April 2015

EwEind Fs R the

a

Go Fish!

Our Annual Homage to the Season

1

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Hours MTTF 9am-7pm Sat 9am-5pm Closed Sun & Wed Financing is available for most used vehicles 814-435-6548 1913 US RT 6W., GALETON, PA 16922 www.larryssportcenter.com 814-435-6548 Email us at larryssportcenter@hotmail.com Like us on Facebook USED STREET BIKES (NON HARLEY) 1984 1993 1995 1995 1998 2000 2000 2002 2002 2002 2003 2003 2003 2003 2003 2004 2004 2004 2004 2005 2006 2006 2006 2006 2006 2006 2006 2006 2006 2006 2006 2007 2007 2007 2007 2007 2007 2007 2007 2007 2007

Honda VT700 Shadow Fixer Upper, Needs Work $995 Suzuki VS800 Intruder, Candy Red, 37000 miles $2995 Honda GL 1500 Aspencade Touring, dk Blue, 83000 miles $3695 Yamaha XV750 Virago Teal & Black $3595 Yamaha XVZ1300 Venture, 2 tone Silver, 65000 mi. $6995 Yamaha XV650 V-Star Classic, Black w/extras 18500 miles #149$3995 Suzuki VS800 Intruder wolf Graphics 34900 mi. #437 $3250 Yamaha V-Star250 Black 7300 mi $1795 Honda VTX1800 Red 34000 miles $5995 Honda VTX1800 Orange sounds great, as is fixer upper 42790 mi.$3695 Yamaha V-Star 650 Classic Silver & Cream 19000 mi. pipes & extras$3995 Yamaha XV650 V-Star Custom, Drag Bars custom paint 3000 mi. #698$3995 Kawasaki Voyager 1200 Tourer, 29000 miles $4595 Yamaha V-Star 1100 Classic, Pipes, Silver 8600 miles #292 $5850 Kawasaki VN 1500 Vulcan Classic, Black, extras 13000 miles $6295 Honda CB250 Nighthawk, Black, 1954 miles, #143 $1995 Yamaha 650 V-Star Classic Black #178 $4750 Honda VTX1300, Blck w/extras, 19000 miles #871 $5995 Honda VT750CA Shadow, Black 12690 mi, bags, sissybar, windshield #908 $4495 Yamaha XV1100 V-Star, Blue custom paint 22000 miles $4995 Big Dog Mastif custom Green Flip Paint 117ci 7900 mi 11995 Venture Royal Star Black, lots of extras V-4 1300cc lowered $9995 Yamaha XVS1100 V-Star Classic Silver, windshield, sissybar,1400mi. $5995 Suzuki Boulevard White w/Ghost Flames 4100 miles 800cc $4995 Honda VT750 Shadow, Black 17200 miles #212 $4295 Suzuki C50T 800Boulevard, Dk Grey Perl, lots of extras 26000miles $5795 Honda VT750 Shadow,2 tone brown,1000mi. #3175 $4695 Suzuki M50 Boulevard 800, Blue 7800 miles 349 $4595 Kawasaki Ninja 250 Black w/Flames, 13900 miles $2795 Honda VTX 1300 Candy Red, sissybar/rack 7600 miles 1295 $5495 Honda VTX 1800 Black w/flames pipes,mustang seat 14000mi. #2796 $8495 Suzuki S40 Boulevard 650, Black 650CC, 10781 miles, #686 $2995 Suzuki C90 Boulevard w/Lehman Trike conversion, 150cc23500 mi.16995 Suzuki S40 650cc Boulevard, Black 1370 miles #704 $3695 Honda VT600 Shadow, Silver, 1578 mi #638 $3295 Yamaha V-Star 650 Custom, Red 3300 mi. #023 Consignment $4495 Yamaha XVS13AWR V-Star 1300, lots of extras Candy Red 15300 mi $6495 Yamaha V-Max 1200 V4 Black w/dagger flames 3309 mi $7995 Suzuki C50 Boulevard. Black Sharp 740 mi 680 800 cc $4995 Yamaha V-Star650 Silverado, Blue & Black 4900mi. #998 $5695 Suzuki C90 Boulevard loaded with options 2 tone Black &

2007 2008 2008 2008 2009 2009 2009 2009 2009 2009 2009 2009 2009 2009 2009 2010 2010 2011 2011 2011 2012 2013 2013

Red 20700mi.#713 $7995 Honda VT1100 Shadow, Black 5000mi. w/extras $6295 Kawasaki Vulcan 900Classic w/tour pkg. Blue/Silver many extras6600mi $5995 Yamaha XV1700AT Roadstar Silverado, Grey Pearl w/extras 4500mi $9995 Kawasaki VN1600 Nomad 2 tone Blue/Silver $$$in extras, 5700mi $8295 Suzuki VZ1500 M90 Boulevard Candy Red 11500 mi. $7995 Yamaha V-Star 650 Classic, White Pearl, 3665 mi #1160 $5675 Suzuki C109RT Boulevard,Red,Black,Spotlamps,floorboards, rack 14450m#337,1800cc $9995 Yamaha V-Star 950 tour, BlackCherry 5800mi., #403 $6295 Yamaha V-Star Classic White Pearl,1319 mi. #555 $4995 Yamaha XV65AT V-Star Silverado, Black 5700mi. #063 $5750 Yamaha V-Star 950 Tour, Black Cherry w/extras 10400mi. $6995 Yamaha XV1900 Raider, Silver,lots of extras, Dyno Tuned,6000mi. #8685 11995 Yamaha V-Star 1100 Custom Candy Red, w/Windshield, bags, Mustang seat5100mi $6995 Suzuki C50T Boulevard, Sky Blue/White 800cc 9400miles $7495 Yamaha X1900 Raider Silver w/flames Lots of extras, DynoTuned to exhaust, 269 miles 11995 Yamaha XVS1300V-Star Silverado Tour, Blue Pearl w/extras, 17000mi $8995 Honda VT1300C Fury Pipes, Custom Intake, Tuned 3347mi. 10995 Yamaha XV1300 Stryker, Extras Red w/Flames only 199 mi. $9995 Honda VT750 Shadow, Red,White & Blue, Bags $498 1900mi $5995 Kawasaki VN900 Custom Vulcan Limited Edition, Flat Black 2240mi. Mustang seat $7995 Polaris Victory 8Ball Hammer w/pipes Black As Is 2300mi $9995 Honda Gold Wing F6B,Red 1200mi. Factory Warranty thru 2016 18500 Yamaha XV1700AT Roadstar Blue w/extras Factory Warranty 7000mi.

