pirate Looks at 40.” There’s a lyric in that song with which today’s mountain men everywhere can identify that says…”Yes I am a pirate, born 200 years too late. The cannons don’t thunder, there’s nothing to plunder, I’m an over 40 victim of fate, arriving too late…arriving too late.” In this day and age, if you are a student of the Great Outdoors, it’s easy to put yourself in the shoes of Buffet’s pirate. It’s easy to give in and think that the wild days of the Ozark frontier are forever gone. When considering some of the wildlife that existed just 2 and a half centuries ago in Missouri, it’s easy to understand why a mountain man would long for those days 200 hundred years ago.

Elk bugling in the hardwoods. We are not 200 years too late in the Ozarks.

Who wouldn’t have rejoiced in the splendor of a crisp fall morning in these Ozark hills during the rut when the elk still thundered their bugles up the Current River valley? What true mountain man wouldn’t long for the days when you could ride the surging Gasconade River during the early spring as black bears emerged from their winter dens and patrolled the riverbank for food. What lover of the spectacle of Mother Nature wouldn’t love to have witnessed the awesome show of force of the White River at flood stage in the late 1700’s, 250 years before dams tamed the spring floods of the Ozarks. Yes, it seems some of the wild of these hills has left us… for now. But has it really left so much as just changed? I say the wild is still here in the hills, I see it weekly. You simply have to explore with the same spirit as Kit Carson and you will find wild places alive and well in the Ozarks. And who knows, someday sooner than you think, as the heat of August gives way to the fall rut, the wild places might once again hold some sights and sounds not seen in Missouri for over 150 years.

Just as it was 150 years ago, the best way to prepare for fall hunting and trapping season is to scout. In the Ozarks scouting in August is hot but it’s a great opportunity to get a head start on a successful fall harvest. If you can fight off the bugs it’s also a great time to incorporate squirrel hunting with a child. Thus far this year the squirrels haven’t migrated back through some areas after moving out due to a lackluster mast crop last year. This year all indications that I’ve seen point to a better mast crop as compared to last year. This will set the stage for great bushy-tail action for the young and young at heart while scouting for late fall hunting and trapping season. This is an opportunity to get the kids in the woods to hunt and show them all the wildlife signs of the larger quarry of the fall. With squirrel season extending from May 22, 2010 through February 15, 2011 the season is long enough to suit any hunter. And with a bag limit of 10 and possession limit of 20, the liberal limits are more than adequate to allow for many hours of enjoyment as you hunt and scout the Missouri wild places. What more opportunity can a true Ozark mountain man ask for than an opportunity in which you can be in the woods all afternoon hunting and scouting while passing on our great outdoor heritage?

Still finding the wild places in the Ozarks. Greg, Alex, and Coleman Stephens squirrel hunting and scouting for fall hunting season.

In preparation for an August squirrel hunting and scouting adventure try to pack so as to make the young hunter as comfortable as possible. Plenty of water, snacks, comfortable shoes, hats, bug spray, gloves, and insect resistant clothing are all good ideas. Binoculars, game cameras, and any other scouting equipment are also a good idea. Besides a great mountain cur squirrel dog, a youth model .410 shotgun is a young squirrel hunters best friend. It really gives a child a great sense of accomplishment when they hunt in the Great Outdoors and put dinner on the table. It’s a great time to brag them up in order to instill the desire to repeat the hunting and harvesting experience for a lifetime, not to mention to instill personal responsibility for providing one’s own sustenance.

So, this fall take a child with you to hunt and scout the great outdoors. And, don’t let them take it for granted that the wild places are gone. Find your mountain man spirit and pass it on to the burgeoning young outdoors adventurer in order that they will find those wild places once again. Light the fire that will make them long for the awesome adventure of the Ozark Hills in the 1700’s. And who knows, maybe one day soon those children and we adults will once again hear the bugles of bull elk in the Peck Ranch region of the south central Ozarks. Contrary to Buffet’s pirate, we have not arrived 200 years too late. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

The Internet, Medicinal Herbs, & the Spirit of a Mountain Man

E.J. Daily and a day's catch. The last of a dying breed? Not in southern Missouri!

