The saga continues ...
1989 and 1990
(Ed.: Narratives needed.)
1991
(Pulled from Mark's photo album.)
Dane won the Gabby this year with a nice brown, just over 15". Glen Dworkin presented the award to Dane at the campfire ceremony. Others in attendance that year included Mark Bedont, Steve Brennan, Brian Griffin, Dave Rubino, Carl Ciccone, Steve Mueller, Lee Haller, Bob Graeser, Jim Colaianne, Byron "Andy" Anderson, Larry Selby, Carl Wendel, and Cliff White.
1992 and 1993
(Ed.: Narratives needed)
1994
(From Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“Dr. Trout Takes Fifth Trophy at 25th Anniversary Gabby”.
To commemorate the 25th anniversary of the Gabby, I produce a low-tech video “Gabby in a Nutshell—the First 25 Years.” I summarize each year’s camp, as told to 5-year-old son Dane Christian, and act out a call to Jaymie Smollens, aka Dr. Trout, challenging him to a fish-off and teasing the other Gabby Guys about their inabilities to catch the Gabby. Since Jaymie and I both have four Gabbys, whoever takes a fifth Gabby we’ll declare the “Grand Gabby Master.” Then we’ll both retire from active Gabby competition, I suggest. Ironically, the challenge falls on deaf ears as Jaymie is one of the few Gabby Guys who does not receive his copy of the video.
Friday, April 15. When we arrive in camp, there are piles of snow. In the afternoon, we have a snowball fight in t-shirts as the high reaches the 70s. Brian introduces “The Worm,” a hilarious, completely over-the-top rag of a camp newsletter: “We don’t do interviews or print pictures. We just crawl through the dirt and see what sticks.” We learn the sad news that “Stoney,” the owner of the Orvis Shop in Crossfork, died and was buried the Sunday before opening day. There are 16 Gabby Guys in camp: Mark Bedont, Bob Prosperi, Paul Phillips, Jim Colaianne, Larry Selby, Carl Ciccone, Lee Haller, Dave Rubino, Steve Mueller, Brian Griffin, Glenn Dworkin, rookie Dan Knapp, Dr. Trout, Karl Wendel and his buddy [no first name] Jones, and me. “Jonesy,” as he is known, works in a micro brewery and has brought a keg of what is dubbed “the best free beer in camp.” That night, we camp under a startlingly clear, star-filled sky. Just to be safe, we erect Colaianneville.
Saturday. Before dawn, a light rain begins to fall, ending as the sun comes up. The creek is high but clear. There are many fishable pools on the Brazilia branch of Kettle. There’s a wide, deep pool at Fish City. The main Kettle channel below camp is a bit too high to wade across, but fishable on the edges. It’s now overcast, with occasional sprinkles and temps in the 60s. When Mark, Steve and I return to camp for lunch, we hear Dave Rubino has a contender. By the time the three of us return to the stream and head to the gas line right of way, the weather alternates between big gusts of wind and calm, warm, sunny conditions. After unsuccessfully fishing a pool above the power line cut, then at Fish City, Dr. Trout tells Steve Mueller, “There’s gotta be a big fish in that hole,” and returns to the power line cut. Dr. Trout’s right, of course, and lands a 29 7/8-inch trophy trout, topping my own personal best Gabby of 29 � inches. Back in camp, Rubino’s fish is the largest ever Gabby Bridesmaid. Founder Paul Phillips runs the business meeting, Bob gives a moving testimonial to “Gabby—the Video,” and someone points out that it’s a bass on the Gabby trophy, not a trout. I observe that all but two past Gabby winners (Keith Robinson and Byron “Andy” Anderson) are in camp. Gabbyless Brian Griffin tries to interrupt my roll call of fellow Gabby winners in camp—Jaymie Smollens, Larry Selby, Steve Mueller, Dave Rubino, Bob Prosperi and Glenn Dworkin. “This part of the meeting is for Gabby winners, not Gabby wannabees,” I remind him. “Only Larry, Dr. Trout and I know what it’s like to win three Gabbys,” I say, “and only Dr. Trout and I know what it’s like to win four. Now, only Dr. Trout knows what it’s like to win five.” As I hand Dr. T the Gabby trophy, I concede, “Your unprecedented fifth Gabby makes you the top Gabster of all time. Congratulations.” Ever a man of few words, Jaymie replies, “I just want to say ‘thank you,’ and that I am retiring from active Gabby competition.” Even though it had been prophesized in the Gabby video, the crowd around the Gabby circle falls momentarily silent, stunned by his pronouncement. Jaymie adds that he still intends to fish and vows that he would continue to give back to the less fortunate fishermen in camp through his trout fishing academy.
Sunday. Immediately after Paul Phillips breaks camp, a big wind shears off the top of a tall pine, sending it crashing down right where Paul had just been parked. Camping in The Pines is becoming hazardous, and not just because of our behavior.
1995
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“Swan Song of the P-burgers”
Thursday, April 13. I meet Steve and son Eric in Myersville, Md. We drive 75 mph, the Muellers in their Bronco and me in my Jeep, but our progress is slowed by numerous stops. We arrive in camp at 6:30 p.m. Jaymie Smollens and Brian Griffin are already there, as is Steve’s work underling rookie Perry Newton. Brian had earlier informed Perry of his Gabby faux pas: Because Perry has arrived in camp ahead of his sponsor, Steve, he is ineligible for the Gabby. A light rain falls as we erect our tents, followed by a brief “ice shower.”
Friday. Byron “Andy” Anderson is the first to arrive, having driven all night from Columbus. Later, the Pittsburgh Tribe shows—Larry Selby, Dave Rubino, Carl Ciccone and Jim Colaianne--followed by Glenn Dworkin and 1994 Rookie of the Year Dan Knapp. Karl Wendel arrives with a keg of beer compliments of Jonesy, who can’t come to camp, Karl says, because he has a new girlfriend and a bad case of the PWs. The weather is clearing. As night falls, a nearly full moon breaks through the clouds above the pines. I ask Dr. Trout, “Are you retiring?” His cryptic answer is, “I’m not sleepy.”
Saturday. Glenn reports the temps had dropped into the high teens over night. It’s slightly overcast, but not raining when we head out of camp for the stream. I shout over to Jaymie, “Happy retirement.” The stream is clear and not real high. The Brazilia branch of the stream is only fishable below Fish City. The water is high enough that the riffles in the main stem of Kettle downstream from camp can only be crossed with difficulty. Andy and I fish for a big palomino in clear sight just below Fish City above the big bend into the main channel. Nothing budges the giant pal. Finally, Andy gets a strike, then it’s off the hook. I get a strike, but again it’s off the hook. When my new but defective reel falls off into the creek, I take it as a sign to head back to camp for lunch. Rookie Perry, dressed in calf-high rain boots and sporting a 7-foot bass rod, asks Larry if he really is disqualified for arriving ahead of his sponsor. Larry introduces him to Gabby logic. “If you think a rule applies to you,” he says, “then it does.”
After lunch, Andy, Karl and I return to find the big pal in the same hole. Again nothing moves it. As I step out of the stream to take a break and Karl fiddles with his fouled tackle, Dr. T approaches the hole. Andy has the best spot, just upstream from the pal. Dr. T fishes all around Andy, then stands shoulder to shoulder with him. Big Andy, not easily budged, maintains his position. Just as Jaymie moves just downstream from Andy, a whoop goes up. But is it Andy or Dr. Trout? I see the pal flash in the water, and I think Dr. Trout has it hooked. But he shouts, “Aw shit! Wait, Andy, I’ll help you.” He first swats at then nets the 17 �-inch pal.
Back in camp, Larry MCs the camp meeting. Andy wins his second Gabby when his pal beats out a nice-sized contender caught by Brian. During the fish count, I decline to participate, saying only, “I’m retired. So is Dr. Trout. We’re not in the competition.” Brian begins to needle me, knowing I was skunked, then turns on Founder Larry, who also went fishless for the day. I quickly cut off Brian, asking him, “How many Gabbys do you have?” “None,” he answers sheepishly. I ask, “How many Gabbys do you have, Andy?” “Two,” he replies. I ask, “And how many do you have, Larry?” “Three,” he says matter of factly. “And I have four,” I shout, as Larry and I hoot and bump chests. When my call for a smoke break cuts off Brian’s anxious attempt to rekindle the needling, Steve says, “As usual, Konop, your timing is perfect.”
Sunday. The Pittsburghers pack up and leave early. Unbeknownst to us at the time, it’s the last we will see them together as a group. Karl and Perry join me on the stream near the beaver dam for an afternoon clinic. Karl catches an 18-inch brown trout. Even Perry catches a small trout, but he can’t decide whether to keep or release it. When he finally does let it go, the small trout immediately turns belly up, floats a few meters down stream, then sinks to the bottom. Next clinic, I announce, will be on catch-and-release methods. Karl begins giving me advice. “Maybe you need more weight. Maybe you should move your split shot up,” he opines. “Gee, Karl,” I say, “catch one fish in eight years and now you’re the expert?”
1996
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“Gabby Teens Gear Up, Traveling Trophy Debuts”
Thursday, April 11. After dropping off 8-year-old Dane Christian at school, I head to Frederick to rendezvous with Steve Mueller and his now 6-foot-tall, 13-year-old son Eric. We convoy to camp together, the entire time gabbing back and forth on our CBs: “Nightcrawler to Mule, over.” We happily discover that the widening of Rt. 15 along the Susquehanna is almost complete, removing a perennial choke point along the river near Duncannon. It’s a beautiful drive, overcast but with patches of blue, temps in the 50s. Steve has brought with him the new “Traveling Gabby,” later to be re-named the “Selby Cup.” When we arrive in camp, Jaymie Smollens, Brian Griffin and Dan Knapp are already there. After a several year absence, Keith “Robbie” Robinson arrives with son Derick, along with Andy and son Zach Anderson. The sky clears and temps begin to drop. Jaymie reports the overnight low in camp Wednesday night was 18 degrees. After dark, Jaymie leads a three-car caravan up into the hills above Cross Fork to do find some open sky, but we can’t see the comets for the trees.
Friday. Dave Rubino, now apparently the “Last of the Monacans,” arrives in camp, sans Carl Ciccone and Lee Haller, the now late Larry Selby’s other hometown friends. Perry Newton quietly slips into camp, followed by the storm cloud known as Karl Wendel, who rumbles in near dark, explaining he had to wait until 3:01 to cash a check and that as he was waiting in the cash machine line he had only the change in his pocket and his gas gauge was on empty. Founder Paul Phillips is sick and can’t come, but brother Dave and pal Phil Cook arrive next and set up “Dave Town” below the main Gabby camp. We begin to call the path between the two outposts the “Dave Town Pike.” There are 12 Gabby Guys and 3 Gabby Teens in camp. A thunderstorm brings heavy rain Friday night into Saturday morning, but the campfire remains safe and dry under Colaianneville.
Saturday. A new generation of Gabby Guys gears up. I watch Andy helping Zach with his tackle and Rob helping Derick. I shout to Rob and Andy, “I feel like grandpa. Just a few years ago, I was showing you two how to rig up.” Rob replies, “That’s exactly right.”
Having declared my self “retired from active Gabby competition” with four Gabbys, I finish my second cup of coffee and take leisurely dump before heading down to the stream about 8:30. Everyone in camp is on the stream, except Karl, Dave and Cook, who as usual have slept in. The water level is rising because of the rain, but it’s still easy to cross in many spots. The Brazilia branch of Kettle up from Fish City is silted in and no longer fishable. There is no beaver dam. But downstream from camp, water levels are ideal in the riffles that extend to the gas line right of way. I catch no fish, get no nibbles, and see no one else catching anything either. I return to camp at 10:30 to eat breakfast and take a nap. My afternoon is no better. It is very cold. About 7 p.m., I encounter Andy on his way back to camp with a large brown trout, a beauty that would turn out to be his second Gabby in a row.
Without Founder Paul in camp, I MC the meeting and initiate a Gabby trivia game to entertain the crowd while they assemble. We recognize Andy for his third overall Gabby, tying that old Gabby master Founder Larry Selby.
1997
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“Founder Comes Out of Retirement, Wins Fifth Gabby”
Wednesday, April 16. Surprise! Mark Bedont calls to say he can’t make the Gabby because rain and record low temps are forecast for the weekend. Despite being a spokesman for NOAA weather research, I tell him you can’t believe the 3- to 5-day forecast and that, in any event, bad weather is not an acceptable excuse to miss Gabby camp.
Thursday. After dropping off DC at school, I pull out of my driveway at 11:30 for a leisurely trip to camp. Despite Mark’s concerns, the weather is beautiful, with bright blue skies dotted with big, puffy cumulous clouds. The temperature is in the low 50s. Taking the “back way” through Waterville and along Pine Creek, I arrive in camp about 5:30. Dr. Trout and Ty Albert, with his new shaved-head hairstyle, are already in camp. Brian Griffin arrives a few minutes after me. Straw and firewood have been delivered. Steve and Eric Mueller arrive a little after dark, followed by Perry Newton. It’s very cold overnight (18-20 degrees), but dry. Outsiders arrive and set up camp above and below Gabby Camp. One camp blasts its music all night; the steady boom boom boom boom of the bass is like Chinese water torture.
Friday. Having driven all night from Columbus, Andy and Zach arrive around 9 a.m. There are only nine Gabby Guys in camp, the lowest turnout since 1977. Everyone asks, “Where’s Mark?” I answer in a high-pitched, whiney girl’s voice, “It’s too cold. It might rain.” It becomes a camp catch phrase, along with Dr. Trout’s “What’s up with that?”
Kettle is VERY low and clear. Big fish are spotted near the Headgate Camp, down from the gas line right of way. We erect Colaianneville over the campfire with a little more difficulty than usual, because some of our anchor trees are now gone. Several big, old pines are down in camp, and must be cleared away. The booming music from the “Ace of Basses Camp” continues all day. Steve, who has hit the big five oh, shows off the traveling trophy with its new inscription—the “Selby Cup.” Mike Stone, son of “Stoney” from the Orvis Shop in Cross Fork and now the new ranger, arrives in camp and gives us a permit. The weather remains dry and very clear and a little warmer than Thursday.
Andy and I check out the stream and find Fish City and the entire Brazilia branch upstream from it are silted in and completely un-fishable. The beaver pond is gone. The branch of the stream along the ridge is running a little low, with a few nice pools. The main stem of Kettle downstream from Gabby Camp is also a little shallow, but with many good holes and ledges to fish. Andy says it will be like “fishing in a barrel” at the gas line right of way, where we hear the fish were stocked.
Saturday. Dr. Trout is the first one up and out of camp. Andy, Zach and I are on the creek by 7:40. We see only one other fisherman on the stream—not a good sign. We fish together for about an hour, with no hits, then split up. I head downstream and encounter Ty Albert. The two of us find Dr. Trout fishing the same hole where Andy had caught his 96 Gabby. The three of us fish side by side, with Dr. T in the middle. We are a slightly over-wound, synchronized fishing machine. Suddenly Dr. Trout gets a hit and lands a trout. Then I get a lighter hit, but land a bigger trout, which boot-measures at about 15 inches. I catch another rainbow, about 11-12 inches. Dr. T lands a few more smaller ones before the action cools and we split up. I work my way downstream and catch another rainbow, also about 11 inches. I head back to camp when rain starts in the late morning. Zach catches a contender, about 12-13 inches. Andy catches one fish in the a.m. Perry, Steve and Eric are skunked. Brian catches several fish, but no contenders. In the afternoon, Eric and I sit around the campfire while Andy sleeps in his tent—the only ones in camp. Steve catches one fish. Brian gets a hole in his boot. Perry is the last Gabby guy on the stream, but is skunked for the second year in a row. The rain tapers off as evening approaches. The tarp is holding up just fine, with plenty of dry wood. Despite Jaymie firing off three warning shots, the boom boom boom from our neighbors’ camp continues.
I ask Steve to run the meeting, which is oddly subdued, probably in reverence to my apparent fifth Gabby, finally one for the thumb, and tying Dr. Trout’s total. Steve, who had fished hard all afternoon, says, “One thing about you Konop, you certainly provide incentive to fish, and I don’t mean that in a nice way.” Between the eight of us, there are 30 fish caught and brought back to camp: Zach 4, Andy 1, Steve 0, Eric 0, Brian 10, Ty 1, Jaymie 11, and me 3. Before accepting the Gabby from last year’s winner Andy, I acknowledge Brian for forcing me out of retirement by mocking me for getting skunked in 96, concluding, “On winning my fifth Gabby, all I can say is that Larry Selby set the standard and Dr. Trout raised the bar.” The rain continues off and on, but all are snug and warm around the Gabby campfire.
Sunday. Dr. T and Ty break camp and are gone before the rest of us roll out of our tents. Zach and I head back to the stream, while Andy hangs around camp. Zach catches three more fish. Steve, Eric and Perry leave mid-day. I coax Zach into gutting his fish for the first time, and on a flat stump near the fire, teach him how to fillet.
Monday. It’s cold. Brian reports, “There was snow on the rooftops when I drove to Ole Bull to use the latrine.” Zach, Brian, Andy and I take down Colaianneville; I get custody. Andy and Zach break camp and leave about 11 a.m., followed by Brian. I’m the last man in camp, left to put out the campfire, which takes almost two hours and many gallons of water drawn from the creek to extinguish. On the drive home, I check out several creekside properties as potential future Gabby sites.
1998
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“Trout Launches Comet, Founder Wins Sixth Gabby”
Thursday, April 17. Wednesday’s clouds begin to clear, with afternoon temps reaching into the 60s. Dr. Trout is the first one in camp, followed by Navy buddy and Gabby rookie Ray Croker. Despite Steve Mueller having broken his ankle a few weeks earlier fishing with Dane Christian and me, I convince him a cast is not an acceptable reason for missing the Gabby. He and I are the next to arrive in camp, followed close behind by Brian and friend and rookie Jeff Cole.
Friday. Again having driven all night from Columbus, Andy and Zach arrive in the late a.m., followed by Karl Wendel and rookie Gene Rodriguez in the afternoon. Just before dark, Mark Bedont makes a surprise appearance. Dave Phillips and Phil Cook pull in just after sunset. Friday night, the guys head into town to shoot pool at the Cross Fork Inn. Playing as my partner, Elrod says he hates to lose, then cockily blows an easy shot on the eight ball when he shoots too hard. I tell him, “I predict you’ll choke the same way tomorrow on the stream.”
