Special times, special places

Sandy and I recently embarked upon an excursion along the same road that we traveled on our first date. In fact, we even stopped at the same vistas and enjoyed the same views that we experienced several years ago.

Of course the experience of backtracking along the same route and reminiscing was fun, but for some reason, one vista in particular lent to special memories. And in all honesty, it was our second visit to this location, when we returned a few weeks later, that brought to mind fond memories.

There really wasn’t much to it. We just happened to showed up at the overlook just before the sun fell below the distant horizon. As usual, I was hungry, so what better a time to break out the watermelon that had been soaking in the ice chest throughout the entire day?

Sandy had the melon sliced shortly thereafter, and we feasted while watching the horizon transform into a palette of vibrant colors, declaring it the end to yet another day.

I recognized, during our recent visit, that this was a location that would always lend to fond memories. I then began to ponder other locations where other memories were made.

There were occasions when I was acutely aware that what was transpiring would not soon be forgotten. Of course, the night I landed a 9-pound largemouth would always be etched in my mind. And although we were fishing in total darkness, I could motor you back to the exact location.

Then there was the fishing excursion when my two buddies got in a fist fight, again in total darkness. Of course, I would have stopped the brawl immediately if it had been light.

But it was pitch black out. So I chose to remain in my seat, where I hoped to go unscathed, and let them address their differences in total darkness. And I’ll have to admit that it was somewhat entertaining to imagine exactly what was transpiring under the cover of darkness.

Then there was the morning when I bagged my first whitetail. I was just a youngster, at the time. And although the buck was barely legal, I couldn’t have been more proud of my accomplishment.

But what about the times that weren’t so eventful? I remember well a fishing trip with my father that hardly consisted of anything more than sitting on the banks of a river and soaking a nightcrawler. I couldn’t have been more than 5 years old, but I recall sharing canned sausages and a package of peanut butter crackers as if it were yesterday.

There was another fishing trip when we slid the flatbottom into a secluded river. We fished at this location time and time again throughout the years. And we certainly caught our fair share of fish.

But one of my most vivid memories has nothing to do with coaxing a bass into biting. It consists of nothing more than sharing conversation as he quietly skulled the craft between casts.

I can also recall one sultry summer morning in particular, when my mom, my grandmother and I embarked upon a lengthy drive and arrived at a thicket at the break of day. We donned lightweight, long-sleeved shirts, coated the legs of our pants with insect repellent, secured small plastic buckets and struck out into the midst of a blackberry patch

However, I do not recall picking a single berry. Nor am I aware if they gathered any of these delectable morsels. And I do not remember our trip back home.

I can also recall my mom and grandmother loading into my old International Scout and embarking upon a ride along a nearby dirt road. Nothing out of the ordinary occurred. There were no steep ascents or huge mud holes. We simply enjoyed our surroundings.

It was easy to understand why my first whitetail, the largemouth of a lifetime, and a fight remained in my mind. But exactly what was it that made these simple, non-eventful excursions so memorable. I pondered for a while, and then it hit me.

The norm is to gauge our success by our bounties. But the greatest reward is often nothing more than spending time with those we love in the midst of the wonderful outdoors.