12495

USED HARLEY DAVIDSON BIKES 1987 1995 1995 1996 1997 1998 1998 1999 2000 2000 2000 2001 2002 2002 2003 2003 2004 2004 2004 2004 2004 2004 2004 2004 2005 2005 2005 2005 2005 2005 2006 2006 2006

FXST, Blue, needs service 29000 miles, top end just rebuilt $8495 FLSTC Black Heritage Softail, very nice for year, 22173 mile $9750 FLSTC Heritage Softail, Candy Red, lots of extras 32000 miles $9995 FLSTF FatBoy, turquoise & cream, #222 $7995 FLSTF Fat Boy, Candy Red & Silver, 28000 mi. $9995 FLSTF Fat Boy Red, #249-30100 miles $9350 FXSTC Black Drag Bars (needs service) 29,000 mi. $8995 FLHTCI Electra Glide Classic Black, 27700 miles, Nice shape for year, #1790 $10995 FLHR Road King, Candy Red, lots of extras, 44000 miles $10995 FXD Super Glide Orange Nice Bike for year 28900 miles $6995 FXD Superglide Custom Green Skull Paint, Wide Glide Front. #444 (6500 NOT act. Miles $8495 FLSTC Heritage Softail, Blue Pearl, 36900 miles $11995 FLHRCI Road King Classic White Pearl 34000 miles need key $11500 FLSTF Fat Boy Black lots of chrome, custom wheels, 23000miles $10995 FLHRCI, 100th Anniv. Road King Classic, black/silver, #560 LOTS of extras $11995 FXDL 100th Anniv. Dyna Low Rider, Silver/Black, 44000miles $9995 FLSTC Heritage Softail, black, lots of extras, 33000 miles $12995 FLSTF Fat Boy, Blue wiith extras 44000 miles $11500 FLHRCI Road King Classic, black, 12800 miles, #801 $12500 FLSTC Heritage Softail, Black, extras, as is, 59000 mile, #875 $9995 FXDWG 2Tone Factory Custom Purple/Charcoal Paint 27000 miles, bags, pipes #644 $9995 FLSTC Heritage Softail Teal Blue/Silver w/Black out Acc. #798, 27000 miles $10995 FXSTD Softail Deuce Super clean w/V&H Big radius 5000miles #312 Custom purple/char. $10750 FLHRCI 2tone blue Road King, lots of extras w/sound system 11000miles 030 $12995 FLHRS Road King Custom, BLK Cherry 17300 mi. $13995 FLSTN Softail Deluxe, Black Cherry, Saddlebags, Back rest, windshield, 14600 mi. $13995 FLHTCU Ultra Classic, styled like street glide, dyno tuned, 39666 miles Black Cherry $13995 FLHTCUI Ultra Classic, Candy Red, 60,000 mi. $13995 FXDWG Wide Glide Black Cherry Bags & Windshield 12300 mi $11995 FLHTCU 2 tone Blue 26000 miles w/Cobra Pipe #7932 $14995 FLSTN Softail Deluxe Black 2900 miles windshield V&H Pipes #189 $14295 FLHTC Electra Glide, 2 tone red/black, sold as is, needs maintenance, 55900 mi $9995 FXDI 35th Annv. Edition Super Glide, Red White

2006 2006 2006 2006 2006 2006 2006 2007 2007 2007 2007 2007 2007 2008 2008 2008 2008 2008 2008 2008 2009 2009 2009 2009 2009 2009 2009 2009 2010 2010 2010 2011 2011 2012 2012 2012 2012 2013 2013 2013 2013

& Blue 19400 miles $11995 FLSTC Heritage Softail Black Cherry #139 25000 mi. lots of extras $13795 FXDI35, 35th Anniv. Super Glide, #839, 13000 mi cosmetic issues $9995 FLHTC Electra Glide Classic Black Cherry extras lowers, pipes 55000 miles #792 $13995 FLSTC Heritage Softail 2 tone blue 7300 miles #203 $14350 FLHRCI Road King Classic 2T Blue 7000 miles, lots of extras $12995 FLHTCU Ultra Classic Glacier White Pearl 48000 miles #107 $14350 FLHRCI Road King Classic, 2T blue, 20000 miles, w/leather trunk, #150 $11995 FLSTF 2 tone Blue Factory Custom Paint V&H Pipes, lots of extras, 35000 miles $13995 XL883 Custom Black, 26000 miles, lots of extras, #506 $5995 FLSTC Heritage Softail, black, military special, 23900 miles $14995 FLHRS Road King Custom, Suede Blue w/lots of extras, 18,800 miles, dyno tuned $14995 FLHTCU Ultra Classic 2 tone red, lots of extras, 37000 miles $15995 FLHTCUI Ultra Classic white pearl, lots of extras, 54000 miles, #428- 100+ HP $13995 FLHTCUI 105th Anniversary, Ultra Classic #857 Copper & Black Dyno Tuned, 9800 miles $16995 XL883 Sportster, Silver, 5000miles, LIKE NEW, #207 $4995 FLHTCU Ultra 2 tone white/black pearl, 19000 mi. dyno tuned $17995 XL883 Custom white Pearl 3500 Miles #424 $5695 XL1200C Sportster Custom Yellow w/extras 13500 miles # 317 $7495 FXDSE 110th Anniversary Screamin Eagle Dyno, 8400 miles, Copper/Black Lots of extras $19995 FXCW Softail Rocker, Black Cherry, with extras, 11,000 miles $13500 FLHTCU Ultra Classic, 2-tone White/Blue, 30,000 miles $15995 FLHR Road King, Black, Sound System, lots of extras #484, 20,600 miles $16350 FLHTCUI Ultra Classic 2Tone Blue/Purple dyno tuned #542, 20900miles $18995 XL883L Sportster Black 8800 mi.windshield, sissy bar, fwd. controls XL883 Lo Sportster Candy Red 8990 miles FLHTCU Ultra Classic, Red, 16,600 mi., #310 FLHTC Electric Glide Classic Silver Pearl detach tow pkg. #696 16500 miles FXDBSE Screamin Eagle Fat Bob Dyno Tuned Blue/Titanium 5200 miles FLHTK Ultra Limited, Scarlet Red/ Black 20000 miles FLSTFB Fat Boy low windshield Black old school style Beach Bars 1600 miles FLHTCUSE Screamin Eagle Ultra, Blue w/ silver flames, 18000 mi.

FLHTK Ultra Limited Blue/Black, extended warranty, 36637 mi FLHX Street Glide Black w/lots of chrome 19000 miles FLSTF Fat Boy w/chrome wheels midnight pearl/silver 155 miles Full Warranty FLHTK Ultra Limited 2tone Ember Red/Merlot 17000 miles #480 FLHX Black Street Glide like new w/spot lamps 6000miles FXDC Super Glide Custom 2tone tequila sunrise 2900 miles #553 FXDF Dyna Fat Bob, Black Pearl, 600 miles Factory Warranty #6391 FLHX Street Glide Yellow W/Ape Hangers & Fishtails #523 – 8900 miles FLHR Road King, Big Wheel Custom F. Wheel Big Bore Motor, Digital Dash SHARP#227 FLHTCU Ultra Classic 2t midnight Pearl & Silver, lowering kit 13600miles, #6155

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USED 4-WHEELERS 1998 2000 2000 2001 2003 2006 2006 2007 2007 2008 2011

Yamaha TFM 400 Kodiak, Plow, Winch, Big Foot,1400 miles Kawasaki KLF 220 Bayou Red Yamaha Bear tracker 2WD YFM 250 Red, needs service Yamaha Bear tracker 2WD YFM 250 Green, Needs service Can Am 200 Rally Red Polaris Phoenix 200 2WD #715 Yamaha 700 Raptor Blue, lots of extras. #120 Yamaha YFM400 Big Bear 4X4 Honda TRX 400 900 miles blue #224 Suzuki LTR 450 Racer white w/graphics, pipe Yamaha YFM250R Raptor

$2795 $1995 $1595 $1395 $1495 $1695 $4995 $4295 $3895 $4795 $3495

UTILITY VEHICLES 2008

KAF 950 Diesel Mule 3 Cyl Green #733 799 hours

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2010 2011

Polaris 800 Razor Blue & White #966 4010 Trans Mule w/plow lots of extras Green power steering 403 hour Yamaha 700 Rhino Camo, 1000 miles Yamaha 700 Rhino Green, 1700 miles Yamaha Flat Black 700 Rhino Limited Edition only 800 miles, winch, Plow, Factory warranty left