Saturday. The weather is almost too warm--in the 70s--and clear. Nearly everyone catches fish. Back in camp, Gene tells a sad story. He had a hit by a clear contender, he says, but lost it when he forgot to set the hook before reeling it in. Following a plan I had set the day before, I concentrate on the limestone ledges and riffles just below camp, and take a 15 1/4-inch brown trout, using a worm on a #14 hook with 6-pound test.
Back in camp, Dr. Trout throws a can of white gas on a smoldering stump in the campfire, creating a huge fireball that blasts upward through the great, vented tarp we call “Colaianneville.” In the flash of the moment, it’s difficult to tell whether the fireball is incoming or outgoing, with some in camp fearing we’ve been hit by a Gabby Comet. Almost simultaneously, someone knocks over a lantern in Dave Town, causing a small grass fire and adding to the camp’s confusion.
During the Gabby award ceremony Saturday night, as I accepted the Gabby trophy from Andy, I confess to my fellow Gabbyites how surprised and honored I feel to go back to back and win my sixth Gabby, breaking the tie with Dr. Trout. Then as I step back from the circle and unbeknownst to the group, I pull out of my pocket and reveal to Steve the Selby Cup winner’s name tag I had made up in advance with my name on it. “You cocky son of a bitch,” Steve mutters. “Gene was cocky,” I counter. “I was confident.”
1999
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“Gabby Camp Turns 30”
When Gabby Founders Patton Annegan, Paul Phillips, Larry Selby and I made that first trip to Kettle Creek in April 1969, man had not yet stepped foot on the moon. Computers were for code crackers and bookkeepers. And the Internet wasn’t even a gleam in then 13-year-old Bill Gates’ eyes. Gabby Camp’s 30th anniversary is a big deal, I think, or at least should be made to appear to be. As soon as I get home from the 1998 Gabby, I begin recruiting for 1999, making numerous phone calls to Gabby guys we rarely see in camp anymore. I send out dozens of “Calling All Gabby Guys” letters. Mark Bedont posts it as the first Gabbygram on the new Gabtown web page he created.
Thursday. Dane Christian, 10, joins me for his first Gabby trip. We meet up with the Muellers and Mike Guyder, later to be known in camp as “Steve’s Bitch,” because, we all say later with a wink, of his “culinary expertise.” The forecast calls for rain, but it’s only overcast as we maintain a tight three-truck convoy up Rt. 15. Following a pit stop in Mill Hall, I get to tell my story (for the first of many times) of Pat Annegan and I installing deer fence along a nearby stretch of Interstate 80 in the summer of 1969. DC gets his first view of Kettle from the bridge below Cross Fork. Ty Albert is in camp when we arrive, with Dave Phillips and Phil Cook just ahead of us. We’re greeted by a notice--No outdoor fires!--probably posted by our friend, Ranger Mike Stone. Reluctantly, we build no fire Thursday night.
Friday. The group decides that if we put side panels on newly constructed New Colaianneville, we might be able to skirt the fire ban. Ranger Mike stops by camp, reminding me that camp fires are not permitted. He then points out that ours isn’t visible from the road, where the State Police will be patrolling. He also says new regulations ban cars from being more than 100 yards from the road or closer than 100 feet to the stream. Mark Bedont and Steve Brennan arrive. A wind downburst hits camp, toppling a tall, mature pine tree directly in front of our Jeep, where DC and I had sought refuge. A later gust lifts Colaianneville, pulling the center support pole up into the air, despite being tethered to a 1-foot-diameter, 10-foot-long pine stump. As I lunge for and hang onto the pipe, I too am momentarily lifted from the ground like a bearded Mary Poppins.
The recruiting drive appears to be paying off, as more Gabby guys arrive: Karl Wendel, the Andersons, Jeff Cole, who drove to camp from Florida and is named “Miss Congeniality,” even “Lost Founder” Pat Annegan and, for the first time, Ben Selby, who I had invited and claim as a member of my Gabby family. DC sets up our first camp meteorological station; we hope for rain.
Saturday. Time to hit the stream, and Dr. Trout has still not arrived in camp. Gabby guys think to themselves, “This is my year.” DC, Andy, Ben and I head straight for the limestone ledges in the riffles just below camp. We get no bites in that first hour. At about 9, DC goes in over the top of one of his boots and heads back to camp to dry out. I catch a 12-inch rainbow, then nothing until a slightly larger one in the afternoon. Mark Bedont catches a 14-inch contender. I encounter Andy and a small group of guys fishing for two giant palominos, one about 16 inches, the other a little larger, clearly in view in a hole along the bank. The giant pals won’t bite, Andy says. About 5 p.m., after going in over the top of both of my boots near the beaver pond, I return to camp to learn that Dr. Trout had arrived in camp, having driven straight from work, then proceeded to catch both big pals. His technique? “I buried a hook in a piece of red worm.” Founder Paul runs the meeting. I pass out fish flags made from the remnants of Colaianneville. We have a respectable overall fish count of 30. I present the Gabby trophy to Jaymie, who ties me with six Gabbies overall. Jeff Cole achieves the lowest ever Gabby Quotient: number of fish caught (0) divided by miles driven to camp (700).
In leaving camp, we look ahead to the new year and the next Gabby: “Same time, same place, new millennium.”
Gabby 2000
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“The New Millennium Gabby”
Thursday. When Steve Mueller, Dane Christian and I arrive in camp, Jaymie, Andy, Brian Griffin, Brian’s rookie and long-time friend Jeff Cousins, Phil Cook, Dave Phillips and Dave’s brother-in-law Sal are already there. The weather is very pleasant, in the 60s. We’ve had two cords of wood delivered and have a nice fire going when Ranger Mike Stone stops by to tell us “no campfires because of dry conditions and three brushfires already that day.” After putting out the fire, Steve, Andy, Dave, Cook, Sal and I go into town. Steve gets “dancing drunk” at the bar. A full moon breaks through the passing clouds as we head back to camp.
Friday. It’s early in the morning when a fire marshal approaches New Colaianneville and orders a still sleeping Brian, “Put out that fire!” When Brian doesn’t immediately stir, he barks, “Now!” When Andy walks by, the fire marshal asks him, “Are you with him?” Andy replies, “Only loosely.” This gets a slight smile from the marshal as he exits our camp and Brian begins to extinguish the small campfire. Steve and Dr. T leave to help locals float-stock fish, later straggling back to camp with pens they had used to “plant” 600 fish from the bridge downstream nearly to the end of the old stocking road. At one point, Steve says Jaymie had to rescue him from being swept away in fast waters.
Saturday. The weather gets even warmer, with the high pushing 70. Several Gabby guys head to a crows nest of debris forming a deep pool where some big browns were visible in the water, just where Steve and Jaymie had left them the day before. Ben Selby climbs out on a limb in the debris pile, precariously perched but able to fish directly over the pool. Dr. Trout, Andy, Sal, Steve and I instead cast to the hole from the far bank. Although some of us catch a few smallish trout, the big browns do not appear to be hungry. For awhile Dr. Trout and I fish almost shoulder to shoulder for another two big browns, also clearly visible in the water. Dr. Trout: “Did my nose get in the way of your cast?” Me: “No. But you could trim that mustache a little.” After catching four small trout for dinner, Dane Christian and I head back to camp for lunch. About 1:30, Dr. T returns to camp with two very large trout, which he quickly dumps in his cooler. Rookie Jeff catches one trout. Andy lands a nice 15-inch contender. Steve and most of the other guys catch fish, but no other contenders. Dave, Sal and DC are skunked. Ben returns to camp with a few fish, including a beautiful 17-inch brown trout. In the afternoon, Steve, Andy, Dr. Trout and I head back to the stream. After fishing mostly side by side in the same trough until dusk, the four of us are heading back downstream toward camp when we spot a large palomino moving and apparently feeding in shallow water. All four of us prepare our rods and quickly wade back into the stream. The pal ignores our offerings and keeps moving from one spot to another in the 2-foot-deep water, its golden body clearly visible in the fading sunlight. It moves. We move. We snag. We rerig. It moves. We move. Finally, Steve and Andy step out of the water, leaving Jaymie and me to fish, again shoulder to shoulder, occasionally nudging each other for better position. Despite my running a Mepps right past its nose several times, the pal will not bite. Despite Dr. T snagging the same branch three times in three casts, once requiring him to break line and completely re-rig, he finally takes the big pal, then immediately releases it. We head back to camp, our competitive juices sated.
That evening, because we have no tarp and no campfire, we pitifully huddle around a sterno can to begin our meeting. Dave arrives with a patio torch, calling it the “Eternal Gabby Flame.” It’ll have to do. Despite the setting, at least it’s warm. We have a productive meeting. Camp costs are $18/man. Twenty-one fish are caught. The group discusses ways of bringing more guys to camp and there is some talk of establishing “Honorary Founders” to help in recruiting. But when Sal is referred to as a “Founder-In-Law,” Steve recognizes his reduced status as a non-member of the Gabby “royal” Founder Family is permanent and unalterable, regardless of honorary titles. When no one contends Ben’s 17-inch brown trout, he receives the trophy from Dr. Trout and is the first Founder Son to take the Gabby. The meeting wraps up around midnight, and the Gabby flame is extinguished. A few of us go into town. Steve gets “dizzy drunk.”
Sunday. The weather is still fair and warm, with apparently only a slight chance of rain. Dr. T, Ben, Brian, Jeff Cousins and Jeff Cole break camp. Andy, Dave, Sal and I fish in the afternoon, but with no luck. DC says two fire marshals had stopped by camp while we were gone.
Monday. Steve, Dave, Cook, Sal, Andy, DC and I awake to a driving rain. DC and I are the last to leave, arriving at our cottage in Harpers Ferry, W.V., long after dark.
Gabby 2001
(Ed.: Narrative needed.)
Gabby 2002
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“Dr. Trout Takes Seventh Gabby”
Jaymie Smollens, aka Dr. Trout, stocks our section of stream with trout he has brought from a fish farm in Couldersport. He later catches one of these “previously positioned” fish to win his seventh Gabby. I suggest next year we cut out the middle man and just fish in the stocking barrels. “Chez Dane” is replaced with a pop-up. Darien makes his first appearance in camp, when he arrives with Karl Wendel and Karl Wendel the 4th.
2003
(From Elder Anderson's journal)
Opening day we had 21 people in camp with no rookies/20 fish caught. The weather was perfect at sunny and 57degrees.
2003 was the year Zach won the Gabby with a fish he landed strait down from camp at 10:00 a.m., a nice 18 � “ Brown trout. The meeting was stretched out as far as possible to keep the anxious second gen’r at bay. Topped off by a call for a Gabby smoke break just as Zach reached out to accept the trophy.
I nicknamed 2003 the year of the Beaver. Here's the story behind that: "While sitting on a log along the stream, just over from fish city I felt something try to force it’s way between my boots and my first thought was that someone had come up behind me and was screwing with me. As I got to my feet about thirty pounds of what can best be described as a fury brown torpedo went right between my ankles. It was a beaver, and it promptly swam into it’s home just across from where I had been casting. Considering how close I came to kicking it as it first tried to push through, I felt I had gotten off pretty easily with my close encounter, called it a day and returned to camp."
Gabby 2003
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“Zach Attacks, Is Second Gabby Son to Take the Trophy”
Attendees in approximate order of arrival and with # of fish caught: Jaymie Smollens (3, including one monster), Ty Albert (0), Byron (2, including 1 by hand) and Zach (1—the Gabby) Anderson, Dave Phillips (1), Phil Cook (0), Brian Griffin (0), Jeff Cousins (0), Dane Christian (0) and I (3), Steve (1?) and Eric (0) Mueller, Perry Newton (1 nice size contender), Darien (0) and friend and rookie Scott (0), Karl (1) and Karl IV (0) Wendel and friends Dave (0) and Ryan (0), and Ben Selby (2).
Steve Mueller’s tarped camp stradling the Dave Town Pike is dubbed the “Dave Town Obstructway.” We continue to use the pike, which now passes as a tunnel through the middle of his camp. Dane Christian seeks apprenticeship and stays up all Friday night tending the fire. The “Rock and Roll Camp” plays Doors all night Friday; at least their taste is improving. Pocono Tribe is largest in camp. Despite nearly perfect fishing conditions, the Gabby Guys catch no fish in the a.m. Saturday. Most guys fish two holes that Jaymie and Ty had stocked. Saturday evening, trouble rounding up miscreants from Dave Town gets our business meeting off to a late start. As M.C., I try moving the meeting quickly. Dave’s call for a smoke break during Steve’s treasurer’s report becomes the only recorded case of a smoke break call being overturned by camp consensus. Karl’s boisterous behavior during the meeting subsides only after I ask him, as Sargeant at Arms, to escort himself from the meeting. A spirited Rookie of the Year competition is held, including appeals to the crowd by each of the Pocono rookies. Rookie Scott says, “I never go outside my house. But I came here and I’m glad I did.” Rookie Dave drones on about the spirit and brotherly love in camp until finally told to shove it and sit down. Rookie Ryan’s remarks are so garbled they could not be recorded. After asking the three rookies to leave the circle so we could discuss the matter, Steve Mueller points out that Rookie of the Year is not a beauty contest but an award of merit and that none of the three caught any fish. His motion to send the matter to committee passes. When the perplexed rookies are brought back into the circle, I tell them consideration of a rookie of the year has been tabled and advise them that “theoretically you could come back next year, revive the matter, and vote for yourself.”
Gabby 2004
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“This Ain’t No Girl Scout Camp”
There are 24 in camp, including three rookies. Dave Phillips reports that on Wednesday night, the temps reached the 20s. The weather warms all weekend. Thursday highs are in the upper 50s, reach the 60s on Friday, and hit 70 on Saturday. Campfires are banned.
Friday night, as we walk to his camp, Steve Mueller passes out literally in my arms after taking blood pressure medication, drinking and otherwise overindulging. I sit him down and he revives, but gravity wins when he attempts to stand and walk again. A crowd gathers as I send a concerned Eric to get a blanket while I “minister” to his dad. After determining he isn’t having a heart attack and is not otherwise in mortal danger, he’s sent to sleep it off under Eric’s watchful eye.
On Saturday, Ben Selby is the last Gabby Guy to hit the stream. He passes the Bedonts on their way back to camp, then catches the Gabby on a nightcrawler.
Saturday night in the Gabby circle, rookie Alex Bedont sets one of his fellow rookies straight: “This ain’t no girl scout camp.” Steve leads a valedictory for Karl Wendel 4th, aka “Chino,” who was killed in an auto accident the previous winter. Gene Rodriguez is named “Miss Congeniality” after driving off the rookie he had brought to camp. With no fire, several of us head into town and the Cross Fork Inn. As he sips a soda, 12-year-old Alex covers his eyes with his hand, but is clearly peeking between his fingers, as two women dance suggestively with each other on the dance floor. He learns that catching fish is sometimes only a small part of the Gabby experience.
2004
(from Elder Anderson)
Zach and I arrived at camp 10:30 Thursday morning. Thursday night we had 12 people in camp: Jaymie, Dave, Cook, Dane & DC, Zach and me, Steve & Eric, Brian, Jeff C., and Jeff M. Friday arrivals included: Jeff Rohde – rookie, Rob, Gene, Ty, Mark & Alex, Darian, Chris, Julius, Karl, Walt, and Ben.
We set up a ghost town in an attempt to keep out the Rock& Roll campers, but they came anyway & this year they had kids. Little kids. Oh yea, Hot Wheels along the Kettle!
Ranger Barry comes to camp to let us know that there’s a fire ban. Because of the warm dry weather the wind has dried out the grass. Camp is stunned. We try playing stupid and decide to burn until told to put it out by a different ranger. That didn’t take long, and this ranger approached camp loaded for bear. I met the ranger at the upper edge of camp and convinced him that we had indeed attempted to put out the fire as instructed but since most of the guys had been on the stream earlier many of them hadn’t gotten the word and had innocently started it back up. I knew I was lying, I knew that he knew I was lying, and he knew that I knew that he knew I was lying, watched as we put it out and left.
Friday night Muller passes out while on a tour of the ghost town and is carried back and put to bed.
After sleeping next to the fire Walt woke up and was verbally torched by E-rod. Walt leaves for home shortly after, victim of the first recorded Gabby catfight.
Saturday morning sunny and 78, which resulted in a bad days catch. Only 10 fish caught by the entire Gabby camp clan. The Gabby is won by Ben Selby with an 18” Rainbow.
Since there was no fire after the abbreviated meeting by patio torch we went into town.
Later that night a big fight broke out in Rock & Roll camp as the Rock & Roll women showed up and kicked a little male tail because the men had brought their babies to camp with them. This was one of those hell hath no fury moments. I had retired for the night but when I heard all hell breaking loose in the camp below I couldn’t help myself, I had to see what was happening. We were so intent on seeing the action that those of us who had them went and got our binoculars for a better view of the slaughter. That was the end of the Rock and Rollers. Three angry women had done in 20 minutes what we had been trying to do for years. The next morning the tents were gone and all that remained were a few empty beer cans.
1989 and 1990
(Ed.: Narratives needed.)
1991
(Pulled from Mark's photo album.)
Dane won the Gabby this year with a nice brown, just over 15". Glen Dworkin presented the award to Dane at the campfire ceremony. Others in attendance that year included Mark Bedont, Steve Brennan, Brian Griffin, Dave Rubino, Carl Ciccone, Steve Mueller, Lee Haller, Bob Graeser, Jim Colaianne, Byron "Andy" Anderson, Larry Selby, Carl Wendel, and Cliff White.
1992 and 1993
(Ed.: Narratives needed)
1994
(From Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“Dr. Trout Takes Fifth Trophy at 25th Anniversary Gabby”.
To commemorate the 25th anniversary of the Gabby, I produce a low-tech video “Gabby in a Nutshell—the First 25 Years.” I summarize each year’s camp, as told to 5-year-old son Dane Christian, and act out a call to Jaymie Smollens, aka Dr. Trout, challenging him to a fish-off and teasing the other Gabby Guys about their inabilities to catch the Gabby. Since Jaymie and I both have four Gabbys, whoever takes a fifth Gabby we’ll declare the “Grand Gabby Master.” Then we’ll both retire from active Gabby competition, I suggest. Ironically, the challenge falls on deaf ears as Jaymie is one of the few Gabby Guys who does not receive his copy of the video.
