An eagle takes flight as Curtis Casto and I paddle down the Mohican River on a January morning. It was one of about three dozen we saw on our three-day trip.
Note: This story has been updated to correct an error. See correction at bottom.
Can’t say we didn’t get a warm welcome at our Eagles Nest campsite. Our hostess, Rose Mickley, invited us to incinerate the burn pile at night and treated us to gas station coffee the next morning.
Warm welcomes are much appreciated on winter canoe trips.
PREVIOUS COLUMN: Irv Oslin: Nothing quite says morning like hot coffee and a cold wetsuit
As mentioned in a previous column, this trip was well-scripted, with overnight stops planned at properties of friends I’ve made along the Mohican River. When I contacted Rose to get permission to camp there — a place dubbed Eagles Nest — she said she might even bring down some coffee.
Better yet, she mentioned that Curtis Casto and I would be expected to burn an accumulation of wood there.
Irv Oslin
After a delightful day on the river — with plenty of eagle sightings — Curtis and I landed at Eagles Nest, pitched camp and cooked supper on my tripod grill. Rose stopped down, saw the small fire and questioned our manhood.
“I knew I’d come down here and you guys would have a little sissy fire,” she said.
Or something to that effect.
I assured her that, after supper, we’d muster up some testosterone and burn a lot more wood. We managed to do a fair job of it….