$8995

2012 2012 2013

SPORTS BIKES 2004 Honda CBR1000, Black, New tires, 10600 mi, Jardine Exhaust 2006 Suzuki 750 Katana, Black, Performance Muffler, 24200 mi 2006 Kawasaki 250 Ninja, Black w/ flames, 13900 mi Suzuki GSXR 750, Blue/Black, 4900 mi 2007 2008 Suzuki GSXR1000, Gold/Black, 6800 mi 2008 Yamaha R6, Silver, 4200 mi, Yosh Exhaust 2010 Yamaha R6, Flat Black, 2200 miles

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USED ENDURO (ON & OFF ROAD) MOTORCYCLES 2005 2006 2006 2007 2009 2009 2009 2013

KLR650 Kawasaki, Red, 6700 mi Kawasaki KLR650, Lime Green, 3900 mi Suzuki DR650, Yellow, Extras, 3000 mi, consign Yamaha XT225 Serow, White w/ Blue, 3000 mi Kawasaki KLR650, Black w/ Blue, 4254 mi Suzuki DL650, Burnt Orange, 11600 mi Suzuki DL650, Black/Silver 6500mi. #1756 Suzuki DR650, grey 1300 mi., very nice condition

$3695 $3795 $3795 $2895 $4695 $5995 $5495 $5295

DIRT BIKES 2001 2003 2006 2007 2007 2007 2008 2009 2011 2011 2012

Yamaha WR 250F #191 Blue As Is Suzuki RM60 2 Stoke Racer KTM 50 Very Good Condition Yamaha TTR50 4 Stroke w/electric start Honda CR250 2 Stroke, red & white low mileage Consign.

Honda CRF450F Sharp Bike Nice Shape Honda CRF80 4 Stroke Yamaha TW 200, 600 Miles, with rack Yamaha YZ 250 2 Stoke like new Blue Kawasaki KX85, Green Yamaha TTR110 Blue

$1695 $995 $1595 $895 $2995 $2995 $1395 $2850 $6295 $1795 $1595

Suzuki 400 Burgman Candy Blue only 2300 miles

$3695

Suzuki C90 w/lehman trike conversion, 23000 miles, silver

$16995

SCOOTERS 2006 TRIKES 2007

3

w w w. m o u n ta i n h o m e m ag . co m

Editors & Publishers Teresa Banik Capuzzo Michael Capuzzo Associate Publishers Dawn Bilder George Bochetto, Esq. D e s i g n & P h o t o g r ap h y Elizabeth Young, Editor Tucker Worthington, Cover Design Contributing Writers Angela Cannon-Crothers, Patricia Brown Davis, Alison Fromme, Holly Howell, George Jansson, McKennaugh Kelley, Roger Kingsley, Don Knaus, Adam Mahonske, Cindy Davis Meixel, Fred Metarko, Dave Milano, Gayle Morrow, Cornelius O’Donnell, Roger Neumann, Gregg Rinkus, Linda Roller, Kathleen Thompson, Joyce M. Tice C o n t r i b u t i n g P h o t o g r ap h e r s Mia Lisa Anderson, Bernadette Chiaramonte-Brown, Bill Crowell, Bruce Dart, Ann Kamzelski, Nigel P. Kent, Ken Meyer, Tina Tolins, Sarah Wagaman, Curt Weinhold, Terry Wild S a l e s R ep r e s e n t a t i v e s Brian Earle Michael Banik Linda Roller Administrative Assistant Amy Packard T h e B ea g l e Cosmo (1996-2014) Yogi (Assistant) ABOUT US: Mountain Home is the award-winning regional magazine of PA and NY with more than 100,000 readers. The magazine has been published monthly, since 2005, by Beagle Media, LLC, 25 Main St., 2nd Floor, Wellsboro, Pennsylvania, 16901, and online at www.mountainhomemag.com. Copyright © 2010 Beagle Media, LLC. All rights reserved. E-mail story ideas to editorial@mountainhomemag. com, or call (570) 724-3838.

TO ADVERTISE: E-mail info@mountainhomemag.com, or call us at (570) 724-3838.

AWARDS: Mountain Home has won 66 international and statewide journalism awards from the International Regional Magazine Association and the Pennsylvania NewsMedia Association for excellence in writing, photography, and design.

DISTRIBUTION: Mountain Home is available “Free as the Wind” at hundreds of locations in Tioga, Potter, Bradford, Lycoming, Union, and Clinton counties in PA and Steuben, Chemung, Schuyler, Yates, Seneca, Tioga, and Ontario counties in NY. SUBSCRIPTIONS: For a one-year subscription (12 issues), send $24.95, payable to Beagle Media LLC, 25 Main St., 2nd Floor, Wellsboro, PA 16901 or visit www.mountainhomego.com.

4

Volume 10 Issue 4

16

Things Are A Poppin’

The Lunker

By Fred Metarko

By Don Knaus A tiny Gaines company makes fishing lures for the world.

Them and us: what do the pros have that we don’t? Er...more fish...

26

Drove the Goslings to the Water

By Diane C. Seymour

Ever try it? It’s not for amateurs.

6 The Young Woman and the Sea

28

Mother Earth On golden ponds.

30

The Night Zsa Zsa Kissed Me

By Cornelius O’Donnell

(But the evening’s real take-away was an award-winning recipe for goulash.)

The History Center on Main Street

By Gayle Morrow

By Linda Roller When Rose Kasper fished the Pacific, she landed a trophy for the ages.

19

42

A Fisherman’s Heaven

By Don Knaus Do you really need to ask? It involves fishing...

Back of the Mountain

By James Fitzpatrick The Floating World.

Cover by Tucker Worthington; cover photo ©2004 James Fitzpatrick. This page (from top): by Elizabeth Young; by Nancy Anne Roller; and by Don Knaus.

36 5

6

Elizabeth Young

Alluring lures: Known to sportsmen worldwide, The Gaines Company’s popping bugs remain a Pennsylvania cottage industry.

Things Are

A Poppin’ A Tiny Gaines Company Makes Fishing Lures for the World

By Don Knaus

H

ugging both sides of the highway at the edge of God’s Country you’ll find it. Surrounded by several hundred thousand acres of state forest and state game lands, it is a quiet little town that’s not more than a cluster of homes on the Roosevelt Highway. Potter County, Pennsylvania, is just three miles west. The place is called Gaines. Fishermen walk through back yards to gain access to Long Run on the east. The fabled waters of Pine Creek are a stone’s throw to the south.

And, on a clear summer night, you can sit on the back porch and relax to the burble and gurgle of the waters as they stream by summer slow. If you blink when you cross Long Run going west on Route 6, Gaines will be in your rearview mirror.

See A Poppin’ on page 8

7

A Poppin’ continued from page 7

It’s hardly a village, that bunch of houses, but, once upon a time, the town was quite a prosperous place.

Lumbering and sawmills dotted the landscape. The massive Billings Lumber operation shipped millions of board feet of milled lumber south and east by raft and rail. The lumber millionaire Silas Billings established mills and a store in town. His son, Silas X., took up residence in Gaines, establishing the headquarters of 8

Courtesy of Lael Eggler

All in the family: A 1989 newspaper clipping shows Lael and Tom Eggler and the lures they made famous.

Billings Lumber in town. He helped charter the Jersey Shore, Pine Creek and Buffalo Railway that passed through shipping goods in and out.

Other stores popped up.

Gristmills ground flour and corn meal. A tannery flourished. A number of medical doctors tended to the health needs of the residents.

The town was the central office of the Gaines Coal and Coke Company.

There were several churches and See A Poppin’ on page 11

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A Poppin’ continued from page 8

an Odd Fellows Lodge building.

Other societies followed. Fittingly, the first hotel in Gaines was the Izaak Walton House, a tribute to the famous fishing author…and a draw to anglers pursuing the trout and bass of area streams. Another rail line passed through offering the citizens and businesses two choices of railway transportation.