E.J. Daily, famous mountain man trapper from the mid 1900’s, once said of the old breed of dying-off mountain men, “It isn’t men dying off today. It’s a spirit (dying off)”. His great spirit exemplified all that was embodied within the mystic of our mountain men forefathers. Besides just money, E.J. understood that wealth meant many things - just like beauty, it is in the eye, or hand, or mind of the beholder. Through his vast knowledge of all things in nature, his wealth was defined by complete freedom from the confines of society and, at an early age, he promised himself that he would never work for another man, ever. You see, within Nature’s Economy, E.J. Daily was the peer of modern society’s Bill Gates – in his element he was rich beyond imagination.

As much as I respect and admire E.J. Daily for all that he accomplished in his life I disagree with him on one important point. The spirit of the mountain men is not dying. Rather, I believe it is in a deep trance-like slumber slowly and methodically induced by society’s modern conveniences. I also believe there still exists in a small percentage of the population those who possess that same spirit and spark of the mountain men of old. The trait simply needs to be awakened and nurtured into the burning fire that drove men like E.J. Daily, Wildcat Lynch, Jedediah Smith, and Daniel Boone. Each of these men understood the lesson of taking the road less travelled – ‘only cautiously follow the easier path, for just because it’s an easier path, it’s not always the wiser path.’ And, at the very least, never allow yourself to forget the route of the road less travelled – you never know when you might need to travel it again. It was in pursuit of this lofty mountain man ideal that my family and I recreated in the Great Outdoors last weekend.

My wife swears I am not a multi-tasker and I want to keep it that way because that way, from her looong list, she assigns me only one chore at a time. However, on my list this past weekend I wanted to beat the heat, scout for archery season, scout for trapping season, and scout for herbs and roots. In short, I needed to multi-task. So I said to her, “Honey, let’s take the kids along with some hotdogs and lemonade to the creek bank and go for a swim.” I knew it meant that I would have to cook but hey, it got me in the woods for the entire afternoon and it was an easy sell. And so we set out for the far southern reaches of the Meramec River.

After lunch on the creek bank while the kids were swimming, I strapped on the pistol and daypack and headed up river in search of beaver, muskrat, and mink sign for trapping and ginseng, goldenseal, and bloodroot for harvesting later in the fall. The American Indians and mountain men held some of the last vestiges of knowledge about medicinal herbs and roots and natural health and healing that had served humankind for millenniums, all which today seem lost on modern society. Thankfully, during this adolescence of the information age, there is great opportunity to awaken the spirit of the mountain men in each of you and regain this valuable knowledge of medicinal herbs and roots by doing something as simple as searching the internet.

The internet is a great ocean of information that can educate even the most oblivious greenhorn to the great wealth of health and healing power that is trodden under foot with each trip afield. This computer-age resource, along with various available books and guides enable a burgeoning outdoorsman to discover in a few years what formerly took some of us a lifetime to absorb while being passed down from generations of our hill folk forefathers. I believe the internet and information age will organize and revive the vast stores of knowledge our forefathers held from their direct interaction as an integral part of Mother Nature. As I have written before, I believe the perfect storm is brewing in the information age that will, ironically, bring about the resurgence of the mountain man spirit. The knowledge is there for you to read and get a head start but real understanding can only be achieved by actually experiencing and living it in the Great Outdoors.

As the evening was winding down my son and I were heading back down river to the swimming hole when I spotted something ahead on a gravel bar. Walking over and looking down my son said, “Ahh dad, you’re not going to take that with you are you? It’s still a long time until trapping season.” He knew me well and therefore knew that I, of course, had full intentions of taking it with me. It was a largest specimen of bobcat scat that I had ever encountered. It was so large, in fact, I even wondered if it might be from a mountain lion. If nothing else it would provide a valuable attractant for my bobcat sets this winter. As we approached our encampment and my son announced what I was holding, my wife, youngest son, and daughter all screamed and scattered! I, on the other hand, had to smile. I had managed to multi-task very efficiently for the day and I believe E.J. Daily would’ve been proud that the mountain man spirit is still alive and well in southern Missouri. And, like E.J., I’m pretty sure I don’t have to worry about ever working for anyone again if they are aware of my crazy poop-carrying habits. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

Young’uns and Fall Food Plots

Food Plottin’ at an early age…too early! The One-Eyed Hillbilly and his 2½ yr old son on the tractor many moons ago.

