Welcome to Kamp

It was a grey and misty day and the bases were loaded. There was no announcer, no scoreboard, no guys selling beer or hot dogs--just a few familiar faces in the stands. They heard me pull up. I was driving our 68 Mustang, which is incredibly loud--and saw me rush out of the car and join them.

Just about one hour ago, I got a text at work from A, our dependable nanny. "The game is on!" I switched aps and dejectedly realized I would miss my express train. But I could pack up my papers and notebook, jump on the local and get some work done.

As I turned the key, the gas gauge barely moved past E. UGH, not a good time to have a GAS GUZZLING muscle car. $40 barely moved the needle but more than enough to get me to Veteran's Park to see MJ pitch his first baseball game.

He barely spoke after the game ended and the coach told him he wants MJ to pitch again. His "OK" was barely audible and the car ride home was quiet. At home, I did hear, "My pitch curves too much." "The ball didn't drop enough." "It didn't curve enough." On and on the self-criticism went and he wept in his bunk bed. His bedroom room lights were off.

A part of me of course was happy while this occurred. I rather have someone, especially my kid, display raw emotion than just be blasé about things, even if baseball is just a game. Would prefer pure joy of course, but I hope this also makes MJ realize the value of practice, how to practice better, play better, etc. We spoke about all this over dinner and he shall learn in due course.

Yeah, I missed his first pitch, and maybe his first 20. MJ's statline I think reads: 4 runs, 1 hit, 2 KO's, a bunch of walks, lots of wild pitches and one thrown glove after the inning ended. We'll never be sure--the box score won't be on internet or newspaper. But seeing MJ on the mound, go through his wind up, the same determined and focused face, seeing him pitch from the sidelines in my worn out grey Brooks Brothers suit--and not behind home plate at Kamp K in my Merrill clogs, khaki shorts and Springsteen t-shirt is different and cool. That is baseball.

I've finally returned to Colorado. Our last visit with friends and fam was maybe 2003(?) in Breckenridge, which is about 30 minutes down the road from where we are now in Beaver Creek. It's been a 2+ day adventure so far with three kids--and no wife, who will show up tonight. She had to work as a colleague recently gave birth, so the remaining workers split up this vacation week.

The kids are more than fine on the plane. But lugging 5 people's ski gear and clothes is not that fun. But we managed to haul everything from baggage claim to the hotel, which is a testament to the functionality of Denver's airport and intra-airport transportation system, despite the negative press written about it. It is one of my favorite airports actually.

As for Beaver Creek, I have forgotten how nice the mountain is--and I dare say it should NOT be considered Vail's little sister. This is a fine mountain in its own right with much to offer skiers of all abilities, especially families and little kids. Oh, it doesn't have Vail's world-wide reputation, but the back bowls are actually lousy unless there's fresh pow(der). Beaver Creek's on-mountain food however is mediocre--unlike Deer Valley, where any restaurant, be it at the base, mid-mountain or top--is fantastic. The off-mountain restaurants are comparable fortunately.

I'm digressing a bit, but our two days without M here was marked with highs and lows. Fortunately, the lows will become stories later on--and something I hope our kids remember for the rest of their lives.

CA was being CA--that is to say a bit high maintenance. Admittedly, it was cold and snowy as we ascended the summit 11,440ft/3,488m high around 10:30am. She proclaimed that she hated skiing and she never wanted to do it again. But the 45 minute pit stop to Spruce Saddle Lodge, with some hot chocolates, cookies (which were pretty good), and hand and toe warmers which M secretely gave them(!!!), did the trick. CA by the next run was ok--and had to be pulled off the mountain when we finally decided to end the day.

Nico and I got separated from the twins at Ripperoo's Retreat. The 8 year olds went left-(leading to the Centennial Express lift)-and of course Nico went right (leading to the Rose Bowl lift). I chose to follow Nico--after telling the twins to stand down. I got Nico who was now 1/2 a mile away--and screaming for MJ and CA didn't help. So we found a ski patrolman, told him our dilemma, and rode up the lift with him--determining a game plan. But that was not needed, as the twins were patiently waiting where I left them. They were scared even though they were not in danger. But it was a good lesson for all of us. Aside: they forgot my cell phone number--but it's written on their helmets.

MJ got a bloody nose after crashing into both Nico and me at the same time. He was a bit over-confident in his stopping ability and it was of course the one time that I didn't have a pocketful of napkins or tissues. The bleeding eventually stopped--and we went back up the mountain for 2 more runs, which take about 20 minutes each.

The last run was a bit scary. The twins bombed down the Melt Down glades. But Nico took took a higher path and got stuck in deep powder and popped off a ski. I was only 30 yards away (down hill of course) but could not get to him. I took off a ski and immediately sank to my knee. A solid 5 minutes passed before he was able to dig out his ski and and pull himself up, which can be incredibly hard to do. (Note to self--do more sit-ups...) But he listened to my instructions and didn't panic. So in some ways, I'm glad this happened to him.