A school was built and eventually covered all grades. Aging former pupils bemoan the fact that, in 1954, the Gaines High School consolidated with Galeton. Elementary grades would continue into the 1960s.

As somewhat of a joke, the Gaines yearbook was called the Seniag.

(Outsiders thought it was an Indian word, but it was simply Gaines spelled backwards.) Square dancing was so popular that, at reunions, alumni laugh when they remember going to the gym to square dance

during lunch. Old-timers who were visiting competitors at Gaines High School tell of playing basketball. The ceiling was uncommonly low for basketball and the local boys could bank their shots off the ceiling…a definite home court advantage.

But today, the nondescript village is certainly not a place one would choose to start a business.

With the decline of the coal mines, the waning of the lumber era, and a subsequent loss of population, Gaines fell into abandonment and neglect. It might have become a ghost town were it not for the major eastwest highway passing through. And it was under these less than promising conditions that Russell Garlick, in 1947, decided to start a business.

That business would grow to become a world-renowned supplier of “bass bugs” for the angling market. All the big time outfitters and outdoor

suppliers carry Gaines poppers.

Check the catalogues and stores like Cabelas and a host of others and you can find…and order…Gaines poppers through their catalogue. All local sporting goods stores carry their products as well.

Meantime, Gaines native Tom Eggler, a Gaines High and Penn State grad, was working as the editor of the Pennsylvania Fish and Boat Commission’s magazine, Pennsylvania Angler. Tom was smitten with Galeton High and Mansfield State grad Lael Fontanella, who was teaching in Bradford, Pennsylvania.

They tied the knot and spent the first two years of their married life in Harrisburg while Tom was editing and writing and Lael was teaching French. But home kept calling and, in 1971, the opportunity knocked for Tom and Lael to buy the Gaines Popper Company from Garlick.

See A Poppin’ on page 13

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Gaines poppers: Since 1947, the little hamlet of Gaines, Pennsylvania, has been known for its fishing lures.

A Poppin’ continued from page 11

Today, the very school building where Tom Eggler started the grades is the site of the famed fishing tackle firm, The Gaines Company.

Almost immediately, the two Gaines natives began to expand their line of lures…and expand their market. In 1976 they purchased the Phillips line of lures, its most famous being the Phillips Crippled Killer.

Later, they purchased the Golden Eye lure company. Several other lure companies were purchased and added to their catalogue. Continuing to add to fly fishers’ and spinning anglers’ choices, the company now produces over 350 lures and bass bugs.

The Gaines Company’s products are praised and are prized by anglers

Courtesy of Don Knaus

(Fixed for 36 months)

from beginners top-popping for bluegills to professionals chasing big bass and saltwater tarpon. The company and its bugs, poppers, and lures have been featured in a number of sporting magazines and newspaper outdoor columns. The Gaines line is featured prominently in Nick Sisley’s book, Panfish U.S.A. President George W. Bush wrote a letter to the company paying tribute to the tackle. We could name-drop for quite a while. Probably nationally acclaimed outdoor writer Dave Wolfe said it best when praising the poppers: “We have found bass liking them all over…I have fished them because I know that they take large fish.”

The bodies of the lures range

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See A Poppin’ on page 14

13

A Poppin’ continued from page 13

from plastic mold injection to imported cork from Portugal and Morocco. Each is hand painted and is fitted with an artificial eye. Feathers or colored band rubber serves to imitate tails. Hooks go on last.

Considered by most anglers as warm water “bass bugs,” a large portion of The Gaines Company market is in southern big bass states like the Carolinas, Georgia, Florida, and Texas. They developed a special lure for trout and their market expanded to Canada, the northeast, and as far away as Japan, Germany, France, Latvia, Russia, Spain, Belize, and…virtually worldwide.

As Lael said, “We make lures from as small as the fingernail on your pinky to ones as long as your forearm. We have lures designed to take panfish, bass, or trout in fresh water all the way to bigger fish in saltwater. Sizes and colors vary from region to region and country to country. All of our fishing tackle… even from the companies we absorbed…are made in our production facility in Gaines, Pennsylvania.

We’re proud of that. All of our products are ‘Made in America.’ We also pride ourselves in the fact that we deal with independent distributors and independent dealers. We can customize for each customer from our line of lures. You can find our tackle in local sporting goods stores like Cooper’s in Mansfield, The Tackle Shack in Wellsboro, Mitchell’s Twin Valley Market, and others.” Asked if the “big” sporting goods stores featured their lures, Lael added, “You can find Gaines lures on Cabela’s Web site and in their catalogue.

Cortland and Orvis label with their own name, as do others like Bass Pro. But we insist that somewhere on the front of the packaging it reads, ‘The Gaines Company.’”

Their flagship products are the ever-popular poppers offered in any number of colors and sizes— all assembled by hand and hand painted by on-site artisans. The Crippled Killer brand has propeller-like appendages fore and aft to entice surface-feeding fish and is offered in a myriad of sizes and colors—again, handmade on site. The Golden Eye line features lures, all with the golden eye, that please the palettes of pro anglers worldwide. Gaines poppers employs some proprietary processes, so the facility does not allow tours of any kind.

A major part of the business is marketing and sales. Tom and Lael attended sportsmen’s shows all over the world demonstrating the wares of their Gaines Company. Once in a while, Lael would tend to business at home and daughter Emily traveled with dad.

When it was mom’s turn, Lael and Emily traveled to 14

Elizabeth Young

Size doesn’t matter: The Gaines Company hand makes lures for all fishing purposes, ranging from the size of a pinky fingernail to the length of a forearm.

Germany on a sales trip. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Emily Eggler, an honors graduate of Susquehanna University, sometimes works at the enterprise to help out. In 2002 she was hired as a research associate at the U.S. Geological Survey Fisheries Research Center in Asaph, Pennsylvania. Eventually, son Alex and younger sisters Sarah and Serena joined the sales trips, gaining enough trust from mom and dad that Emily and Sarah did shows sans adults.

As busy as they were, Tom and Lael were active in local trade and business organizations. Tom was a founding member of the Wellsboro Airport Authority, the Export Advisory Council until 1991 when Lael replaced him, and the Tioga County Economic Development Taskforce, a group that evolved into Tioga County Development Council (TCDC). Lael chaired the Tioga County Employers Advisory Council for a number of years and both she and Tom worked with Growth Resources of Wellsboro (GROW). Lael is also a Laurel Health member and performed in the Red Garter Review.

Tom passed away eight years ago, but The Gaines Company still anchors the little town. And Lael still lives just behind the old school.

Retired teacher, principal, coach, and life-long sportsman Don Knaus is an award-winning outdoor writer and author of Of Woods and Wild Things, a collection of short stories on hunting, fishing, and the outdoors.

15

Mary Sweely

The Lunker

Teach a man to fish: Greg Hackney hoisting two of his biggest from his final winning weigh-in.

Them and Us

What Do the Pros Have That We Don’t? Er…More Fish…

By Fred Metarko

T

he Bassmaster Elite Pros fished on Cayuga Lake in upper New York State last summer while members of the Tioga County Bass Anglers followed the action on the Internet in real time.

Some lucky ones were able to be on the water, follow the pros as they fished, and watch the weigh-ins. We watched with interest as Greg Hackney, Bassmaster’s Angler of the Year, landed 5- and 6-pounders during the four-day event.

He won by bringing nineteen bass to the scales for a total weight of 85 pounds— that’s an average of 4.5 pounds per fish.

We watched in anticipation, not only because it was bass fishing and we follow the Bassmaster Pros, but because we would soon be holding our own tournament on Cayuga Lake. Any 16

information gathered from their choice of location, lures, and presentations would aid in our strategy for the day.