Friday, April 15. When we arrive in camp, there are piles of snow. In the afternoon, we have a snowball fight in t-shirts as the high reaches the 70s. Brian introduces “The Worm,” a hilarious, completely over-the-top rag of a camp newsletter: “We don’t do interviews or print pictures. We just crawl through the dirt and see what sticks.” We learn the sad news that “Stoney,” the owner of the Orvis Shop in Crossfork, died and was buried the Sunday before opening day. There are 16 Gabby Guys in camp: Mark Bedont, Bob Prosperi, Paul Phillips, Jim Colaianne, Larry Selby, Carl Ciccone, Lee Haller, Dave Rubino, Steve Mueller, Brian Griffin, Glenn Dworkin, rookie Dan Knapp, Dr. Trout, Karl Wendel and his buddy [no first name] Jones, and me. “Jonesy,” as he is known, works in a micro brewery and has brought a keg of what is dubbed “the best free beer in camp.” That night, we camp under a startlingly clear, star-filled sky. Just to be safe, we erect Colaianneville.
Saturday. Before dawn, a light rain begins to fall, ending as the sun comes up. The creek is high but clear. There are many fishable pools on the Brazilia branch of Kettle. There’s a wide, deep pool at Fish City. The main Kettle channel below camp is a bit too high to wade across, but fishable on the edges. It’s now overcast, with occasional sprinkles and temps in the 60s. When Mark, Steve and I return to camp for lunch, we hear Dave Rubino has a contender. By the time the three of us return to the stream and head to the gas line right of way, the weather alternates between big gusts of wind and calm, warm, sunny conditions. After unsuccessfully fishing a pool above the power line cut, then at Fish City, Dr. Trout tells Steve Mueller, “There’s gotta be a big fish in that hole,” and returns to the power line cut. Dr. Trout’s right, of course, and lands a 29 7/8-inch trophy trout, topping my own personal best Gabby of 29 � inches. Back in camp, Rubino’s fish is the largest ever Gabby Bridesmaid. Founder Paul Phillips runs the business meeting, Bob gives a moving testimonial to “Gabby—the Video,” and someone points out that it’s a bass on the Gabby trophy, not a trout. I observe that all but two past Gabby winners (Keith Robinson and Byron “Andy” Anderson) are in camp. Gabbyless Brian Griffin tries to interrupt my roll call of fellow Gabby winners in camp—Jaymie Smollens, Larry Selby, Steve Mueller, Dave Rubino, Bob Prosperi and Glenn Dworkin. “This part of the meeting is for Gabby winners, not Gabby wannabees,” I remind him. “Only Larry, Dr. Trout and I know what it’s like to win three Gabbys,” I say, “and only Dr. Trout and I know what it’s like to win four. Now, only Dr. Trout knows what it’s like to win five.” As I hand Dr. T the Gabby trophy, I concede, “Your unprecedented fifth Gabby makes you the top Gabster of all time. Congratulations.” Ever a man of few words, Jaymie replies, “I just want to say ‘thank you,’ and that I am retiring from active Gabby competition.” Even though it had been prophesized in the Gabby video, the crowd around the Gabby circle falls momentarily silent, stunned by his pronouncement. Jaymie adds that he still intends to fish and vows that he would continue to give back to the less fortunate fishermen in camp through his trout fishing academy.
Sunday. Immediately after Paul Phillips breaks camp, a big wind shears off the top of a tall pine, sending it crashing down right where Paul had just been parked. Camping in The Pines is becoming hazardous, and not just because of our behavior.
1995
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“Swan Song of the P-burgers”
Thursday, April 13. I meet Steve and son Eric in Myersville, Md. We drive 75 mph, the Muellers in their Bronco and me in my Jeep, but our progress is slowed by numerous stops. We arrive in camp at 6:30 p.m. Jaymie Smollens and Brian Griffin are already there, as is Steve’s work underling rookie Perry Newton. Brian had earlier informed Perry of his Gabby faux pas: Because Perry has arrived in camp ahead of his sponsor, Steve, he is ineligible for the Gabby. A light rain falls as we erect our tents, followed by a brief “ice shower.”
Friday. Byron “Andy” Anderson is the first to arrive, having driven all night from Columbus. Later, the Pittsburgh Tribe shows—Larry Selby, Dave Rubino, Carl Ciccone and Jim Colaianne--followed by Glenn Dworkin and 1994 Rookie of the Year Dan Knapp. Karl Wendel arrives with a keg of beer compliments of Jonesy, who can’t come to camp, Karl says, because he has a new girlfriend and a bad case of the PWs. The weather is clearing. As night falls, a nearly full moon breaks through the clouds above the pines. I ask Dr. Trout, “Are you retiring?” His cryptic answer is, “I’m not sleepy.”
Saturday. Glenn reports the temps had dropped into the high teens over night. It’s slightly overcast, but not raining when we head out of camp for the stream. I shout over to Jaymie, “Happy retirement.” The stream is clear and not real high. The Brazilia branch of the stream is only fishable below Fish City. The water is high enough that the riffles in the main stem of Kettle downstream from camp can only be crossed with difficulty. Andy and I fish for a big palomino in clear sight just below Fish City above the big bend into the main channel. Nothing budges the giant pal. Finally, Andy gets a strike, then it’s off the hook. I get a strike, but again it’s off the hook. When my new but defective reel falls off into the creek, I take it as a sign to head back to camp for lunch. Rookie Perry, dressed in calf-high rain boots and sporting a 7-foot bass rod, asks Larry if he really is disqualified for arriving ahead of his sponsor. Larry introduces him to Gabby logic. “If you think a rule applies to you,” he says, “then it does.”
After lunch, Andy, Karl and I return to find the big pal in the same hole. Again nothing moves it. As I step out of the stream to take a break and Karl fiddles with his fouled tackle, Dr. T approaches the hole. Andy has the best spot, just upstream from the pal. Dr. T fishes all around Andy, then stands shoulder to shoulder with him. Big Andy, not easily budged, maintains his position. Just as Jaymie moves just downstream from Andy, a whoop goes up. But is it Andy or Dr. Trout? I see the pal flash in the water, and I think Dr. Trout has it hooked. But he shouts, “Aw shit! Wait, Andy, I’ll help you.” He first swats at then nets the 17 �-inch pal.
Back in camp, Larry MCs the camp meeting. Andy wins his second Gabby when his pal beats out a nice-sized contender caught by Brian. During the fish count, I decline to participate, saying only, “I’m retired. So is Dr. Trout. We’re not in the competition.” Brian begins to needle me, knowing I was skunked, then turns on Founder Larry, who also went fishless for the day. I quickly cut off Brian, asking him, “How many Gabbys do you have?” “None,” he answers sheepishly. I ask, “How many Gabbys do you have, Andy?” “Two,” he replies. I ask, “And how many do you have, Larry?” “Three,” he says matter of factly. “And I have four,” I shout, as Larry and I hoot and bump chests. When my call for a smoke break cuts off Brian’s anxious attempt to rekindle the needling, Steve says, “As usual, Konop, your timing is perfect.”
Sunday. The Pittsburghers pack up and leave early. Unbeknownst to us at the time, it’s the last we will see them together as a group. Karl and Perry join me on the stream near the beaver dam for an afternoon clinic. Karl catches an 18-inch brown trout. Even Perry catches a small trout, but he can’t decide whether to keep or release it. When he finally does let it go, the small trout immediately turns belly up, floats a few meters down stream, then sinks to the bottom. Next clinic, I announce, will be on catch-and-release methods. Karl begins giving me advice. “Maybe you need more weight. Maybe you should move your split shot up,” he opines. “Gee, Karl,” I say, “catch one fish in eight years and now you’re the expert?”
1996
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“Gabby Teens Gear Up, Traveling Trophy Debuts”
Thursday, April 11. After dropping off 8-year-old Dane Christian at school, I head to Frederick to rendezvous with Steve Mueller and his now 6-foot-tall, 13-year-old son Eric. We convoy to camp together, the entire time gabbing back and forth on our CBs: “Nightcrawler to Mule, over.” We happily discover that the widening of Rt. 15 along the Susquehanna is almost complete, removing a perennial choke point along the river near Duncannon. It’s a beautiful drive, overcast but with patches of blue, temps in the 50s. Steve has brought with him the new “Traveling Gabby,” later to be re-named the “Selby Cup.” When we arrive in camp, Jaymie Smollens, Brian Griffin and Dan Knapp are already there. After a several year absence, Keith “Robbie” Robinson arrives with son Derick, along with Andy and son Zach Anderson. The sky clears and temps begin to drop. Jaymie reports the overnight low in camp Wednesday night was 18 degrees. After dark, Jaymie leads a three-car caravan up into the hills above Cross Fork to do find some open sky, but we can’t see the comets for the trees.
Friday. Dave Rubino, now apparently the “Last of the Monacans,” arrives in camp, sans Carl Ciccone and Lee Haller, the now late Larry Selby’s other hometown friends. Perry Newton quietly slips into camp, followed by the storm cloud known as Karl Wendel, who rumbles in near dark, explaining he had to wait until 3:01 to cash a check and that as he was waiting in the cash machine line he had only the change in his pocket and his gas gauge was on empty. Founder Paul Phillips is sick and can’t come, but brother Dave and pal Phil Cook arrive next and set up “Dave Town” below the main Gabby camp. We begin to call the path between the two outposts the “Dave Town Pike.” There are 12 Gabby Guys and 3 Gabby Teens in camp. A thunderstorm brings heavy rain Friday night into Saturday morning, but the campfire remains safe and dry under Colaianneville.
Saturday. A new generation of Gabby Guys gears up. I watch Andy helping Zach with his tackle and Rob helping Derick. I shout to Rob and Andy, “I feel like grandpa. Just a few years ago, I was showing you two how to rig up.” Rob replies, “That’s exactly right.”
Having declared my self “retired from active Gabby competition” with four Gabbys, I finish my second cup of coffee and take leisurely dump before heading down to the stream about 8:30. Everyone in camp is on the stream, except Karl, Dave and Cook, who as usual have slept in. The water level is rising because of the rain, but it’s still easy to cross in many spots. The Brazilia branch of Kettle up from Fish City is silted in and no longer fishable. There is no beaver dam. But downstream from camp, water levels are ideal in the riffles that extend to the gas line right of way. I catch no fish, get no nibbles, and see no one else catching anything either. I return to camp at 10:30 to eat breakfast and take a nap. My afternoon is no better. It is very cold. About 7 p.m., I encounter Andy on his way back to camp with a large brown trout, a beauty that would turn out to be his second Gabby in a row.
Without Founder Paul in camp, I MC the meeting and initiate a Gabby trivia game to entertain the crowd while they assemble. We recognize Andy for his third overall Gabby, tying that old Gabby master Founder Larry Selby.
1997
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“Founder Comes Out of Retirement, Wins Fifth Gabby”
Wednesday, April 16. Surprise! Mark Bedont calls to say he can’t make the Gabby because rain and record low temps are forecast for the weekend. Despite being a spokesman for NOAA weather research, I tell him you can’t believe the 3- to 5-day forecast and that, in any event, bad weather is not an acceptable excuse to miss Gabby camp.
Thursday. After dropping off DC at school, I pull out of my driveway at 11:30 for a leisurely trip to camp. Despite Mark’s concerns, the weather is beautiful, with bright blue skies dotted with big, puffy cumulous clouds. The temperature is in the low 50s. Taking the “back way” through Waterville and along Pine Creek, I arrive in camp about 5:30. Dr. Trout and Ty Albert, with his new shaved-head hairstyle, are already in camp. Brian Griffin arrives a few minutes after me. Straw and firewood have been delivered. Steve and Eric Mueller arrive a little after dark, followed by Perry Newton. It’s very cold overnight (18-20 degrees), but dry. Outsiders arrive and set up camp above and below Gabby Camp. One camp blasts its music all night; the steady boom boom boom boom of the bass is like Chinese water torture.
Friday. Having driven all night from Columbus, Andy and Zach arrive around 9 a.m. There are only nine Gabby Guys in camp, the lowest turnout since 1977. Everyone asks, “Where’s Mark?” I answer in a high-pitched, whiney girl’s voice, “It’s too cold. It might rain.” It becomes a camp catch phrase, along with Dr. Trout’s “What’s up with that?”
Kettle is VERY low and clear. Big fish are spotted near the Headgate Camp, down from the gas line right of way. We erect Colaianneville over the campfire with a little more difficulty than usual, because some of our anchor trees are now gone. Several big, old pines are down in camp, and must be cleared away. The booming music from the “Ace of Basses Camp” continues all day. Steve, who has hit the big five oh, shows off the traveling trophy with its new inscription—the “Selby Cup.” Mike Stone, son of “Stoney” from the Orvis Shop in Cross Fork and now the new ranger, arrives in camp and gives us a permit. The weather remains dry and very clear and a little warmer than Thursday.
Andy and I check out the stream and find Fish City and the entire Brazilia branch upstream from it are silted in and completely un-fishable. The beaver pond is gone. The branch of the stream along the ridge is running a little low, with a few nice pools. The main stem of Kettle downstream from Gabby Camp is also a little shallow, but with many good holes and ledges to fish. Andy says it will be like “fishing in a barrel” at the gas line right of way, where we hear the fish were stocked.
Saturday. Dr. Trout is the first one up and out of camp. Andy, Zach and I are on the creek by 7:40. We see only one other fisherman on the stream—not a good sign. We fish together for about an hour, with no hits, then split up. I head downstream and encounter Ty Albert. The two of us find Dr. Trout fishing the same hole where Andy had caught his 96 Gabby. The three of us fish side by side, with Dr. T in the middle. We are a slightly over-wound, synchronized fishing machine. Suddenly Dr. Trout gets a hit and lands a trout. Then I get a lighter hit, but land a bigger trout, which boot-measures at about 15 inches. I catch another rainbow, about 11-12 inches. Dr. T lands a few more smaller ones before the action cools and we split up. I work my way downstream and catch another rainbow, also about 11 inches. I head back to camp when rain starts in the late morning. Zach catches a contender, about 12-13 inches. Andy catches one fish in the a.m. Perry, Steve and Eric are skunked. Brian catches several fish, but no contenders. In the afternoon, Eric and I sit around the campfire while Andy sleeps in his tent—the only ones in camp. Steve catches one fish. Brian gets a hole in his boot. Perry is the last Gabby guy on the stream, but is skunked for the second year in a row. The rain tapers off as evening approaches. The tarp is holding up just fine, with plenty of dry wood. Despite Jaymie firing off three warning shots, the boom boom boom from our neighbors’ camp continues.
I ask Steve to run the meeting, which is oddly subdued, probably in reverence to my apparent fifth Gabby, finally one for the thumb, and tying Dr. Trout’s total. Steve, who had fished hard all afternoon, says, “One thing about you Konop, you certainly provide incentive to fish, and I don’t mean that in a nice way.” Between the eight of us, there are 30 fish caught and brought back to camp: Zach 4, Andy 1, Steve 0, Eric 0, Brian 10, Ty 1, Jaymie 11, and me 3. Before accepting the Gabby from last year’s winner Andy, I acknowledge Brian for forcing me out of retirement by mocking me for getting skunked in 96, concluding, “On winning my fifth Gabby, all I can say is that Larry Selby set the standard and Dr. Trout raised the bar.” The rain continues off and on, but all are snug and warm around the Gabby campfire.
Sunday. Dr. T and Ty break camp and are gone before the rest of us roll out of our tents. Zach and I head back to the stream, while Andy hangs around camp. Zach catches three more fish. Steve, Eric and Perry leave mid-day. I coax Zach into gutting his fish for the first time, and on a flat stump near the fire, teach him how to fillet.
Monday. It’s cold. Brian reports, “There was snow on the rooftops when I drove to Ole Bull to use the latrine.” Zach, Brian, Andy and I take down Colaianneville; I get custody. Andy and Zach break camp and leave about 11 a.m., followed by Brian. I’m the last man in camp, left to put out the campfire, which takes almost two hours and many gallons of water drawn from the creek to extinguish. On the drive home, I check out several creekside properties as potential future Gabby sites.
1998
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“Trout Launches Comet, Founder Wins Sixth Gabby”
Thursday, April 17. Wednesday’s clouds begin to clear, with afternoon temps reaching into the 60s. Dr. Trout is the first one in camp, followed by Navy buddy and Gabby rookie Ray Croker. Despite Steve Mueller having broken his ankle a few weeks earlier fishing with Dane Christian and me, I convince him a cast is not an acceptable reason for missing the Gabby. He and I are the next to arrive in camp, followed close behind by Brian and friend and rookie Jeff Cole.
Friday. Again having driven all night from Columbus, Andy and Zach arrive in the late a.m., followed by Karl Wendel and rookie Gene Rodriguez in the afternoon. Just before dark, Mark Bedont makes a surprise appearance. Dave Phillips and Phil Cook pull in just after sunset. Friday night, the guys head into town to shoot pool at the Cross Fork Inn. Playing as my partner, Elrod says he hates to lose, then cockily blows an easy shot on the eight ball when he shoots too hard. I tell him, “I predict you’ll choke the same way tomorrow on the stream.”
Saturday. The weather is almost too warm--in the 70s--and clear. Nearly everyone catches fish. Back in camp, Gene tells a sad story. He had a hit by a clear contender, he says, but lost it when he forgot to set the hook before reeling it in. Following a plan I had set the day before, I concentrate on the limestone ledges and riffles just below camp, and take a 15 1/4-inch brown trout, using a worm on a #14 hook with 6-pound test.
Back in camp, Dr. Trout throws a can of white gas on a smoldering stump in the campfire, creating a huge fireball that blasts upward through the great, vented tarp we call “Colaianneville.” In the flash of the moment, it’s difficult to tell whether the fireball is incoming or outgoing, with some in camp fearing we’ve been hit by a Gabby Comet. Almost simultaneously, someone knocks over a lantern in Dave Town, causing a small grass fire and adding to the camp’s confusion.