And that was day one...

Thanksgiving was nice. However, while I endorse lots of products made by Apple, if not all, I did find it annoying that we often had a device or 3 (Macbook, iPhone and iPad) ready to be viewed while picking at leftovers, imbibing leading up to babbling. Level one discussions are fine--I understand most of the time but not when you're family is finally all together for the first time since Thanksgiving 2010.

Oh, sure, getting the latest fishing report is key although you're half way across the country. And trying to keep up with the stuff you could buy cheap on Black Friday or Cyber Monday is somewhat interesting--so long as you don't get pepper sprayed. But having everyone hide behind a screen (or a device) is just not the way I think the Pilgrims dreamt up Thanksgiving. Yeah yeah!!! I know I FB a lot--but I have cut down :) and try to only do it 2x day now aside from pix.

So, I am making my own Montauk rules that shall apply when you visit us at the End. I might even make them apply here at Kamp C.

- Don't bring your Apple products. Kamp C has 3 laptops, 3 mac minis, 1 touch, 2 ipads and 2 iPhones. We also have a dinosaur of a PC laptop and the original Macintosh if you are nostalgic. As a result, MTK has 2 laptops and usually 2 iPads, 2 iPhones and 2 blackberries that make the 3 hour jaunt. The point is we can get you online :)

- Bring a book. I'd somewhat prefer you actually read a paperback than check out Target's towel sale. GAWD, I might even prefer you read a People's Magazine. Who knows who's just been in Montauk (Yes, I am somewhat stargazed when I'm out there...)
- Bring wine or something else instead!!!! The idea is to TALK, interact, catch up and not just on how Johnny can walk up the stairs now--and likes green beans but only on Wednesdays at school. But if there is a lull in the convo--at least the buzz will make the minutes pass faster.
- Bring your sneakers/hiking shoes/flip flops, tennis racquet, riding boots, golf clubs, life preserver and fishing rod. MTK is a GREAT PLACE to be outdoors. But let's also use the indoor space of our house and of our brains.

In my dreams, I see myself at the helm of our Boston Whaler heading towards a flock of birds catching the afternoon tide, sporting a tee shirt, my Smiths and a smile, with my brother, D, and a friend or two holding on to the railings for dear life as we dance over the waves. We then back off the throttles upwind and up current of the gulls, each fire off a cast, reel a bit and are on to fish. We'd land one or two, maybe lose one, keep one, throw the smaller ones back and repeat until we were almost out of gas or until it was dinner time. That is how it was when we were teenagers down at the Jersey shore (except I had Vaurets)--and that is how I'd like it to be later this summer at Montauk Point except for the running out of gas part.

But those long ago days also included myself at the "helm" of a rake, a paint brush, a level and other tools which my father, the engineer and handyman that he is, possessed, and had us use to help around the Mystic, as my parent's summer home was known. I have barely lifted nary a finger here at Kamp Kap, aside from writing a check--and even then, that was mainly M that wrote the checks.

A lot of knowledge my dad taught about landscaping, motors, and general house work is actually in me, and I can in a pinch or an emergency summon up THAT wisdom to get us out of a jam. For example, if an old school boat isn't running, I can generally rummage about the motor to see what's wrong and fix basic things especially if we're off the dock and on the water. (New school motors cannot be assessed like that--you often need wires to a laptop to tell you what's wrong. But they are much more reliable fortunately.)

I do look forward however to making small improvements to our new to us home at the End. Not even I will be able to tolerate the straight out of 1977 bathrooms. Oh, don't get me wrong, I ain't going to rip out the tiles, and replace the cabinets an hour after we close--I'll be at Montauk Point :) But something will be done!

I do look forward to assembling some furniture, the grill and some light painting. But the house is fine as it is. This is NOT to say that $$$ buys you a lot of house in Montauk--because it really doesn't. But that walk to the beach, which is only about 200 maybe 300 yards away, especially at sunrise or sunset, will make you realize that the man upstairs has all the tools you'll ever need.

Last night had the makings to be a perfect night. We were about to watch the twins perform their spring concert right outside their on an absolutely perfect summer night. The kids found their "friends" and were playing beforehand, while M and I talked to our (adult) friends.

But during the 2nd or 3rd song, a friend passed on some terrible news. A dad friend of ours, whose twins have gone to school with ours since the get go-just passed away--literally 20 minutes beforehand, succumbing to cancer. I listened to some songs and hugged MJ and CA tightly and faux-socialized the rest of the night but for most of last night I felt like Private Ryan when he was on Omaha Beach. I was stunned--and still am.

My thoughts and prayers are out to C, J and L.

