Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Deer Hunting Diary of a deer camp

And so it begins-

Sometime in the summer or fall of 1955:

"To whichever camp member reads this

We cleaned the underbrush and dead trees out and I think we should stop using the live trees for target backstops as it is hard on trees. Also got the garbage pile moved. You can start a new one above the cabin behind the brush pile. The water barrel is full of bugs but you can't stop that. I cleaned the gutter out it was full. Burned some wood as you will see. I am not trying to run things but I think all will agree to this."

Bud

This was the first entry in the camp book, or diary of our camp, Camp Opa, built starting in 1955 in Clearfield County, Pennsylvania. I am the son of one of the five original members. The original members of our camp were:
Bud Streit
Bob Gamble
Bert Callan
Charlie Fields
Howard Grubb (my father)

My brother and sister visited me from the Youngstown,Ohio area this week. 'Came to see me following my recent heart issues. My brother brought along "the book". I've read this well over 100 times, and every time I crack the cover, I learn something new.

Our camp was built a decade after our men came home from defeating the Axis powers. All these men were still getting on their feet after the horrors they'd lived through just a few years back on the battlefields of Africa, Europe and Asia. All five were skilled trademen who made their living with their backs and hands. An electrician, mill workers, and carpenters. Money was scarce. The lot cost them $50.00, and it was all they could do to scrape that money together. The camp was built mostly out of recycled supplies, or stuff bought from the local sources when they couldn't come up with hand me downs for free.

A simple one room shack, it would become home base for a rich deer hunting tradition that has spanned 7 decades, 2 centuries, and three generations.

Prior to the building of our cabin, the group stayed with an older lady who lived on an old farmstead up on Boone Mountain. Margaret Bundy took in hunters for deer season to make a little extra money. Our guys had stayed at Margaret's for several years after WWII until they built Camp Opamp Opa.

November 28th 1955

"First deer season in camp. Most snow for several years. All members were here plus five guests. Up to third day no one got a deer."

Bud

The first hunting success for the Camp Opa boys:

Dec. 12th 1955

"John Bill and I were here doe. Got three first morning. Weather was fine about three inches of snow temp 22 above."

Bud
My dad's first entry:

April 28th & 29th 1956

"Burt and Grubb up & sided in front of cabin."

I could write for hours on the exploits of the boys from Camp Opa. The good times, and the hard times too, like the passings of loved ones, friends, and members, reclalled now in the pages of this grand book.

I would strongly recommend that every hunting camp, or party keep a book like this. It is really interesting to look back on the rich history we build from year to year.

All the original Camp Opa boys are long gone now. My son is the first and only member of the "third generation" to hunt Boone Mountain in the footsteps of his grandfather. Here's to the hope that our rich tradition forged on the backs of our predecessors never ends.

Rest in Peace to all the Camp Opa boys that went before us. They all left this world a much better place, and we thank them very much.

Grubb

To the camp Opa boys... A tip of the hat and a raise of the glass.

To the founders of Camp Opa, Cheers!

How many other camps keep a diary going? We here about Northern Dave's exploits. The infamous Swamp Squids, the stories make for a great read. There must be other stories out there from other camps just waiting to be shared. Let's here 'em boys!

gopher, know that country very well.. Relatives in the area.. Haven't been in a camp like that for 50 years, but they are a special world all their own.. The camp I was associated with was destroyed by a tornado many years ago.. It was never rebuilt, and the group has either died or quit hunting for the most part..
As others have said, cheers, and best of luck...

I grew up in PA. My Dad always wanted a cabin---never got one--tight money raising 5 kids. My brother & I both have cabins. Mine is a fishing cabin on the Kenai River in AK. My brother lives in Cleveland, his is a deer cabin in SE Ohio. I go there every year and yes we keep a cabin diary. Memories to live on.

Good stuff!! We too have one at our tiny little spot of heaven. im the only one of the five cousins/members that ever remembers to write in it tho. when you sit around and read it, it is funny, almost to the point of embarrassment, as to some of the things, bets, ideas that either yourself, or your other blood relatives did or had. Things that make you scratch your head for sure. Some very funny things, that should go to the grave probably, not written in pencil, crayon, or ink. Someone always takes the pen that is tied to the damn camp log, does anyone else have this issue too?? I only wish that we would remember to write important things in it as well... Good stuff for sure tho guys, take care!! Paul

When I read through the book,I am reminded of how much time our guys spent up at camp. Some years, it was just about every weekend through the summer. And this was before Interstate 80 went through. Anyone journeying to camp from North East Ohio, which is where our guys were from, had a 4 1/2 hour drive on surface roads through the heart of Central Pa. to get to camp. Deer season for us always opens on the the Monday after Thanksgiving. The trip to camp on the Friday after Thanksgiving was commonly about a 6 hour drive. All the little towns along the way were chocked with traffic, as the Orange Army headed east to their cabins. Sometimes getting through Clarion was a real adventure. Every bar, every general store, every gun shop would be packed, as guys prepared for Monday morning.

Was that the tornado that tore up the Parker Dam area over by exit 18 off of Interstate 80? That was a bad one-looked like someone took the whole top off that mountain. Guys told me it was tough hunting in there afer that because of all the blown down timber.

I hope it's still like that when I get to experience it!

I take notes when I'm hunting. Day, weather, ammo, gun, sightings...stuff like that. If I'm at a camp where there is a log, I'll make an entry. I think they're great to re-read over the years.

