PIGEON MOUNTAIN COVE

About every time I went, it seems to me, I went with Coach Clary. I did go once with Coach Inman… way back; but I can never remember going with Coach Mike. I think that was because he didn’t like to be around me any more than necessary at camp… in a good way. Dad just generously gave me as much space as possible. Anyway as I grew older, things began to sort out with the three directors: Coach Inman drove all the bus trips, dad took the gorge hikes which he loved, and poor Coach Clary took the brunt of the coves, because it was the easiest hike. I say ‘brunt’, because back then; nobody liked the cove… but to his credit, I never heard Coach Clary utter a word of complaint, whether it was a skunk invasion or snakes or rain… but it never rained at the cove, am I right?

The one time I went with Coach Inman, it did rain; but we stuck it out and finally the rain subsided. When we got back, some one asked whether it rained and I said, ‘Only a little,’ which Coach Inman overheard. He gave me as stern look and said, ‘It never rains on the Cub Unit, especially when I take the trip.’ That was the day I learned the difference between a lie and a slight exaggeration for the sake of honor. Anyway, it never rained on me at the cove… sure!

But before we get to that let me say that even though I am old, I never actually went to Pigeon Mountain Cove. We still called it that, but we didn’t go there. To have gone there you have to be older than old… you have to be older than dirt and rocks… you almost have to be immortal; say like John A Simpson. He will have to tell us about the ‘real’ Pigeon Mountain Cove, for alas, I am far to young to remember that!

We went to the ‘second’ cove when I was a camper and until I was a supervisor. I think we began to use the ‘third’ cove in ’69, my first year as a supervisor. The second cove was through the woods by the old camp-fire circle (now the mud-hockey pit), up Jacob’s Ladder to five points… where the drug store was; at least that is what they told us when we were Younger Boys. Just run down the mountain through those briars and the first one there gets a free coke. And we ran, even though we had already been on the Ice Cream Hike… oh well. From Five Points it was down hill to the dirt road and the farm gate. They told us to be real quiet or we would attract the bull. I never saw that bull, but I never uttered a peep on that farm either.

The cove was just a short walk from the farm. The first thing to be seen was the campfire where they always told the Fraternity Story and the leader shouted and jumped at you… scared me every time. After the fire was the campsite, a steeply sloping valley between two hills. We’d go to sleep all over those two hills and end up on top of each other in the morning… it was that steep. Up the right hill was the HD and up the left was the stream from which we drank. I always hoped the new boys remembered ‘right-left’. The HD was a hole that an unlucky Assistant Leader had to dig. Usually it was right on top on an old hole from a previous year. The smell was indescribable and the view of that hole was worse. To take a dump you had to grab the nearest tree, drop your shorts and hope you dropped them far enough… and then just not think about it too much. There was always a soggy roll of paper stuck on a tree branch nearby, but most of us used leaves… and tried to remember what a poison ivey leaf looked like!

Anyway as soon as we got there we would unroll our packs in the driest place available. There was a lean-to sort of thing with a dirty old tarpaulin hung over it, but it reeked of creosote so no one went there unless it rained. The few lucky ones had jungle hammocks. I think Bobby Forbes made those popular because of the stories he old of he and Coburn Kelly’s trip up the Amazon. Anyway, I begged my parents and finally they got me one. I remember setting it up (took forever) and then climbing in, zipping it up and turning over to come face to face with the largest Wolf-spider in the continental US. I think I made a hole in the mosquito netting as I abandoned ship and I never went in that hammock again. There were myriad spiders at that cove. You could take a flashlight, put the butt on your forehead and gaze out at the woods at literally thousands of pairs of eyes staring back; spiders, yuck!

Back then we arrived before lunch and went swimming; then we ate Yellow Jacket Stew, sometimes called ‘Pop-Suey’. Yellow Jacket was appropriate because they seemed to love beans and Vienna sausage. They would come by the thousands, but they would bother you at all, unless you accidentally swallowed one… it happened occasionally. After lunch the boats would come from halls, huge Cris-Crafts amd we would ride around the lake and goggle at the huge houses of the rich… what a bunch of rubes we were. At Hall’s Boathouse we got a drank and a candy bar: 12 ounce Coca-Cola and a Butterfinger or Baby Ruth… no Almond Joy (they were a dime and the others were a nickel)… coke and candy was five cents each… a rare treat for only a dime. You could spit or drop a piece of candy in the water by the boat dock and a million bream would fight over it. I only watched; I wanted all my candy and did not think it nice to fool the fish with spit, although they seemed fine with either.Occasionally the biggest bass in the world would cruise by… ten pounds at least.

That night we would eat what was being eaten at camp; Pat Bowden, Doodlebug… or whoever the truck driver was would bring dinner as well as eggs and bacon for breakfast. Funny stories about the eggs: Skunks loved them. One night Coach Clary who always slept on the cook table started yelling (I was a leader by then). When Tom Pearson and the rest of us got to him, we could not help but laugh. A skunk had gotten in the eggs, my dog Vooboo attacked the skunk, who retaliated, catching Coach Clary… innocent victim, in his back wash. Tom had to scrub Vooboo down with Octagon soap, but it didn't help too much. Later we cleaned him with tomato juice… the only thing that worked. Since Coach Clary wouldn't let Tom scrub him down and no tomato juice was available that night, II don’t know what Coach Clary did, but I do know we all gave him about ten paces when he led us back the next day!

Other story: when I was an assistant leader, Doodle would let me go to the cove to deliver food. One day two of us started throwing eggs at road signs. When we got there about half the eggs were gone (half rations at breakfast), but we never told Doodle.

At night some leader would tell a story and we would all laugh and act as if we were not scared. Yeah, rights; every time I would wake up in the middle of the night and look around. It is funny how sleeping bags look empty in the middle of the night. I’d scream to myself, ‘My Gosh, they’ve all gone and left me here with the spiders!’ But in the morning they’d all be there and we would hunker down to the best breakfast ever. Finally, I got to make it so I know why it tasted so good. First, grease the pan with a copious amount of lard then put it on the fire. When it sizzled, dump in all the bacon. When it was half cooked, dump the eggs in the middle of all that grease. It’s a wonder we didn’t all have heart attacks on the way home.

It never rained on the Cub Unit, or the Prep, Junior, Senior, Pioneer, or even the Younger Boys… but sometimes it did… sorry Coach Inman… the truth must be told. I can remember feeling the first drops and praying… ‘Just a sprinkle, please.’ And then thunder and then we’d run for that nasty tarp. It was way too small for us all to lie down so we would just pile in and wait. Then the rain would kick up harder and some of the boys would start to cry. Inevitably, the tent would sag, and sag… until one boy would think he needed to push the water out over the edge of the frame: ‘Don’t touch the tarp, we’d scream… too late and the drip, drip, drip would start. Finally, the most sane person there would say, ‘Let’s go back to camp.’ Randy Randall tells the story of he and Mayson Ransom, one night at the cove, it was so dark that you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face… and they had one flash light between them all; For Pete’s sake they were Y Campers, not Boy Scouts; Y Campers are never prepared. Randy took the flash light and a boy grabbed him by his pants and another grabbed his pants… Mayson was was the ‘sup’, so he had the last pair of pants. They made it back… at least Randy and Mayson and most of the campesI did; rumor has it Scott Pannell may still be over their somewhere... still searching for camp.