I don’t know any young kids that don’t love riding on tractors. You want to see a kid light up with excitement, then put them on a tractor and let them ride with you for a few rounds while putting in the fall food plots. This year if you have a child that’s at the age to get in the woods, start them off with some excitement while teaching quality habitat management. Not only will you once again come to enjoy what has become just another chore for an outdoorsman prior to hunting season, but you will also endear the young’un to the chore at hand for at least the next few years. If they can ride on the tractor, they will want to help and you need to take advantage of that short window of opportunity, kind of like the window of time when they are old enough to mow the grass but young enough to still be fascinated with the chore. It won’t last but it sure is fun while it does.

August is the time to get the cool season food plots in the ground. It’s hot, it’s humid, and the bugs are out in full force. But kids don’t care about the heat and bugs. As August winds down our southern Missouri deer population is at the height of the summer stress period that subjects the animals to browse that is deficient in protein and minerals. If you have a properly designed management strategy the plots you planted in the spring will have supplied the wildlife population with supplemental forage providing these summertime dietary needs. However, during the winter stress period, the deer population is in need of energy to store fat, as opposed to protein and minerals, for the late winter months. To answer these energy needs a combination of cereal grains and legumes planted in late summer generally produces the best results. My advice to the prospective food plot maker is not to trust ads from your hunting magazines advertising the latest and greatest plot forage. Rather, visit your local seed and fertilizer professional and ask their advice. And the first thing they will tell you is to get a soil sample. Here’s another chance for you to endear the young’un to the food plot job. What kid doesn’t like to dig in the dirt? Throw in a cooler with some soda and snacks and this experience is just like a campout.

A word of caution about getting the kids involved – if you have a strong-willed child don’t start them out too young. We learned the hard way. I started giving my son, Alex, rides on the tractor when he was two years old. That fall he wanted to go along but I wouldn’t let him go as I left the house, got on the tractor, and headed down the driveway to the food plot. Alex had just gotten tall enough to open the front door of the house by himself. Ten minutes after I had left, my wife was doing the laundry while the boy played in the living room floor. As she came out into the living room to check on him he was nowhere to be found. After searching the house thinking he was playing hide-and-seek but not finding him, my older son Mitchell ran out of the house and by way of a short-cut, came to the food plot to tell me of the ordeal. I immediately jumped off the tractor and ran for the end of the driveway. Sure enough, Alex had followed where he saw dad drive the tractor. At the end of the driveway there were two cars pulled over and Alex was in the arms of a Good Samaritan who had spied him coming down the driveway in his diaper trying to find the tractor! In 60 seconds he had opened the door and closed it behind him and headed out in pursuit of dad on that tractor and almost gave us a heart attack!

So, start’em out young but not too young. Bring’em home with boots full of chiggers, pockets full of dirt, and bellies full of soda. Turn’em loose at the house and watch how proud their mother is of you for taking them with you while putting in the fall food plots! Remember, as one of my favorite sayings goes, “All that we are we will pass on to our children…let your actions stand tall in a child’s eyes. Just as fruit does not fall far from the tree, children do not stray far from their heroes.” And trust me, if you bring home the kids like that, your wife will swear you are a fruit! So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

Finding Our Salt on Barometer Mountain

Finding their salt on Barometer Mountain, Greg & Alex Stephens sitting in front of a monument for a young climber who lost his life after falling from the summit.

Ever looked up at a mountain and wondered what was on top? Ever wondered why in the world anyone would ever want to climb such a formidable behemoth? I mean, there is real danger in climbing a true mountain, from weather concerns and falling rocks to physical exhaustion and falling yourself; the hazards are lurking with every step. As a child, I remember numerous sprints out of deep Ozark river valleys straight up steep ridges on Dad’s heels during spring turkey seasons past. Of course the turkeys were never at the bottom of the hollow, rather, they were always at the top of the steepest ridge and we had to climb it. As I looked on with a doubtful expression, Dad, with a half taunting voice would say, “You worth your salt or what? Let’s go.”

Was I worth my salt? What in the world did that have to do with the physical pounding we were about to endure? It turns out there was more to it, both physically and mentally, than a child could ever understand. You see, salt has been the subject of many expressions with which we are all familiar, such as ‘salt of the earth’ and “he isn’t worth his salt”, which comes from ancient Greece where slaves were traded for salt. It wasn’t enough that I was packing an old Stevens pump shotgun that was heavier than a boat anchor; no, I also had to run face-first into every low hanging branch Dad would slingshot back at me. As my leg muscles screamed, the sweat rolled down my forehead and the branches smacked me in the face and I remember wondering if this effort was worth the potential reward. When we finally reached the top there was a very real possibility the turkey would be gone. And I would have lost a lot of salt from sweating all for nothing!

