Vic, we have about a foot + of snow locally. There is a good base and the snowmobiles have been very active.
Snowshoes are recommended apparel in our neck of the woods in winter. 
Coalman is in reference to my most special place. Coalman Hollow in West Virginia. Where a boy became a man.
I would like to share Anton's post from our home site about his feelings after visiting Spruce Swamp.
Danceswithsquirrels wrote;
Two and a half years of rumors, some old photos, pics of diaries, whispered tales and today was the day. The morning started early as I woke up, packed, kissed the family and met Coalman and Danny at a gas station on a highway exit bright and early. We headed to the woods and after a bit of a drive we parked and pulled on the snowshoes. As we did, I realized where all the swampbunnies in my WMU were hiding... right here on the swamp edge! Tracks were everywhere.
As we headed in along the snow covered pathways, it was a tracking practice paradise... Hare, Fisher, some Mink, lots of various canine type all converged in the woods and shifting edges of swamp, forest, and the occasional clearing. As we neared the swamp I spotted a buck off to our side and pointed out to Danny. He thought I had meant tracks and didn't look up in time... it shot off along the swamp edge in the direction we came... large, 180 easy.
As Coalman led in silence I could barely pick out the overgrown trail. Houndsmen had not run the paths down in years, nature had begun to reclaim her secret, boughs creeping inwards with patience over the years. Coalman let us know that this place was once full of well worn paths the hounds had used. The only thing remaining appeared to be hare runs and a pair of very overgrown paths through the swamp.
The swamp was always in our thoughts heading in-the ice was solid but not that solid and with a nearby spring, the swamp was always a just a footfall away... we broke threw the layer of ice every dozen or steps, the resulting in a spray of muck painting the white snow. Camp Nasty earned her name.
Walking in was solemn, a strange feeling for me. I knew some of the tales, the hunters who tread before me and were no longer with us, and stories of this place-and now was being invited in and shown her secret...
Coalman stops, grins and nods-it takes me almost two full minutes to realize I am standing in front of Camp Nasty. Over here a collapse latrine, suddenly a chair appears here, then I make out a chimney through a roof and it all comes into focus through the thick trees... the cover is really thick here, and one could be standing 15 steps from a school bus and not know it in this place. Little talk at this point, we go to task, lighting the stove, gathering kindling, taking care of Cooper Dans hound. Soon the smell of smoke wafts over the swamp. We all go inside, Coalman relays some of the tales, we take turns reading the camp diaries. Life is good.
Later we go outside and hunt, we see hare but no clear safe shots are offered so we stay on the side of caution. One must take care-a partner could be 10 feet in front of you in this place.
Toward the end of the day we ran into a trio of hare hunters with 2 hounds. They were also hunting and had heard about Camp Nasty but not found it... we were 60 yards away and had a fire burning brightly and which sprayed a gray-white wood scented cloud over the swamp edges but it could have been 100 miles away. We pointed them in the direction and perhaps they too will visit soon and perhaps they will one day join us here to share in the camaraderie of the hunt and her traditions.
Note that I write here like the place is a mystery... it is. Many folks have heard of it, few have visited. Places like this are very few and far between and a North East treasure. For Geocachers in the North East US, this is a real prize-diary entries from them writing about this "grail" location are almost reverent-remember, you cannot just go there. Weather and time of year, conditions, all play a part of whether it is even possible to reach this location, let alone find it those last few yards.
Thank you Coalman, Danny and all those who made the journey before me.
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Center kneeling.