During the Gabby award ceremony Saturday night, as I accepted the Gabby trophy from Andy, I confess to my fellow Gabbyites how surprised and honored I feel to go back to back and win my sixth Gabby, breaking the tie with Dr. Trout. Then as I step back from the circle and unbeknownst to the group, I pull out of my pocket and reveal to Steve the Selby Cup winner’s name tag I had made up in advance with my name on it. “You cocky son of a bitch,” Steve mutters. “Gene was cocky,” I counter. “I was confident.”
1999
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“Gabby Camp Turns 30”
When Gabby Founders Patton Annegan, Paul Phillips, Larry Selby and I made that first trip to Kettle Creek in April 1969, man had not yet stepped foot on the moon. Computers were for code crackers and bookkeepers. And the Internet wasn’t even a gleam in then 13-year-old Bill Gates’ eyes. Gabby Camp’s 30th anniversary is a big deal, I think, or at least should be made to appear to be. As soon as I get home from the 1998 Gabby, I begin recruiting for 1999, making numerous phone calls to Gabby guys we rarely see in camp anymore. I send out dozens of “Calling All Gabby Guys” letters. Mark Bedont posts it as the first Gabbygram on the new Gabtown web page he created.
Thursday. Dane Christian, 10, joins me for his first Gabby trip. We meet up with the Muellers and Mike Guyder, later to be known in camp as “Steve’s Bitch,” because, we all say later with a wink, of his “culinary expertise.” The forecast calls for rain, but it’s only overcast as we maintain a tight three-truck convoy up Rt. 15. Following a pit stop in Mill Hall, I get to tell my story (for the first of many times) of Pat Annegan and I installing deer fence along a nearby stretch of Interstate 80 in the summer of 1969. DC gets his first view of Kettle from the bridge below Cross Fork. Ty Albert is in camp when we arrive, with Dave Phillips and Phil Cook just ahead of us. We’re greeted by a notice--No outdoor fires!--probably posted by our friend, Ranger Mike Stone. Reluctantly, we build no fire Thursday night.
Friday. The group decides that if we put side panels on newly constructed New Colaianneville, we might be able to skirt the fire ban. Ranger Mike stops by camp, reminding me that camp fires are not permitted. He then points out that ours isn’t visible from the road, where the State Police will be patrolling. He also says new regulations ban cars from being more than 100 yards from the road or closer than 100 feet to the stream. Mark Bedont and Steve Brennan arrive. A wind downburst hits camp, toppling a tall, mature pine tree directly in front of our Jeep, where DC and I had sought refuge. A later gust lifts Colaianneville, pulling the center support pole up into the air, despite being tethered to a 1-foot-diameter, 10-foot-long pine stump. As I lunge for and hang onto the pipe, I too am momentarily lifted from the ground like a bearded Mary Poppins.
The recruiting drive appears to be paying off, as more Gabby guys arrive: Karl Wendel, the Andersons, Jeff Cole, who drove to camp from Florida and is named “Miss Congeniality,” even “Lost Founder” Pat Annegan and, for the first time, Ben Selby, who I had invited and claim as a member of my Gabby family. DC sets up our first camp meteorological station; we hope for rain.
Saturday. Time to hit the stream, and Dr. Trout has still not arrived in camp. Gabby guys think to themselves, “This is my year.” DC, Andy, Ben and I head straight for the limestone ledges in the riffles just below camp. We get no bites in that first hour. At about 9, DC goes in over the top of one of his boots and heads back to camp to dry out. I catch a 12-inch rainbow, then nothing until a slightly larger one in the afternoon. Mark Bedont catches a 14-inch contender. I encounter Andy and a small group of guys fishing for two giant palominos, one about 16 inches, the other a little larger, clearly in view in a hole along the bank. The giant pals won’t bite, Andy says. About 5 p.m., after going in over the top of both of my boots near the beaver pond, I return to camp to learn that Dr. Trout had arrived in camp, having driven straight from work, then proceeded to catch both big pals. His technique? “I buried a hook in a piece of red worm.” Founder Paul runs the meeting. I pass out fish flags made from the remnants of Colaianneville. We have a respectable overall fish count of 30. I present the Gabby trophy to Jaymie, who ties me with six Gabbies overall. Jeff Cole achieves the lowest ever Gabby Quotient: number of fish caught (0) divided by miles driven to camp (700).
In leaving camp, we look ahead to the new year and the next Gabby: “Same time, same place, new millennium.”
Gabby 2000
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“The New Millennium Gabby”
Thursday. When Steve Mueller, Dane Christian and I arrive in camp, Jaymie, Andy, Brian Griffin, Brian’s rookie and long-time friend Jeff Cousins, Phil Cook, Dave Phillips and Dave’s brother-in-law Sal are already there. The weather is very pleasant, in the 60s. We’ve had two cords of wood delivered and have a nice fire going when Ranger Mike Stone stops by to tell us “no campfires because of dry conditions and three brushfires already that day.” After putting out the fire, Steve, Andy, Dave, Cook, Sal and I go into town. Steve gets “dancing drunk” at the bar. A full moon breaks through the passing clouds as we head back to camp.
Friday. It’s early in the morning when a fire marshal approaches New Colaianneville and orders a still sleeping Brian, “Put out that fire!” When Brian doesn’t immediately stir, he barks, “Now!” When Andy walks by, the fire marshal asks him, “Are you with him?” Andy replies, “Only loosely.” This gets a slight smile from the marshal as he exits our camp and Brian begins to extinguish the small campfire. Steve and Dr. T leave to help locals float-stock fish, later straggling back to camp with pens they had used to “plant” 600 fish from the bridge downstream nearly to the end of the old stocking road. At one point, Steve says Jaymie had to rescue him from being swept away in fast waters.
Saturday. The weather gets even warmer, with the high pushing 70. Several Gabby guys head to a crows nest of debris forming a deep pool where some big browns were visible in the water, just where Steve and Jaymie had left them the day before. Ben Selby climbs out on a limb in the debris pile, precariously perched but able to fish directly over the pool. Dr. Trout, Andy, Sal, Steve and I instead cast to the hole from the far bank. Although some of us catch a few smallish trout, the big browns do not appear to be hungry. For awhile Dr. Trout and I fish almost shoulder to shoulder for another two big browns, also clearly visible in the water. Dr. Trout: “Did my nose get in the way of your cast?” Me: “No. But you could trim that mustache a little.” After catching four small trout for dinner, Dane Christian and I head back to camp for lunch. About 1:30, Dr. T returns to camp with two very large trout, which he quickly dumps in his cooler. Rookie Jeff catches one trout. Andy lands a nice 15-inch contender. Steve and most of the other guys catch fish, but no other contenders. Dave, Sal and DC are skunked. Ben returns to camp with a few fish, including a beautiful 17-inch brown trout. In the afternoon, Steve, Andy, Dr. Trout and I head back to the stream. After fishing mostly side by side in the same trough until dusk, the four of us are heading back downstream toward camp when we spot a large palomino moving and apparently feeding in shallow water. All four of us prepare our rods and quickly wade back into the stream. The pal ignores our offerings and keeps moving from one spot to another in the 2-foot-deep water, its golden body clearly visible in the fading sunlight. It moves. We move. We snag. We rerig. It moves. We move. Finally, Steve and Andy step out of the water, leaving Jaymie and me to fish, again shoulder to shoulder, occasionally nudging each other for better position. Despite my running a Mepps right past its nose several times, the pal will not bite. Despite Dr. T snagging the same branch three times in three casts, once requiring him to break line and completely re-rig, he finally takes the big pal, then immediately releases it. We head back to camp, our competitive juices sated.
That evening, because we have no tarp and no campfire, we pitifully huddle around a sterno can to begin our meeting. Dave arrives with a patio torch, calling it the “Eternal Gabby Flame.” It’ll have to do. Despite the setting, at least it’s warm. We have a productive meeting. Camp costs are $18/man. Twenty-one fish are caught. The group discusses ways of bringing more guys to camp and there is some talk of establishing “Honorary Founders” to help in recruiting. But when Sal is referred to as a “Founder-In-Law,” Steve recognizes his reduced status as a non-member of the Gabby “royal” Founder Family is permanent and unalterable, regardless of honorary titles. When no one contends Ben’s 17-inch brown trout, he receives the trophy from Dr. Trout and is the first Founder Son to take the Gabby. The meeting wraps up around midnight, and the Gabby flame is extinguished. A few of us go into town. Steve gets “dizzy drunk.”
Sunday. The weather is still fair and warm, with apparently only a slight chance of rain. Dr. T, Ben, Brian, Jeff Cousins and Jeff Cole break camp. Andy, Dave, Sal and I fish in the afternoon, but with no luck. DC says two fire marshals had stopped by camp while we were gone.
Monday. Steve, Dave, Cook, Sal, Andy, DC and I awake to a driving rain. DC and I are the last to leave, arriving at our cottage in Harpers Ferry, W.V., long after dark.
Gabby 2001
(Ed.: Narrative needed.)
Gabby 2002
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“Dr. Trout Takes Seventh Gabby”
Jaymie Smollens, aka Dr. Trout, stocks our section of stream with trout he has brought from a fish farm in Couldersport. He later catches one of these “previously positioned” fish to win his seventh Gabby. I suggest next year we cut out the middle man and just fish in the stocking barrels. “Chez Dane” is replaced with a pop-up. Darien makes his first appearance in camp, when he arrives with Karl Wendel and Karl Wendel the 4th.
2003
(From Elder Anderson's journal)
Opening day we had 21 people in camp with no rookies/20 fish caught. The weather was perfect at sunny and 57degrees.
2003 was the year Zach won the Gabby with a fish he landed strait down from camp at 10:00 a.m., a nice 18 � “ Brown trout. The meeting was stretched out as far as possible to keep the anxious second gen’r at bay. Topped off by a call for a Gabby smoke break just as Zach reached out to accept the trophy.
I nicknamed 2003 the year of the Beaver. Here's the story behind that: "While sitting on a log along the stream, just over from fish city I felt something try to force it’s way between my boots and my first thought was that someone had come up behind me and was screwing with me. As I got to my feet about thirty pounds of what can best be described as a fury brown torpedo went right between my ankles. It was a beaver, and it promptly swam into it’s home just across from where I had been casting. Considering how close I came to kicking it as it first tried to push through, I felt I had gotten off pretty easily with my close encounter, called it a day and returned to camp."
Gabby 2003
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“Zach Attacks, Is Second Gabby Son to Take the Trophy”
Attendees in approximate order of arrival and with # of fish caught: Jaymie Smollens (3, including one monster), Ty Albert (0), Byron (2, including 1 by hand) and Zach (1—the Gabby) Anderson, Dave Phillips (1), Phil Cook (0), Brian Griffin (0), Jeff Cousins (0), Dane Christian (0) and I (3), Steve (1?) and Eric (0) Mueller, Perry Newton (1 nice size contender), Darien (0) and friend and rookie Scott (0), Karl (1) and Karl IV (0) Wendel and friends Dave (0) and Ryan (0), and Ben Selby (2).
Steve Mueller’s tarped camp stradling the Dave Town Pike is dubbed the “Dave Town Obstructway.” We continue to use the pike, which now passes as a tunnel through the middle of his camp. Dane Christian seeks apprenticeship and stays up all Friday night tending the fire. The “Rock and Roll Camp” plays Doors all night Friday; at least their taste is improving. Pocono Tribe is largest in camp. Despite nearly perfect fishing conditions, the Gabby Guys catch no fish in the a.m. Saturday. Most guys fish two holes that Jaymie and Ty had stocked. Saturday evening, trouble rounding up miscreants from Dave Town gets our business meeting off to a late start. As M.C., I try moving the meeting quickly. Dave’s call for a smoke break during Steve’s treasurer’s report becomes the only recorded case of a smoke break call being overturned by camp consensus. Karl’s boisterous behavior during the meeting subsides only after I ask him, as Sargeant at Arms, to escort himself from the meeting. A spirited Rookie of the Year competition is held, including appeals to the crowd by each of the Pocono rookies. Rookie Scott says, “I never go outside my house. But I came here and I’m glad I did.” Rookie Dave drones on about the spirit and brotherly love in camp until finally told to shove it and sit down. Rookie Ryan’s remarks are so garbled they could not be recorded. After asking the three rookies to leave the circle so we could discuss the matter, Steve Mueller points out that Rookie of the Year is not a beauty contest but an award of merit and that none of the three caught any fish. His motion to send the matter to committee passes. When the perplexed rookies are brought back into the circle, I tell them consideration of a rookie of the year has been tabled and advise them that “theoretically you could come back next year, revive the matter, and vote for yourself.”
Gabby 2004
(from Founder Dane’s Gabby journal)
“This Ain’t No Girl Scout Camp”
There are 24 in camp, including three rookies. Dave Phillips reports that on Wednesday night, the temps reached the 20s. The weather warms all weekend. Thursday highs are in the upper 50s, reach the 60s on Friday, and hit 70 on Saturday. Campfires are banned.
Friday night, as we walk to his camp, Steve Mueller passes out literally in my arms after taking blood pressure medication, drinking and otherwise overindulging. I sit him down and he revives, but gravity wins when he attempts to stand and walk again. A crowd gathers as I send a concerned Eric to get a blanket while I “minister” to his dad. After determining he isn’t having a heart attack and is not otherwise in mortal danger, he’s sent to sleep it off under Eric’s watchful eye.
On Saturday, Ben Selby is the last Gabby Guy to hit the stream. He passes the Bedonts on their way back to camp, then catches the Gabby on a nightcrawler.
Saturday night in the Gabby circle, rookie Alex Bedont sets one of his fellow rookies straight: “This ain’t no girl scout camp.” Steve leads a valedictory for Karl Wendel 4th, aka “Chino,” who was killed in an auto accident the previous winter. Gene Rodriguez is named “Miss Congeniality” after driving off the rookie he had brought to camp. With no fire, several of us head into town and the Cross Fork Inn. As he sips a soda, 12-year-old Alex covers his eyes with his hand, but is clearly peeking between his fingers, as two women dance suggestively with each other on the dance floor. He learns that catching fish is sometimes only a small part of the Gabby experience.
2004
(from Elder Anderson)
Zach and I arrived at camp 10:30 Thursday morning. Thursday night we had 12 people in camp: Jaymie, Dave, Cook, Dane & DC, Zach and me, Steve & Eric, Brian, Jeff C., and Jeff M. Friday arrivals included: Jeff Rohde – rookie, Rob, Gene, Ty, Mark & Alex, Darian, Chris, Julius, Karl, Walt, and Ben.
We set up a ghost town in an attempt to keep out the Rock& Roll campers, but they came anyway & this year they had kids. Little kids. Oh yea, Hot Wheels along the Kettle!
Ranger Barry comes to camp to let us know that there’s a fire ban. Because of the warm dry weather the wind has dried out the grass. Camp is stunned. We try playing stupid and decide to burn until told to put it out by a different ranger. That didn’t take long, and this ranger approached camp loaded for bear. I met the ranger at the upper edge of camp and convinced him that we had indeed attempted to put out the fire as instructed but since most of the guys had been on the stream earlier many of them hadn’t gotten the word and had innocently started it back up. I knew I was lying, I knew that he knew I was lying, and he knew that I knew that he knew I was lying, watched as we put it out and left.
Friday night Muller passes out while on a tour of the ghost town and is carried back and put to bed.
After sleeping next to the fire Walt woke up and was verbally torched by E-rod. Walt leaves for home shortly after, victim of the first recorded Gabby catfight.
Saturday morning sunny and 78, which resulted in a bad days catch. Only 10 fish caught by the entire Gabby camp clan. The Gabby is won by Ben Selby with an 18” Rainbow.
Since there was no fire after the abbreviated meeting by patio torch we went into town.
Later that night a big fight broke out in Rock & Roll camp as the Rock & Roll women showed up and kicked a little male tail because the men had brought their babies to camp with them. This was one of those hell hath no fury moments. I had retired for the night but when I heard all hell breaking loose in the camp below I couldn’t help myself, I had to see what was happening. We were so intent on seeing the action that those of us who had them went and got our binoculars for a better view of the slaughter. That was the end of the Rock and Rollers. Three angry women had done in 20 minutes what we had been trying to do for years. The next morning the tents were gone and all that remained were a few empty beer cans.
Comparing their catches.
2005
(from Elder Anderson)
FIRE BAN AGAIN*^#?*
The curse of good weather continues, 70’s in the daytime and 30’s at night. Jaymie arrives in camp after some concern that the Dr. would go AWOL. Eric Muller is on a top secret Gabby recruiting mission in Japan, and everyone goes to bed Thursday night and dreams of little hands giving Gabby backrubs after a hard day on the stream, or at least after a hard day. These rumors draw a larger than usual crowd to camp and at 28 snow fencing is put across the road to keep out any additional interlopers.
Brian Griffin wins the Gabby, and the nearly flameless business meeting is held at camp Mueller. Brian passes out early and is propped up with a stick, ala Paul Phillips.
Taking advantage of the large number of rookies in camp a new order of Gabby peerage was created. Gabby Elders. Mueller handled the pitch with a lean toward it being a fete comple to the still uncomprehending group. When he finished, we stooped, sat quietly for a moment, and looked out at all those blank rookie faces and Bingo! They had bought that whatever had just been said, proposed or pronounced applied to them, and in Gabby camp that’s all it takes. The three elders present are Mark Bedont, fireguy Mueller and me.
The rookie of the year for 2004, which was tabled at the 03 business meeting, was awarded to Joe of the PennState branch of Darian’s clan. I had the last word regarding all the rookies this year: "they all seemed to fit in quite well and in a few years down the road I may even know their names! But no one should get their hopes up."
Rumors in camp –
- That Founder Paul Phillips may return next year,
- That the Cross Forks Inn will be back up and running by next year
2006
(Mark's submission)
Mike Shanks won this one -- not without suspense, however. A rumor preceded his arrival back in camp that he had caught his fish beyond the Potter County line, although on Kettle Creek. Establishment of the facts, psychological jostling of the witnesses, debate over the veracity of the testimony, and discussion of the "legality" of the catch if he indeed was outside the county, went back and forth for some time before the final outcome. Throughout the deliberations, Mark waited with considerable anticipation as he was holding the THIRD of his "bridesmaid" trouts -- a nice 16" brown trout taken in a deep pool at the bend below camp.