Thirty five years later I think I more fully understand. As it turns out, to be a bona-fide ‘salt of the earth’ outdoorsman or mountain man, it’s more than being able to shoot straight, its more than wilderness and wildlife knowledge, its more than telling stories. It’s all of these ingredients mixed in with heaping helping of salty character. Anything worth doing in this life is worth working hard for. And getting up that ridge, year after year, instilled in me a certain sense of adventure and a life lesson about character. An old mountain man will always run that trap line, or climb that ridge during hunting season, or scale that mountain during the off season, just to prove to himself he is still worth his salt. And that trait isn’t passed on in front of a TV or video game. You won’t find your salt sitting at the house - you’ve got to be out there.

And out there we were, in 2009 on Kodiak Island, looking from the highway up the 4 mile trail leading to the summit of the 2,500 foot Barometer Mountain. Not a monster mountain but considerably larger and steeper than what I had been up against in the Ozarks. I doubted there was a turkey up there but I was determined to get to the summit. My son, Alex, on the other hand, was giving me that same doubtful expression that I had given my dad thirty-five years ago. Along with my former Missourian, now Alaskan friend Steve Neff and his son, Trevor, we were going to find out if we were worth our salt.

On the roof of Kodiak, Alaska - The One-Eyed Hillbilly and outdoor adventure partner, Steve Neff on the summit of Barometer Mountain.

The trail started out on a gently increasing slope running for the first two miles through dense brush and foliage heading up the northwest ridge. On the way up Steve introduced us to salmon berries which are a beautiful and very tasty berry resembling an unripe red-phase blackberry. It was a great adventure going from side to side searching the trail for the candy-like berry. Then it hit me – we were on one the most densely Kodiak bear populated islands in the world, in brush so thick you couldn’t see more than twenty feet, and foraging the same fruit the bears were after. Kind of gives you a new perspective about the wilderness when you can round a corner at any moment and be face to face with a Kodiak Brown Bear. There is an eerie, keen sense and mental edge you develop that is, for the most part, unfamiliar in the Ozarks, while in the natural environment of a predator like the Kodiak brown bear. It makes you understand the pang of anxiety and nervousness animals living lower on the food chain must feel while simply living day to day in Mother Nature.

After breaking from the brush line at roughly 1.75 miles into the hike the trial turned markedly steeper. There were spots that required both hands and feet to continue up the trail. Most of the trail from the brush line up was such that if you ever fell you would at the very least fall several hundred feet and in places you shuddered to think what might happen if you lost your grasp. Alex, like me thirty years previously, had to be coaxed up the trail several times. We managed to summit Barometer Mountain in a few hours. The incredible view of the mountains against the Kodiak shoreline and the north Pacific was a memory that will forever be burned into our souls. It’s hard to put into words what you take away from such an experience. The best way that I can describe it is that there are treasures the Creator has reserved for the wanderlust filled mountain man who will challenge himself. And besides the soul moving scenery, what did we find on Barometer Mountain? We found our salt. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

Hillbilly Surf & Turf

A bag full of Ozark lobsters. Greg & Alex Stephens on the creek bank.

Someone once wrote that, at the twilight of our physical life, all we are is a soul filled with all of our life’s experiences. In simpler terms, ‘we are a summation of our experiences.’ Experiences in a life ranging from the sad to the happy, from the aggravating to the funny, from the good to the bad, and from the simple to the profound, these are what you will be at that last moment in this physical world just before entering the ‘Happy Hunting Ground.’ It occurs to me that in this life the trick is to learn to rejoice in the run-of-the-mill, everyday life experiences and learn lessons from the unpleasant life experiences so as not to repeat our mistakes. Once you learn to enjoy the simple things in life the happy and fun experiences are just a bonus. With that in mind, it is amazing how run-of-the-mill, simple experiences with something as simple as crawdads can make for experiences in a life ranging from very unpleasant all the way to laughing-until-you-cry hilarious. Enjoy the simple stuff I say.

