Just north of Taccoa is the little town of Lavonia. This is one of those little places where the town square is occupied by the Mason's building and the gun store. Where the supermarket is called "Lavonia Food". Where the roadside food includes "Latino's" (it was their grand opening) and a nameless shack proudly featuring "Meat Stew and Sandwiches!" (If you have to ask what kind of meat, you can't afford to eat it.) Just outside of Lavonia is Lake Hartwell. Unlike many bodies of water in Georgia that are somewhat less than advertised (see "Yellow River", which I have personally stepped - not hopped - over), Lake Hartwell is of a significant size to actually be called a Lake even by a hard to please ex-Great Lakes Yankee like myself. Lake Hartwell is the focus of our story.

I took the boys up to Lake Hartwell for the weekend. "All three?!" you exclaim in sympathetic fright. Yes, all three. "When you say 'I took' do you mean that Lovely Wife did not accompany you?!" you further interrogate me. That is precisely what I meant. No Lovely Wife in attendance. And please calm down, you're getting me terribly excited with all of those exclamations. Mr.T (father of Bear's friend who is also named Bear, this being a lively and continuous source of amusement when the boys are together) and I took all three of mine and both of his to the boonies of North Georgia without female supervision. Seven menfolk, 2 of whom could and did purchase alcoholic beverages, in the woods next to a lake with more dead-fall than you could shake a ... er ... stick at within easy reach. Did I mention that the wives didn't come?

Repeat after me: Burning stuff. Eating yummy things that women certain repressed persons do not normally purchase whilst shopping. Peeing all over the place. Drinking beer. Did I mention burning stuff?

This was my boys' first real experience with burning stuff and it brought a tear to my eye. Mostly because the amount of pine straw they tossed in the fire put off enough smoke to cure four freshly slaughtered cows. But boy did they have a blast!

There were some problems at first as the PITs (that's Pyro-In-Training) performed rank amateur mistakes like approaching against the wind. It was strangely difficult to convince them that this was a bad idea. It was almost as if they wished to be bathed in the purifying caress of the flames, perhaps to burn off the dross of any lingering estrogen from their mother's parting kisses. Eventually they did learn the wisdom of approaching a roaring flame from upwind and even did so with the great majority of their body hair intact!

Bear and other Bear preferred tossing on full boughs of dried fallen pine. The needles were playfully termed "hair" and they delighted in the roaring flames that erupted as these virtual wigs lit up. Bacon was into the wood. He recognized the hair as just a flash in the pan effect and saw that true size depended completely on the amount of wood tossed onto the blaze. This one bears watching - I sense the force is strong in him.

Burger and his pal Flipper (so named for this story in recognition of his unintended and unappreciated full submersion in the waters of Lake Hartwell) tossed a couple pine cones and kindling but were far more engaged by the profusion of snack foods. As each bag or bowl was depleted either Mr.T or I would venture back into the cabin to replace it. They were dumbfounded by the variety and seemingly endless supply of junk foods. They were too engrossed to thank us but the pure delight in their eyes and the rainbow variety of different flavored chip powders on their chubby fingers were all we could ever have hoped for.

Now don't think that the only things we did up there were burn things and eat garbage food. We're men and we're bringing these boys up to be men too. That means we peed on stuff. Openly free urination in the sweet outdoors. Liquid discharge unfettered by walls and unrestrained by porcelain. Bladderific release accompanied by insects fleeing the mighty yellow floodwaters.

They were hesitant at first, perhaps thinking that we were trying to entrap them in some primitive parental sting. It wasn't until both of us had watered a tree and offered encouragement that Bear got the gumption to drop trou out in the open. The look of semi-fear on his face magically transformed to pure testosterone laden bliss during his virgin experience and it was all over after that. The boys then marked their territory with magnificent frequency, sprinkling the pines on a semi-hourly basis. It became necessary to direct their efforts toward unpopulated areas of the campsite but once corrected they took the instructions to heart and nary was the same command repeated twice. Naturals, I tell ya.

We spent a goodly amount of time down at the lake itself as well. We were in an inlet, a rather stagnant marsh during this non-rainy season. The kids didn't care. They took to the water like ducks. Ducks afraid of wading in past their knees, but ducks nonetheless. I don't blame them for their trepidation actually as the water in our area was a rather impenetrable black when deeper than a foot or so. As intimated above, Mr.T's youngest ended up taking an unexpected dip. That spelled the end of our water excursion as the poor lad was inconsolable. A quick drying and he was right as rain though and more than happy to stuff his chubby cheeks while his brother and companions threw every known flammable object in the forest (and several inflammable objects) into the fire.

It was quite a fun time; oddly relaxing and exhausting at once. We'll definitely be repeating the trip and I'll even try to take pictures (instead of just taking the camera and abandoning it in the cabin - sorry, Lovely Wife).

One last thing - I'd like it noted that after we put the boys down to bed and returned to relax by the fire Mr.T lit up a spectacular Cohiba and offered me one for myself. I'm happy to say that I successfully resisted the temptation even though he was a bastard about it going on and on about how fantastic it was and that he'd never tell anybody and he brought it for me and it was such a perfect way to end the day. I should get extra points for that.

Wait, one thing more - If you don't understand why fire is so important then you are obviously female and you need to read this. The urinating part is just because males are basically pigs.

Posted by: Jim at 04:33 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
Post contains 1147 words, total size 7 kb.