In a recollection supplied to Mark for this piece, Mike summed up the situation that ensured his victory : "I do remember that I parked the car in Clinton County and then fished upstream to Potter, Elder M can verify this, so ...". So, another controversy resolved in fine Gabby fashion and a sure precedent averted until another time.
2007 -- the first year without Brian.
Andy's recap of this year:
Rob came in from IN. Zach was out this year due to work commitments. After a little shut-eye we leftColumbus about 4:30 a.m. for PA. Had our traditional breakfast in St. Marys, PA, made our brewery stop and hit the road. As I was leaving St. Mary’s my phone rang and it was Mueller telling me that his Zulu witch doctor wouldn’t release him to come to the Gabby. It seems that his wisely timed eye surgery had…go figure,not healed as rapidly as hoped. So he to explain to me how fishing could make him go blind and he couldn’t make the trip. At least not until his doctor took the rest of the pins out of his Mueller doll.
Pulling into camp I see that Mike Shanks has erected the Taj Mahal of Gabby camp, called Hotel Mueller. After sadly announcing to the shock and disbelief of most Gabby’s in camp that the Fire Guy would not be with us this year, I gave a silent 10 count and moved into his tent.
Dane and DC had been in camp since Wednesday. The Head Count that evening included: Dane, DC, Andy,Rob, Mike, Dave, Cook & friend, Gene, Dennis (the pole dancer), Krazy Karl and son Michael (rookie),Darien and rookie friends Julius and Joe.
Guest appearance by Dr. Trout who is staying in town attending a seminar on “the mating calls of the female mud shark” with him is non-fishing guest Chad
Jeff Cousins is missed but hopes are high that he’ll return.
Snow on the mountainsides and a clear night sky make for a cold, cold night, and even though opening day is sunny, the water temp is only 36 degrees and in spite of the fact that over 5,500 fish were dump into the stream at the bridge the last weekend of March the fish aren’t biting.
Caught my only fish at 9:45 a.m. by the old beaver dam downstream from the bridge with a salmon egg. Returned to camp for lunch and decided to call it a day. Loaned Darien my waders and kicked back and enjoyed the fire. Only nine fish caught. I won
The evening's business meeting slips closer and closer toward chaos as Karl tries to wrestle control of the floor away from Dane by making a motion to award himself a Lifetime Achievement Award. After much discussion and another verbal avalanche from the bills author the motion is put on hold while a committee is appointed to investigate whether or not a fitting achievement could be found.
2008
(Elder Andy's chronicle:
Wednesday
On the road by 10:30 a.m., in PA. by 12:30 p.m. Snowshoe at Mike Shanks cabin by 4:30 p.m. Mike's cabin 4.5 miles down the road from hell. Meet up with Mike & son Alex, Steve & Eric Mueller, Jaymie, Chad and me. Did a little target shooting behind Mike’s cabin where he has set up a small range. Mike cooked his own farm raised pork, mashed potatoes & broccoli for dinner. Broke out the cigars and port and had a good evening.
Thursday
Great weather – up, eat breakfast and take off in a caravan to Gabby camp.
A big camp for Thursday –
Head Count:
Elder Keith “Rob” Robinson & Joren the mad Viking (Rookie)
Founder Dane Konop
DC “The Quite Man” Konop
Fireguy Steve Mueller
Geisha Ranger Eric Mueller
Commodore Jeff Mueller
Cook & Dave Co-founders of Davetown, the Levittown of Gabby Camp.
E. Rod, Manager of the famous 24 hr. Davetown Diner
Dennis “The Pole Dancer”
Pyrotechnic proby Darien
Krazy Karl Wendel
Mike Wendel (title still being considered)
Dr. Trout PHDS
Chad (Gabby Chaplin)
Take a drive into Renovo to get some Straubs Dark and Yuengling Black & Tan. Stop in Cross Fork for fishing License but someone had cut through the phone line with a backhoe so I had to go to Lorry’s in Oleona. Stopped at Ole Bull State Park on the way back and saw a prime example of too much technology for the forest. A lightning strike from a recent storm had fried the electrical sensors on all the brand new automatic flush toilets recently installed, and they wouldn’t flush. Brand new restrooms useless. Campfire until 1:00 a.m., then to bed...rain by 1:15 a.m.
Friday
Elder Bedont & trubador son Alex, Joe of Dariens clan and Davetown John are the last arrivals in camp. Light rain off and on all day. Darien is given the fire duties while we wait for backordered repair parts for the older model Fireguy. Heavy rain and lightning later that evening but everyone dry and toasty under the tarp. We discuss the need to ask Jim to make a new tarp to keep as back-up since none of us is getting any younger.
Most people in bed by 1:30 a.m. Darien, Karl and Joe sleep by the fire.
Saturday
Up by 6:30 a.m. Fix breakfast and gear-up. Went to the old beaver dam below the wire and about 10:30 a.m. and caught a nice 13” rainbow on a salmon egg. At noon back to for lunch. 5:30 p.m. Dennis is in camp with a contender caught with a 5’ nickel plated model #69 stripers pole strung with 6 lb. Stren blue monofilament.
By 9:00 p.m. everyone was in camp but the Commodore who was last seen below the wire fishing like a man possessed, and clinging to the hope that he might bounce his bait off the nose of a blind trout (to whom the total darkness would make no difference). Search parties are sent out to find our wayward Gabby brother with the thought of finding him trying to struggle back to camp under the weight of his fish. Mike, Steve, Jaymie,Chad and Eric man the search party. The Commodore is found fishless along the road and is returned to camp. At this point we realize that the fish of Alex Shanks, our youthful 3 1/2 foot rookie, is our only hope of stopping the semi-sober Pole Dancer.
Meeting is interrupted by a medical emergency. Karl is who still learning the hard lessons of gravity trips over a metal fire ring and goes down in flames. Dr Trout is called in for first aide and the lad is patched up and returned, under heavy guard, to the meeting. The Gab-stick is brought out and another masterful round of Gabby Poker plays itself out at the campfire, but after all speeches, smoke breaks & emergency calls were exhausted the Gabby is finally presented to the Pole Dancer, who nearly stumbles trophy in hand, into the ragging Gabby fire while giving his acceptance speech. Congratulations Dennis!
Another year ends, and another countdown begins.
2009
Kettle Creek, Potter County, Pa. Maybe life is fair after all. After 26 trips to Kettle Creek since 1975, Elder Mark Bedont, 61, a three-time Gabby Bridesmaid, won the 2009 Gabby--his first--with a catch of a 13-1/2 rainbow trout taken mid-afternoon Saturday on a red worm upstream from the fly fishing only stretch of Kettle.
In a prepared statement, Bedont said, “The numbers may explain it, since it was the 40thanniversary of the Founders’ first Kettle Creek expedition and my 25th attempt at a Gabby trophy. Mostly, it took one day with dozens of casts, many, many snagged hooks, and one clear moment to catch that one fish.”
Bedont received the 2009 trophy--this year again in the form of a plaque with a mounted fisherman--from last year’s winner Dennis “The Pole Dancer” Frederick near the conclusion of a long and at times out-of-control business meeting, held for the first time in Dave Town.
Bedont’s trout just edged out a 13 1/4-inch contender by Alex Shanks, 11, a seasoned, year-round fisherman who many see as the next fishing phenom in Gabby Camp.
It was a big night for award hardware for Bedont. He received a “Gabby Founder Award,” presented by Founder Dane Konop at Saturday’s business meeting for his efforts to promote Gabby Camp and the Gabby Spirit, primarily through GabbyHayes.net. Bedont also took possession of the Gabby traveling trophy, the “Selby Cup,” and a one-liter “Gabby Goblet” 40th anniversary commemorative mug, as did all of the seven past Gabby winners in camp, courtesy of Konop.
There were only 27 fish caught by the 21 Gabby Guys in camp this year, in part due to the fact that the section of Kettle adjacent to Gabby Camp did not receive a nearby stocking. “I fished our traditional stretch of the creek from the fish for fun area all the way down to Gabby Camp from 8 until after 11,” Konop reported, “and I did not get a single nibble or see anyone else catch a single fish.”
According to a confidential tip to Jaymie “Dr. Trout” Smollens by local Aaron Neville, who delivers our firewood and straw, trout were stocked this year above the fly fishing only section of the stream and not at the pull off at the Rt. 144 bridge above Gabby Camp.
Among the veterans at camp this year was Ty Albert, who returned to the Gabby for the first time in four years after moving to Arizona to be massage therapist. Although professional lives of Gabby Guys are not much discussed in camp, Ty did reveal that one of his clients is the legendary Muhammad Ali, a cultural hero to many of the Gabby Guys. Others in the 09 camp included, in approximate order of arrival, Dave Phillips, Phil Cook, Byron “Andy” Anderson, Mike Shanks, rookie Tony Rose, Dane Christian Konop, Gene “E-Rod” Rodriguez, Jeff Mueller, Keith “Robbie” Robinson, Jeroen “Dutch” Honingh, Darien Bohdel, Karl Wendel and Michael Wendel.
Throughout the weekend, the weather remained dry and increasingly warm, with overnight temperatures ranging upward from near freezing overnight Wednesday/Thursday to the 60s to low 70s in the afternoons the rest of the week. Even after recent rains, the stream was very low, reflecting the continuing drought in the region. Because of the dry conditions, only a small cooking fire was built in a beautiful fire pit in Colaianneville. This caused the Saturday night business meeting to be moved to Dave Town, which provided a small, protected ceremonial fire.
One piece of Gabby trivia: Bedont caught this year’s Gabby on the 7-foot rod he bought in 1975 on a tackle-shopping trip in Indiana, Pa., with Gabby Founder Konop, who also bought the same rod and was fishing with Bedont when he caught this year’s Gabby.
Although Frederick did fall in the creek Saturday afternoon, there were no other major accidents or blood-letting injuries at this year’s camp to report.
2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010, was an amazingly productive day of fishing for the Gabby Guys, with even Karl Wendel and Jeff Mueller catching trout, their first ever on opening day.
But it was Zachary Anderson, 26, who beat out nearly two dozen other competitors on Kettle Creek, Potter County, Pa., to win his second Gabby Hayes Memorial Fishing Tournament with a 17 � -inch brown trout taken at about 10 a.m. on a salmon egg.
This year’s Gabby was one of 31 hooked by Zach and cousins Jeff and Ryan Rohde from the pool formed by the fallen beech tree about 100 yards downstream from the fly fishing only area. All but a few of these fish were caught and released.
Zach, who is the son of elder and four-time Gabby winner Byron “Andy” Anderson, also took the 2003 Gabby.
Back in camp, Zach said, “I missed (coming to Gabby camp) the past three years. Maybe we should call this the ‘Leap Gabby.’”
When asked what he planned to do with his catch of fish, Zach said, “I don’t know. I don’t eat fish. You want ‘em?”
The prevailing wisdom proffered by Dr. Trout and a few others in camp had been that there would be a dearth of fish on “our” stretch of Kettle, causing many other Gabby guys to head upstream near the swinging bridge below Ole Bull, which turned out to be a much less productive section of stream.
Despite, or maybe because of, low stream conditions, the 23 Gabby Guys who fished hooked a record 87 trout on opening day, topping the 85 trout hooked in 1986.
Although the temperatures ranged from about 80 degrees on Friday to a high in the 40’s on Saturday, the occasional rain showers that prevailed throughout the weekend were welcomed, as the standing fire ban was lifted, allowing a campfire in New Colaianneville.
Zach received the 2010 Gabby trophy, virtually uncontested, from last year’s winner, Mark Bedont, who designed a unique-looking 2010 trophy depicting a trout fisherman on a pedestal. Zach also took possession for one year of the Selby Cup, named after late founder Larry Selby, which includes a tag for each Gabby winner since trophies were first awarded in 1976.
Saturday night, while we all sat cozily around the campfire under the New Colaianneville tarp during a light off-and-on rain, Founder Paul Phillips ran an uncommonly efficient business meeting. The proceedings were, however, punctuated twice by rousing renditions of “God Bless America” sung with gusto by the Gabby Group, first to serve as a musical backdrop (and then muffler) to a long-winded speech by Karl Wendel, then again later for no apparent reason. Even the often disruptive smoke breaks were for the most part judiciously taken, allowing for a more than usually productive session.
Elder and Fireguy Steve Mueller opened the meeting with the annual memoriam to those Gabby guys who have passed on, the only legitimate excuse for missing Gabby Camp. The head count of 25 in camp, with 23 fishing, was reflected in the tight Gabby Circle being stacked two lawn chairs deep in some spots. After admonishing the group that costs for camp had risen dramatically this year, particularly for the two rookies in camp, Steve made the surprise announcement that an anonymous donor had picked up the cost of this year’s firewood and hay. Gabby Webmaster Mark Bedont made a pitch for more Gabby “After the Nutshell” memories, particularly for those years for which we have no written record—1989 and 1990—and promised other improvements at GabbyHayes.net.
In other notable new business, despite a smoothly delivered PR pitch, a proposal to officially recognize “Joe Town” on the Dave Town Pike was sent by majority vote to the Gabby Geographic Names Committee and the Traffic Safety Committee for review. One committee member observed that despite a slick presentation, one basic mistake had been made by the Joe Town group seeking name recognition--they applied for a permit.
2011: A Rain-Sodden, Genteel Gabby
by Dane Konop
A record twenty-eight Gabby Guys, half of them fathers and sons, took on the forces of Mother Nature in the 2011 Gabby Hayes Memorial Invitational Fishing Tournament on Kettle Creek, Potter County, Pa. With the passing of a massive storm front that turned Gabby Camp into a virtual mosh pit and with only 13 trout caught, let’s just call it a draw.
Braving a cold, persistent rain, gusty winds and high water on Kettle on opening day April 16, New York tribesman Jeff Cousin took an oddly thick-headed, 17-inch brook trout on a nightcrawler in the early afternoon to win the 2011 Gabby. Returning to Gabby Camp after a four-year absence, Jeff took his first Gabby from the pool formed where the stream forks to form the formerly fished backwater branch containing Brazilia and Fish City. At the awards ceremony Saturday night, the now-goateed, retired NYPD sergeant noted he caught his Gabby “a stone’s throw” from where fellow New York tribesman, the late Brian Griffin, caught his Gabby in 2005. Several large fish were taken from this pool on Saturday morning, including a very large rainbow by seven-time Gabby winner Jaymie “Dr. Trout” Smollens and a large brookie by six-time Gabby winner Founder Dane Konop, both now retired from active Gabby competition.
As often is the case in the spring in north-central Pa., the weather was highly variable and occasionally extreme. A light off-and-on rain greeted early arrivals Darien, Gene (aka “E. Rod”) and Dennis the Pole Dancer on Wednesday, finally petering out just about the time the two Danes arrived at 5:30.
Conditions on Thursday--dry and sunny with temperatures in the low 60s--were nearly ideal for the arrival of the bulk of camp, including Mike and Alex Shanks, Zach and Byron “Andy” Anderson, Jeff, Steve and Eric Mueller, Tony and rookie Drew Rose, Dr. Trout, and Jeff, who had all overnighted at the Shanks’ Camp. The number of Gabby Guys grew to 25 with the arrival of Dave Phillips and Phil Cook, Mark and Alex “the Entertainer” Bedont, and the Joe Towners--Joe, Chris, Julius and their three rookies. Cordial collegiality characterized each new arrival, as welcoming hand shakes were more often than not followed by bear hugs and pats on the back. Fortunately, the recent rains were enough for the standing fire ban to be lifted, allowing Fire Guy heir apparent Darien to build a beautiful blaze under New Colaianneville. At nightfall, a nearly full moon peaked through the patchy clouds over camp as the Gabby Guys settled into their chairs around the campfire, chowed down, sipped beverages, dodged gusts of smoke, and resumed old friendships.
On Friday, by the time Karl and Michael Wendel and finally Keith “Robby” Robinson straggled into camp, the weather was nearly ideal, with abundant sunshine and temps in the mid-60s. It turned out to be the proverbial calm before the storm. At the office at nearby Ole Bull State Park, the ranger had posted the Weather Service forecast for an approaching severe rain storm, possibly accompanied by high winds, thunder and lightning. The Gabby Guys took note and tarped over, tied down and otherwise weatherized their tents as best they could.
Precisely as forecast, the rain began at about 7 a.m. Saturday morning, just as most Gabby Guys prepared to head to the stream. The temperature had dropped overnight into the low 30s. Some followed Andy’s strategy—wait ‘er out in camp. It would be a long wait, as the rain persisted throughout the morning. Around noon, a rogue wind gust lifted New Colaianneville into the air, pulling the steel center pole about three feet off the ground before it could be corralled. By mid-day, just as E. Rod and his new knee stomped into camp, the rain lifted briefly, encouraging even Darien to gear up and hit the creek. The rain continued off and mostly on all afternoon, pushing the already high water levels on Kettle up another half foot by mid-afternoon. Few fish were taken, and several of these were found under logs and in side pools where they had sought refuge from the fast water in the main channel. Despite the deteriorating conditions, a half dozen determined Gabby Guys remained on the stream until nearly sunset.
Back in camp, the steady rain was turning the ground around New Colaianneville into a big, muddy mess, “like Woodstock but without the music and women,” one Gabby Guy observed.
The camp business meeting was uncommonly uncontroversial and civil, with the Gabby Guys actually following the agenda laid out and conducted by Founder Dane. Even smoke breaks kept to the script. In his convocation to open the meeting, Elder Steve Mueller paid tribute to those Gabby Guys who have passed on, then made the happy announcement of a “free camp,” as an anonymous donor had once again picked up the cost of firewood and straw.
As the rain continued unabated, last year’s Gabby winner Zach Anderson brought out the Selby Cup for display and teased the crowd by passing around the 2011 trophy. Cigars appeared seemingly everywhere around the Gabby Circle as smoke break #1 was called.
Hospitality ruled the smoky Gabby circle around the campfire during the break, as Mike Shanks offered up his marinated venison chunks and Jeff Mueller worked the crowd like a ballpark food vendor: “Pretzels, peanuts, stick of gum?”
Old business included Andy’s Zoning Report, which revealed the approval of the new front entrance hall on the now massive, triple-tarped 20x10-foot carport that some in camp were calling “Shanksylvania.” Andy reported that the minimall monstrosity received expedited approval, apparently because of its designation as a camp emergency medical center.
