Back in 2001, when I wrote my book The Old Squirrel Hunter, I included a chapter entitled Older But Better, in which I detailed some of the advantages of being a veteran outdoor person. I meant what I said at that time. I was in my early fifties then. Now, in my middle seventies, being older is not all that great. When that was written, I could hop in and out of my boat with no trouble. Today, getting into the boat is a major task. Getting out is even worse. I have to roll onto the dock, then get up. I have always had back problems to one degree or another. Years of jogging, totaling thousands of miles, have wrecked my knees.
When that chapter was written, I could almost run up a hill. Now, not so much. I have to stop a number of times, both to catch my breath and rest my legs. Fortunately, though, I can still make it to the top. I can’t help but wonder how much longer that will be the case.
A stout walking stick has now become an essential outdoor accessory for me. I made mine out of a diamond willow stick my brother-in-law from Minnesota gave me. It has proven invaluable for going down over banks and, for that matter, climbing back up them. On the now rare occasions when I wade, a wading staff is my constant companion.
I have always had some difficulty dealing with cold, but it has now become a genuine nemesis. Even my faithful Woolrich clothing can’t always do the job for me all the time. I should note, however, that I still find wool to be best for cold weather. It beats anything else I have ever tried. I also believe that some of my sensitivity to cold is a side effect of a couple of my medications.
Given my rotator cuff problems, I also can’t help but wonder how well I would do dragging a deer out of the woods. Fortunately for me, my son always comes with me when I hunt. I know that he does it because he worries about me being out there alone. His muscles, however, can really come in handy.
Each August, I attend an event known as the Loafer’s Reunion. It consists of a bunch of guys who grew up together, and hung around a local gas station when we were kids. Sadly, we have begun to lose members on an almost yearly basis. Still, we have fun. I have, though, noticed that the topics of conversation have changed dramatically over the years. Years ago, we talked about hunting, fishing, pretty women, cars etc. Now we talk about what each other’s doctor said, surgeries and the medications we are on. That’s quite a dramatic change, but we still enjoy ourselves.
My best friend of countless years, Old Bub, and I often talk about life as a baseball game. As we are both realists, we realize that our game is in the late innings. The game, however, is not over, and we try our best to enjoy what is left of it. This column might seem depressing to some. It is not meant to be. I, along with my friends, consider ourselves blessed that we have lived this long, and can still enjoy much of life.
Although it doesn’t officially start until Thursday, signs of Spring are everywhere. In the photo, Jodie Beabout captured a sure sign.
Next week, I will share with you my limited knowledge of fly fishing.
Email: salmonangler1@gmail.com
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