There is a place at the Cooper property I personally named "The Point". The first time I was there John took me for the purpose of pointing out where the Blackwater snaked by his property. It was getting darker out and as we talked about dryflies, hatches, streams and gear, I kept a pointed eye to the expansive view in front of me. The purple-ish hue of the evening framed in the spruce dotted horizon and below was a least a 3/4 mile of boggy terrain.
I visited the point on the second trip by myself. I didn't tell anyone where I was going but I needed some "Gene Time". I sat there and stared for what seemed like an hour. I was drinking a St. Pauli Girl Dark and toasting mother nature. I pondered many things sitting there on my perch. I even came to some conclusions. I was tempted to amble down to the Blackwater and listen to the moving water. I could imagine it though, and I was soothed by its memory. My mind spun different pictures of it's banks, and I imagined the same sight in different times of day. The frosty morning with mist across the eddies. The Bright afternoon with piercing blue sky above. But my favorite, the evening, when the river boulders turn golden from the amber light, was my favorite image. These are just a small sample of my thoughts when I visit the place I call "The Point".
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1 comment:
I know of the place that you describe. You did a fantastic job setting forth the wonder of the location. I went there with you for a moment (I know it was Gene time but I had to come with you as your writing was perfection.) I just love the way you painted that portrait. It makes my heart ache a little just thinking about moments like that which are abundant within the confines of camp.
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