In new business, Founder Dane introduced a new standing feature of the business meeting, which he called the “Gabby Suggestion Box,” when individual Gabby Guys could bring up any ideas they may have been harboring for improving camp, either physically or spiritually. It was not intended, he explained, as a bully pulpit or a soap box to sound off. Elder Andy suggested we initiate a new “Wendal (sic) Safety Award,” given to the Gabby Guy whose safety record is most improved from the previous year. Elder Steve Mueller suggested a “Jeff Mueller Award,” given to any Gabby Guy who leaves camp under a dark cloud, then returns in time to fish. Karl Wendel’s suggestion, which was not recorded, was accepted unanimously by the group. A smoke break put a merciful end to the segment.
Founder Dane recalled the group to order with his best imitation of a tv floor manager: “Gentlemen, we’re back in five, four, three, two, one. And we’re back!”
The pitiful 0.46-fish-per-fisherman fish count that followed revealed the undeniable truth that Mother Nature had gotten the best of the Gabby Guys—at least on the stream, and maybe in camp.
When laid out on the Gabstick for measurement, Jeff’s 17-inch brook trout, which some said looked a little “basslike,” was an uncontested Gabby winner. Ever a man of few words, Jeff’s brief acceptance speech was quickly followed by an adjournment call from Founder Dane, who commended all for their camp decorum and for enduring the weather with nary a whine nor a whimper.
Overnight, Mother Nature cut the Gabby Guys a break. By Sunday morning, the storm had passed, allowing the guys to break camp and return home under mostly rain-free conditions. By mid-afternoon, nearly all the Gabby Guys had departed, with only Rob left in Gabby Camp to squeeze out just one more day of quiet fishing before making the solo drive back to Indiana (the state).
As a postscript, the storm that rolled through Potter County Saturday turned out to be the leading edge of one of the largest tornadic storm systems in recent years, causing widespread death and destruction as it pummeled its way eastward from the mid-west to the mid-Atlantic. Although the water levels in Kettle Creek were high enough to make stream crossing nearly impossible and fishing difficult on Saturday, the USGS graph for the period shows that the Gabby Guys were actually lucky. Kettle Creek stream flow dropped steadily, from a high of 1,000 cubic feet per second on Wednesday to a low of just under 500 cfs on Saturday, followed by a steep rise again to 1,000 by Monday. The 70-year mean discharge rate for Kettle for this time period is about 400 cfs.
Catching the Gabby of 2012
Questions by Founder Dane Konop. Answers by Gabby 2012 Champion Keith Robinson.
(1) What bait did you use to catch the brown? Did you try other baits?
I landed it with a red worm. I started with red worms, had two trout on my line within minutes but lost both, then landed a 13-inch brown within 15 minutes. I then went on a dry spell for a half hour, getting not even a nibble while other guys around me were pulling out fish left and right. The two next to me were landing trout with meal worms. I didn’t have any meal worms, so I switched to pink, garlic-flavored salmon eggs. Still, no nibbles. After two eggs, I went back to red worms and landed the Gabby.
(2) What time did you catch the brown?
Caught the Gabby about 9:15 a.m.
(3) Did you catch it mid-stream in the long straight stretch below the gas-line cut?
It was in mid-stream about 1,500 yards past the gas-line cut.
(4) What was your technique?
I was in a section of the stream where there were lots of trout and about 75 other fishermen standing shoulder to shoulder. My technique was to simply cast out there and hope that I don’t get snagged on someone else’s line.
(5) What was you second fish and how and when did you catch it?
The “other” was a 13-inch brown caught at the same place about a half-hour before I landed the Gabby.
(6) What size line did you use? Weight? Hook? Swivel or tied directly? Length of rod? Rod action? Type of reel, e.g., open-faced spin cast?
I used 4-pound test line with a split-shot sinker about 18 inches above a No. 12 hook tied directly (no swivel). I have a 5-foot-long rod, a Shakespeare Ugly Stick with an open-faced spin cast reel. Don’t know what the rod action is. But I found out it bends a lot!
(7) Any other tackle details?
No, don’t think so.
(8) What was your plan? Leave camp early and ...
I had found the spot late Friday afternoon. I decided to walk downstream after a group of us scoped out upstream earlier in the day, seeing nothing much of anything other than a palomino under some fallen tree trunks near camp. I had been disappointed the past couple of years with our traditional stretch of stream, where I enjoy fishing. But I don’t enjoy it so much if there’s nothing there to catch, which seemed to be the case again. The thought of driving further upstream to some known hot spots didn’t appeal to me. Thinking about what to do, I recalled that you and I once fished a place downstream about 20 or so years ago that was quite productive, so I decided to try to find it again. I’m glad I made that hike because it was a good spot. My plan was to leave camp no later than 6 a.m. so I could be in position by 6:45 a.m. I thought there would be a lot of fishermen there early, so I knew I’d have to get an early start, given that it was about a 45-minute walk. I set my alarm for 5 a.m. I awoke to the sound of Zach rummaging through what sounded like some kitchen gear and looked at my clock. It was 6:15! The alarm never went off. I jumped out of my sleeping bag; threw on some clothes, my waders and my fishing vest – fortunately, I had loaded up my vest the night before with everything I would need – shoved some pastry into my mouth and set out for my spot. As I was leaving camp, I heard Zach say “Good luck, Rob.” I replied softly, “Thanks.” When I saw my spot in the distance, there were perhaps 75 guys forming a U across the stream and on both sides of it. “Damn,” I said to myself. “I knew I had to get here early.” I quickly came to understand that getting there even at 6:45 would have been too late. But I managed to squeeze in between a guy in his 20s about 5 feet to my left and a kid about 12 years old 5 feet to my right (with his father standing next to him). All three stared at me curiously for the longest time for some reason. I thought perhaps they might have been admiring my fishing vest. Eventually, I tried to break the ice by remarking in a friendly, matter of fact tone: “There’s plenty in there for all of us, isn’t there?” But the stares continued.
(9) How does it feel to break out of the pack of two-time winners with your third Gabby, tying that old master Larry Selby and sharing fourth place with him on the all-time win list?
I have endured many years of ribbing about my Gabettes, Micro-Gabbys, Gabbinis – whatever we want to call them. Imagine going through life the past 28 years thinking you won twice before only because no one else could catch anything larger than a 10-inch, hatchery-raised rainbow just barely beyond development of a fingerling. A source of comfort, though, always has been in quiet reflection, remembering what Larry Selby had said to the hecklers: “Want to win the Gabby? Then catch a bigger fish!” Those who were around in 1979, my rookie year when I caught my first Gabby, might recall the serious campaign at camp on Saturday night to extend the competition to Sunday because the fishing was so bad. (It might have been bad for everyone else, but not for me.) The rallying for a second day of competition reached a fever pitch until Pittsburgher Dave Rubino put an end to the scheme by drawing the line in declaring, “Next thing you’ll want to do is to deny him the Gabby because he’s from Philadelphia!” While I relish in the prize of my very respectable 21.5-incher, there is a part of me that is sad to lose the uniqueness of my Gabby history. Perhaps next year I will return to my Gabby roots and take the prize with another 12-incher.
(10) Anything I missed? Would you like to make a short statement?
That just about sums it up.
2013
Shanks Wins Second Gabby on Swollen Kettle Creek By Founder Dane Konop
Heavy rain Wednesday and Thursday nights prior to the Gabby doubled the flow on Kettle Creek by Saturday morning, resulting in hazardously high and fast water and unpromising fishing conditions. Mike Shanks’ catch of a broad, 15-inch brook trout with an olive green X-rap was one of only three trout caught on opening day by the 21 Gabby Guys on the stream.
Officials are checking to determine if the resulting Gabby fish catching-quotient of 0.145 fish per Gabby Guy is the lowest on record in the 38 years the Gabby trophy has been awarded.
A “phantom” stalking may also have played a role in the low catch. The Pa. Fish and Boat Commission web page listed a stocking of browns and rainbows for Thursday, April 4, below the Rt. 144 Bridge. But the Potter Leader-Enterprise newspaper on Wednesday, April 10, reported the only stockings in Kettle Creek in April would not be until after opening day on Tuesday, April 16, at Ole Bull State Park. Go figure.
Cross Fork at noon Saturday was uncharacteristically crowded with fishermen, fisherwomen and fisherkids who had given up on the stream.
Remarkably, Mike caught a second, 11-inch rainbow trout in the afternoon. Perhaps even more remarkable, considering there were five other multiple Gabby winners in the water, the only other trout caught was a 11-inch brookie by Second-Gener Alex Bedont, despite having a rookie handicap in tow.
And that was it.
2014 (Dane Konop recap)
On Saturday, April 12, Alex Bedont of Centreville, Va., took the 2014 Gabby with a 12 5/8-inch rainbow trout, edging out fellow “Second Genner” and two-time Gabby winner Zach Anderson. The younger Bedont is the third Second Genner to win the Gabby. He and his father, 2009 Gabby winner Mark Bedont, are the third father and son duo to win the award, along with Zach and Byron Anderson and Ben and the late Larry Selby. Fishing in the best weather and stream conditions encountered in recent years by the Guys Gabby on opening day on Kettle Creek, Alex hooked his trout on a salmon egg at about 12:30 p.m. at the gas line right-of-way that crosses Kettle Creek a half mile downstream from Gabby Camp. With 22* Gabby Guys in camp, the younger Bedont beat out the 19 Gabby Guys who fished, all veterans, including seven previous Gabby winners.
It was clear sailing into Gabby Camp on Thursday, with sunny skies and temperatures reaching into the 60s throughout the region. With rain forecast for Thursday night, New Colaianneville was erected late afternoon. Just as forecast, rain arrived overnight and continued throughout the day on Friday, lifting the standing fire ban and allowing for a fire under the big tarp. As if on schedule, the rain diminished overnight Friday, giving way to gradually clearing skies on Saturday.
The higher than average 40-degree low overnight helped most Gabby Guys get out of camp and on the stream early Saturday morning. Although the overnight rain had muddied up Gabby Camp, fishing conditions on Kettle Creek were nearly ideal—slightly on the high side, but clear. After record high water on opening day last year on Kettle Creek and record low water the year before, the flow rate Saturday was 550 cubic feet per second, just a little above normal. There were obstacles. Numerous small ponds built by a hyperactive beaver and the hundreds and hundreds of sharply pointed stubs of sapling beech trees he cut down made paralleling the stream on land difficult and dangerous. Gabby Guys were forewarned by their memory of Karl Wendel being the first of the Gabby group to be trapped by a beaver trap set by a beaver when he stepped on one of these sharpened saplings stubs in 2008. But the water was just low enough that the stream could be walked in most places and crossed in hip boots in a few stretches between the Rt. 144 bridge and Gabby Camp. Some Gabby Guys caught fish in the a.m., some in the p.m. Several Gabby Guys got skunked. Three Gabby Guys stayed in camp. There was at least one swimmer. But everyone returned to camp safely and early enough for most Gabby Guys to prepare elaborate dinners, such as Jeff Mueller’s 72 chicken wings. Karl Wendel and other “camping minimalists” were in heaven, as every camp that cooked was giving away food.
The business meeting and awards ceremony Saturday night, MC’d by Founder Dane Konop, was unusually efficient, starting exactly at 9 p.m. and finishing well before midnight, and with none of the turmoil and tribulations usually associated with a Gabby business meeting.
The call to order was preceded by a musical interlude by two-time Gabby winner Keith “Robbie” Robinson and would-be Gabby Winner Alex Bedont. Their renditions of songs by James Taylor, Johnny Cash and other “oldies radio” artists appeared to please and pacify the crowd. The flow of the meeting was helped immeasurably by a masterful performance by Master-of-Arms Karl Wendel, who opened the meeting and reconvened the meeting after smoke breaks (“Gentlemen, one meeting at a time, please.”), in addition to his security duties.
Following the convocation by Senior Elder Steve Mueller and recognition of the Gabby Guys we’ve lost, a motion to excuse these deceased members from the meeting passed unanimously. The headcount that followed went off remarkably without a hitch, with the only hesitation coming from the number two man in the count.
While 2014 was not a particularly productive year, the fish count of 19 yielded a fish quotient (fish per fisherman) of 1.0, considerably higher than the record low quotient of 0.42 set in 2012, but well below the record 5.0 set in 1986, when 85 fish were caught by 13 Gabby Guys out of 17 on the stream, including 52 fish by Team Gabby.
In the Financial Report, Senior Elder Steve Mueller reported the cost of this year’s camp was a mere $7/person, covering a cord of wood and four bales of hay, with two complimentary bottles of Aaron Churchill’s red mountain hooch.
In other new business, Founder Dane Konop made a pitch for a “passing of the baton” at Gabby Camp, exhorting the Second Genners and other younger Gabby Guys to assume many of the responsibilities for running camp from the surviving but rapidly aging Elders. “If you want the Gabby to continue, it will increasingly fall on your shoulders to make it happen. You have to step up,” he told them.
To this effect, Darien Bodahl, a contemporary and invitee of the late Second Genner Karl Wendel IV, has officially assumed the title, duties and responsibilities of Gabby Fire Guy, after building Gabby Camp campfires for the past few years under the watchful eye of now Fire Guy Emeritus Steve Mueller. In addition to continuing to build beautiful fires, Darien will also arrange for wood and straw delivery. He also took over from Herr Dr. Mueller the duties of Keeper of Colaianneville. Other younger guys in camp have also stepped up, notably Drew Rose, who assists Darien by splitting and stacking wood and occasionally fire tending. For the first time in recent years, the “young” guys in Joe Camp-invitees and contemporaries of Second Genner Ben Selby- brought a keg of bear to camp for all to enjoy, a welcome reintroduction of draft beer to Gabby Camp.
In old business, Elder and four-time Gabby winner Byron “Andy” Anderson reported the Zoning Committee had approved the 2011 application for a new site for Joe Town, just off the Dave Town Pike. Andy noted that their case was bolstered considerably by the closing of Dave Town and the opening of the Joe Town Tavern. Jeff Mueller requested that “the Pike,” as it is now simply known, be cleared of obstructions and lighted for safety for next year’s camp.
Following only the fifth smoke break of the evening, the Awards Ceremony opened with an unorthodox call for consideration of a Gabby Rookie of the Year, even though there were no actual rookies in camp. Two-time Gabby Winner Keith “Robbie” Robinson and his Navy shipmate Ed Grugan, who was making his second Gabby appearance in 31 years and was one of two Gabby sophomores in camp, read a lengthy proposal of qualifications for a “Re-Rookie” of the Year. When some in the Gabby Group questioned whether criteria such as “must have fought a fire while being fired on by Henafi Muslims” unfairly skewed the competition toward Grugan, the proposal was sent to committee for further study.
In a surprise move, last year’s Gabby Winner Mike Shanks presented a small leaping trout trophy to all but one Gabby Guy in camp who had attended their first Gabby at least 25 years ago, with their first year inscribed on the trophy: Dane Konop (1969), Mark Bedont (1975), Keith Robinson (1979), Karl Wendel (1980), Steve Mueller (1981), Byron Anderson (1981) and Jeff Mueller (1987).
A dramatic rollout of Gabby contenders followed. With all the fish caught in the 9- to 12-inch range and apparently from the same stockery “litter,” it took some wrangling for the pack to be whittled down to two. When the dead contenders were laid side to side on the Gabby Fish Stick, the consensus was that Alex Bedont’s catch edged Zach Anderson’s by a mere 1/8 inch. Zach conceded and the judgment was upheld by a Founder “blind” review.
Last year’s Gabby winner Mike Shanks presented a classic standing fisherman trophy to this year’s champion, Alex Bedont. In his acceptance speech, Alex explained that he and his dad (Gabby Webmaster, Gabby Founders’ Award Winner and 2009 Gabby winner Mark Bedont) had fished the stream just below camp in the morning, without any luck. But acting on a tip from the local Trout Unlimited president that trout were stocked on April 3 near the Headgate Camp downstream from the gas line right-of-way, father and son pulled out five fish in a short time span at the cut, one being the eventual Gabby. In an interview after his acceptance speech, Alex also graciously attributed his success, in part, to the red, #12 salmon egg hooks given to him by his “Uncle” Dane to replace his long-shanked hooks.
After thanking the Gabby Guys for their uncommonly civil comraderie, Founder Dane adjourned the meeting.
The Gabby Guys awoke Sunday morning to balmy, short sleeve weather conditions, enabling most Gabby Guys to break camp and head for home by noon. Before leaving, Jeff Mueller gathered up five bags of trash and bottles littered about the Gabby Circle. Since there was some question whether Aaron Churchill would be back to retrieve trash, Jeff took the bags home with him, requesting that in 2015 the group be reminded to bag and remove trash before breaking camp. Aaron did arrive about 1 p.m. to pick up bags at a bargain $5 apiece. Also on Sunday, D.C. Konop, regularly one of the last Gabby Guys in camp, did his usual final trash pick-up around camp before the camp fire coals were doused and camp was broken.
###
*Jeff Cousins helped set up Colaianneville on Thursday, then disappeared. The last person to see him in camp, Founder Dane, said they talked briefly at Griffin Heights at dusk. Jeff reminded him that his pal the late Brian Griffin had named the intermittent stream that runs alongside the Heights “Cousins’ Run.” He speculates that Jeff was overcome by nostalgia and melancholy.
(from Elder Anderson)
FIRE BAN AGAIN*^#?*
The curse of good weather continues, 70’s in the daytime and 30’s at night. Jaymie arrives in camp after some concern that the Dr. would go AWOL. Eric Muller is on a top secret Gabby recruiting mission in Japan, and everyone goes to bed Thursday night and dreams of little hands giving Gabby backrubs after a hard day on the stream, or at least after a hard day. These rumors draw a larger than usual crowd to camp and at 28 snow fencing is put across the road to keep out any additional interlopers.
Brian Griffin wins the Gabby, and the nearly flameless business meeting is held at camp Mueller. Brian passes out early and is propped up with a stick, ala Paul Phillips.
Taking advantage of the large number of rookies in camp a new order of Gabby peerage was created. Gabby Elders. Mueller handled the pitch with a lean toward it being a fete comple to the still uncomprehending group. When he finished, we stooped, sat quietly for a moment, and looked out at all those blank rookie faces and Bingo! They had bought that whatever had just been said, proposed or pronounced applied to them, and in Gabby camp that’s all it takes. The three elders present are Mark Bedont, fireguy Mueller and me.