NY's worst kept secret, no thanks to me, is that the Capios have finally pulled the trigger. We are getting a house in Tauk-Mon, as Nico calls our favorite summer jaunt. We haven't closed yet (on or about July 31st is the target) but we are definitely excited for something that we has been in the making for for 3+ years now.

There are so many emotions that have filled us throughout this timeframe. Why now? Why not? Why at all? We won't be able to do this...we don't have enough time as it is. What about Camp Capio? What about church? What about our families and friends? Are we going to be able to afford this? What about Popcorn? It goes on and on and on.

The flip side is that EVERY1 that has spent some time at the End, more time than us, has confirmed what we have already have seen--that Montauk is a special place, the un-Hampton's place that pulls you back to despite the 3+ hour drive. It's more than the surf, the jelly croissants, the beach, and the FISH though that's a big plus.

People tend to vacate the beach once Labor Day arrives--but Montauk's heart beats all year long. Yeah, you'll have to put away the SPF 50, but I've been there in January--and there is something about Mecca that brings you back.

My friends and people in our lives (like our kids' piano teacher), some of whom I've not realized like Montauk, have somehow learned about our new place--and they've just told me countless stories about their best summer vacation--it was at Montauk. They budgeted "this" amount--but spent twice as much. But they didn't care--it's something they STILL Mon-talk about! (Sorry, that was a bit....weak).

I always tell M and the kids that "we're going to have a great summer." And they look back at me somewhat blankly, "OK, it's just another summer Dad." or Whatever. But I know already, that THIS summer will be really GREAT.

Croton Bay isn't nearly as famous as Montauk for the quality of fish--or quantity. But it is nice to drive 3 minutes versus 3 hours if you're lucky enough to avoid traffic to wet a line.

Winds generally blow in from the North or Northwest, which means that the Bay itself is usually protected by the Croton Park. But if the winds pick up to about 15+ knots, there are few places to hide, and a surprisingly big chop develops especially when the wind is against the tide.

Striped bass reign of course. There are other fish that replace the fishermen's hearts, especially the young. Perch are abundant throughout the year, as are catfish, eels, carp and blue claw crabs. Bluefish invade the Bay in the spring and fall, but snappers are more common in the summer.

The striper game is a spring time affair that starts sometime in March and is over well before Father's Day, usually Memorial Day. It has taken me a while to figure out what to do-and there are many times I feel I should be doing something more productive. But this spring, if you could actually call 33 degree air temperature and 48 degree water temperature "spring," has been surprisingly prolific.

This year's first bass the morning of April 9th was a complete surprise. I was getting ready to move the boat a little and by chance as I grabbed the last rod, always baited with a head, I felt a pick up. I didn't panic and jerk the rod, as most, even seasoned fishermen, are inclined and I let (her) run a few seconds before setting the hook. The water was shallow--not even 10 feet deep (and 43 degrees), and by 6:15am she was in. I headed home and had a fresh cup of coffee at 6:38am when my father in law woke up. He was amazed that I was already done fishing. I was too--usually the afternoons are much better after the water's had time to warm up a bit.

I tried the same thing Sunday morning (the 10th) w/o success for 2 hours, but the conditions were not as good with more wind. But Monday morning (the 11th) brought me a similar result as Saturday though this bass was 28 inches, a few inches shorter than my first one.

It rained Tuesday and Wednesday but there was ideal conditions on the Thursday the 14th, prompting me to be ON the water at my spot at 5:30am with fresh herring. We had high tide timed perfectly with the 6:15am sunrise. There was no wind and some cloud cover. I didn't need coffee to be awake--the bay was alive with fish--and numerous splashes around me indicated. I was in only 7 feet of water--so I was even more quiet than normal--sound really travels in water and banging around in a boat could drive fish away.

Right at sunrise, one rod goes off and I landed a 27 inch bass, and before I took it out of the net, my other rod goes off. This one got tangled in my propeller, which caused me a bit of angst. The water was only 45 degrees--and there was nobody around--no fish is worth your life. So I tied myself to the boat and clamored around the motor well to un-tangle the line. It was surprisingly quick work and the bass thought she was free. I babied the rod and fish in


case my prop nicked my line. But she held and I snapped a few pix before releasing this one. I was home by 6:45am.

After paying $35k in taxes, although I expected that number, I was in a foul mood on the 15th. But I had to take advantage of the pattern that had developed-fresh herring at sunrise in case you haven't noticed. The fish were there but for some reason I kept missing. Two pick ups--to misses and my 8am train was fast looming. I wasn't positive and I was down. I have to be at the dock by 7:30 so I can clean up the boat and myself if I don't catch anything. But then at 7:24am we had a hit of course on my lightest rod especially as the tide had picked up. The 16.5lb/34 inch bass made me 20 minutes late for work :)

Note to whoever is interested, on the ebb and at false dawn position the boat inside Teller's Point. On the flood, outside the point in deeper water. Fresh bait is also key.