River Chums Access River Levels Weather Pennsylvania Information

The recollections of a reporter of history are at best suspect and at worst totally wrong.  It is thus that I ask the reader to please endure these mis-remembers and enhanced reminiscences.  Feel free to fill-in the missing factoids as you will. None of this reporting is done with prejudice or a search for vengeance, although, both may be warranted.    -   BHCF

Contents

Act I:  Beginning – Awards and Accolades

   Scene one:  The Fixer

   Scene two:  Pressure

   Scene three:  The Sportsman

   Scene four:  The Trial

Act II:  Extreme Outdoor Adventure

   Scene One:  Circuiting the Perimeter

   Scene Two:  Sometimes a Beginning Should Be Enough

Act I:  Beginning – Awards and Accolades

The Spring of a new year brings a meeting of River Chums to an historic cabin in the Wyoming State Forest (now Loyalsock) for the yearly renewal of faith in a clan of brothers.  Knotty pine walls with various and deteriorating stuffed animal trophies adorning the walls of a venue that promises a celebration. The years have blurred, but all see clearly that which has come before and shall surely follow. It is here we begin.  

The scene opens with a master of ceremonies calling the first award recipient to the fore.  These anecdotes serve to recall some of that celebration.

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Scene one:  The Fixer

Glen Campbell croons “Lineman for the County” from an ancient cassette recorder as MOC Bill Krause calls forward stalwart clan member Fred to receive a full-paged Boyertown Times article featuring Fred as a lineman.  His wife Robin and kids are interviewed in the text and tell of nights home alone playing board games while Fred was out fixing the grid for the betterment of the lives of his River Chums pals and all of the inhabitants of the Boyertown area and the world in general.  

The hint of a tear betrays Fred’s great appreciation as he accepts the article mounted on a piece of cardboard and suitable for framing.  

We were all touched. We all thank him for the power.

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Scene two:  Pressure

Some background perhaps necessary here. At times some River Chums for various reasons experience an overwhelming requirement to “eliminate” before the stage is set. This brings us to our beloved forester friend Glenn “Elmer” Erb.  Glenn has found it necessary to forego a toilet in a tree stand while hunting deer. The resulting miasma offended and appalled his wonderful wife Patty when Glenn’s soiled undershorts appeared in the children’s diaper bucket. The “unders” were trashed, as was Glenn later that evening.

Partner to this account are other occurrences of evident brown colored streaks in his ”BVD’s” while relaxing in said attire on some fall trips.   This being said, MOC Krausemeier presented to Glenn an award of a set of incontinence underwear, which are reported to have been on him ever since, even as I write this account. All Chums are quite pleased with this effluent control solution.

Some awards are just damned practical.

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Scene three:  The Sportsman

Deer hunting is a primal urge in which many of the River Chum’s clan engage with great enthusiasm. One such Chum is our MOC Bill Krause. On a trip to Potter County with his gunning cronies, he proceeded to indulge in multitudinous cocktails the evening before opening day of the Pennsylvania deer hunting season. Not known for moderation, his partying extended late into the night.  

Arising much later than his hunting crew, due to a wicked hangover, he scarfed an aspirin and a cup of coffee and headed out to his hunting spot.  After a short stand, Billy’s bowels came calling and he defecated explosively while leaning on a nearby oak tree.  Cleaning up and sniffing his fingers to be sure they were clean, he glanced up and there in that oak tree was another hunter in a tree stand. The hunter only shook his head in wonder.  Bill then sauntered back to his hunting spot and bagged a nice buck.  Such is the skill and cunning of the intrepid deer hunter.   

Bill’s plaque commemorating his hunt, now a treasured heirloom hanging on his garage wall, was prepared and presented by Rick “The Italian Dutchman” Solazzo.

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Scene four:  The Trial

A lovely day in April found the River Chums floating the Loyalsock with good water.  A harrowing crash occurred in ferocious white water overturning the vessel piloted by Glen “Elmer” Erb and Joseph “The Wedding Singer” Dotzel.  In the melee, Glen received a near fatal injury, which he attributed to the failed abilities of sternman Joe.

 Later that evening the court of Sullivan County, River Chums Jurisdiction, was convened and lawyer for the plaintiff, Barry “The Loud”, and attorney for the defense, “Frederico the Meek”, stood to do battle before Judge William “Gator Hat and Bongo” Krausemeier of the Birch Sap Circuit Court of the United States.  Witnesses were sworn in by a sub-lethal blow to the head by Mark “Rusty the Bailiff” Cholewa and the proceedings began.