We started a camp log around 1985, but the old times kept a record of kills on the wall. record goes back to 1941, the year the cabin was built.

Holy Cow! I'm pretty sure it was Clarion that I stayed at for that week I worked in Brookville! That is so cool that I can picture the beautiful country that you hunted. It is one of the prettiest places I have ever seen.

Rooster, if it was a college town 20 miles or so west of Brookville, it was Clarion.

Gopher, the tornado that hit Parker Dam was a bad one, I think some folks were killed in the valley between Sabula and Penfield, I know it blew 3 houses apart, skipped over the hill,took out all the trees around the Lady Jane Mine, skipped over the group cabin (full of Boy Scouts) at PD and trashed a whole lot of country. From what I hear, it's still pretty tough country to get around in but the bears love it. I think Ron T's buddy Harry hunts there some.

Cool thread, I miss the camp I used to hunt from. You guys with a camp log might want to think of safeguarding it. When our camp (old farmhouse owned by cousins) caught fire, there was nothing left.

Dale

Dale-

I had heard about all the damage over by the Lady Jane. They really got waxed over there. 'Can't imagine trying to dig a bear out of those blowdowns. I'm sure they're in there if anyone's goofy enough to go in after them. Harry's camp is over that way-I'm pretty sure they're one hill over from the stike zone from the twister.

Another entry from the book:

Nov. 30th, 1957

Grubb, Bert & Gamble arrived Sat. Bud & Jess came in Sun. Bert got an 8 point Mon & Howard a spike Tues. Jess left Tue, Bud left Wed & Grubb and Bert left Thur. Gamble & Jim Bigger (a friend of Howard) left Sat. noon after 2 days of rain.

Grubb

This was the first entry I could find where my dad took a deer since they built the camp.

Some of the names I am only familiar with from hearing them in the past. Unfortunately, our guys didn't take a lot of pictures. We do have a colored picture of the 5 original members standing by the game pole with 5 bucks. My dad is wearing his old Woolrich hunting suit. I still have that suit and will dust it off and wear it again one of these days. It is one of my most prized possessions.

Jeff if you email it to me, I can get it posted.

Gopher-

I think I can speak for the rest of the class that we'd sure like to hear more entries. It brings up fond memories of camps gone by.

Salute to the founders of Camp Opa!

Thanks CFT. I'm not bragging, but this is a very good read. More on the history of our camp:

I mentioned Margaret Bundy, who took in hunters to make some money in the fall. Margaret fed the guys as part of their rent. Dad said she never admitted to serving them venison,but they had no doubt she was doing it regularly. The guys were up stairs playing cards one night, and as was common practice, heard Margaret's little 32-20 Marlin crack down stairs. Margaret would put out a pot of stewed apples, and wait for the deer to come in. She'd yell up at the guys, "who's shooting up there?" Pretty soon she came running up to tell the guys' she'd hit a little forkhorn, and he ran out and laid down in the middle of the road and she needed them to go drag him in. Dad and several of the guys, no doubt nine sheets to the wind, went out in their skivvies with a hammer to subdue the buck. After they'd chased him across a hayfield, two fence rows and a pasture, they gave up and came back, deeming the deer to be alive and well enough to not be supper for tomorrow night.

There are 7 lots on the trail our camp sits on. We have the last lot up on the hill-tucked right up against the State Forest land. The Stitt boys in Camp Bozo were our dear friends, and had the camp across the trail from us. There was always a friendly competition to see who could have the first deer hanging on the opener. There is a well circulated story about my dad, and one of the Bozo boys each literally riding bucks down the mountain from up above to be the first to hang one on the game pole. They had ended up hunting within a couple hundred yards of each other and both shot bucks the first morning at about 7:45a.m. To the camp that hung the first buck went a bottle of rotgut, and more importantly, bragging rights for the next year.

So here's these two grown men riding deer carcasses down the side of a mountain, only to find that when they got back to camp, the camp cook for the Bozo boys all ready had shot one right off the porch with the old "camp gun"-a well worn 30-40 Krag. That story made the rounds among the camps up there for decades.

These are fantastic!!

Camp meat, fact or fiction I've heard a couple of good stories about camp meat over the years.

Dad never admitted to it, but I'm pretty sure they didn't bring a lot of beef to camp with them....... I can honestly say that in the time I hunted there, we never had "camp meat" unless it was from last year's deer.

Same here.

I've never heard of this "camp meat." Please explain.

30 years ago or so, you were allowed a camp deer in MI. I think it had to be consumed in camp. My guess is that too many were taking "advantage" of it and the DNR suspended it. Too bad, I think it, among other things, hurt the tradition of staying up at camp for a couple weeks. Now most stay just a few days.

Yep! That's it! Awesome country! I even saw a very large road kill black bear laying on the side of the road one morning on my commute to Brookville. We have bears in MN but I have never seen one road kilt.

Gopher,
These are great stories! Thanks for sharing

Tom-seriously? 'Never heard of camp meat? You friggin' hayseed!

Our guys tried their had at bow hunting for deer. As the old saying goes, "the hunting was great, but the shooting sucked':

Oct.2-1960

Burt Callan, Grubb, Jim Biggers and Guy Mercer bow hunted for deer Sat. No deer. Left Sun 9 a.m.

Grubb

P.S. Grubb shot all his arrows at a buck and a doe stands and watches him cut an arrow out of a tree.