Crawdads you say? Yes, crawdads, also known as crayfish, crawfish, mudbugs, and many other names. These delectable crustaceans have been the source for many a memory of summertime night fishing, of warm season camp feasting, and of hilarious canoeing antics. The simple experiences in my life pertaining to crawdads have brought great pleasure and provided many memories. Some would say, like a bobcat swatting at a turkey feather on a string, it’s pretty easy to keep a one-eyed hillbilly’s attention in the Great Outdoors. In some instances that trait is a virtue.

Crawfish in the Missouri Department of Conservation code book are listed as live bait with a possession limit of 150. There are various methods for legally catching the pinching critters but the method that I find the most fun is using a long handled dip net. Just at dusk, as the crawdads come up to shallower water to feed, we wade into the water with a long handled dip net and Coleman lanterns. In the bluff holes of clear, spring-fed streams, slowly wading upstream to avoid disturbing the water, a fisherman is easily able to spot large crawdads as they crawl along the bottom of the river. Since crawdads swim backwards using their tail to pull them through the water, dropping the dip net in just behind the crawdad and quickly dragging the net toward his tail is generally the most productive tactic for catching this live bait. And live bait is a good description because not only can you use a crawdad tail to catch practically any type of fish in the Ozarks, but if you have enough of them you can catch a hungry hillbilly as well.

For a hungry hillbilly there is nothing better than Hillbilly Surf and Turf (any wild meat and crawdads) and it’s not the most expensive thing on the menu when you do it all yourself. For the tastiest results it is best to purge a mess of crawdads before cleaning them. Purging is simply immersing your live crawdads in a container full of cool salt water (a cooler with a white interior is best). In the salt water the crawdads will regurgitate all the mud in their system. You simply empty the dirty water and repeat the process until the water is clean (generally two purges are all that is necessary). Then you can boil the crawdads whole in spices or you can peel and boil the meat from the tail. A word of caution – when cooking or cleaning, never start with a dead crawdad because there is no way to know how long it has been dead. When boiling a live crawdad whole, the tail will always curl under its body. If the tail is straight when it comes out of the pot don’t eat it! There’s nothing worse than a bad experience with shellfish!

Dinner on the creek bank.  The One-Eyed Hillbilly cookin' late-night Ozark Surf & Turf.

Dinner on the creek bank. The One-Eyed Hillbilly cooking late night surf & turf.Speaking of unpleasant experiences, there’s nothing more aggravating than a big crawdad getting a hold of a finger. And there’s nothing funnier than when that same crawdad is getting someone else. Case in point and one of my laugh-until-you-cry moments, once while canoeing with a group of friends my close friend, David Gray, had done something to me, I forget what it was. Anyway, I slipped up behind him, pulled his swimming suit out about 8 inches, and dropped in a big crawdad. To this day I have never seen anyone move so fast! He was spinning circles faster than a Jumpin-Jack firecracker. He had both hands in his drawers digging furiously like there was a hornet’s nest down there. It was a sight to behold! I’m sure it’s not a pleasant memory for him but to this day I can nearly get down laughing when I think about it! I hope we’re getting too old for him to think about revenge, besides, he deserved it…I just can’t remember what he did to me. But I’m sure it was real bad. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly. Good luck, be safe, and get a big one.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

Young Hunters Afield Photo Contest

For immediate release:


Young Hunters Afield Photo Contest

Tucson, AZ (July, 2010) – Tri-Tronics and Wingshooting USA have teamed up to bring gundog enthusiasts the Young Hunters Afield Photo Contest.

"Is there anything better than a picture with a kid and a hunting dog?” beamed Scott Linden, host of Wingshooting USA. “We want our viewers to share their favorite kid photos with us. The best pictures will have a chance to win great prizes from Tri-Tronics.” Each week during the 26-week broadcast season, lucky kids, along with their canine pal, will have their photo shown on TV and have a chance to win a new Tri-Tronics Sport Junior electronic training collar. For a chance to win, visit http://www.tritronics.com/contest.asp

Wingshooting USA and host Scott Linden were recently named “favorite upland show” and “favorite host” in a nationwide survey of wingshooters and dog owners. This fall, Wingshooting USA will feature plenty of action, beautiful places, great people, and well trained dogs. And of course, Scott’s own German wirehaired pointer, Buddy will be there. The show airs on a number of TV networks starting in late September, including VERSUS.

