upthecrick
New member
Am not quite sure of the starting date but it was somewhere in the mid 1960's. My uncle Ted,hereafter referred to as Buster,lived in the small hamlet of South Montrose(the same one in the story about the cat in the road). I'll try now to describe Buster as best I can without tarnishing his name too bad. Buster was a 'bullshiter' and he loved to stretch the truth a little(somehow I think it may be a family trait cause I believe I've been afflicted with it a little,not anywhere close to,the master,uncle Buster though).
You could never take anything uncle Buster was telling you as the gospel truth,it was close but a bit away from being right on center. Uncle Buster also lived for hunting,fishing,chasing coons with his dogs in the early days,drinking 'Pabst Blue Ribbon' beer,smoking Winston cigarettes and last but not least Camp Lookout,the true object of this story.
At the time of this story Buster was living across the street from a fellow story teller,Harry Jeruld(it seems that birds of a feather tend to flock together). Harry,it seems,was the proud owner,along with his brother Art, of a hunting camp over in Birchardville,a small town to the west of South Montrose. It seems that Buster was known to frequent this hunting camp & was allowed to partake of the keg,he never let on he preferred 'Pabst Blue Ribbon'. They usually had Budweiser,this was before the days of the 'Bud frogs' and some people were known to buy it for its flavor!
Now it seems that this hunting camp was composed of almost 50 acres of prime California road real estate and some how Buster talked them out of about 3 acres. The location of this parcel was just down the hill & below the road, located right on a power line which delivered electricity to the camp.
Just how he ever pulled this off was never revealed to me but I suspect Buster had something on them,probably shooting deer out of season or undeniable proof of someone sneaking some willing gal to the cabin! At any rate Uncle Buster and three of his cronies purchased this prime piece of property,bulldozed a driveway down to it and,while they had the bulldozer there,made a small pond where a spring bubbled out of the mountain(this being the source of many words spoken in anger in years to come). It seems this pond & spring was the only source of water for the camp & one had to go down to it & than climb back up with full water buckets and the person usually designated as the 'go getter' was the loser at the card game. Upon completion of the driveway and scooping out many loads of top mountain dirt a spot was leveled for the camp and a 12 by 30 foot shell was soon erected.
The camp was to contain one large room,the end towards the driveway was christened the kitchen area and official location of the beer cooler(nothing but Pabst Blue Ribbon, of course).The middle of the camp became the dining and card playing area as it was staffed with a large table big enough to feed a army & if it was cleared off could easily seat 8 card players. The other end of the room was reserved for two sets of bunk beds,one on each side of the room with a old wood stove directly between them. Right next to the wood stove was a wood box which was to be known as 'Pa Boy's box' in the not too near future,cause this was the recipient of one overly drunken Paw Boy's stomach contents. Believe me when I tell you 'you don't ever want to be present when someone pukes in a wood box right next to a hot wood stove!'
I guess this would be a good time to explain the name 'Pa Boy' and why it became attached to ole Jim Hulburt. Jim was in his early 50's at the time & going thru his second childhood,especially when Agnes,his wife of many years wasn't present. He would carry on whenever he got out to the camp and soon was christened with the name,I believe it was his son(of the cat in the road story) who named him so.
Before finishing with the inside of the cabin I'd like to take you on a tour as you enter the door. The only entrance is a door with a window and is located in the kitchen area . As you enter(don't come in if you haven't got a load of wood for the stove)on the right is the Fridge and on the left is the combination wood & gas stove. Mostly wood is burnt but in a hurry can heat something with propane. Next to the stove on the left is a dry sink above which is a window thru which you can view all the wonders of the 'power line' and,depending on the time of year,the gun rack which also faces the line. Of course there was a unwritten law that said no one must ever bring in a loaded gun into the cabin,the gun rack was something else. Directly to the right of the dry sink was a set of cupboards where dirty dishes would end up awaiting their fate. Next to the cupboard was another window with a slightly different view of the 'power line'. It was from here that a watch was posted during all the daylight hours. After all ,you couldn't afford to miss one of those big ones passing the line just cause you were deeply involved in a game of 'nickle dime' poker. The loser of last nights poker game & the washer of the todays dishes usually had guard duty at the window.(most democratic way of doing it) I can still see the cards flying & the the guys running for the only door when the guard would exclaim 'DEER ON THE LINE'. I can't ever remember a deer being killed from the results of one of these exits from the cabin! There was always the 'smart ass' guard who yelled,just to see us scramble,his payoff was a double duty of 'dry sink' time.
Ah Camp Lookout,what a marvelous creation for me and my growing hoard of kids. Of course when it came into existence I was not living down the road from it.
The next installment will be of some of the memorable card games & fun times in general.