Our guys were good gun hunters, but I can find no records of anyone taking a deer with a bow. My dad was the target of much good natured ribbing over the incident discussed above. Apparently he shot 8 arrows at a buck, missed every time, dug one out of a tree in front of him, missed with it, and then threw the bow at the buck out of frustration. The standing joke in camp was that you could have made a toothpick factory out of the pile of arrows dad left in the woods that day!

Nope. Completely new concept for me.

many times the plan with my uncles was that we would stay at camp until the camp meat ran out. you could do a lot with a few jars of gravy, a few onions, and a 10lb bag of potatoes with your camp meat...

I look around this little camp and try to imagine what it must have been like with 10 guys and all their gear crammed in there. 'Couldn't have been much elbow room with a crew like that. A kitchen and dining room were added on years laters, as we a big front porch. Dad cut a window into the back wall of the camp with a crude screen in it. It was put there purposely as a gun port, as the deer regularly cross between the cabin and the outhouse.

I can assure you, their "gear" was a lot less than all the gadgets we bring now. Last year, I really lightened up my pack. Several 1/2 day sits, I didn't even have a pack.

I'm guessing those guys has a rope, a knife, matches, a sammich, and a "pop".

Love these stories. Keep em coming. And for Gods sake share them with your children and their children. As a society we have lost the oral tradition! These stories ,as humble as they sound, are the true essence of all that make is who and what we are!

Jan 11-64 Bow season

Arrived with Biggers about 10:30 P.M. Thursday night. Snow was drifted on road and had to leave car at foot of hill. Biggers saw 55 deer & I saw 51 in two days. Biggers missed one & I broke an arrow trying to shoot through trees. 10 degrees above zero Sat morning. Left camp around noon Sunday. Squirrels were by the back door.

Bert

The was the heyday of deer numbers in Penn's Woods. If you didn't see at least 30 deer a day, it was a slow day. I remember one opening day when I counted 47 deer. This was before QDM was enacted. It wasn't at all uncommon to see those kinds of numbers and maybe see one spike buck out of all that. The herd was definitely out of balance and QDM eventually leveled out the buck/doe ratio quite a bit, but that didn't come until much later.

There are many entries about the guys taking 35 or more squirrels in a weekend too, and that's with no Sunday hunting. Many of the entries talk about the guys getting to camp at about 1 a.m. in the morning on Saturday. This is because most of the guys were working until 5 or 6 in the evening, and then had a 4 hour plus drive to get to camp. When Interstate 80 went through it shaved an hour and a half to two hours off our commute times.

I've had a camp sinse 1989. I never kept a journal but took quite a few picture. Now, more pics than ever. We hang them up on the joists and sheds and antlers go on the beams along with a few bear skulls. My sons first kill is on the beam, a red squirrel tail. I could write a journal now and remember everything. Never could remember the last time I forgot something. Now that I think og it i'm going to copy my old 35 mm prints and hang them on th joists.

Pics are great too.

One of my most prized possesions is the photo album from my Uncle Jeff's(mom's brother) camp. I don't think they had a journal but I have "the book". My dad was part of the camp, mostly to hang out with his BIL's. My Uncle Rick was my dad's best good friend and they did a TON together. Rick was at our house every weekend at 6am wether dad wanted to hunt or not. I ALWAYS wanted to go and was up, dressed, and ready. Most saturdays, dad had to work anyway, so jumped in the chevy and we went to camp to hunt "partridge" and fix stands.

The camp was sold by Jeff in the mid 80's so he could pay for his wedding. (WTF?) That should have been the first signal of an evil woman. Jeff wasn't around there much but was the full owner of the camp. Rick and dad tried to buy it but for some reason Jeff wouldn't sell to them.

I hunted and spent MANY hours in the woods with Rick. He passed from cancer when I was 11. Two months before I turned 12 and could legally hunt in MN. We've been hunting together every years since 1988. He gave me his knive, a Chicago Cuttlery lock back.

If my house burns down... I'm grabbing my kids, that kinve, and "the book". The hell with the rest.

There's just nothing quite like being the first one to make it to camp. Sitting back in a tired old overstuffed easy chair with a glass of good whiskey and "the book." The wood stove hisses and crackles as it comes back to life, taking the chill off the late evening air. The smell of wood smoke, mixed with stiff alcohol and Hoppe's No. 9 makes everything in the world right if only for a short time. The dull glow of the gas lantern paints the room, as the stories in the book bring the camp back to life. A tired Brittany lays at your feet, feeling the exhaustion that came with chasing grouse all day in the thick woods. It is times like this when a man is truly at peace in his world, and for the time being, all is well.

Good read. This part made me laugh:



One of my parents' neighbors had pretty much quit hunting due to health issues in his late 60s, but bought a license and went to camp (Cameron/Potter county line area) with his bunch every year in buck seasons, mostly to cook, tend to chores and just hang out with his amigos.

Same old haggles about who would get the first buck, bets and lots of guff when they headed out Monday mornings.

One year the neighbor took the breakfast dish water out on the porch to toss it, saw a nice buck coming up through the woods towards camp in the driveway. Went back in, loaded a rifle, cracked the door a bit and dropped it right in the camp dooryard.

Dressed it, hoisted it on the meat pole and relaxed until the first few guys came back in for lunch. Said no one had shown up with a buck by that point and all had a great time the rest of the week giving him the bidness, over "the cook" shooting the first buck.