We did our homework and were ready for some great fishing.

There was a steady drizzle in the air when we met in Lawrenceville at five in the morning less than a month later, and our convoy ran to Dean’s Cove on Cayuga Lake. The cold rain, the strong wind, and the large rolling water that greeted us as we launched didn’t resemble anything like the weather the pros had enjoyed weeks earlier.

Joe Tomb headed left to the north.

John Tomb and Dan Sauer headed down and across the lake, to a weed bed, where Dan had watched Hackney catch many of his large bass. Curt and Mary Sweely headed south, and I followed in

the same general direction.

The lake was rockin’ and rollin’ as John and Dan made it to their destination. It was difficult to stay on the spot and fish it successfully. They did manage to get two bass apiece with identical weights of 3.4 pounds, and at the tournament’s end make it back to the weigh-in.

Joe made it to the north end, but the wind and waves were too much to battle. He decided to leave, but his outboard wouldn’t start, so he called John for help.

“Where are you?” John asked. “Way up there? We’re miles away, and I’d have a tough time getting there.”

After tr ying some of John’s suggestions Joe’s engine was running again, and he headed south.

I passed by Curt and Mary as I continued south. I lost two bass on a crankbait and caught a sunfish on a baby bass worm using a dropshot rig. I ran further down the lake and found a good weed bed near a twenty-foot drop-off.

After changing my lure to a roboworm, I caught a 5.25-pound largemouth and two smaller ones. Joe, after escaping the north, pulled up and asked, “Are there any fish here?”

“A few,” I answered, not telling him the size.

He quickly pulled out three by punching holes in the weeds using a jig.

My trolling motor and the wind were both on high speed, the rain was coming down, and I was headed into the rolling waves as I tried to keep my bait in the water. The cell phone rang, I dug it out, and it was my wife, Linda. “I wanted to check on how you’re doing,” she said.

“Oh, I’m having fun. I’m glad my bilge pump is working well,” I answered, while bobbing up and down and watching the water wash over the bow.

As I assured her I was okay the rain got to my cell and it quit working.

Joe left, heading toward the launch.

He said, “I would look over and you would disappear in the swells, and I wondered if you would pop up again.”

The tournament ended as I arrived back at the launch. Curt and Mary were already in early with some help and Philip Bruce and Rich Borden’s boat was already on the trailer. Joe gave it up with a slight case of motion sickness.

The rain did finally stop as we weighed in with a total of thirty bass.

Despite the wind, waves, rain, and cold we all gave it a great try—and a return is scheduled for August 29.

We will conquer!

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The Lunker, award-winning writer Fred Metarko, is a member of the Tioga County Bass Anglers (www. tiogacountybassanglers.com).

17

WELCOME TO

18

HORSEHEADS

Nancy Anne Roller

O U T D O O R S

Fish tale: When Rose Kasper (left) fished off Costa Rica, she hauled in a 600-pound blue marlin.

The Young Woman and the Sea

When Rose Kasper Fished the Pacific, She Landed a Trophy for the Ages

By Linda Roller

W

hen it comes to fish stories, Rose Kasper, co-owner of GNR Sporting Goods in Mansfield, tells a whopper, and the proof of the story takes up twelve feet of the wall at her store, where an enormous blue marlin hangs. Rose is an accomplished sportswoman, and both she and husband Marty have chartered many fishing boats to hunt the big fish off the coast of Costa Rica. But this is a fish tale of a whole different stripe.

In April 2013 Marty, Rose, and their friend Chris were over thirty miles off the coast, hoping to hook trophy sailfish. But you never know what’s on the line when one of these large, powerful fish take the bait and begin to spool out the line.

On this particular day it was Rose who “took the chair” and began the long, arduous process of landing a big fish. It usually takes around three hours to land a really big sport fish, explained Rose. But on that day, luck

was on her side, as the time between the strike and bringing the fish to the boat took only ninety minutes. And it was only twenty minutes before the fish launched itself out of the water, and danced on the waves before taking control of the line again. In that moment they all knew they had hooked a magnificent blue marlin.

“It’s not like fishing for trout, where you actually try to lure the fish to the bait,” Rose said. In big game fishing, the skill is not the luring and See Young Woman and the Sea on page 21 19

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20

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Young Woman and the Sea continued from page 19

hooking, it’s the intricate dance of the boat, the person on the reel, and the fish. A fish of this size has the power to take the line deep and far, and no person can beat the fish at that game. To successfully catch a monster requires the movement of the boat towards the fish to be just right—fast enough to follow so that the fish does L E T YO U R S T Y L E . not spool out all the line, keeping the line short enough that a person will have the strength to reel it in, but slow enough to keep the tension on the hook so the fish cannot dislodge it.

In this case, Rose’s fish took the line out three times.

She was not strapped into the chair, and she explained that in this type of fishing you can fall overboard. Though this battle between Rose and the fish took less time than most fish of this size, it took all of her endurance to bring the fish to the boat. The joy of this type of fishing is not simply in the catch, but in the play of the fish, in the sight of the fish dancing on the water, and the beauty Introducing the 2015 Spring Collection from PANDORA of these colorful animals. When “the fish was 100 feet below the surface near the boat, the entire sea around 16 E. Market St. the boat gleamed gold,” as the sun played over the fish’s Corning, NY 14830 beautiful skin, said Marty, who was watching the final 607.937.4438 moments of the fight. It’s a moment that can only be experienced—and one of the reasons that these two fight the big fish.

But this was not only the largest fish Rose had ever 2/4/2015 9:20:39 AM hooked. At 600 pounds, this was a monster for a blueMKTG121447_CONNOR_M.indd 1 marlin, which normally weighs in at 275-300 pounds.

Marty took video of the fight and the final capture. Then the team took measurements of this big blue monster of the Pacific and released it, despite an offer of $3,500 to Saturday, May 9 8 AM - 12 PM land the fish and kill it. For Rose and Marty the reason 171’s Drake House Lawn was simple. Billfish like the blue marlin are an endangered Just in time for Mother’s Day! Pick from a selection species. There are simply too few billfish, and the largest of hearty perennials and lovely pots with or without fish are never seen. (Though it was legal to land this fish flowers to liven up your garden and front porch. It’s in 2013, it is now illegal in Costa Rica.) hard to resist! Pots and planters are hand-crafted and hand-glazed in 171’s Woodcock Ceramics Studio by So the fish on the wall is actually an exact replica of studio artists, students, and volunteers. Perennials the fish Rose caught, in fiberglass, which is the preferred for sun and shade are donated from member way to mount trophy fish today. In fact, the world’s gardens of the Corning Garden Club. Come early for largest marine taxidermy company, Gray Taxidermy of an amazing selection at amazing prices!

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Mr. Bill: Rose Kasper with the model of the blue marlin she fished from Costa Rican waters while searching for a roosterfish.

WILLIAMSPORT

Nancy Anne Roller

WELCOME TO

Young Woman and the Sea continued from page 21

tournament. Rose, Marty, and Chris were invited to the tournament awards gala by Gray’s Taxidermy at Marina Pez Vela in recognition of the huge fish.

As if this was not enough of a fish tale, while Rose was landing the marlin, the boat the Kaspers were on was sinking. While the boat was in the process of keeping up with the blue marlin the bilge pump quit. Everyone on board was paying attention to the action on the deck, and, when the captain went below after the catch, he found the entire cabin filled with water.

“The captain panicked,” Marty said, but everyone started bailing, and a distress call brought boats to help.

A boat from the same company brought a new switch for the pump and repaired it, and their boat returned safely to dock.

