Our New Favorite Mudhole

There’s something incredibly special about once again meeting up with my best friends, no not my best friends… my brothers, for yet another long camping weekend, a tradition that’s been going strong for decades.

Our trek to Lake Vesuvius turned out to be a bit of a surprise after a recent and unexpected dam break left us staring at what looked more like a dystopian post-apocalyptic giant mudhole as opposed to a waterside destination. But honestly, we couldn’t have cared less—because when you’ve got decades of laughs and unending inside stories that are retold with even more dynamic flair, even an empty lakebed feels like the best place on earth. Our laughter, recounting the memories and the bonds we share, filled the space with more beauty than any lake ever could. It’s never really about the scenery, after all—it’s always about us, the friendships that have literally weathered decades, and the simple joy of being together under the stars where time always seems to stand still.

I am the most fortunate man not only in the woods or on the trail, but in all the world. Some things never change—and I thank God for that every moment I’m with these fellas. Life is so good.