IIRC, he said the following year they joked about not leaving any firearms/ammo at camp when they headed out to hunt, so he couldn't whup 'em again, sittin' on his ass at camp while they hunted?

One camp that I went to had a rule. Person with the first Buck in camp became the cook. People were hiding out on the edge of camp waiting for someone else to drag one in.

Dad did most of the cooking in our camp. Not because he drew the short straw or anything like that. He was just a darned good cook. My brother took over the cooking duties and is legendary for his fish fry on the weekend prior to the opener. He fishes Lake Erie for jumbo perch and walleye all summer, and we get any where from 20 to 45 people visiting camp for "the fry". All the neighboring camps come-it's turned into quite the gathering.

The Sandy Township Volunteer Fire Department based in Sabula, Pa. always used to run a pancake breakfast on the Sunday prior to the opener as a fundraiser. They'd have the breakfast, and then they'd sell home made pies too. It was a great way to commune with the fellow hunters. Another popular festivity on the weekend prior to the opener was the annual pilgrimage to Grice's Gun Shop in Clearfield, Pa. If you were lucky, you'd find a parking spot within a block of the store, but don't dare miss this trip. 'Might put a hex on the whole hunt if you didn't show up there! The knife guy would be set up in the parking lot and I swear he could put a razor edge on a golf club if you asked him to.

Once you got close to I80 pancake breakfasts were common in many of the small fire halls. Good times.

Good one!

Not a rule, but for many years when there were three or four of us at deer camp, first successful hunter coughed up a backstrap for supper. Quite a few years that was the same buddy and he never minded being the "goat".

Neither did the rest of us, since he sliced it into fillets, marinated them in Italian dressing a bit, then did them on the grill outside. Sure beat the hell outta leftover spaghetti or hot dogs? ;O)

This would be a hoot! Man...I need a deer camp

at our camp now with the early archery season, and inline season, we have a rule that when someone shoots the first deer we can it or freeze it for all of our meals in the rifle season. it works out very well.

I'll tell ya what... I could do mighty fine not setting foot in the woods. Just chillin and being the camp cook. It would suit me just fine. I'm more relaxed at camp than any other place in the world, so I'm cool with being the cook.

Northern_dave was at Grice's with you guys?

Back then they were a pretty roudy crew. The wood was the place to relax.

Remember when one of them took a chain saw to an old couch and then pitched the parts into the fireplace. Fire was blazing up the stone wall and it was a little smokey. Damn nice camp also.

Today things are different. Time has smoothed off most of the rough edges.

That camp was located on private ground that is pretty much surrounded by a State Forest and there are two other camps. The one being about a quarter mile away and the other further. Sits in the bottom of a big valley with 7 hollows feeding down to it.

One night during Deer season a big snow storm came in. Someone looked out and here came a fellow from the other camp dragging a Deer past camp in the dark. They went out and looked at his Deer then invited him in for a celebratory drink. Turns out he had way more than a couple and all were having a great time.

My Step Dad who was no young Buck decided to have a little fun, didn�t tell anyone, left camp and hid the fellows Buck that was out front and put it in the barn. People tracks were all over the yard so none could trace his track. What he didn�t know was that his Son had seen what he was doing. The rest of us were clueless.

Finally the fellow said he was going to head on out to his camp. But when he went out his Deer was gone. All went out looking around but no Deer was to be found. Finally the fellow got it into his mind that we got him in there, fed in drinks and then stole his Deer. It was getting to the point of yelling when my Step Dad said enough is enough and took the fellow to the barn to get his Deer. Thing was his son had went out and moved the Deer again without telling his Dad. When no Deer was to be found in the barn it got hot again. Finally my Step Brother ended the game and went out and drug the Deer out of the woods and into camp.

The guy didn�t believe they were just having fun and started to wobbly drag his Deer to his camp, all the while bitching. The guys decided he needed help so a couple went out, took the rope and made sure he and Deer made it safe back to camp.

Great stories! This is just the kind of stuff that makes deer camp special. There was a little camp down at the bottom of our hill that got pretty run down. The adjoining farm bought it cheap, and converted it to a horse shed. There had been an old moth eaten 8 point buck head mounted on the porch. When they turned the horses loose in that lot, they were spooked by that deer head and wouldn't go near it, so it ended up out on the roadside for the garbage man to pick up. Not wanting to pass up a chance for a perfectly good gag, our guys spirited it up the mountain and hung it out behind the neighbor's camp, looking like a buck peeking out from behind a tree. You could have started a lead mine with all the slugs they flung at that buck first morning. They had a pretty good idea who put it there, because it mysteriously showed up in our outhouse the next morning. Scared the crap out of one of our guys who was going out for his morning constitutional. In the end, a good laugh was had by all.

There are more and they are the stuff of legend.

That camp was started back around 1916 by a bunch of young Bucks who where labors and a few went out on their own and made it big in home building and commercial construction. They also made a few of their friends wealthy on their coattails. Electricians, plumbers, roofing, heating, air conditioning, etc. They grew up in a time when they more or less made their own rules and did it their way. Eventually a few of them became connected in politics.

A local stream runs right past the camp about 100yards away. On their side they own it. On the other is State Forest. So they decided to build a real nice wooden bridge across the run. Problem was it ended on State land. There was also a designated State trail that came off the mountain down to the run. Hikers often would use the bridge and cross over onto their land and then back onto State land. They could care less and if any were in camp they were welcomed to dinner and friendship.

