Rugged Camp 2012

Rugged Camp 2010

For the past few years I've been putting together an event with a small group of guys from my church called Rugged Camp. The idea is a weekend of primitive camping, hunting, and learning survival skills; It pretty much came from watching way too many Man vs. Wild episodes. Last year we went to Myakka State Forest during their archery hog management hunt in November. We split up into two man teams and had a list of survival accomplishments with different points for each one. The team with the most points at the end of the weekend won the title of top woodsmen; kind of like a survival scavenger hunt. We were so busy trying to check accomplishments off the list that it sort of took the fun out of it, "Fire with sticks, check. Eat a frog, check. Shoot a hog with a bow..." Well nobody checked that one off.

This year I had a different plan. Due to my son being born in November I changed the venue to a February small game hunt at Citrus WMA. We had a good group of guys signed up to camp Fri - Sun the last weekend of small game season at Citrus. Instead of making it a competition, I put together a schedule of events and planned to teach different survival skills over the course of three days: hydration skills, primitive fire making, small game cleaning, and other stuff every guy should know. But plans tend to change due to unforeseeable events. Tragically, a very young woman whom most of us knew was killed in an accidental shooting the week before and her memorial service was scheduled for the Saturday right in the middle of the camp. I shortened the camp to Saturday afternoon through Sunday and a few of the guys decided to cancel. After the memorial service four of us with heavy hearts got in our vehicles and headed north to Citrus in our dress clothes. My brother Jacob and his son Noah would meet up with us later in the evening.

We arrived about 3 p.m. and quickly changed into our hunting apparel. Being that we only had a day and a half and a smaller group of guys, we threw the agenda out the window and decided to just play it by ear. The one accomplishment that I did plan to do was not to bring any food with me but only eat what I could find in the woods. Shotguns in hand, except Carlos who had a slingshot, we headed down the trail towards a big pond. When we arrived at the edge of the pond we split up and I headed towards my climber that I had left up over some big hog wallows. Before I got to my stand I decided to get some dinner insurance; so I sat down for a little bit and shot two squirrels. After cleaning, bagging them up, and stuffing them in my backpack I made my way to the stand. When I got to the pond I found some young cattail reeds sprouting up. I pulled up a couple and added the tender part of their stalks to my dinner bag. They taste kind of like celery and work good in wild game stews when thinly sliced up. I had something to work with for dinner but a nice little 40lb hog would be a lot better than two squirrels and some cattails.

I climbed my stand and began to settle into the peaceful evening overlooking the pond when my older brother and his son started waging World War III on squirrels about 100 yards to my right, their 12 gauge and 22 mag. were making a great rhythmic beat. Then my brother Jonny started in on the squirrels 100 yards to my left. My expectations weren't too high of a hog coming from either direction so I began to accept the situation: Squirrel, it's what's for dinner. After dark we met up and tried to bop some frogs with sticks but missed the only one we saw. So with a good batch of squirrels we headed for camp.

I decided to do squirrel two ways: one stewed with cattails and the other skewered over an open flame. I did bring a little camp spice jar I picked up in the camping aisle of Wal-Mart. So after putting every spice it had on my two squirrels, I began cooking them. The first one I quartered up and put in my little camp frying pan with sliced cattails. Putting the top on the pan I left it to simmer on the grille. The second one I skewered with palmetto stalks, and after putting a couple garlic cloves given to me by Carlos in its cavity, I tied it all together with palmetto fronds. It ended up looking like a demonic little squirrel crucifix of some sort. I was just hoping it tasted better than it looked. I propped it up over the camp fire to simmer and attended to my stew on the grille. When all of our cooking was done we gathered around the picnic table, thanked the Lord and dug in. I ate the stew first and it tasted okay at best. The cattail was actually pretty good and the spices helped mask the rodent taste that squirrels can have when not slow cooked. I was surprised when I got to the skewered squirrel. It had a nice spicy smoky crust and the meat was white and not too tough. It was definitely the better course of the night. After joking around the campfire we spread our sleeping bags out on the ground and attempted to sleep.