Screaming invectives and expletives, barrister Barry presented his prosecutorial tirade.  The jury after inserting their earplugs was deeply touched by his presentation. The defense by the incompetent Frederico was similarly received, wholly by virtue of reduced sound volume, deference to civility, and the comfort afforded by the removal of their earplugs. Presentations ended and the jury adjourned to the Ranger Station bathroom. Hours passed as the jury came to a conclusion.

The jury’s decision, “we have a hung jury”, was pronounced by chairman Fred “Atomic Warhead” John. To which the defendant, Joe Dotzel exclaimed “Stand and Be Proud”, having known of Fred’s prowess from previous accounts.  The jury suggested solution was decision by Poker Dice. Judge Krausemeier concurred.  The dice rolled and a flop-off ensued, ensuring a victory for Mr. Erb, who earned the subservience and love of the plaintiff, Joseph “Injun Joe” Dotzel for future River Chums trips and thereafter wherever they may be.  

So be it; as sober jurisprudence again satisfies the foolhardy.  

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Act II:  Extreme Outdoor Adventure

It is predictable how River Chums adventures seem to spawn all manner of unexpected outcomes, whether a single chum’s guiding light imbecility or the buffoonery of the whole group. Simply surviving an adventure is a blessing. Hawaiian war couches seem best future choices for all adventures.

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Scene One:  Circuiting the Perimeter

So many of the River Chums have expressed their pleasure upon the presentation of knowledge and insight by the twin foresters, Joe and Elmer.  Nary a denizen of the wood nor a species of tree escapes the consideration of these primal superheroes.  All Chums hang on their every word.

A lovely spring day puts us on a mountain near the Ranger Station for a field trip with the beloved foresters. All are happy, expectant and just a bit inebriated when entering a forester instruction area on the mountain top.  The topic was of interest to all as the foresters explained the use of electric fences for the exclusion of deer from recently cut timber plots. Chums leaned in to better hear each word of the scientific explanations predicting the return of desired tree species within the electrified zone; that is, until a River Chum, who shall remain anonymous (his initials are Jack Meoff), proceeded to bite an electrified fence wire and implore others to join his “circuit”.

The foresters fine lesson ended with no Chums critically injured.  

The fried brain of  Mr Meoff still functions in its way but seems to gravitate to scotch and fine cigars.

Such is the River Chums way.  Long may it prosper!

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Scene Two:  Sometimes a Beginning Should Be Enough

Adventure and bravery spoke to some Chums in the early years.  Foolish notions were entertained in the planning as well as execution of amazing endeavors.  

A favorite early destination was the famed “Red Mo”.  An unpredictable spring flow and very remote drainage made a trip to the “Red Mo” an adventure.  Once on the river with a canoe and camping gear, there was no way to communicate back to “civilization” for help or a last “Good bye honey, I love you” call.  These trips were before cell phones and perhaps even the radio, though I’d have check on that.  The point is, it was remote.

A small tavern in the town of Grass Flats Pennsylvania provided the lubrication station to set in motion a first trip on the “Red Mo” for the River Chums.  An evaluation of the put-in and take-out sites proved favorable.  Elmer and BHCF proclaimed the trip “A Go”.

The lure of unknown paths and destinations revved-up all who were putting their canoes in the water.  A ceaselessly rapid river stirred our adrenaline.  No restful eddies were in view and just gaining shore once afloat appeared difficult.  Camping gear, tents, extra clothes, food, cooking gear, and beer were loaded in the canoes.  We didn’t know the “Mo” was so active that it allowed very little beer drinking while paddling.  Beverages would have to be enjoyed in camp.  Some islands on the topo map promised refuge for nightly camps but of course, no one in the Chums crew knew any details.  We weren’t quite sure this was doable or a good idea.  

I pushed off with my partner Connie in 19* F weather as a light snowfall lent a surreal ambiance to the scene.  Navigating the canoe around the myriad rocks in the river was a fulll time job, with both paddlers constantly engaged.  We steered our laden watercraft right and left around rock after rock. Shortly into the trip, My partner Connie in the front seat, turned to me and said something about the shore ahead.  I asked him to repeat what he said and this time I heard “Do you see those people running on the shore up ahead?” to which I said “No, I don’t”.  Knowing that running on the shore of this river would be a near impossible accomplishment. I became concerned when he asked me about the runners a second time.  At this point I hailed the other canoes and put into shore.  We made a warming fire and thawed Connie out and had no other incidents.

It was my and I’m sure Connie’s first experience with the effects of hypothermia.  Of course, this didn’t deter us and we pressed on deeper into the wilds of the “Red Mo”.  All ended well and we made the springtime trip to the Red Mo several more times.

Eventually common sense and maturity dictated more docile and less perilous destinations. Whoddathunk?

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