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From the fourth floor on down there is a bar on each level of the lodge. My favorite by a long shot was called, carved on a mahogany plank over its doorway, “Bygone and Beautiful.” Relaxed on the second floor, sprawled with its thick leather backed chairs, exceptional view of a sculpted pond, live geese and ducks puttering about which just added to it.
The walls could be bareley seen covered with one vintage fishing, hunting, trapping photo after another. Each one framed in its black and white glory. Cords of fish slung on a man’s arms, or strung between a man and his son, women’s hats massively feathered, cane rods leaned against their auto of the day, a booted foot on a running board, the gent is puffing a cigar, big broad smile. Some photos, I want to step in to them, be there in that very day, they look fantastic.
Shotguns braced, felt lined wooden gun cases, paper cartridges in the gauge of one’s shooting. An assortment of fowl, ducks on slings, geese over the shoulders, pheasants, could there have ever been that many? Such massive piles, makes me almost hungry, dogs at the heel, then you are handed a glass of your choosing. I sipped at it like I admired the photos, just a bit at a time, and it warmed me through and through, as did the entire room.
--The trout whisperer
