For years we camped in the mountains of North Carolina, at Snowbird, in a three-sided shed, with a potbelly stove in the back and three racks on each side. On cold nights we hung a tarp across the front.
After a while Brother Pop and his friend, Dag Grady, and some others closed in the front, built an annex to the shed — a kitchen — and lugged a cast iron stove up there, a little over half a mile. Pop became the camp cook, a job he held for years.
“Eat it or wear it,” he would say.
We took turns doing dishes in a creek not far off. We did the best we could to keep stuff clean, but with no running water in the shed, that won’t easy.
If you came to Snowbird in those days most people understood that you had to lower your standards a little. If you didn’t think a fork or a plate was clean enough you just wiped it on your shirt and went on about your business.
But everybody didn’t always get the message. On one trip to the mountain there was this guy who was constantly on the lookout for germs, and Pop got a little tired of it.
My brother often bought venison to the mountain which he mixed with anything and everything, trying to get rid of it, I guess. One morning he made biscuits from scratch and he mixed tiny bits of venison into the dough.
A few minutes later the Germ Inspector came into his kitchen and stood there, watching. Pop took a spatula, picked a small piece of venison out of the dough, and flicked it onto the dirt floor. And then another one. And another, and then, almost under his breath, he said, “Damn rats!”
The Germ Inspector heard him, and the rest of us got to share a couple of extra biscuits that morning.
Coming Friday: What’s That Thing We Used To Do?
Good stuff! Keep it coming.
My favorite Pop story was when I woke up in the middle of the night and smelled a skunk that was going through the kitchen cabinets. When Bo (Pop’s sweet black Lab) was awakened he moved closer to the noise he heard. I thought surely if Bo sees the skunk, we’re all in for a bad odor inside the cabin. So I woke up Pop and asked him to put Bo in the truck which he obliged. Then Pop came back inside the cabin and went about picking through the cabinets I suppose to find the skunk. I didn’t think that was prudent, but didn’t dare suggest that he not do that. In any event, the skunk decided he had gotten all there was and left without causing any more stink! Sure do have some great memories from Snowbird!
Ed, Thanks for adding to the Pop legend, and recounting your encounter with a skunk at Snowbird. [I hadn’t remembered that one.] Before we built the cabin skunks visited the shed on several occasions — we didn’t call it the skunk house for nothing. More about that later. Pat