LAKE WALLENPAUPACK MEMORIES

Wallenpaupack on a cloudy day in April

As I traveled the winding road along the Delaware River, heading up to Wallenpaupack to help a friend prepare for her husband’s memorial, I was surrounded by memories of a lifetime of visits to the area with Pat and the kids to fish and camp on the Lake.  

I found myself smiling as I remembered the time we camped in Wilsonville 150 campfires downwind, setting our tent on a rock which did not bode well for a good nights sleep and my son Aaron, who, during the night, upon hitting his head on the tent thought he was in the bathroom and proceeded to spray us all with his night time pee.  Pat jumped up, simultaneously, grabbing Aaron around his neck while unzipping the tent throwing him outside.  Aaron, who was still in a sleep state, woke up crying asking why we were throwing him out of the tent.  It may not have been funny at 3 a.m. but for years we got a great laugh at telling the story.  

Pat was serious about his fishing, yet carried the burden well of our different approaches.  My idea of fishing was putting a bobber at the end of the pole, reading a good book while glancing occasionally at the bobber looking for any sign of fish activity.  He on the other hand, worked very hard at the leisure art of fishing.  Before he put a foot in the boat, he knew the weather conditions, what color lure would/could be used to draw in the the fish, what temperature the water was, what the feeding pattern of the fish should be, how deep they should be and where they would be hiding by the contour of the waterways.  I was exhausted just waiting for him to finally get into the boat and make our way out in the water.  We did, just as the light of dawn filled the morning sky.

One time while he and I took our different approaches out to the lake, we motored along searching for the perfect cove to anchor the boat.  My job was to lower the anchor, bait my hook, drop it into the water, settle back, pick up my book and wait for the action.  While I did my part, Pat was at the other end of the boat tossing out his line, reeling it back in, tossing it out, reeling it back in….when at the moment I would finally settle in he would announce that he wanted to try a different spot.  So huffing, I would put down my book, reel in my line, pull up the anchor and settle back until we landed in the next “perfect” spot.

Once again, I would lower the anchor, bait my line with a worm (yes I used the real thing while he used artificial), settle into my chair, pick up my book while at the front of the boat, Pat would be casting out, reeling in, casting out, reeling in and again, just as I was settling down to enjoy my surroundings he would announce he wanted to move.  HUFFING…I would once again, reverse my actions until I settled back and waited until we arrived at the next “perfect” spot he would choose and once again the same routine.

This went on for about five times before we landed in a spot where my patience was running out with all the doing and undoing going on, and Pat was losing his patience with my impatience.  I threw out my line, got a hit on my lure, pulled up the line and lost a very big fish.  “Damn”, I shouted while slamming my foot on the floor of the boat causing a vibration that rang through the water.  

“Are you kidding me?” Pat shouted with frustration.  “You just scared all the fish away!”  With that we pulled up everything and headed home for the day recognizing that for Pat, I was better off on the shoreline with my bobber, chair, and good book while he went about his work searching for the perfect fishing spot in the boat.

As I drove by Fairview Lake (which is right next to Lake Wallenpaupack), I remembered the time Pat and I went fishing and this time all I took was a book and a lounge chair, allowing him to do all the work.  Soon, the slapping sounds of the water along the boat, and the gentle rocking of the boat lured me to sleep.  Pat, busy with his fishing, didn’t notice that I had fallen asleep in the sun and just when the fishing started to get good, he turned and saw that I had developed what turned out to be the worse sunburn I ever had.  Torn between just one more throw and getting me to shore out of the the sun, we went in and headed home.  Always loving yet filled with disappointment because he knew it was just about to get good, our trips together always provided fodder for the storytelling that would follow for years!

Wandering the roads around the lakes reminded me of a life lived fully, lovingly, if not perfect…but always forgiving.  I am lucky for these memories.  They are what carry me when I feel lost or lonely in my day, as I am reminded that I once had it all, which is a lot more than I can say for many I know.  Because through it all, there was not one moment…not even in the anger and frustration of living and lost expectations, that I did not feel loved and for that I am forever grateful.