Rose caught her fish during the first week of Pennsylvania’s trout season. It was a little surreal for them to return to all the “big fish” being hauled from the local waters and compare it to the week they had just experienced. But then, as Rose observed, offshore big game fishing is simply another type of fishing altogether.

When they got back to Pennsylvania, Rose certainly had the ultimate in bragging rights.

The funny thing is, it was Marty who had dreamed of catching a blue marlin. Rose wanted to land a roosterfish.

The day after Rose caught the big blue, Marty hooked a nice trophy roosterfish.

Which means that each of them still has a personal quest, and will head back in February 2016 for more adventures. Maybe there will be more monsters to add to the walls at GNR Sporting Goods. Most certainly, there will be more fish tales to tell.

Mountain Home contributor Linda Roller is a bookseller, appraiser, and writer in Avis, Pennsylvania.

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25

Jim Kennedy

When April comes: Can geese be far behind?

Drove the Goslings to the Water Ever Try It? It’s Not for Amateurs

By Diane C. Seymour

I

’ve barely turned up the driveway when I sense that something’s wrong, but can’t quite figure out what. Once in the house, I look out the window toward the pond and know. The geese…

I never see them arrive. One day in late April, I’ll look out my kitchen window and notice a black stick standing up in the field near our pond’s edge. It’ll take a few minutes to realize that the stick is actually the black head and neck of a Canada goose. It’s not just any goose, it’s “our” Papa, and I know that somewhere near is “our” Mama sitting on a nest. I smile, happy to welcome them back for another year.

Each year, during the first month, 26

Papa eats, swims, and stands guard, although never revealing where the nest is. The little ones, usually four or five, arrive in May, little balls of yellow fuzz.

We finally get to see Mama, and, within a day or two, the goslings figure out how to swim in a straight line between their parents. I still can’t tell Papa from Mama, so I wonder if it’s always the same one that leads the procession, and, if so, which one?

In the yard, the goslings stay close to each other when eating and close to the feeding parent, but there’s often one that strays a bit farther from the others— loner or outcast? Geese are awesome parents, and one adult always stands

guard, never taking a bite while the others eat. When feeding in the pond, the parents bend their long, slender necks to stick their heads into the water, but the goslings stick their heads straight down and disappear completely before popping back up to the surface.

Over the next month we watch the little ones change from cute fuzz balls to gangly grey adolescents, anxiously hoping they successfully dodge foxes, coyotes, and bears. Which brings me back to that trouble I mentioned earlier, trouble that happened one year.

The morning of the “trouble,” Access Midstream had finished placing an aboveground water pipeline across our

property as part of Marcellus Shale activity. When I looked out the window, I saw our geese family on the house side of the pipeline. It didn’t take long to see that the goslings were too small to hop over the eighteen-inch pipe. They were cut off from the pond. I decided to take a closer look.

As I walked up to the pipeline, the geese family waddled off to my left. Then I saw it: the pipeline wasn’t completely connected! There was an opening, but not straight across.

The two unconnected sections were laying side-by-side for about six feet, with a two-feet-wide pathway between them.

So, all I had to do was convince the geese to walk through this maze. How hard could it be?

Have you ever tried to herd geese? I circled wide left and herded them right, just past the opening, and then backed off, circled wide right, and herded them left, just to the opening, and then raced ahead left, and closed in to get them to go through the opening. But no, they ignored the opening and continued to march left. So, we repeated the process. Circle wide left, herd right, back off, circle wide right, herd left, race left, and close in. And we repeated, and we repeated, and we repeated…

During this whole routine, Papa (I think it was Papa) raised his wide wings, curved his long neck, and hissed mightily, often only ten feet away from me. Mama joined in with the hissing, and the little ones marched bravely back and forth between them, in single file, as always. I flapped my arms, begged them to take the opening, and wished that in these days of YouTube that someone was getting this on film. Circle wide left, herd right, back off, circle wide right, herd left, race left, and close in—again and again and again.

Soaking wet with sweat, heart racing, and breathless, I made one last attempt, and Papa passed into the opening— so busy hissing at me that he didn’t realize that the family didn’t follow. With a couple more passes, Mama jumped over the pipe. Expecting a full-out attack any minute from hissing, wing-flopping, neck-arching Papa, I finally herded the babies through the opening. The family immediately waddled double-time down to the pond and paddled away.

An hour later, the pipeline guys arrived and finished hooking the pipeline pieces together. I felt like a hero!

By August, the young ones were learning to fly, sometimes crash landing on the pond. The family began to feed closer and closer to the house, so on a day when I was sure their flying lessons had taken hold, I stepped outside and flapped my wings. They made their last precision landing on the pond before flying away the next day. I knew that when April came again Papa and Mama would return.

It won’t be long now.

First-time Mountain Home contributor Diane C. Seymour lives in Towanda and writes short stories about life in the Northern Tier of Pennsylvania.

27

The author as a young lass: Gayle, Treve (left), and Duke in 1967, at the pond.

Courtesy of Gayle Morrow

Mother Earth

On Golden Ponds

By Gayle Morrow

I

f I had my ’druthers, I’d have a pond. You fly fishermen, with your hatches and your waders, and you lake fishermen, with your downriggers and your fish finders, have nothing, nothing, on a shimmering summer pond. One with a surface as glossy and warm as a rail in the sun, where all you need to fish is a string, tied about the toe if you want to nap, a hook, and a bit of bait (bread balls work).

On a certain kind of day, the catching is really immaterial.

Growing up, my summers were filled with outside activities that included ponds (OK, they included boys, too). My dad taught my sisters and me to swim when we were little; the rule for us early on was we were never supposed to go swimming alone. You can imagine how that rule was bent.

I fell in the ponds a lot. Especially on really hot days. There was one pond 28

that my girlfriends and I liked to swim our horses across; another we would canoe around. I remember the very distinctive smell of my friend Genie’s pond, but we only swam in it when we were desperate. It was full of bullheads and the bullheads were full of little prickly things that hurt when our feet brushed against them. The little pond at the bottom of the steep yard at my house was where my dad sometimes got water for the garden and where, because he had fenced in one shallow corner of it, my horse could get a drink. It wasn’t the best pond for swimming either— the sides and bottom were mucky—but it would do when I couldn’t get in the water anywhere else.

One summer evening when I was probably sixteen or so I was walking around our pond and came upon a piece of string on the bank. I had a safety pin in my pocket, so I fashioned

a little hook, found a little worm, and dropped it in the water. Lo and behold, a tiny sunfish latched on and I pulled it in. I ran up the yard and through the back door into the living room where Dad was dozing in the recliner, waving the fish in front of his face.

“Dad, Dad, look! I caught a fish on a string and a safety pin! Dad! Look!”

He opened his eyes, looked at the fish and at me, muttered something, and closed his eyes again. The next day he asked me if I’d been in the living room with a fish or if he’d dreamed it.

I miss those ponds.

Keystone State Press Award-winning columnist Gayle Morrow, former editor of the Wellsboro Gazette, cooks locally— and organically—at the West End Market Café.

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Courtesy of Cornelius O’Donnell

FOOD

That’s our boy: Cornelius O’Donnell (left) with Zsa Zsa Gabor and her husband Prince Frederic von Anhalt in 1987 at the star-studded Gourmet Gala in L.A.’s Registry Hotel at Universal City.

The program’s judges (above right) were as illustrious as the guests.

The Night Zsa Zsa Kissed Me

(But the Evening’s Real Take-Away Was an Award-Winning Recipe for Goulash)

By Cornelius O'Donnell

I

t was Thursday, November 12, 1987, to be precise, and this bussing session took place in the Grand Ballroom of the Registry Hotel at Universal City in Los Angeles at about seven p.m. I know this because I haven’t washed that cheek since, and it’s getting mighty grungy.