“Having a well trained dog during any upland hunt, will help ensure that a young hunter will have a positive experience.” stated Gary Williams, Tri-Tronics Marketing and Sales Manager. “Our partnership with Wingshooting USA and Scott Linden on the Young Hunters Afield Photo Contest demonstrates our shared conviction that recruiting young hunters is the key priority to keeping our hunting heritage alive for future generations. In addition to appearing weekly on Wingshooting USA, contestants’ photographs will be displayed on http://www.tritronics.com and on the Tri-Tronics Facebook page.

Tri-Tronics training collars are backed by a 30-day money-back, 2-year warranty. All products are made in the USA.



Contact Information:

Tri-Tronics Customer Support
support@tritronics.com (800) 456-4343

Women Folk from the Ozark Hills

Proud great-grandma with her six year old great-grandson and his first spring turkey. Juanita and Alex Stephens, Missouri spring turkey season 2003.

I grew up thinking that everyone took their fish, turkeys, deer, quail, rabbits and any other critter harvested from Nature’s bounty to grandma’s house and it magically showed up in the freezer or on your dinner plate. Grandma Stephens’ basement was the drop off spot for my uncles, cousins, dad, and me. We killed it and she did the rest…I just thought it was normal. Likewise, on the other side of the county at the O'Day Farm, Grandma O’Day was up at 5:30 am every morning, hunting season or not, cooking breakfast. Growing up I just thought it was normal. As a matter of fact, you had better eat when Grandma O’Day asked what you wanted or she was downright agitated. I quickly learned that you would sooner be late to the woods than tell her ‘no thanks’ - I didn’t dream this was out of the ordinary. However, after getting married, my wife informed me that this was definitely not normal. As a matter of fact, for the longest time, she didn’t even believe this really happened. I was dumbfounded. I took her to Grandma Stephens’ house and told Grandma to set her straight.

Looking back now I am amazed at the juggling act my grandmothers performed during hunting season, which, by the way, was also the Holiday Season. You see, back in the Seventies and early Eighties deer season occurred during the week of Thanksgiving. It was quail, rabbits, and fall turkeys before Thanksgiving, deer during the week of Thanksgiving, and quail, rabbits, and coons the rest of the year. Thanksgiving Day was a mad rush for the hunters – get up early, hunt until noon, rush to the house for Thanksgiving dinner, and then back to the woods to close out the day hunting. Whew, what a busy day. And then there was Christmas. For me at the farm, Christmas entailed early morning gift opening followed by rabbit and quail hunting before dinner, and then rabbit and quail hunting after dinner. Of course the grandmas, moms, and aunts spent the day at the house cooking, cleaning, and visiting. And man, were they proud of all the guys when we brought in wild game for them to process on top of all their other chores! Not to mention the mud on the boots, the hunting coats and hats flung all around, and the guns in every corner. How did they keep from hanging us up in the basement?

Today, the seasons have changed a little. Now its archery deer, fall turkeys, out-of-state elk and pheasant, and firearms deer hunting before Thanksgiving, trapping from mid-November through the end of March and muzzleloader deer hunting during the week of Christmas (this was not a popular MDC season change with some at my house). All of this does not even take into consideration gigging season or the squirrels and rabbits from first frost through mid February. To this day the mud, coats, and guns are still a challenge for me. And, since my wife has not yet subscribed to grandma’s old ways of processing all the harvested game, the butcher boards on the counter and uncut wild meat in bowls in the refrigerator is another occasional issue. Oh, and rolled up frozen fur takes up too much freezer space – that’s another issue. And, if I don’t have time to skin, the occasional whole frozen raccoon or otter in the chest freezer can be still yet another source of contention. Do you think there is anywhere else in the world where the women have to deal with the issues like they do here in the Ozark Hills? Men, we are married to saints!!

1996 Deer Season. 78 year old Grandma O'Day, a true Ozarks Pioneer woman, and another buck from the family farm.

As I mentioned earlier, I asked Grandma Juanita Stephens to set my wife LaDonna straight on how a good Stephens woman operated during hunting season. Grandma, at 87 years old, looked over the top of her glasses with a half ornery smile and said, “Girl, I married Jewel Stephens when I was sixteen and he was twenty-six. I thought I had to do everything he told me to do. And yes, I did clean a lot of critters. But don’t you dare do it! You make the boys clean whatever they kill.”