Problems arose when some gal who worked for the State found out about the tiny bridge. She got in touch with one of the members and told them they had to take it down. They tried to reason with her, but to no avail. Finally one day they came up to camp and it was cut down on the State side. No big deal they just rebuilt it.

Another phone call and this time they had a choice to either take it down or be levied a significant fine. The old Chiefs got together and called her back along with informing her it wouldn't be wise to pursue it further. She wouldn't back down. Then the phone calls went out to the politicians. She was transferred and the bridge is still there.

Another time a fellow left to go and use the outhouse. After a while someone asked where he went. They went looking and he was dead of a heart attack sitting on the john. The Chiefs again had a pow-wow and decided the camp didn't need and investigation into someone dying at camp during Deer season.

One of the members and his buds had all driven up together in a little motor home. Another of the members was an old time M.D. They all knew each other well along with the wives. So they tucked the dead member into the bed of the motor home and headed back home. Story was on the way home he wasn't feeling all that well and decided to lay down, and when they arrived home they found him dead. Doc ----- who is now gone on himself, signed the death certificate as apparent heart attack on the way home. He was buried and that was the end of it.

They were old-old school and their likes may never be seen again.

The camp back in the middle 70s along with two of the old Chiefs who are now gone.



The place looks different now in that it has been rebuilt, but one of the finest settings for a Pa Deer camp.

And when a member dies, the other members all go to the funeral. After the preacher is done the members all stand and sing "When the roll is called up younder." There are damn few dry eyes in the church.

Still are, my favorite is the one in Rockton. They serve family style on real plates with real utensils. Sykesville Lions club used to serve over 7000 meals the weekend before buck season. That's how they funded and built the 'town hall'. Numbers have dropped now that the Pittsburgh area hunters either stay home to hunt or don't travel 119 but they still do alright.

Knew a guy who had a camp on top of Boone Mountain, right at the head of PeteBuck Hollow, his favorite line was about the the buck that trotted through the yard, so he took two quick shots but the buck ran off before he could find his rifle and ammo.

Dale

For those old school members whose stories are still being told around the camps.

Sykesville was one of the best back when.

Dale-I know Pete Buck Hollow well. I've hunted up there many times.

I never hunted deer there but did some drives for bear, it's mighty thick stuff. Also hiked and camped the Hollow some with the Scouts.

Dale

You ain't kidding about it being thick up there, man! I've had deer withing 20 yards of me up there that I've never even seen! They stick to that brush like glue! I always wanted to go back up there during ML season and see if I could sneak up on one in that thick schidt.

Need more diary stories. In a different camp with Dad and Uncle Herman before I was hatched.

Dad had a brand new pre 64 Model 70 and shoots a Deer with it. Unc really likes it and asks if he can use it the next day. No problem.

Unc takes it out a shoots another Deer. Delima was he forgot his drag rope. Necessity sits in and he uses the sling to drag the Deer. Delima number two was carrying the rifle. Solution: Stick the rifle in the Deers belly and make it back to camp.

Later on that evening Dad asks where is his rifle and Unc gets a [bleep] look on his face and goes outside. It is still in the Deers belly all frozen over with blood, fat and knowing how Unc gutted his Deer, probable a turd or two. He also dinged the barrel on a rock.

They remained the best of friends and hunted together until the end.

OUTSTANDING!! . Love to hear more...please?

Trout fishing has always been a favored summer past time up at our camp. We have two trout streams within walking distance of the camp. Both hold native brookies and some stocked rainbows and browns in the creek on Mountian Run Road. (I'm sure Dale K knows where Mountain Run Road is.) There are many posting in the books of the guys taking 35-50 trout in a weekend. These are small native fish-a 10 incher would have been a good sized one. Gutted, beheaded and fried in a skillet with melted butter, there's scarcely a better fish dinner to be had.

Great thread, me and another buddie have told of the long lines at the pay phone the night after opening day, when I was young, the guys in camp now in there 30s never have heard of that!

I could write a whole book about the guns that saw useage at our camp. Over all the years, the venerable Remington pumps never found their way onto our gun rack. Semi-autos were illegal, so most of the stuff was bolt actions or lever guns. Initially, military surplus Springfields, Mausers, and even an Arisaka spent time in our camp. Early on, our members started switching over to Remington and Winchester bolts, of course some Marlin and Winchester levers, and for a couple members, the love affair with the Savage 99 started. I can't find many pictures from back then, but in the two I'm familiar with, it appears that every gun wearing a scope has a Weaver K-4 on it. My dad's 99 is in the possession of my brother. I am the owner of Bob Gamble's 99. Both wear Weavers. Bud Streit hunted with a 721 chambered for .270. Dad always used to give him a hard time about hunting with a "little bulllet." Dad and Bud were the two most successful hunters in our group. I believe Dad killed one more deer than Bud did, but Bud had some impressive long range kills, especially considering he was using a K-4 for a scope.