Carlos was the first one out as a low steady roar came from his sleeping bag. Then went my brother Jacob. His snore has evolved a lot since we shared a room as boys. It sounded like a mix between a kazoo and a weed whacker but it shifted gears like a race car. He must have won the race sometime in the wee hours of the morning because he finally stopped and I fell asleep for a little bit before I was awakened by the howling of coyotes. Soon 6 a.m. came and my iPhone sounded the alarm to get up and at em'. My back ached and my head was pounding. I felt like just lying in my sleeping bag all morning. But I forced my body to get up and we began preparing to go out and hunt down breakfast, that is until we checked the weather radar on our phones. How did we survive before smart phones? There was a big rain front coming right at us from the coast. I'm rugged and all but I don't like sitting in a rainstorm in the woods all morning so I asked who wanted to go into town for breakfast. The decision was unanimous. We piled into our trucks and drove 25 minutes to Cracker Barrel. Uncle Hershel's Favorite and three coffees later I felt like a new man; I was once again ready to tackle the wild. We headed back to Citrus and when we arrived at the parking lot it was still pouring rain and there was an empty truck there. Soon two drenched old guys with cowboy hats and 22's came trudging up the trail. I rolled down the window just long enough  to ask them if they had fun. Apparently they were still living in the good old days and didn't have smart phones with weather radar.

Finally late in the morning the weather broke and we headed once again down towards the pond. On the way there we took a couple detours so I could grab two trail cameras that I had left in the woods the week before. The first one had a couple does and the second one had some does and two big hogs. Finally we made it to the pond and began walking through the tall marshy reeds and sawgrass hoping to spook up a rabbit, a snipe or maybe even a hog. My brother Jonny did get one rabbit and I saw a couple snipe that flew too low to safely take a shot without risking a Dick Cheney. With one rabbit we headed towards a peninsula on the pond to figure out lunch. It was still raining off and on and so making a fire would be difficult especially since we forgot the lighter at the truck. This was our moment to rise to the occasion and make rugged camp history; our moment to make Dave and Cody look like a couple of wusies; to make Bear Grylls look like a British man, oh wait, he is. I found a dead maple tree and cut a fire board and spindle. Then I found a big clump of fine roots hanging from a willow tree. In the middle of the clump the fibers were somewhat dryer than those on the outside so I made a tinder nest to hopefully kindle an ember into a flame with. After preparing and notching the fire board we used the bow and spindle technique to make an ember which we placed into the nest of willow roots. We began blowing into it profusely as billows of smoke choked us, but it was just too moist to burst into flame. We had to act quick or we would be left with rabbit sushi for lunch. I had a light bulb moment and quickly pulled a shotgun shell out of my backpack. Using my Buck Knife I carfully cut open the plastic around the shell and poured the gun powder onto the ember. "Poof!" We had a flame, for a couple seconds. Three shotgun shells of gunpowder later we had a small fire going in the light drizzle and a rabbit roasting on a stick. By this time three of the guys had to head home and so it was just myself, Jonny and Ryan Jones left. We enjoyed the rabbit, which was much tastier than the squirrels and then once again checked the weather radar. Another round of heavy rain was coming our way so we made the decision to officially end Rugged Camp 2012.

By the time we hit the trail the rain had arrived. I still had to walk around to the other side of the pond and retrieve my climber tree stand before starting back to the parking area. A couple miles later we arrived back to my 4Runner soaking wet and sore. We still had our dress clothes from the memorial service in the car and being that they were the only dry clothes we had left, we changed into them and hit the road about 5 p.m. We went through the Wendy's drive-thru and got some burgers and frosties which didn't do nearly for us what Cracker Barrel did, I think the squirrels were better than the burgers. Then we hit the highway. Along the road we saw a few deer and a big sow rooting up an orange grove with a bunch of piglets, more than we saw in a day and a half of being in the woods. All in all Rugged Camp was alright this year. My highlights were eating what we could get, Cracker Barrel, and lighting a fire in the rain without any conventional fire starting device. Was this the last Rugged Camp? I don't think so. Lord willing, next Rugged Camp will be coming up this September. Jumper Creek WMA during archery season, the campsite accessible only by boat! In my mind, that's an adventure worth looking forward to!               

Flats Fishin' the Front

I've loved fishing since before I can remember. I guess I started fishing when I was a little baby and there has never been a time in my life that I have taken a break from it. I can thank my Grandpa for my fishing heritage. He lived on the water in Treasure Island, Fl and fished every day. He taught me how to fish. I can't tell you how many times he untangled bird's nests from my reel. But because of his patience, his love for me, and the time he invested in my life; I am much more blessed for it. He's 93 years old now and hasn't been able to fish in years. When I have a good offshore trip, I love to send a bag of fresh snapper his way; my way of hitting him back for all the hours he invested in teaching me to fish.