"Oh no!" I thought to myself. I had just recently managed to convince LaDonna to help me cut up some of the meat after I had processed a carcass and now grandma had set me back at least three years in my grooming efforts! I’ll have to start the 'good Stephens wife grooming and training process' all over again! Oh well, at least Grandma confirmed for my wife that the story was true.

The women of the Ozark Hills are truly unique and a huge part of our outdoor experience. They are as much a part of our interaction with Mother Nature as any other fundamental ingredient in the experience. Today, their role within Mother Nature’s economy has morphed into a much more active role and women are doing a lot of the hunting themselves. Whatever the capacity of their interaction, to the women folk of the Ozark Hills, I solute and thank each of you for making our way of life possible. To Grandma Stephens, Grandma O’Day, and my wife, LaDonna, a special thank you for allowing me and my children to experience the same outdoor heritage that our forefathers lived during Holiday, hunting, and trapping seasons past. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly. Good luck, be safe, and get a big one.

 

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

Mother Nature’s Mid-Summer Sweets

Grandma with Mother Nature’s wild summer bounty. LaDonna Stephens and a great crop of Independence Day blackberries.

For me there is not a more nostalgic and beautiful summertime scene than blooming blackberry bushes along an old, rusty fence row with an old, retired dairy barn in the background. The unripe, bright red berries intermingled with plump, ripe blackberries ready for picking, brings back memories of summertime in the early seventies picking the brier-laden black fruit alongside my aunts and uncles on the family farm. There were Grandpa, Grandma, and 9 of 11 uncles and aunts still at home. We had no cable TV, video games, or internet, …heck, we didn’t even have air conditioning. Remembering back today it reminds me of the popular 70’s TV show, The Waltons. Life seemed more innocent back then and our daily fun was made through our own imagination (if you can imagine that!). Picking blackberries was a tasty adventure 35 years ago, and if you like the slower paced outdoor family life, it’s still a tasty Independence Day adventure today.

Thirty-five years ago there were cattle and horses keeping the barnyard, pastures and fence rows clear. Still, the blackberry briers were easy to find, but just not as plentiful as today. Back then the fence rows where the creek and fields bordered each other and the field ditches that had been filled with cord wood debris to prevent erosion were the best places to find blackberry briers. Today, in the absence of livestock, the deer, turkeys, and furbearers have their run of the place and the whole farm is a blackberry heaven. In the Ozarks any field that has been without livestock or a good brush hogging in the last two years is a prime location to begin a blackberry treasure hunt.

Thirty-five years ago a pair of cut-offs, a tee-shirt, a pair of canvas Converse tennis shoes and an empty cottage cheese container was all you needed and out the farmhouse door you went. As a child, much to my parent’s chagrin, I didn’t give much thought to chiggers, ticks, and other creepy-crawlies until after-the-fact. Today, as a parent, I am much more concerned (ok,…ok, my wife is much more concerned) about the kids getting infested with ticks and chiggers. I must admit I don’t miss digging at ankles full of chiggers for weeks after picking blackberries. These days at our house its required practice to wear long pants, long socks, high-top shoes, and a good insect repellent. And when that doesn’t work my wife blames me for dragging in the critters that mysteriously jump from me to her while we sleep even thought I don’t get a single bite - something to do with sweet and sour she says.

An improvement on the empty cottage cheese container. A gallon milk jug with the front cut away and handle intact makes for the perfect blackberry holder when attached to the belt.

This year the 4^th of July was a day made for picking blackberries. The Ozarks received plenty of rain earlier in the summer so the berries were big and beautiful and the temperature was a relatively cool 82°F with overcast skies. Mother Nature was practically begging us to come out – and we obliged her. After almost getting stuck crossing the creek in the Jeep and much trash-talking about who picked more berries between the boys and the girls, we managed approximately 4 gallons of ripe and sweet berries with reports of only a few stray ticks. It was another successful hunting trip, of a different sort, in the Ozark hills.

Thirty-five years ago sounds like a long time but it was a blink of an eye. In my mind, each time I walk into the old farmhouse I can still see grandma, long wooden spoon in hand, looking down into the big simmering kettle of purple froth and stirring it as she boiled down the berries for jelly and jam. Of course the best part of picking blackberries has always been eating all the summer sweets that come along with them and nothing says Ozark hills in the morning more than coffee and toast with grandma’s freshly made blackberry jelly or, in the evening, vanilla ice cream and grandma’s freshly made blackberry cobbler. And now that my wife is a grandma she’s doing a wonderful job of continuing the legacy. We had homemade waffles with walnuts and blackberries for breakfast Monday morning and they were wonderful. Grandmas are the best! So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

Catching Barn Doors on Kodiak

Aboard the Lana J and in search of Barn Doors in Alaska. Fishermen Jack Fortney, Greg Stephens, and Ellis Floyd.