Hunting was very good right out the door of the cabin, but many of our guys went up on top of Boone Mountain to hunt. 4 wheel drive vehicles were a luxury not afforded by our guys back then, so you were limited by the road and trail conditions as to how far you could drive in. The top of our mountain is criss crossed with gas lines, and lots of long range opportunities. Bud shot deer up there in excess of 300 yards on quite a few opportunities. Dad used to like a spot called the Big Timber, which is in property now owned by Treasure Lake, a timeshare community. It had been the sight of a turn of the century logging camp with a narrow gauge railway to haul out the wood. I've been back in there once, and I can't imagine dragging a deer out of there. It would have been an all day job just to get back to the trail head. Others spots that "locals" (Dale K) might recognize are Spike's Rock, the Devil's Playground-a boulder strewn slide patch from the Ice Ages, and the Bish Flats-an old homestead up on top of Boone Mountain by the old Fire Tower sight. There's several rock walls, the building sights from a small settlement there, and a small cemetery. There's a big blueberry patch up there we go pick in. 'Walked right up on a snoozing black bear in there one time. It had apparently gorged itself on blueberries and laid down for a little siesta. We quietly backed out and left the berries to him. 'Never went up there to pick again without a 12 ga. and a full magazine of 00 buck.

From the first camp I mentioned:

One of the guys was responsible for doing the grocery shopping and bring up most of the essential food for a week. The final drive to camp up one part of the mountain is steep and with a lot of curves as it made its way to the flats on top. Nothing but air, rocks and trees on the downhill side along with isolation.

It snowed bad the night before and it was wise to hug the hillside of the rocky mountain road. Most pick-ups didn't have a cap back in those days so a tarp or something similar was used to keep things inside.

Anyway a few trucks of guys left at the same time and were following each other. Except some went their separate ways on the way up. Perhaps Grises or one of the joints up North to have a beer. The guy with the food made his run straight to camp. Problem was on one of the steep parts-on the climb up the dirt road mountain to camp-he started to slip backward. Made it to the hill side, but the truck ran up it and flipped onto its side and out went all the food on a downhill road ride. I didn't see it, but the story is the stuff that would roll went a looooong way.

Later here come the followers and they are eventually met with food on the road. Hmmmmm. Then more food, more hmmmm, then Ralphs truck turned on its side with Ralph sitting by a little fire keeping warm.

They got him right side up, got the food back as best they could, headed to camp and went Deer hunting for a week.

Addition: forgot, haven't been up to that camp in awhile, but ran into one of the members the other day. He said Ralph is now in his early 90s, but still makes it up to camp for the opener.

Same camp:

One of the guests decided to bring live chickens to camp to eat. Rhode Island Reds they were. Why? I don't know, just bat chit crazy stuff.

Anyway the run downhill to camp is kinda steep also and he goes into the ditch about a 3/4 from camp due to the snow. No problem, walk to camp and the boys will get you out. Probably not till Sunday AM. Gear is no problem in that Deer doesn't start till Monday, but he decides to take the Chickens and starts walking down trying to carry two crates. Finally after falling numerous times he says the hell with it and turns them loose.

You ever reach your stand before daylight in the middle of the Cameron co big woods and hear Chickens crowing all over the mountain side?

I can tell you this for sure; a .30-06 and even a .270W is more than enough for a Rhode Island Red.

Since I spent 22 years with a Scout troop in DuBois and Scout Camp is on Mt Run Road, I can drive that sucker with my eyes closed. Even the Devils Elbow.

Can't say I've heard of most of the areas you mention, but maybe we can hunt some of them this year if you make it in and I have enough vacation time.

Dale

Dale-I do most of my hunting right out the back door of the camp on Finley Hollow. We usually late 'till mid week to go up on top of Boone, as the opening day traffic thins out a bit up there. Spike's Rock is off the main gasline up there, and a good spot. The Bish Flats are on the far side of the trail across the top of the hill by the old Fire Tower. I've got some good areas down by the Boy Scout Camp too. The Devil's Playground area is on the road that crosses Rattlesnake Hollow on the back side of Boone,heading over to the Brockway Reservoirs. Dad and the guys knew the whole mountain very well. The Stitt boys from the camp next door used to hunt up on the main gas line. The last time I was up there, they were putting in new wells all over the place. Lots of new trails to explore. I'm guessing it's pretty busy up there on Monday morning.

Another entry:

Dec. 22, 1968.

Bert, Corley Fox, Grubb here for last day doe season. Fox and Grubb killed does Sat. a.m. left Sun. 11 a.m.

Grubb

At the time, doe tags were easy to get. Antlerless season was done after 2 weeks of buck season. Deer season in Pa. always started the Monday after Thanksgiving, and ran for two weeks,with no hunting on Sunday. Antlerless came in the following Monday and ran for 2-3 days, occasionally longer. Pa. changed it's rules regarding doe tags and they eventually became much harder for non residents to get. Only one of our guys actually lived in Pa. All the others including my father were from Ohio. Doe tags were to become a highly coveted prize.

Wow this is great stuff.

One time another Unc (George) and his camp:

I'm about 18 and Unc says let's drive down to the bar and get something to eat. Ok with me naturally and off we go. Walk in and sit down at the bar and order. A guy off to our left is dressed in his Woolrich pants and is smashed and eventually goes into a little bathroom.

A little while later Unc gets up and goes into the leeetle bathroom and comes out laughing so hard he is almost crying. I ask what's up and he says that guy is in there really trying hard to take a crap.

Ok????? What's so funny???? Between tears Unc says, he still has his pants up.

Camp meat story.

One of the camp members was notorious for never knowing where he was in the woods. One afternoon he was out when he comes across a small doe which he puts down. It had started snowing hard so he dresses out the deer and heads back to camp. He see's a light in the window at camp and gets nervous because no one should be in camp that early. he finds a large hollowed out stump and stuffs the deer into it, then heads into camp.