The rookie of the year for 2004, which was tabled at the 03 business meeting, was awarded to Joe of the PennState branch of Darian’s clan. I had the last word regarding all the rookies this year: "they all seemed to fit in quite well and in a few years down the road I may even know their names! But no one should get their hopes up."
Rumors in camp –
- That Founder Paul Phillips may return next year,
- That the Cross Forks Inn will be back up and running by next year
2006
(Mark's submission)
Mike Shanks won this one -- not without suspense, however. A rumor preceded his arrival back in camp that he had caught his fish beyond the Potter County line, although on Kettle Creek. Establishment of the facts, psychological jostling of the witnesses, debate over the veracity of the testimony, and discussion of the "legality" of the catch if he indeed was outside the county, went back and forth for some time before the final outcome. Throughout the deliberations, Mark waited with considerable anticipation as he was holding the THIRD of his "bridesmaid" trouts -- a nice 16" brown trout taken in a deep pool at the bend below camp.
In a recollection supplied to Mark for this piece, Mike summed up the situation that ensured his victory : "I do remember that I parked the car in Clinton County and then fished upstream to Potter, Elder M can verify this, so ...". So, another controversy resolved in fine Gabby fashion and a sure precedent averted until another time.
2007 -- the first year without Brian.
Andy's recap of this year:
Rob came in from IN. Zach was out this year due to work commitments. After a little shut-eye we leftColumbus about 4:30 a.m. for PA. Had our traditional breakfast in St. Marys, PA, made our brewery stop and hit the road. As I was leaving St. Mary’s my phone rang and it was Mueller telling me that his Zulu witch doctor wouldn’t release him to come to the Gabby. It seems that his wisely timed eye surgery had…go figure,not healed as rapidly as hoped. So he to explain to me how fishing could make him go blind and he couldn’t make the trip. At least not until his doctor took the rest of the pins out of his Mueller doll.
Pulling into camp I see that Mike Shanks has erected the Taj Mahal of Gabby camp, called Hotel Mueller. After sadly announcing to the shock and disbelief of most Gabby’s in camp that the Fire Guy would not be with us this year, I gave a silent 10 count and moved into his tent.
Dane and DC had been in camp since Wednesday. The Head Count that evening included: Dane, DC, Andy,Rob, Mike, Dave, Cook & friend, Gene, Dennis (the pole dancer), Krazy Karl and son Michael (rookie),Darien and rookie friends Julius and Joe.
Guest appearance by Dr. Trout who is staying in town attending a seminar on “the mating calls of the female mud shark” with him is non-fishing guest Chad
Jeff Cousins is missed but hopes are high that he’ll return.
Snow on the mountainsides and a clear night sky make for a cold, cold night, and even though opening day is sunny, the water temp is only 36 degrees and in spite of the fact that over 5,500 fish were dump into the stream at the bridge the last weekend of March the fish aren’t biting.
Caught my only fish at 9:45 a.m. by the old beaver dam downstream from the bridge with a salmon egg. Returned to camp for lunch and decided to call it a day. Loaned Darien my waders and kicked back and enjoyed the fire. Only nine fish caught. I won
The evening's business meeting slips closer and closer toward chaos as Karl tries to wrestle control of the floor away from Dane by making a motion to award himself a Lifetime Achievement Award. After much discussion and another verbal avalanche from the bills author the motion is put on hold while a committee is appointed to investigate whether or not a fitting achievement could be found.
2008
(Elder Andy's chronicle:
Wednesday
On the road by 10:30 a.m., in PA. by 12:30 p.m. Snowshoe at Mike Shanks cabin by 4:30 p.m. Mike's cabin 4.5 miles down the road from hell. Meet up with Mike & son Alex, Steve & Eric Mueller, Jaymie, Chad and me. Did a little target shooting behind Mike’s cabin where he has set up a small range. Mike cooked his own farm raised pork, mashed potatoes & broccoli for dinner. Broke out the cigars and port and had a good evening.
Thursday
Great weather – up, eat breakfast and take off in a caravan to Gabby camp.
A big camp for Thursday –
Head Count:
Elder Keith “Rob” Robinson & Joren the mad Viking (Rookie)
Founder Dane Konop
DC “The Quite Man” Konop
Fireguy Steve Mueller
Geisha Ranger Eric Mueller
Commodore Jeff Mueller
Cook & Dave Co-founders of Davetown, the Levittown of Gabby Camp.
E. Rod, Manager of the famous 24 hr. Davetown Diner
Dennis “The Pole Dancer”
Pyrotechnic proby Darien
Krazy Karl Wendel
Mike Wendel (title still being considered)
Dr. Trout PHDS
Chad (Gabby Chaplin)
Take a drive into Renovo to get some Straubs Dark and Yuengling Black & Tan. Stop in Cross Fork for fishing License but someone had cut through the phone line with a backhoe so I had to go to Lorry’s in Oleona. Stopped at Ole Bull State Park on the way back and saw a prime example of too much technology for the forest. A lightning strike from a recent storm had fried the electrical sensors on all the brand new automatic flush toilets recently installed, and they wouldn’t flush. Brand new restrooms useless. Campfire until 1:00 a.m., then to bed...rain by 1:15 a.m.
Friday
Elder Bedont & trubador son Alex, Joe of Dariens clan and Davetown John are the last arrivals in camp. Light rain off and on all day. Darien is given the fire duties while we wait for backordered repair parts for the older model Fireguy. Heavy rain and lightning later that evening but everyone dry and toasty under the tarp. We discuss the need to ask Jim to make a new tarp to keep as back-up since none of us is getting any younger.
Most people in bed by 1:30 a.m. Darien, Karl and Joe sleep by the fire.
Saturday
Up by 6:30 a.m. Fix breakfast and gear-up. Went to the old beaver dam below the wire and about 10:30 a.m. and caught a nice 13” rainbow on a salmon egg. At noon back to for lunch. 5:30 p.m. Dennis is in camp with a contender caught with a 5’ nickel plated model #69 stripers pole strung with 6 lb. Stren blue monofilament.
By 9:00 p.m. everyone was in camp but the Commodore who was last seen below the wire fishing like a man possessed, and clinging to the hope that he might bounce his bait off the nose of a blind trout (to whom the total darkness would make no difference). Search parties are sent out to find our wayward Gabby brother with the thought of finding him trying to struggle back to camp under the weight of his fish. Mike, Steve, Jaymie,Chad and Eric man the search party. The Commodore is found fishless along the road and is returned to camp. At this point we realize that the fish of Alex Shanks, our youthful 3 1/2 foot rookie, is our only hope of stopping the semi-sober Pole Dancer.
Meeting is interrupted by a medical emergency. Karl is who still learning the hard lessons of gravity trips over a metal fire ring and goes down in flames. Dr Trout is called in for first aide and the lad is patched up and returned, under heavy guard, to the meeting. The Gab-stick is brought out and another masterful round of Gabby Poker plays itself out at the campfire, but after all speeches, smoke breaks & emergency calls were exhausted the Gabby is finally presented to the Pole Dancer, who nearly stumbles trophy in hand, into the ragging Gabby fire while giving his acceptance speech. Congratulations Dennis!
Another year ends, and another countdown begins.
2009
Kettle Creek, Potter County, Pa. Maybe life is fair after all. After 26 trips to Kettle Creek since 1975, Elder Mark Bedont, 61, a three-time Gabby Bridesmaid, won the 2009 Gabby--his first--with a catch of a 13-1/2 rainbow trout taken mid-afternoon Saturday on a red worm upstream from the fly fishing only stretch of Kettle.
In a prepared statement, Bedont said, “The numbers may explain it, since it was the 40thanniversary of the Founders’ first Kettle Creek expedition and my 25th attempt at a Gabby trophy. Mostly, it took one day with dozens of casts, many, many snagged hooks, and one clear moment to catch that one fish.”
Bedont received the 2009 trophy--this year again in the form of a plaque with a mounted fisherman--from last year’s winner Dennis “The Pole Dancer” Frederick near the conclusion of a long and at times out-of-control business meeting, held for the first time in Dave Town.
Bedont’s trout just edged out a 13 1/4-inch contender by Alex Shanks, 11, a seasoned, year-round fisherman who many see as the next fishing phenom in Gabby Camp.
It was a big night for award hardware for Bedont. He received a “Gabby Founder Award,” presented by Founder Dane Konop at Saturday’s business meeting for his efforts to promote Gabby Camp and the Gabby Spirit, primarily through GabbyHayes.net. Bedont also took possession of the Gabby traveling trophy, the “Selby Cup,” and a one-liter “Gabby Goblet” 40th anniversary commemorative mug, as did all of the seven past Gabby winners in camp, courtesy of Konop.
There were only 27 fish caught by the 21 Gabby Guys in camp this year, in part due to the fact that the section of Kettle adjacent to Gabby Camp did not receive a nearby stocking. “I fished our traditional stretch of the creek from the fish for fun area all the way down to Gabby Camp from 8 until after 11,” Konop reported, “and I did not get a single nibble or see anyone else catch a single fish.”
According to a confidential tip to Jaymie “Dr. Trout” Smollens by local Aaron Neville, who delivers our firewood and straw, trout were stocked this year above the fly fishing only section of the stream and not at the pull off at the Rt. 144 bridge above Gabby Camp.
Among the veterans at camp this year was Ty Albert, who returned to the Gabby for the first time in four years after moving to Arizona to be massage therapist. Although professional lives of Gabby Guys are not much discussed in camp, Ty did reveal that one of his clients is the legendary Muhammad Ali, a cultural hero to many of the Gabby Guys. Others in the 09 camp included, in approximate order of arrival, Dave Phillips, Phil Cook, Byron “Andy” Anderson, Mike Shanks, rookie Tony Rose, Dane Christian Konop, Gene “E-Rod” Rodriguez, Jeff Mueller, Keith “Robbie” Robinson, Jeroen “Dutch” Honingh, Darien Bohdel, Karl Wendel and Michael Wendel.
Throughout the weekend, the weather remained dry and increasingly warm, with overnight temperatures ranging upward from near freezing overnight Wednesday/Thursday to the 60s to low 70s in the afternoons the rest of the week. Even after recent rains, the stream was very low, reflecting the continuing drought in the region. Because of the dry conditions, only a small cooking fire was built in a beautiful fire pit in Colaianneville. This caused the Saturday night business meeting to be moved to Dave Town, which provided a small, protected ceremonial fire.
One piece of Gabby trivia: Bedont caught this year’s Gabby on the 7-foot rod he bought in 1975 on a tackle-shopping trip in Indiana, Pa., with Gabby Founder Konop, who also bought the same rod and was fishing with Bedont when he caught this year’s Gabby.
Although Frederick did fall in the creek Saturday afternoon, there were no other major accidents or blood-letting injuries at this year’s camp to report.
2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010, was an amazingly productive day of fishing for the Gabby Guys, with even Karl Wendel and Jeff Mueller catching trout, their first ever on opening day.
But it was Zachary Anderson, 26, who beat out nearly two dozen other competitors on Kettle Creek, Potter County, Pa., to win his second Gabby Hayes Memorial Fishing Tournament with a 17 � -inch brown trout taken at about 10 a.m. on a salmon egg.
This year’s Gabby was one of 31 hooked by Zach and cousins Jeff and Ryan Rohde from the pool formed by the fallen beech tree about 100 yards downstream from the fly fishing only area. All but a few of these fish were caught and released.
Zach, who is the son of elder and four-time Gabby winner Byron “Andy” Anderson, also took the 2003 Gabby.
Back in camp, Zach said, “I missed (coming to Gabby camp) the past three years. Maybe we should call this the ‘Leap Gabby.’”
When asked what he planned to do with his catch of fish, Zach said, “I don’t know. I don’t eat fish. You want ‘em?”
The prevailing wisdom proffered by Dr. Trout and a few others in camp had been that there would be a dearth of fish on “our” stretch of Kettle, causing many other Gabby guys to head upstream near the swinging bridge below Ole Bull, which turned out to be a much less productive section of stream.
Despite, or maybe because of, low stream conditions, the 23 Gabby Guys who fished hooked a record 87 trout on opening day, topping the 85 trout hooked in 1986.
Although the temperatures ranged from about 80 degrees on Friday to a high in the 40’s on Saturday, the occasional rain showers that prevailed throughout the weekend were welcomed, as the standing fire ban was lifted, allowing a campfire in New Colaianneville.
Zach received the 2010 Gabby trophy, virtually uncontested, from last year’s winner, Mark Bedont, who designed a unique-looking 2010 trophy depicting a trout fisherman on a pedestal. Zach also took possession for one year of the Selby Cup, named after late founder Larry Selby, which includes a tag for each Gabby winner since trophies were first awarded in 1976.
Saturday night, while we all sat cozily around the campfire under the New Colaianneville tarp during a light off-and-on rain, Founder Paul Phillips ran an uncommonly efficient business meeting. The proceedings were, however, punctuated twice by rousing renditions of “God Bless America” sung with gusto by the Gabby Group, first to serve as a musical backdrop (and then muffler) to a long-winded speech by Karl Wendel, then again later for no apparent reason. Even the often disruptive smoke breaks were for the most part judiciously taken, allowing for a more than usually productive session.
Elder and Fireguy Steve Mueller opened the meeting with the annual memoriam to those Gabby guys who have passed on, the only legitimate excuse for missing Gabby Camp. The head count of 25 in camp, with 23 fishing, was reflected in the tight Gabby Circle being stacked two lawn chairs deep in some spots. After admonishing the group that costs for camp had risen dramatically this year, particularly for the two rookies in camp, Steve made the surprise announcement that an anonymous donor had picked up the cost of this year’s firewood and hay. Gabby Webmaster Mark Bedont made a pitch for more Gabby “After the Nutshell” memories, particularly for those years for which we have no written record—1989 and 1990—and promised other improvements at GabbyHayes.net.
In other notable new business, despite a smoothly delivered PR pitch, a proposal to officially recognize “Joe Town” on the Dave Town Pike was sent by majority vote to the Gabby Geographic Names Committee and the Traffic Safety Committee for review. One committee member observed that despite a slick presentation, one basic mistake had been made by the Joe Town group seeking name recognition--they applied for a permit.
2011: A Rain-Sodden, Genteel Gabby
by Dane Konop
A record twenty-eight Gabby Guys, half of them fathers and sons, took on the forces of Mother Nature in the 2011 Gabby Hayes Memorial Invitational Fishing Tournament on Kettle Creek, Potter County, Pa. With the passing of a massive storm front that turned Gabby Camp into a virtual mosh pit and with only 13 trout caught, let’s just call it a draw.
Braving a cold, persistent rain, gusty winds and high water on Kettle on opening day April 16, New York tribesman Jeff Cousin took an oddly thick-headed, 17-inch brook trout on a nightcrawler in the early afternoon to win the 2011 Gabby. Returning to Gabby Camp after a four-year absence, Jeff took his first Gabby from the pool formed where the stream forks to form the formerly fished backwater branch containing Brazilia and Fish City. At the awards ceremony Saturday night, the now-goateed, retired NYPD sergeant noted he caught his Gabby “a stone’s throw” from where fellow New York tribesman, the late Brian Griffin, caught his Gabby in 2005. Several large fish were taken from this pool on Saturday morning, including a very large rainbow by seven-time Gabby winner Jaymie “Dr. Trout” Smollens and a large brookie by six-time Gabby winner Founder Dane Konop, both now retired from active Gabby competition.
As often is the case in the spring in north-central Pa., the weather was highly variable and occasionally extreme. A light off-and-on rain greeted early arrivals Darien, Gene (aka “E. Rod”) and Dennis the Pole Dancer on Wednesday, finally petering out just about the time the two Danes arrived at 5:30.
Conditions on Thursday--dry and sunny with temperatures in the low 60s--were nearly ideal for the arrival of the bulk of camp, including Mike and Alex Shanks, Zach and Byron “Andy” Anderson, Jeff, Steve and Eric Mueller, Tony and rookie Drew Rose, Dr. Trout, and Jeff, who had all overnighted at the Shanks’ Camp. The number of Gabby Guys grew to 25 with the arrival of Dave Phillips and Phil Cook, Mark and Alex “the Entertainer” Bedont, and the Joe Towners--Joe, Chris, Julius and their three rookies. Cordial collegiality characterized each new arrival, as welcoming hand shakes were more often than not followed by bear hugs and pats on the back. Fortunately, the recent rains were enough for the standing fire ban to be lifted, allowing Fire Guy heir apparent Darien to build a beautiful blaze under New Colaianneville. At nightfall, a nearly full moon peaked through the patchy clouds over camp as the Gabby Guys settled into their chairs around the campfire, chowed down, sipped beverages, dodged gusts of smoke, and resumed old friendships.
On Friday, by the time Karl and Michael Wendel and finally Keith “Robby” Robinson straggled into camp, the weather was nearly ideal, with abundant sunshine and temps in the mid-60s. It turned out to be the proverbial calm before the storm. At the office at nearby Ole Bull State Park, the ranger had posted the Weather Service forecast for an approaching severe rain storm, possibly accompanied by high winds, thunder and lightning. The Gabby Guys took note and tarped over, tied down and otherwise weatherized their tents as best they could.
Precisely as forecast, the rain began at about 7 a.m. Saturday morning, just as most Gabby Guys prepared to head to the stream. The temperature had dropped overnight into the low 30s. Some followed Andy’s strategy—wait ‘er out in camp. It would be a long wait, as the rain persisted throughout the morning. Around noon, a rogue wind gust lifted New Colaianneville into the air, pulling the steel center pole about three feet off the ground before it could be corralled. By mid-day, just as E. Rod and his new knee stomped into camp, the rain lifted briefly, encouraging even Darien to gear up and hit the creek. The rain continued off and mostly on all afternoon, pushing the already high water levels on Kettle up another half foot by mid-afternoon. Few fish were taken, and several of these were found under logs and in side pools where they had sought refuge from the fast water in the main channel. Despite the deteriorating conditions, a half dozen determined Gabby Guys remained on the stream until nearly sunset.
Back in camp, the steady rain was turning the ground around New Colaianneville into a big, muddy mess, “like Woodstock but without the music and women,” one Gabby Guy observed.
