When I returned to camp, they walked behind me on the trail, and we spoke not a word about getting skunked today, but rather talked about the days we returned with a stringer full of fish, and how we filleted them and the left the guts out for bears and eagles, and how those fish tasted fresh when we fried them over a fire.
Daniel J. Rice, The Unpeopled Season: Journal from a North Country Wilderness
camping, fishing, hemingway, memory, nature, outdoors, wilderness, writing