He goes into the cabin and finds the rest of the crew had come in early because of the heavy snow. After telling them about the deer they head out to retrieve it. By then the snow has covered his tracks and the woods is full of large hollow stumps. They never did find the deer.

There's an old homestead up on top of our mountain called the Bish Fields, Bishfield Place, or the Bish Flats depending on who you talk to. Dad was back in there hunting one time and found a big bear trap. He put it up on top of a stump with plans on hauling it out on the hike out of the woods. He never found it again. It may still be back there somewhere.

Our guys were legendary for the classic snipe hunt. I can't even tell you how many "newbies" found themselves back on the end of some logging road, bent over holding a burlap sack and blowing a whistle waiting for the snipe to be driven to them. And before you ask, no I never fell victim to this prank. I'd heard about it before my dad tried to convince me I HAD to do it. I went along, but double timed it back to the truck and was standing there waiting on the guys when they showed up,convinced that I would be several hours late walking back to camp.

There are more, and same of them I can't tell, but another: How they used to get to camp.

The oldtimers would wait for the train in Homewood and it would take them and their gear up to Sinnamahoning and drop them off. Years previously that had cut a path up over the mountain for a couple miles to the flats. Then a couple more across the top, then a mile or so down into camp. Every year the path needed cleared of downed trees and chain saws had yet to be invented. The State owned the land and could care less.

A farmer would meet them in Sinnamahoning with a wagon team of mules and they would load up their gear and make the ride into camp. Two weeks later he would ride into camp, they would load up again for the trip back to Sinnamahoning and wait along the tracks for the train to come and take them home.

A trip to camp during small game or for fishing was a repeat.

Back in the 20's the original founders of our camp, my buddy's grandfather, uncle and their friends came in on a railroad handcar using an old logging spur and tent camped. Eventually the state put some of the forest land up for sale and they bought the 80 acres that comprises the camp.

Today we're sitting in the Flambeau State Forest.

Boy guys, this sounds familiar! Dad used to talk about a camp his dad was a part of up along Lake Erie somwhere over towards New York. They'd take the train in as close as they could get and then pay a teamster to take them the rest of the way in by horse and wagon. Dad couldn't tell me a whole lot about the camp, just that deer were very scarce, and if they found a track, they'd camp out on it overnight if necessary to catch up with it next day. The weapons were double barrel shotguns and black powder guns.

A couple of months ago, there was an article in the Pa. Game News about hunters traveling from the Pittsburgh area to the Medix Run area circa 1920. They caught a train from Pittsburgh to DuBois on Saturday then took the Hunters Special train from DuBois, through Sabula and Penfield and on toward Medix on Sunday. The train stopped just about anywhere to let guys and their gear off. The authors crew got off at Medix and hiked up and over the mountain top to their camp near the headwaters of some of the streams on the Clearfield side of the mountain. Some farmer had hauled their food in from that side.

I wondered why they didn't come in from that side too, then I realized that to get from Pittsburgh to Clearfield by train would mean traveling way east then coming back north and west. Pgh. to DuBois and Medix was a much shorter route and time.

Dale

Told this one here before, but now is a good time to repeat it.

The above mentioned camp was and is isolated. Not sure how it all came about, but after they built it a fellow lived in it year round. Pretty much existed on Deer, small game, fish and his vegetable garden. The winters can get hard up in that country.

He died a long time before I every went there, but the only name I've ever heard him called by was "Squirrel." The camp members pretty much took care of his clothing needs.

Anyway, Squirrel always had a Dog and if by chance he needed anything in Sinnamahoning he would walk into the little town-an honest 8-10miles-and his Dog would go with him.

Once Squirrel got sicker than just the common sick and knew he needed help. So he tied a note to the Dogs collar and told him to go to town. The Dog did as he was told and showed up at either the gas station, post office or little general store. The gas station and general store were probably one in the same. Someone noticed the note and they came and got Squirrel and got him to medical care. When he recovered, he went back to camp.

There's no such thing as "ugly" country in Pennsylvania, but that Sinnemahoning area is really beautiful. I've hunted out of a camp up there for ML season and turkey. All I remember is we came up out of Sinnemahoning along some stream till we topped out on a mountain where one little group of camps set. We hunted the top of the hill and it was beautiful country. Man, it must have been remote before they punched some of the road through there.

and don't forget how beautiful the bar is at "The Willows"!

The UP of MI has/had some great camps. We need some Michiganders to jump in here and tell us about their camps.

I grew up on those stories of the olden times in Potter Co. PA, listening to the kin folks. Deer were scarce in the old days and if a track was struck and someone had the time, they followed it. Sometimes over night, if they had packed a tarp along for shelter, blankets and sandwiches.

Many of those older tales took place not long after WWI, for a time frame reference. Some of the family lore was even older than that. And most involved hunters coming up from the city, with the kinfolks serving as guides or at least lending a hand in hunts for a few dollars. Similar details like hunters coming up on trains, then someone local picking them up in horse drawn wagons or buggies.

Puts things into perspective on the amount of effort required back then, just to hunt in the rural north central mountains of PA and I suspect, in many other states, prior to reliable automobiles and good roads.

One of my favorite family stories involved my paternal grandfather and his brother, both born in the 1880s. Never knew that grandfather, he died many years before I was born.

Predated WWI and involved them live-trapping a bear (no easy feat and I suspect, highly illegal), hauling it on the back of a wagon in a wooden cage, then letting it loose for some city boys to shoot at, who had paid for the endeavor upon getting a look at the caged bear.