The camp business meeting was uncommonly uncontroversial and civil, with the Gabby Guys actually following the agenda laid out and conducted by Founder Dane. Even smoke breaks kept to the script. In his convocation to open the meeting, Elder Steve Mueller paid tribute to those Gabby Guys who have passed on, then made the happy announcement of a “free camp,” as an anonymous donor had once again picked up the cost of firewood and straw.
As the rain continued unabated, last year’s Gabby winner Zach Anderson brought out the Selby Cup for display and teased the crowd by passing around the 2011 trophy. Cigars appeared seemingly everywhere around the Gabby Circle as smoke break #1 was called.
Hospitality ruled the smoky Gabby circle around the campfire during the break, as Mike Shanks offered up his marinated venison chunks and Jeff Mueller worked the crowd like a ballpark food vendor: “Pretzels, peanuts, stick of gum?”
Old business included Andy’s Zoning Report, which revealed the approval of the new front entrance hall on the now massive, triple-tarped 20x10-foot carport that some in camp were calling “Shanksylvania.” Andy reported that the minimall monstrosity received expedited approval, apparently because of its designation as a camp emergency medical center.
In new business, Founder Dane introduced a new standing feature of the business meeting, which he called the “Gabby Suggestion Box,” when individual Gabby Guys could bring up any ideas they may have been harboring for improving camp, either physically or spiritually. It was not intended, he explained, as a bully pulpit or a soap box to sound off. Elder Andy suggested we initiate a new “Wendal (sic) Safety Award,” given to the Gabby Guy whose safety record is most improved from the previous year. Elder Steve Mueller suggested a “Jeff Mueller Award,” given to any Gabby Guy who leaves camp under a dark cloud, then returns in time to fish. Karl Wendel’s suggestion, which was not recorded, was accepted unanimously by the group. A smoke break put a merciful end to the segment.
Founder Dane recalled the group to order with his best imitation of a tv floor manager: “Gentlemen, we’re back in five, four, three, two, one. And we’re back!”
The pitiful 0.46-fish-per-fisherman fish count that followed revealed the undeniable truth that Mother Nature had gotten the best of the Gabby Guys—at least on the stream, and maybe in camp.
When laid out on the Gabstick for measurement, Jeff’s 17-inch brook trout, which some said looked a little “basslike,” was an uncontested Gabby winner. Ever a man of few words, Jeff’s brief acceptance speech was quickly followed by an adjournment call from Founder Dane, who commended all for their camp decorum and for enduring the weather with nary a whine nor a whimper.
Overnight, Mother Nature cut the Gabby Guys a break. By Sunday morning, the storm had passed, allowing the guys to break camp and return home under mostly rain-free conditions. By mid-afternoon, nearly all the Gabby Guys had departed, with only Rob left in Gabby Camp to squeeze out just one more day of quiet fishing before making the solo drive back to Indiana (the state).
As a postscript, the storm that rolled through Potter County Saturday turned out to be the leading edge of one of the largest tornadic storm systems in recent years, causing widespread death and destruction as it pummeled its way eastward from the mid-west to the mid-Atlantic. Although the water levels in Kettle Creek were high enough to make stream crossing nearly impossible and fishing difficult on Saturday, the USGS graph for the period shows that the Gabby Guys were actually lucky. Kettle Creek stream flow dropped steadily, from a high of 1,000 cubic feet per second on Wednesday to a low of just under 500 cfs on Saturday, followed by a steep rise again to 1,000 by Monday. The 70-year mean discharge rate for Kettle for this time period is about 400 cfs.
Catching the Gabby of 2012
Questions by Founder Dane Konop. Answers by Gabby 2012 Champion Keith Robinson.
(1) What bait did you use to catch the brown? Did you try other baits?
I landed it with a red worm. I started with red worms, had two trout on my line within minutes but lost both, then landed a 13-inch brown within 15 minutes. I then went on a dry spell for a half hour, getting not even a nibble while other guys around me were pulling out fish left and right. The two next to me were landing trout with meal worms. I didn’t have any meal worms, so I switched to pink, garlic-flavored salmon eggs. Still, no nibbles. After two eggs, I went back to red worms and landed the Gabby.
(2) What time did you catch the brown?
Caught the Gabby about 9:15 a.m.
(3) Did you catch it mid-stream in the long straight stretch below the gas-line cut?
It was in mid-stream about 1,500 yards past the gas-line cut.
(4) What was your technique?
I was in a section of the stream where there were lots of trout and about 75 other fishermen standing shoulder to shoulder. My technique was to simply cast out there and hope that I don’t get snagged on someone else’s line.
(5) What was you second fish and how and when did you catch it?
The “other” was a 13-inch brown caught at the same place about a half-hour before I landed the Gabby.
(6) What size line did you use? Weight? Hook? Swivel or tied directly? Length of rod? Rod action? Type of reel, e.g., open-faced spin cast?
I used 4-pound test line with a split-shot sinker about 18 inches above a No. 12 hook tied directly (no swivel). I have a 5-foot-long rod, a Shakespeare Ugly Stick with an open-faced spin cast reel. Don’t know what the rod action is. But I found out it bends a lot!
(7) Any other tackle details?
No, don’t think so.
(8) What was your plan? Leave camp early and ...
I had found the spot late Friday afternoon. I decided to walk downstream after a group of us scoped out upstream earlier in the day, seeing nothing much of anything other than a palomino under some fallen tree trunks near camp. I had been disappointed the past couple of years with our traditional stretch of stream, where I enjoy fishing. But I don’t enjoy it so much if there’s nothing there to catch, which seemed to be the case again. The thought of driving further upstream to some known hot spots didn’t appeal to me. Thinking about what to do, I recalled that you and I once fished a place downstream about 20 or so years ago that was quite productive, so I decided to try to find it again. I’m glad I made that hike because it was a good spot. My plan was to leave camp no later than 6 a.m. so I could be in position by 6:45 a.m. I thought there would be a lot of fishermen there early, so I knew I’d have to get an early start, given that it was about a 45-minute walk. I set my alarm for 5 a.m. I awoke to the sound of Zach rummaging through what sounded like some kitchen gear and looked at my clock. It was 6:15! The alarm never went off. I jumped out of my sleeping bag; threw on some clothes, my waders and my fishing vest – fortunately, I had loaded up my vest the night before with everything I would need – shoved some pastry into my mouth and set out for my spot. As I was leaving camp, I heard Zach say “Good luck, Rob.” I replied softly, “Thanks.” When I saw my spot in the distance, there were perhaps 75 guys forming a U across the stream and on both sides of it. “Damn,” I said to myself. “I knew I had to get here early.” I quickly came to understand that getting there even at 6:45 would have been too late. But I managed to squeeze in between a guy in his 20s about 5 feet to my left and a kid about 12 years old 5 feet to my right (with his father standing next to him). All three stared at me curiously for the longest time for some reason. I thought perhaps they might have been admiring my fishing vest. Eventually, I tried to break the ice by remarking in a friendly, matter of fact tone: “There’s plenty in there for all of us, isn’t there?” But the stares continued.
(9) How does it feel to break out of the pack of two-time winners with your third Gabby, tying that old master Larry Selby and sharing fourth place with him on the all-time win list?
I have endured many years of ribbing about my Gabettes, Micro-Gabbys, Gabbinis – whatever we want to call them. Imagine going through life the past 28 years thinking you won twice before only because no one else could catch anything larger than a 10-inch, hatchery-raised rainbow just barely beyond development of a fingerling. A source of comfort, though, always has been in quiet reflection, remembering what Larry Selby had said to the hecklers: “Want to win the Gabby? Then catch a bigger fish!” Those who were around in 1979, my rookie year when I caught my first Gabby, might recall the serious campaign at camp on Saturday night to extend the competition to Sunday because the fishing was so bad. (It might have been bad for everyone else, but not for me.) The rallying for a second day of competition reached a fever pitch until Pittsburgher Dave Rubino put an end to the scheme by drawing the line in declaring, “Next thing you’ll want to do is to deny him the Gabby because he’s from Philadelphia!” While I relish in the prize of my very respectable 21.5-incher, there is a part of me that is sad to lose the uniqueness of my Gabby history. Perhaps next year I will return to my Gabby roots and take the prize with another 12-incher.
(10) Anything I missed? Would you like to make a short statement?
That just about sums it up.
2013
Shanks Wins Second Gabby on Swollen Kettle Creek By Founder Dane Konop
Heavy rain Wednesday and Thursday nights prior to the Gabby doubled the flow on Kettle Creek by Saturday morning, resulting in hazardously high and fast water and unpromising fishing conditions. Mike Shanks’ catch of a broad, 15-inch brook trout with an olive green X-rap was one of only three trout caught on opening day by the 21 Gabby Guys on the stream.
Officials are checking to determine if the resulting Gabby fish catching-quotient of 0.145 fish per Gabby Guy is the lowest on record in the 38 years the Gabby trophy has been awarded.
A “phantom” stalking may also have played a role in the low catch. The Pa. Fish and Boat Commission web page listed a stocking of browns and rainbows for Thursday, April 4, below the Rt. 144 Bridge. But the Potter Leader-Enterprise newspaper on Wednesday, April 10, reported the only stockings in Kettle Creek in April would not be until after opening day on Tuesday, April 16, at Ole Bull State Park. Go figure.
Cross Fork at noon Saturday was uncharacteristically crowded with fishermen, fisherwomen and fisherkids who had given up on the stream.
Remarkably, Mike caught a second, 11-inch rainbow trout in the afternoon. Perhaps even more remarkable, considering there were five other multiple Gabby winners in the water, the only other trout caught was a 11-inch brookie by Second-Gener Alex Bedont, despite having a rookie handicap in tow.
And that was it.
2014 (Dane Konop recap)
On Saturday, April 12, Alex Bedont of Centreville, Va., took the 2014 Gabby with a 12 5/8-inch rainbow trout, edging out fellow “Second Genner” and two-time Gabby winner Zach Anderson. The younger Bedont is the third Second Genner to win the Gabby. He and his father, 2009 Gabby winner Mark Bedont, are the third father and son duo to win the award, along with Zach and Byron Anderson and Ben and the late Larry Selby. Fishing in the best weather and stream conditions encountered in recent years by the Guys Gabby on opening day on Kettle Creek, Alex hooked his trout on a salmon egg at about 12:30 p.m. at the gas line right-of-way that crosses Kettle Creek a half mile downstream from Gabby Camp. With 22* Gabby Guys in camp, the younger Bedont beat out the 19 Gabby Guys who fished, all veterans, including seven previous Gabby winners.
It was clear sailing into Gabby Camp on Thursday, with sunny skies and temperatures reaching into the 60s throughout the region. With rain forecast for Thursday night, New Colaianneville was erected late afternoon. Just as forecast, rain arrived overnight and continued throughout the day on Friday, lifting the standing fire ban and allowing for a fire under the big tarp. As if on schedule, the rain diminished overnight Friday, giving way to gradually clearing skies on Saturday.
The higher than average 40-degree low overnight helped most Gabby Guys get out of camp and on the stream early Saturday morning. Although the overnight rain had muddied up Gabby Camp, fishing conditions on Kettle Creek were nearly ideal—slightly on the high side, but clear. After record high water on opening day last year on Kettle Creek and record low water the year before, the flow rate Saturday was 550 cubic feet per second, just a little above normal. There were obstacles. Numerous small ponds built by a hyperactive beaver and the hundreds and hundreds of sharply pointed stubs of sapling beech trees he cut down made paralleling the stream on land difficult and dangerous. Gabby Guys were forewarned by their memory of Karl Wendel being the first of the Gabby group to be trapped by a beaver trap set by a beaver when he stepped on one of these sharpened saplings stubs in 2008. But the water was just low enough that the stream could be walked in most places and crossed in hip boots in a few stretches between the Rt. 144 bridge and Gabby Camp. Some Gabby Guys caught fish in the a.m., some in the p.m. Several Gabby Guys got skunked. Three Gabby Guys stayed in camp. There was at least one swimmer. But everyone returned to camp safely and early enough for most Gabby Guys to prepare elaborate dinners, such as Jeff Mueller’s 72 chicken wings. Karl Wendel and other “camping minimalists” were in heaven, as every camp that cooked was giving away food.
The business meeting and awards ceremony Saturday night, MC’d by Founder Dane Konop, was unusually efficient, starting exactly at 9 p.m. and finishing well before midnight, and with none of the turmoil and tribulations usually associated with a Gabby business meeting.
The call to order was preceded by a musical interlude by two-time Gabby winner Keith “Robbie” Robinson and would-be Gabby Winner Alex Bedont. Their renditions of songs by James Taylor, Johnny Cash and other “oldies radio” artists appeared to please and pacify the crowd. The flow of the meeting was helped immeasurably by a masterful performance by Master-of-Arms Karl Wendel, who opened the meeting and reconvened the meeting after smoke breaks (“Gentlemen, one meeting at a time, please.”), in addition to his security duties.
Following the convocation by Senior Elder Steve Mueller and recognition of the Gabby Guys we’ve lost, a motion to excuse these deceased members from the meeting passed unanimously. The headcount that followed went off remarkably without a hitch, with the only hesitation coming from the number two man in the count.
While 2014 was not a particularly productive year, the fish count of 19 yielded a fish quotient (fish per fisherman) of 1.0, considerably higher than the record low quotient of 0.42 set in 2012, but well below the record 5.0 set in 1986, when 85 fish were caught by 13 Gabby Guys out of 17 on the stream, including 52 fish by Team Gabby.
In the Financial Report, Senior Elder Steve Mueller reported the cost of this year’s camp was a mere $7/person, covering a cord of wood and four bales of hay, with two complimentary bottles of Aaron Churchill’s red mountain hooch.
In other new business, Founder Dane Konop made a pitch for a “passing of the baton” at Gabby Camp, exhorting the Second Genners and other younger Gabby Guys to assume many of the responsibilities for running camp from the surviving but rapidly aging Elders. “If you want the Gabby to continue, it will increasingly fall on your shoulders to make it happen. You have to step up,” he told them.
To this effect, Darien Bodahl, a contemporary and invitee of the late Second Genner Karl Wendel IV, has officially assumed the title, duties and responsibilities of Gabby Fire Guy, after building Gabby Camp campfires for the past few years under the watchful eye of now Fire Guy Emeritus Steve Mueller. In addition to continuing to build beautiful fires, Darien will also arrange for wood and straw delivery. He also took over from Herr Dr. Mueller the duties of Keeper of Colaianneville. Other younger guys in camp have also stepped up, notably Drew Rose, who assists Darien by splitting and stacking wood and occasionally fire tending. For the first time in recent years, the “young” guys in Joe Camp-invitees and contemporaries of Second Genner Ben Selby- brought a keg of bear to camp for all to enjoy, a welcome reintroduction of draft beer to Gabby Camp.
In old business, Elder and four-time Gabby winner Byron “Andy” Anderson reported the Zoning Committee had approved the 2011 application for a new site for Joe Town, just off the Dave Town Pike. Andy noted that their case was bolstered considerably by the closing of Dave Town and the opening of the Joe Town Tavern. Jeff Mueller requested that “the Pike,” as it is now simply known, be cleared of obstructions and lighted for safety for next year’s camp.
Following only the fifth smoke break of the evening, the Awards Ceremony opened with an unorthodox call for consideration of a Gabby Rookie of the Year, even though there were no actual rookies in camp. Two-time Gabby Winner Keith “Robbie” Robinson and his Navy shipmate Ed Grugan, who was making his second Gabby appearance in 31 years and was one of two Gabby sophomores in camp, read a lengthy proposal of qualifications for a “Re-Rookie” of the Year. When some in the Gabby Group questioned whether criteria such as “must have fought a fire while being fired on by Henafi Muslims” unfairly skewed the competition toward Grugan, the proposal was sent to committee for further study.
In a surprise move, last year’s Gabby Winner Mike Shanks presented a small leaping trout trophy to all but one Gabby Guy in camp who had attended their first Gabby at least 25 years ago, with their first year inscribed on the trophy: Dane Konop (1969), Mark Bedont (1975), Keith Robinson (1979), Karl Wendel (1980), Steve Mueller (1981), Byron Anderson (1981) and Jeff Mueller (1987).
A dramatic rollout of Gabby contenders followed. With all the fish caught in the 9- to 12-inch range and apparently from the same stockery “litter,” it took some wrangling for the pack to be whittled down to two. When the dead contenders were laid side to side on the Gabby Fish Stick, the consensus was that Alex Bedont’s catch edged Zach Anderson’s by a mere 1/8 inch. Zach conceded and the judgment was upheld by a Founder “blind” review.
Last year’s Gabby winner Mike Shanks presented a classic standing fisherman trophy to this year’s champion, Alex Bedont. In his acceptance speech, Alex explained that he and his dad (Gabby Webmaster, Gabby Founders’ Award Winner and 2009 Gabby winner Mark Bedont) had fished the stream just below camp in the morning, without any luck. But acting on a tip from the local Trout Unlimited president that trout were stocked on April 3 near the Headgate Camp downstream from the gas line right-of-way, father and son pulled out five fish in a short time span at the cut, one being the eventual Gabby. In an interview after his acceptance speech, Alex also graciously attributed his success, in part, to the red, #12 salmon egg hooks given to him by his “Uncle” Dane to replace his long-shanked hooks.
After thanking the Gabby Guys for their uncommonly civil comraderie, Founder Dane adjourned the meeting.
The Gabby Guys awoke Sunday morning to balmy, short sleeve weather conditions, enabling most Gabby Guys to break camp and head for home by noon. Before leaving, Jeff Mueller gathered up five bags of trash and bottles littered about the Gabby Circle. Since there was some question whether Aaron Churchill would be back to retrieve trash, Jeff took the bags home with him, requesting that in 2015 the group be reminded to bag and remove trash before breaking camp. Aaron did arrive about 1 p.m. to pick up bags at a bargain $5 apiece. Also on Sunday, D.C. Konop, regularly one of the last Gabby Guys in camp, did his usual final trash pick-up around camp before the camp fire coals were doused and camp was broken.
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*Jeff Cousins helped set up Colaianneville on Thursday, then disappeared. The last person to see him in camp, Founder Dane, said they talked briefly at Griffin Heights at dusk. Jeff reminded him that his pal the late Brian Griffin had named the intermittent stream that runs alongside the Heights “Cousins’ Run.” He speculates that Jeff was overcome by nostalgia and melancholy.
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