Crick
You could never take anything uncle Buster was telling you as the gospel truth,it was close but a bit away from being right on center. Uncle Buster also lived for hunting,fishing,chasing coons with his dogs in the early days,drinking 'Pabst Blue Ribbon' beer,smoking Winston cigarettes and last but not least Camp Lookout,the true object of this story.
At the time of this story Buster was living across the street from a fellow story teller,Harry Jeruld(it seems that birds of a feather tend to flock together). Harry,it seems,was the proud owner,along with his brother Art, of a hunting camp over in Birchardville,a small town to the west of South Montrose. It seems that Buster was known to frequent this hunting camp & was allowed to partake of the keg,he never let on he preferred 'Pabst Blue Ribbon'. They usually had Budweiser,this was before the days of the 'Bud frogs' and some people were known to buy it for its flavor!
Now it seems that this hunting camp was composed of almost 50 acres of prime California road real estate and some how Buster talked them out of about 3 acres. The location of this parcel was just down the hill & below the road, located right on a power line which delivered electricity to the camp.
Just how he ever pulled this off was never revealed to me but I suspect Buster had something on them,probably shooting deer out of season or undeniable proof of someone sneaking some willing gal to the cabin! At any rate Uncle Buster and three of his cronies purchased this prime piece of property,bulldozed a driveway down to it and,while they had the bulldozer there,made a small pond where a spring bubbled out of the mountain(this being the source of many words spoken in anger in years to come). It seems this pond & spring was the only source of water for the camp & one had to go down to it & than climb back up with full water buckets and the person usually designated as the 'go getter' was the loser at the card game. Upon completion of the driveway and scooping out many loads of top mountain dirt a spot was leveled for the camp and a 12 by 30 foot shell was soon erected.
The camp was to contain one large room,the end towards the driveway was christened the kitchen area and official location of the beer cooler(nothing but Pabst Blue Ribbon, of course).The middle of the camp became the dining and card playing area as it was staffed with a large table big enough to feed a army & if it was cleared off could easily seat 8 card players. The other end of the room was reserved for two sets of bunk beds,one on each side of the room with a old wood stove directly between them. Right next to the wood stove was a wood box which was to be known as 'Pa Boy's box' in the not too near future,cause this was the recipient of one overly drunken Paw Boy's stomach contents. Believe me when I tell you 'you don't ever want to be present when someone pukes in a wood box right next to a hot wood stove!'
I guess this would be a good time to explain the name 'Pa Boy' and why it became attached to ole Jim Hulburt. Jim was in his early 50's at the time & going thru his second childhood,especially when Agnes,his wife of many years wasn't present. He would carry on whenever he got out to the camp and soon was christened with the name,I believe it was his son(of the cat in the road story) who named him so.
Before finishing with the inside of the cabin I'd like to take you on a tour as you enter the door. The only entrance is a door with a window and is located in the kitchen area . As you enter(don't come in if you haven't got a load of wood for the stove)on the right is the Fridge and on the left is the combination wood & gas stove. Mostly wood is burnt but in a hurry can heat something with propane. Next to the stove on the left is a dry sink above which is a window thru which you can view all the wonders of the 'power line' and,depending on the time of year,the gun rack which also faces the line. Of course there was a unwritten law that said no one must ever bring in a loaded gun into the cabin,the gun rack was something else. Directly to the right of the dry sink was a set of cupboards where dirty dishes would end up awaiting their fate. Next to the cupboard was another window with a slightly different view of the 'power line'. It was from here that a watch was posted during all the daylight hours. After all ,you couldn't afford to miss one of those big ones passing the line just cause you were deeply involved in a game of 'nickle dime' poker. The loser of last nights poker game & the washer of the todays dishes usually had guard duty at the window.(most democratic way of doing it) I can still see the cards flying & the the guys running for the only door when the guard would exclaim 'DEER ON THE LINE'. I can't ever remember a deer being killed from the results of one of these exits from the cabin! There was always the 'smart ass' guard who yelled,just to see us scramble,his payoff was a double duty of 'dry sink' time.
Ah Camp Lookout,what a marvelous creation for me and my growing hoard of kids. Of course when it came into existence I was not living down the road from it.
The next installment will be of some of the memorable card games & fun times in general.
Crick
.
I am looking forward to the next part of your story, should be interesting! 
.Uncle Buster ruled with a iron hand..its a good thing he was my Uncle..I probably wouldn't of loved him so much if he wasn't!!! If you want to hear what it was like..get ahold of the song by 'The Yuppers' called '2nd Week of Deer Camp' and listen to it..I sware I thought I'd died and went to heaven when I heard that song..If I didn't know better the song was written about our camp...
!Yup,its still there,but not the same since Uncle Buster has gone to meet his maker.
I still like to go and sit in at a game or two,every fall,prior to and during deer season..Even thats not the same,instead of nickle & dime its grown to quarter half. But the memories still linger..thats what keeps me going back and probably will until I make that journey to see if Uncle Buster is still shootin the bull..