This encounter took place at the Gourmet Gala thrown by the Southern California Chapter of the March of Dimes Birth Defects Foundation.

It was one of about 140-odd MOD 30

events that I was privileged to attend as a food judge (over many years), for their countrywide black-tie fundraising cooking competitions. These featured favorite dishes cooked on site by preeminent local and national celebrities. No, that isn’t a misprint.

I actually wore out one dinner jacket rig, as you could see your face in the shiny trouser backs—not to mention the extra avoirdupois layered on by all those dinners.

I came across the program for this

glamorous evening while attempting to put some order into my man-cave.

(Would a man-cave have a couple of thousand cookbooks, I wonder?)

Anyway, this document brought back some wonderful memories. The ballroom was packed with bold-faced names, and I remember the guests’ looks of disbelief as they gazed at the table of judges. There were people they knew: Craig Claiborne (then the food editor of The New York Times; Jacques Pepin, master chef, author, and lecturer; James

Berrien, publisher of Food and Wine Magazine; and Martha Stewart, who needs no introduction, so I shan’t give one.

I was out of my depth all right, but I could surely taste the offerings and give my opinion when we, the judges, congregated in a private room to select the winners in several categories. I am happy to say I knew the other judges but my self-importance was punctured when I heard a partygoer say—after scanning the judges table—“I know them all, but who is the chubby one third from the left?”

Why was I there? Corning gave a beautiful Steuben piece for the “Most Creative” dish at these events. Good PR, I always said. And I presented the award.

What was Cookin’ The vast lobby outside the ballroom (if I remember correctly) had a series of thirteen cooking vignettes—about ten feet by ten feet each, and each designed by an L.A. professional interior designer to reflect the interests of the cooking contestants. We wandered down the line from afar so we’d be completely unbiased in our selections. Zsa Zsa came out of her crystal-chandeliered kitchenette to greet those of us who wore a prominent four-inch judge’s medal dangling on a red, white, and blue ribbon. That’s when I found myself next to the beautiful Princess Zsa Zsa (no kidding) in a dress with a white-feathered neckline peeping out from her organdy apron. (I also spied her husband, Prince Frederic von Anhalt, and a chef ’s helper putting the final touches on her creation—Szekely Gulas, a Hungarian specialty.) I’d been making a version of this classic goulash for years out of one of my favorite cookbooks, Glorious Stews, by the brilliant Dorothy Ivens.

One could plainly hear “Dahlings, Dahlings, Dahlings, vote for me” above the crowd, as partygoers were given small portions of the stew, rather like a severely upscale Walmart aisle on sampling day. (There was a “People’s Choice Award,” and the attendees could vote.)

I was going to use my clout as a judge to get Ms. Gabor to sign one of her feathers for my collection, but I chickened out. (Got it?) But I did get a smooch.

I’m not going to keep you in suspense another minute.

I think she won the prize for the Best Gourmet Entry, and, as I recall, Jacques presented the prince and princess with a solid copper casserole—and got a smooch on both cheeks (by the princess, not the prince).

Zsa Zsa’s Szekely Gulas I can almost hear Zsa Zsa: “Dahling—this is perfect for one of your chilly spring evenings. Why, when I was See Zsa Zsa Kissed Me on page 33

31

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Zsa Zsa kissed Me continued from page 31

Trail-Wide

growing up in Hungary…”

Enjoy the dish; it is mighty good.

(I changed the mish-mosh way it was written in the program. After all, I’m an old hand at making this.) You can make this ahead (in fact you should), refrigerate it, and the next day bring it to room temperature and then pop it in a 350 oven just to warm it while you cook the noodles on the range top.

The noodles are my touch; they make a perfect side dish. (You could also use boiled small potatoes or maybe basmati rice.)

1 Tbsp. butter 1 Tbsp. vegetable oil (or olive oil) 1 large onion diced rather small (I use a leek and an onion) 2 cloves garlic, minced 1 lb. pork shoulder cut in 1 ½-inch cubes 1 lb. veal stew meat cut in 1 ½-inch cubes 2 lb. Polish (kielbasa) or Hungarian sausage in 1-inch slices 1 ½ Tbsp. Hungarian paprika (make sure it is the imported variety and still flavorful) About 2 tsp. salt (or to taste) 1 Tbsp. caraway seed 2 c. white wine (Finger Lakes Riesling is perfect) Chicken or vegetable broth (1 c. or so as needed) 4 lb. sauerkraut, preferably fresh ½ c. chopped parsley or celery leaves 4 oz. (or more) sour cream 1 lb. wide egg noodles Salt for the noodles ½ stick butter (or to taste)

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Preheat the oven to 325-degrees or the setting that will just maintain a simmer.

Melt the butter with the oil in a large (5 to 7-qt.) Dutch oven on the range top. Wipe the pork and veal dry and quickly brown the meat in the butter and oil in small batches. Do See Zsa Zsa Kissed Me on page 34

33

Courtesy of Cornelius O’Donnell

And the winner is: Judges (standing, from left) James S. Berrien, Jacques Pepin, and Cornelius O’Donnell, with Joachim Splichal and Martha Stewart at the 1987 Southern California March of Dimes Gourmet Gala.

Zsa Zsa kissed Me continued from page 33

not crowd the pan. Remove as browned and reserve, then add the onions to the pan. Cook, stirring, for about eight minutes on medium heat until just golden (do not let the onions brown). Stir in the garlic and cook for an additional minute or until fragrant. Add the pork and veal.

Add the paprika and the caraway seeds. Stir well and add the wine and about ¼ cup of stock and let the contents come to a strong simmer. Cover and place in the preheated oven for two hours. Check every 15 minutes and add more broth if necessary to maintain a bit of liquid. Stir the contents as well.

Meanwhile, drain the sauerkraut in a colander and rinse it well under cool running water. Squeeze dry. Add this to the meat along with the reserved sausage. Add more broth to barely cover the contents. Cook for an additional ½ hour.

Check the pork and veal. They should be fork tender. Serve the dish now or let it cool and refrigerate overnight. If chilled you can scrape off any fat that has congealed on the surface.

To serve, reheat the stew in a 300-degree oven. When the stew is at serving temperature, cook the noodles in heavily salted water until tender. Place a portion of the noodles in a shallow soup plate and ladle the stew over the top. Sprinkle with parsley. Pass a bowl of sour cream and allow guests to top their portion.

Serves 6 or more.

Cheers to Her Long Life I found out that Zsa Zsa is ninety-eight. Is she gaga? I’ll bet the answer is “nada.” And now that I’ve finally confessed to being kissed by a star, I think I‘ll go find a washcloth.

Chef, teacher, author, and award-winning columnist Cornelius O’Donnell lives in Elmira, New York.

34

35

Don Knaus

Heaven, I’m in Heaven: Jack shows off the catch of native brook trout.

A Fisherman’s Heaven

Do You Really Need to Ask? It Involves Fishing...

By Don Knaus

I

’ve got to believe there’s a heaven.

Any lover of the outdoors probably agrees. In one of her poems, Emily Dickinson penned: I never spoke with God, Nor visited in Heaven; Yet certain am I of the spot As if the chart were given.

Now some say the Muslims believe that, when they die a martyr’s death and enter Heaven, they are greeted by seventy-two virgins. That’s not necessary for me. Oh, I’d take the virgins if I had to, but I lean more toward a

36 36

Western Christian view of the place.

Some Christians believe that Heaven is just feeling eternal ecstasy at being in the presence of God. The thought is breathtaking but, after a few eons of singing Hosanna, I might get bored. So, after I’ve cooled my heels on the streets of gold for about 100,000 years, I’d do all the things that brought me joy while I was among the living. I’d hug my wife for centuries. I’d just chat with my children or kiss a grandchild or sip coffee with longtime friends.