Now I have little boys of my own and they love to fish as well. Sometimes I chuckle when I'm on the other side of tangles and getting hooked when they cast. Just when I start to lose my patience, I think of the patience my Grandpa would show me when I was a youngster. One of the greatest things that has come from my boy's love to fish is their idea for a Christmas present this year. They wanted a boat. I thought it was a good idea and so did my wife, so after keeping my eyes open on Craig's List for a bit we picked up a little J16 Carolina Skiff, just for the kids mind you. It's a great little boat for cruising around the bay and polling in the shallows. I've taken the boys out a handful of times. Great times of untangling lines, putting them on the lady fish and watching my 4 year old feed the bait to a cormorant he named "My Buddy". It wasn't until last week that I got to really break it in and catch some fish. A cold front was on its way and it was a warm, calm and rainy afternoon. I was sitting in my office watching the dark cloud lines push through, bringing a steady drizzle, when it hit me. I knew that the fish were biting and I wanted to be catching them. I had finished the pressing needs for the day and there was no need to open the skatepark since it was raining, so I took off a little early in the afternoon and headed home to grab the boat.

Front clouds moving over the bay

I felt like I was a on a NASCAR pit crew as I hitched the trailer to the ball in record speed. In a matter of minutes I was at the Jungle Prada boat ramp. I quickly backed the boat into the water and went to push it off the trailer, oops, I forgot to put the plugs in! Back out of the water it came to drain. Plugs in this time, I was off! I headed towards Bay Pines in the steady drizzle as I admired the fact that dark front clouds were sweeping across the bay and yet it was flat calm, the best part was that I had Boca Ciega Bay all to myself. First stop, I drifted a grass flat on the edge of a deep channel. The trout were hammering my small gold jig and after weeding through a bunch of little guys, I had two nice eaters in the cooler.

Next I cruised over to a mangrove Island that has a good oyster bar around it with nice holes and a couple of old sunken boats lining its edge. Putting the motor up, I began push poling very slowly and casting the same small gold jig along the edge of the oyster bar tangled with mangrove roots. Right away I connected and felt the strong steady pull of a redfish. With a smile on my face, I worked in my first redfish of the year, a pretty little 16 incher. After snapping a picture while sheltering my iphone from the rain, I slipped her back in the water and watched her cruise away. I continued to push my way around the island and came to a deep hole with an abandoned flats boat sunken in the middle of it. On the second cast I got slammed by a redfish that had a little more fight than the first one. After a fun little battle I swung a beautiful 20 inch redfish into the boat, perfect size for the frying pan. I decided to turn around and take a cast out into the grass flat surrounding the oyster bar and caught a big fat gator trout that joined two other trout and a redfish in the cooler. I can fish for sport all day long if I have to, but I love eating fish and my family of six does too, so if I can keep a limit, I'm going to. I decided to leave the redfish and try to catch a fourth keeper trout before heading home.

I thought it would be as easy as stopping where I caught the first two trout, but after 20 minutes of catching little guys I decided to try a flat I used to fish a lot as a kid in South Pasadena. As I arrived it brought back memories of my first inshore slam when I was about 10 years old. My mom dropped me off to wade fish and when she picked me up I had a stringer full of trout, a redfish, a big flounder and a 32" snook. As my mind came back to present time I began casting at the deeper edge of the flat and caught a couple little trout. As I retrieved my jig, I was about to pull it out of the water when a big trout came up behind it. I let the jig dangle next to the boat and through the clear water I watched the trout inhale it. I gave it a good pull and yanked the jig right out of its mouth. After a few drifts with no further luck I push pulled my way along the mangroves to the mouth of a small lagoon. On the first cast I caught another nice redfish who was very lucky I already had one in the cooler. Deciding that I wasn't going to get that fourth trout in the cooler, I pushed back into deeper water and motored toward the boat ramp. The sun was setting behind the overcast clouds, the rain was still steadily coming down and I was more than satisfied with the way a rainy afternoon looking out my office window turned out. Spring time seems to be coming early this year and already the February fishing is starting to feel like March madness. Sure there may still be a couple more cold fronts coming this year but if you can get out in front of them the fishing will be hot.