Closing up camp has become an art for us. It is done with efficiency and is done pretty much in silence. The only sounds are of supplies being packed away. Everyone knows the chores and duties that need to be performed. There are no assigned tasks, everyone does their part.
There is a certain sadness that comes with going home. True, we often feel more at home here, we feel more normal and more sane, in this place, but our life obligations are never too far from our thoughts.
In the matter of an hours time we are ready to depart and we glance around camp taking it all in as if it is the last time we shall ever see this place. It is at this moment that the desire already starts to well up in us to return and we have not even closed the gate and driven a mile down the road. It is a time of mixed emotion.
Driving down M-72 it has started to rain and now, approaching Grayling it is really coming down. We welcome the rain as it has been very dry up here and the land is thirsty and it too needs to be revived. We hit the highway and glance back in our rear view mirrors and say our goodbye to this good place yet, already, the wheels have begun to spin and plans are being laid down for the next trip...it will happen soon, but not soon enough!
Categories: Fly-Fishing
