An Outdoorsman’s Journal: A place called fall camp

Hello friends, The next four weeks I will be writing to you about what you could call my hunting camp. My camp is in the Meadow Valley Wildlife Area in northern Juneau County and this area with all of the land combined makes up at least 200 square miles of forest, marsh and paradise. This fall will be the 53rd year in a row that I have watched night become day on opening day of Wisconsin’s gun deer season. I have spent many nights camped here, with all of the experiences combined adding up to well over three years of my life.

Saturday, Nov. 9 – High 55, low 37 Today is the day that The Red Brush Gang comes together and builds our camp, cuts our firewood and, after the work is done, has one heck of a fun “we built it” party. My buddy Jeff Moll will be celebrating his 50th year in a row at camp and today, I ran the splitter, Jeff ran the chainsaw and we made one heck of a lot of firewood. All told, there were 22 of us in camp ranging in age from 5 to 86. This week and next, I will write to you about spending time alone at camp with my pups Ruby and Red while hunting and simply enjoying camp. I will also touch on some of the experiences that I have had over the last 53 years.

Tuesday, Nov.12 – High 48, low 26 I start every day sitting in a tree hoping a buck will come by and I will make some meat. This morning I had a doe come from one direction, and at the same time a 6-pointer that had no idea the doe was around was coming right at me from another, as I was hunting near a very hot scrape. As soon as the buck saw the doe, it was chase on, and that doe may have saved his life.

This may sound crazy, but due to the fact there are so many wolf in this area, it is pretty cool when you see a buck. I learned a long time ago to just enjoy the view and forced relaxation of sitting in a tree.

I started writing this column when I was 27 and was coming here long before that. Back in the late 80s and early 90s I would set up shop here in Meadow Valley as soon as our traditional Mississippi River duck hunt was complete, and would stay at camp until mid-January. I was making $10 a week as a writer at first and by ‘93 was up to $90 a week. To keep expenses down, which I still have to watch, I would only go to town once a week and that was to get pictures developed and mail my handwritten column to my publisher. In the winter of‘93, I trained at camp to hike the Appalachian Trail and before my backpack arrived in the mail, I carried a 7-foot, 100-pound oak log on my shoulders through the bush and was in excellent condition. Sometimes I would have female company and in the winter, because the path to my camp is not plowed, I would hook that oak log to my Jeep Eagle and pull it behind the Eagle to level out the trail. To set up a date, I would drive to Babcock and use the payphone that was on the curve on Highway 80 for about a billion years.

Think about this: in my time at Meadow Valley I have watched the return of the wolf, black bear, fisher, turkey and now elk.

At night at camp I cook good meals and hang out with the pups. I go to bed early because I get up long before daylight and either sit in a tree or a canoe.

In the 80s and 90s, I was addicted to ice skating and cross country skiing, and always did it after dark with my goldens Ranger and Ben, then Ben and Star, then Star and Pearl, etc. etc...

I was so addicted to fall camp and so broke that I literally lived like a homeless person and laid as low as possible and off the land as much as possible.

Like everyone reading this, I am well aware that my years of living with a chainsaw, shotgun, tip-up and rifle are numbered, but I will tell you this: unless I am incapacitated, I will be at fall camp till I can no longer physically do it!

Enjoy life; your days are numbered! Sunset

Mark Walters