Bitter Sweet Memory Today

As I write this, today is July 11, 2021.  This weekend marks 28 years since my dad had lost his battle with Cancer.  Why am I writing this? Because it was on this date  28 years ago we spent our last camping weekend and season together.  During that week, we also took a trip to Maine as he wanted to see the entire state before he passed.  One year later, I took another trip to Maine to see the rest of the state we didn’t get to see due to logging road closures and he not feeling well.  

As I am sitting here by the campfire, I am reflecting on the memories we shared, and how I am carrying on the tradition of camping and fishing.  Growing up with my dad was not easy.  We both had our ways that would clash, but he and I grew closer on those camping trips during his last years. 

I am sitting here remembering the silly things, like counting beers left in the cooler and whose they were; the time he almost set himself on fire and why he would never use a white gas pump lantern again.  I also remembered the fish we caught, the one that got away.  And also remember the summer it did not get above 60 degrees and we were fishing with our winter coats on.

Speaking of which,  I spent many a cold night in my tent as we used to camp from April 1st to October 30th.  Some nights got down to the mid 20’s.  My dad also went from believing the fish didn’t bite before 4pm - to becoming a morning fisherman.  Every morning he would knock on my tent, telling me to load up the boat and that my coffee was on the picnic table getting cold.  Thank God he had the coffee ready, cause waking up to frost and 25 degree weather was quite bone chilling.

Below are some of the photos from our camping days, the video of our last season, and the trips to Maine.