Dog Fight Party at Algoe Lake

Once upon a time, we could camp at Algoe Lake in Ortonville.

It was part of the Ortonville State Recreation Area. No electricity. No swimming. For that, we drove to Big Fish Lake. Small campground, yet perfect. Yes, even with outhouses and only one water pump.

Perfect.

Dave and I packed our kids, tent, Coleman lantern, and camping supplies to head north many times. Occasionally, Dave drove back and forth to work from the campsite.

I don’t remember a playground or amenities, but no one was bored.

Of course, Dave brought the rowboat and we fished. He was the serious fisherman and went out early in the morning or at dusk for bass, but my sister JoAnn and I went out in the middle of the day for bluegill.

One afternoon we caught a ton and proudly rowed back to shore, unfortunately forgetting to pull in the live net. The entire thing was gone before we docked. I moaned about the poor fish caught in the live net, sinking to the bottom of the lake. JoAnn regretted the fish dinner (and the confession of the loss of the only live net packed).

Obviously, not serious fishermen. In fact, together we were a comedy team.

“Where’s the other oar?”

“You were in charge of the oars. I brought the poles and life jackets. So, where is it?”

“Oh oh.”

We rowed in circles around the lake with one oar, laughing too hard to go back and retrieve the other.

From that incident on, one of us would accuse the other of rowing with one oar, which, of course, made it sound as though we were accusing each other of mental deficiency. On the other hand…

Ortonville in the summertime was, is, a paradise. We saw bluebirds and gorgeous sunsets, sat around campfires wishing summer lasted forever. In my memory, it never rained or got cold, but that couldn’t be true. In fact, tornado warnings were not uncommon in the Holly area, and once, when both sisters came to spend the day, the sky turned yellow-gray, the wind blew stronger and stronger, and the temperature dropped.

Should we go? Should we pack up the tent or leave it? While we were still deciding, we three sisters decided to make a last outhouse run. The wind blew so hard, one had to lean on the door to keep it closed. By the time it was JoAnn’s turn, it took Janet and me to push on the door.

“Wow, is the wind ever strong.”

“And listen to it howl. Lean harder.”

It wasn’t the wind. It was our sister, pounding from the inside, begging to be released.

I brought my guitar once to play around the campfire in the evening, not an easy task in spite of all the camping pictures. You can’t sit too close to the fire without harming the front of the guitar, and sitting too far back could get so chilly at night, fingers turned into hot dogs, which made picking or strumming difficult.

Still, that night we drew a trio of camping neighbors, drawn by the sound of the guitar.
After a few songs, the couple prodded the third man to do his party trick.

“No, no,” he insisted.

“He can throw his voice,” one said. “It’s amazing.”

Really? We begged him to show us. A few minutes later, sounds of a party rose from the other side of the campground.

“See?” one said.

What? We weren’t convinced. After all, it was Saturday night. The man sighed and parties began breaking out all around us. It was amazing. His friends urged him to do the dog fight. That took a lot more convincing and a few more beers before he agreed.

We watched him make the sound of dog growls with his hand and mouth. First, one dog, and the second. Their challenge grew until they were in full battle mode. Before we could congratulate him, every dog around Ortonville joined the excitement. That din didn’t fade for some time.

Now, that could be a useful party trick.

I miss camping at Algoe Lake. I miss the days when summer lasted forever, and we and the kids were young, and the fish were biting.

I’d love to have the opportunity to row in circles around the lake with my sister and one oar again, since she’s gone now.

Memories of laughter in her company live on.

Like camping at Algoe Lake.