One year while hauling the bear out predawn to where they intended to release it, the bear got to causing a ruckus on the back of the wagon, spooked the horses to the point they ran and the wagon flipped, throwing all onto the ground.

Gramps got hurt, wagon got busted up, the bear escaped and they wound up having to refund the city boys' money. IIRC, that finally ended the annual caged bear efforts on the part of gramps and his bro?

Ah the Willows. For some reason the guys in that camp now call it "One Eyes".

Another tale involved the willows and a fellow that happens to live about 4 houses down from me. He didn't hunt, but often would go to camp for a couple days.

Anyway, after a couple days some of the crew decided to go down off the mountain and visit the Whillows. The place was jumping and the bar maid was a well endowed lady. They were almost out and the top buttons were unhitched.

One of the guys mentioned that he would surely like to see her hooters and Andy said no problem and asked her to lean over the bar. She did, and he had his knife in hand and reached up and sliced her bra and out they flopped.

Alcohol was definitely a contributing factor, but she took it all in stride. Nobody got the boot and the party went on.

Head up 66N and you will pass some classic Pa Deer Bars:

Volwinkles
Vinces
The Bucktail
Kellys Hotel
The Bird Cage in Kane. Now gone.

Shot a Bear up there many years back and after spending 5 or 6 hours getting him out we stopped at Kellys for a celebration drink. Problem was I couldn't buy one, in that what seemed half the town insisted they buy one for me.

That was during the time when around 300 Bears a year were taken in Pa. Now it is 3000 plus.

Where are the camps from other states? Permanent or tent, there has to be some great experiences out there that others would like to hear.

Jeff (Gophergunner)...

Dale K. told me about you starting this thread... so I looked it up and found it. I copied the net address and sent it to Harry via email with the suggestion he also start a similar diary (as you suggested) for his cozy camp up on the mountain near Parker Dam in the Moshannon State Forest north-east of DuBois and east of Penfield.

As soon as I finish this post, I'm gonna go back and read all the posts on this thread. I sincerely hope your "heart issues" will be solved and you eventually are able to get back to your Dad's old camp and enjoy it with your son.

It was good chatting with you via email...


Strength & Honor... Yer "bud"...

Ron T.

I really should put these stories to print some time. It's a really good read.

*****************************************************
Yep... it was a "good read"... and you definitely have a talent for writing the stories in an interesting way, too, Jeff.


Ron

Some pics of my 1st yr of my deer cabin. We use it for fishing , and to get away. Used top snowmobile too. My 1st grouse at the cabin, my 1st deer there and us building it. We framed it in a weekend.

Nice pics. Looks like a good sized cabin. That's a big deer too.

The picture of the wall raising, makes me want to build another camp. When i along with two cousins, built ours, it was a fun filled time. Even the hospital trip following "The Air Nailer Accident" When i managed to attach my finger to the wall. It was enjoyable shooting from the hip and building it however you wanted, no plans, time frame, ect, ect. Beg, borrow, and trade, for the items that you needed for the next weekend. Our camp is far from perfect, but the stories, and memories are priceless.

Another story from the history of our camp:

Back in the late 40's when the guys started hunting in Central Pa. there was an oil well and pump up on our mountain. It was one of those great big one lunger engines with a long stroke and a huge flywheel that ran off the crude it was pumping. It was a popular spot for the guys to hunt up to, as it was manned by a mechanic who always had a pot of coffee on, and was friendly to all the hunters. Dad said he'd hunt his way up there, and if he hadn't shot a deer by the time he got there, he'd have lunch with the guy, and then still hunt back to camp. I walked up to it one time, and sadly it was all gone except the remains of the shed and a little oil stove. The engine had been pulled, and the well shaft was sitting there uncapped. You could look down the shaft with a light and see water in the shaft, and smell that Pennsylvania crude oil. Times sure have changed.

Several of these are familiar. Sure miss getting down that way.

24x24 cabin with a loft. That deer was a freak of some sort. When I hung in in the garage it stretched from the 8' ceiling to the floor. Very long legs. My first big eoods buck and first bow buck, 1989.

Yup. We have a camp up ear fryburg, pa. Been keeping a log since 1979. Some funny stuff. It's a hoot to take to the outhouse with you and read a few of the old stories. I actually attempted to type the whole thing (well, there's 5 log books now); it's a lot of work trying to decipher everyone's writing.

I didn't have the opportunity to really start deer hunting until I was a freshman in high school. One of my school chum's mother still had their family place in the hill country. We simply stayed in the old rock ranch house. He still lives there in the house and we are still close friends. The old house was moved from down in the Colorado river valley in the 30's when lake Travis was being built.

My dad's dad was a fairly notorious poacher during the depression in south Texas. But it was to put food on the table thing there in the "Blackjacks".. He didn't even own a rifle. They were pretty damn poor. But they always had a garden and a hog. He would borrow a 30-30 from a neighbor when grandma told him they needed meat. He would generally hunt on a moon light night up in a blackjack oak and shoot a deer when it came to eat acorns.

The game warden would put up an obligatory effort to catch him. Band my grandmother would laugh as she told me that warden usually did show up Sunday afternoon about grocery time. My grandmother was a local legend when it came to baked goods. Pies,doughnuts, etc. Naturally he whole process of cat and mouse would repeat itself in a week or two. But that warden knew that grandpa as well as others in the area were only trying to keep from starving. They never made game hogs of themselves. They took only what they needed.