Fishing at Ron's

There are almost no times when all of my brothers and sisters get together anymore. Adult children with kids of their own have kept us separated and busy with grand kids. This was not the case thirty years ago when we found times for all of us to be together. For many years, this was the annual get together at Ron and Bonnie's.

Ron and Bonnie moved to Collinsville in the early 1980's. Ron loved being near water, so they selected a home that was on a lake. The lake was famous in the area as it was originally a moat around the home of a southern Illinois mobster, Frank "Buster" Wortman.

Wortman was an infamous bootlegger and gambling kingpin. He built his fortress and moat in the 1950's. This was after one of his "business'" was bombed by a rival gang. Some time after Buster died, his son sub divided the land around the moat. Ron and Bonnie's home was part of that subdivision. Ron and Bonnie moved  across the lake from Buster Wortman's original house.

The gatherings were always in the warm weather. Ron and Bonnie started the event around July 4, and later moved it to Labor Day weekend. Our families camped out or stayed in the house, and like hippies in a commune, there were people sleeping everywhere.We fished, floated in tubes, and drank way too much beer. It was a great time for everyone, and yes, that is Buster's fortress in the background.

Ron went through a great deal of work to prepare for the event. Al had found Ron a boat which he painted and prepared for the get-together. Ron bought floating toys for the kids and the adults. He bought an electric trolling motor and provided fishing poles, grills, and life jackets, as well as lots of drinks. We all brought plenty of food, sun screen, sleeping bags, and more drinks.

With none of us driving home, there was plenty of time to get goofy, as you can tell by the photos taken over several years.

Since this blog is about  fishing, there was plenty of that as well. The lake was stocked by the home owner's association and Ron served on the board. The lake (moat) contained many blue gills, catfish, and  largemouth bass. I even managed to hook one, but for the most part the kids and other adults caught the fish.

Ron continued this tradition as long as he was able. After nearly twenty years, his family decided it was getting to be too much. I was there the day they decided to end the tradition.  It was a sad day.

The year before, Tim's son, Shawn, wrote a paper on Buster Wortman. He bought a powerful magnet and spent most of the week-end dragging the moat for any gangster type hardware that might have been tossed in the lake, Unfortunately, he never found as much as a nail.

Our kids grew-up looking forward to Ron's family gatherings. We all miss the good times. I am for ever grateful that he made this happen. Thanks for being the grand planner.

Warrior's Revenge

We awoke to a different scene. There was a light dusting of snow around the camp site, but the sky was clearing. The tops of the mountains had a fresh layer of snow and it was still snowing. We were cold, but dry. Fortunately we all had brought plenty of clothes for the cold and precipitation.

Shane and Joe (thanks for correction DM) told us earlier that summer they had brought a family out for horse-riding and photography. In spite of clear instructions about clothing and the weather, a teenage girl had come with only shorts and flip flops. The unpredictable mountain weather turned cold as it was that day. The outfitters had to loan clothes to the girl and wrap her in blankets to get her back home.

Joe and Shane readied the horses for the ride out. Warrior was waiting, but not patiently. As Joe’s dog walked past him, Warrior kicked him. I thought I heard a crack. The dog was in terrific pain. Joe said he might have broken ribs, but he was not planning to take him to a vet.

We left camp in the same order we arrived. Shane in front, Don behind him, then Paul, and Warrior and me.

The ride along the river valley was like picture. The air was hazy and cold, and we could see the snow falling up on the continental divide. It seemed ironic to me that we had just been up there the day before.

The golden sage was everywhere. It does not grow tall in the mountains, but it grows quite thick. Fortunately the Loop Trail afforded room for the horses in single file.

After about two hours we stopped along the river for the horses to get a drink and take a short rest. We ate our lunch of a snack bar and drank some water before proceeding.  Paul was a little slow getting his Palomino moving and ended up behind Warrior and me.

Warrior always tried to be last. On the narrow trail there was no way for Paul to go around, so we stayed in the order we left the river as we climbed out of the river valley. Warrior kept slowing and looking back. I had to kick him to get him moving, but he kept looking back on his left side.

Without warning, he kicked back at Paul’s horse’s head. Paul’s Palomino reacted quickly and turned his head to the side. Warrior’s kick caught Paul squarely on the knee cap. He pulled up and was stunned.

Paul said he could see stars as he dismounted. I was sure his knee was broken as the kick was so hard. I stayed mounted to try and keep Warrior from more mayhem. I was so sorry I didn’t understand the warning signs. I blamed myself for not being able to control my horse. I was afraid my friend would be unable to continue.

After about five minutes, Paul tried to remount his horse. He was able to get up and we continued on. Paul moved his horse around ahead of me. The rest of the ride was uneventful.

We returned to the corral and dismounted. It seemed just a short while before we had the CRV loaded and ready for the return trip to Dubois. We thanked Shane repeatedly for such an enjoyable trip and his care for us.

Three guys who haven’t showered in five days made for a rather unpleasant ride. Connie’s car was covered in dust from the corrals and full of many unpleasant odors ranging from horse shit to body odor. I knew it would need to be professionally cleaned and deodorized.

In one week there was noticeable change in the trees. The aspen had already turned golden. The sunlight reflected off the brilliant gold color. It was a welcome sight after five days of pine trees and sage.

Dubois was such a wonderful place to see. We quickly checked in the motel. We couldn’t shower and change fast enough. We walked to the restaurant where we had eaten our first night. The bar had cold beer and plenty of lovely women in cowgirl clothes. The smoke jumpers were gone, so we drank several beers with our meal and enjoyed the scenery.

The drive home was even more boring. We weren’t headed for the mountains, we were headed for the scenic state of, big yawn, Nebraska followed by, another yawn, Iowa. We did bring home some pretty incredible memories.

Afterword

While first planning this trip, I was reluctant to commit to go. It was a great deal of money and I was unsure about my ability to ride as required. Don said, “If we don’t go now, we may never be able to go” I agreed to go, overcoming my concerns. Don was right. 

Over twelve years have passed since our trip to Wyoming. ( It's been long enough that perhaps Warrior has met his maker.) We are plagued with the physical issues which come with entering our seventh decade. Had we not gone then, we couldn’t go now. I am forever grateful.