Does July in the Ozarks with 92°F with 90% relative humidity make you long for the cool days and cooler nights of November, like it does me? Would the most majestic outdoor scenery on earth coupled with world class halibut and salmon fishing excite you to your very core? Would sailing through a cool, heavy mist, as you ventured along vast, timbered, and mountainous rocky coastlines provide you with a great thrill, reminiscent of primeval Viking explorers of old? If so, a fishing trip to Kodiak Island, Alaska might be the place for your next outdoor adventure.

Kodiak Island is just 25 miles off the southwestern coast of Alaska across the Shelikof Strait; however, to get there by water, due to the vastness and low population density of our largest state, it is a 130 mile, 10 hour ferry ride from the nearest port of Homer, Alaska. At 3,588 square miles, the island is the second largest island in the United States behind Hawaii (Missouri’s largest county, Texas County, is 1,179 square miles by comparison). The annual average precipitation is a little more on Kodiak than in Missouri – 75 inches per year verses just 43 inches. Yes, it’s cooler and wetter but there aren’t any barn doors to be found here in the Ozarks - monstrous swimming barn doors that is.

Around Kodiak Island, giant halibut, commonly known as barn doors, lurk in the depths. These giants have been known to reach 500+ pounds in the right places. And, you don’t just find the holes that hold these behemoths by accident. An experienced captain and crew could be worth their weight in gold if they put you on the right fish. Halibut fishing derbies pay many thousands of dollars for the largest catch of the year, but you have to purchase a derby ticket to qualify. The 2009 Homer Halibut Derby winner caught a 354 pound barn door and won $40,440.00! That would pay for a lot of fishing and hunting trips!

Alaskan fishing adventurer Jack Fortney with the third largest halibut of the trip.

Last year our friends, Captain Mel and Alana Roe, along with first mate Zach Miller, at Kodiak Island Adventures took us out away from the tourist-trap ‘chicken holes’ to the spots where the monsters swim. Before leaving the bay at Kodiak we dropped lines to catch our bait – herring the size of average trout from a Missouri trout park. In 15 minutes we had enough herring for 7 fishermen to fish all day. After a beautiful boat ride up the coast of Kodiak Island on the nicely furnished 40 foot Lana J we began fishing and immediately and consistently caught 40 to 60 pound halibut all day with the chance to hook a giant $40,000.00 fish with every cast. Captain Mel and Zach worked at a feverish pace retrieving our catch and keeping our lines baited and in the water. Fishing at approximately 90 feet we would drop our lines just above the bottom and let them bob up and down with the motion of the boat. It generally wasn’t more than a few minutes and sometimes just seconds before you had on another 50 pound fish! And let me tell you, after several hours of pulling up 50 pounders from 90 feet, one right after another, it’s almost agonizing to try to bring up another fish but you are always anticipating the jackpot. Of course, money-fish or not, we had hit the jackpot. We were fishing in Alaska, the Great Outdoor Shangri la.

Captain Mel and company was the conduit to an experience that would leave any true mountain man both spiritually and emotionally overwhelmed. Until you see it, it’s hard to imagine bald eagles and whales so plentiful that they become commonplace. It’s hard to imagine postcard scenes of majestic snow-capped mountains thrusting up from the emerald green ocean literally around every turn. It’s hard to imagine brown bears walking the coastline where the rivers let out into the ocean. And now, after living it for the past few years, it’s hard to imagine going through life without the experience.

Standing on the deck of a fishing boat, feeling the cool north breeze in your face, seeing the sites and hearing the sounds of the great North Country, you cannot help but be spiritually moved. Sharing a soul-moving experience with family and friends adds even more meaning. There are places where the Creator’s hand produced masterpieces that speak to the soul of mountain men everywhere. Two such places are the Missouri Ozarks and Alaska. If you’ve never been to Alaska I hope you get to see it some day. To find out more about this great adventure visit www.kodiakislandadventures.com If you are anything like me, you will never be able to get enough of it. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.