Then…I’d want to go fishing.

A guy ought to be allowed to fish in Heaven. I mean, c’mon, some pretty

early Christians were fishermen—Peter, Andrew, James, and John—disciples and saints all. Maybe they’d show me how to cast a net. Then I could teach them how to catch trout—big, hungry brook trout.

It’s my Heaven, after all!

I can wait a while for that. But, once, I had a preview of Heaven.

I was invited to a prestigious private club. (My host asked me not to use the name. You know fishermen. Everything’s a secret.) He cautioned, “My God… don’t tell anybody where we caught all these trout.” Yet, every drop of water that we fished was posted and patrolled!

I met John and his friend, Jack, at See Fisherman’s Heaven on page 38

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Fisherman’s Heaven continued from page 36

the clubhouse at 11:00 a.m. We sat on the porch and chatted amiably while the caretakers prepared lunch. We reminisced about our last day of fishing together. John introduced me to several other club members who were fans of my writing.

They came expressly to meet yours truly. One member had met me nearly forty years ago, but we both remembered the day. Paul had read my book and taken notes, so I was faceto-face with a quizzing, happy-go-lucky, eighty-something angler. We had both been close to Bob Heyler, and we spent an hour trading Heyler adventure stories.

Bob Heyler was a very good friend. He was a kook and used to do nutty things. He was the only man I ever knew who could live life sublimely. The old joke, “I’m not afraid of work. I could lay down beside it and go to sleep?”

That was Bob. I can’t tell you how much work I did on his farm…conned by his “Tom Sawyer” encouragement.

I’d work several hours splitting wood and carrying it into his den while he lazed in a comfortable Lazy Boy. When I’d finished and there was enough wood to last a couple of days, I laid in the luxury of a matching lounge chair on the other side of the wood stove, cozy and warm and content.

We’d nap and never say a word. That was Heaven until an hour later, he’d startle awake and say, “Hey! We ain’t killed enough deer yet.” It was well past deer season but off we’d go into deep woods in his WWII vintage Jeep, looking for an illegal deer. Another time, we drove by a beef farm. He said, “We could use some meat.” Then he got out with his rifle and shot a bull in the head. I was frantic, thinking that the police would arrive any minute. Using a come-along, we slid the bull under the fence and toward his Jeep. He sighed and said, “I don’t believe I can help you lift him. It’s up to you to get him into the truck.” I was scared stiff. Then he laughed and said, “Relax, the farmer will be around with a loader in a bit. I already paid him for the beef.” I coulda killed him.

He was deliciously impish and mischievous. Back in the ’50s and ’60s, our area was invaded by hunters in camps, motels, and private homes. They got bored and drifted into local bars. Bob dressed up like an Amish preacher and entered bars, laying the guilt trip. “Your wives and daughters are tending the home fires while you delight in drinking that evil demon rum. For shame.” He held out the black hat and took a collection. Then he dumped the hat on the bar and yelled, “Drinks for the house…on me!”

Paul and I laughed for an hour.

Lunch was a buffet featuring chicken salad, seafood salad, or barbequed beef—all on kummelweck—along with a fine selection of side dishes. I chose the beef on weck and potato salad, tomato, and a pickle. I wolfed it down and went back for a seafood salad sandwich.

Now that we were sufficiently bloated, John set up the afternoon’s fishing. Jack and I were partnered and assigned one of the six trout streams flowing through the nearly 7,000 See Fisherman’s Heaven on page 40

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Don Knaus Certain of the spot: The author’s catch on a heavenly fishing day.

Fisherman’s Heaven continued from page 38

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acres of club property. Jack and I dunked worms. On the first cast, I caught a native brook trout. It measured 8-½ inches. I started to put it in my creel when Jack scowled and asked, “Whatcha doin’?” I explained that the fish was legal, and he responded, “Throw it back. We’ll catch a lot of trout bigger than that.” Sploosh. The brookie dove back to his brook.

Jack was right. We had been told to fish every nook and cranny in the stream. I dutifully complied. Jack skipped some spots and stopped at a large pool. It was a bonanza!

On his first cast, Jack hooked and played a 20-inch brookie.

He had creeled a 14-incher by the time I caught up with him. I threw into the pool and hooked an 18-inch brookie.

It was the first time ever that I had to “play” a brook trout.

Jack caught a 12-incher, and so did I. I was amazed at the size of these trout.

We moved upstream. I caught another nice trout, a keeper. Jack creeled two more brook trout in the foot-long range and announced, “I’m done. I’ve got the limit.” He strolled along beside me offering advice, pointing to hot spots. He noted, “Geez. We’ve got a ways to go before we get to your truck, Don.” (My truck had been cached a mile upstream, deep in the spring-green forest. And we were to fish to the truck.) I only needed one more trout for the limit. On my next presentation of a wriggling worm, I took an 8-inch native brown. It was a gorgeous specimen of the species, all yellow and brown and sporting red spots in iridescent circles. Yet, it was the smallest trout I had seen on club property. Sploosh. Brownie dove back to the brook. At the next hole, I hooked a 9-inch brook trout. The hook had damaged the gills. It would die if returned to the stream. I kept it and filled my limit.

We walked along the stream, drooling over pools that we passed after we had limited out. We spied the truck and stopped to clean our catch.

Back at the lodge, dinner was prepared while we lazed

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Retired teacher, principal, coach, and life-long sportsman Don Knaus is an award-winning outdoor writer and author of Of Woods and Wild Things, a collection of short stories on hunting, fishing, and the outdoors.

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27 Whispering Pines Ln. Galeton, PA

LODGING

on the long porch, smoking cigars and wetting our whistle on white wine. There were twenty diners at the sumptuous and savory supper served. It was a feast, to say the least. We passed around salads, steak, potatoes, gravy, and vegetables and…I had no room for the dessert.

After dinner, everyone went to the water. John dropped Jack and me at a new stream. We were relegated to catch-and-release. I was ahead of Jack and I hooked and played a couple of brown trout.

I spooked a big brownie under a rock. I made him a “project.” I waited twenty minutes to let him calm down. Then I presented the bait perfectly. He bit. I hooked and played the trout. He turned out to be a 16-inch, red-spotted German brown trout that slid back under the rock upon release. John picked us up and we quit for the day. John said that there had been a hatch of coffin flies, and the trout were taking them. He only had a white Wulff dry fly, but it had worked.

He had caught and released a dozen fish.

We snoozed the night away, awaking to sausage, eggs, pancakes, juice, and milk. Day two would be catch and release only. Jack switched to flies and headed to bigger water. I stuck with bait but crimped the barb on my hook.

I swear, attest, and avow that I saw numerous brook trout in the 12-inch or better range. I caught and released twenty-five nice ones.

It was a great two days…a preview of Heaven.

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41

Š2007 James Fitzpatrick

B A C K O F T H E M O U N TA I N

The Floating World Photo by James Fitzpatrick

W

hen I was a boy, give or take some three score years ago, my mother would on occasion, when moved by her muse, rhapsodize about the joy of lying in a lounge chair in the backyard or on the warm sand at the beach at the Jersey shore gazing skyward, watching the clouds float overhead. Her voice would soften along with her eyes as she described being enveloped in the wonder of letting her mind wander across the deep blue expanse along with the ephemeral shapes and shades of cloud formations. I, too, like to wander in wonder across the dome of the sky, searching for that elusive perfect composition, that orderly universe, but ultimately settling for the serene symmetry of chaos in the cloud world. This panorama unfolded above me south of Stowell Road, just off Route 660 in Tioga County. My mother would understand. ~JF

42

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