Log entry from February 2008
"I had heard about Camp Nasty but always thought it was a mythical place."

It is more than mystical. It is a place where friends meet.


Danny, Anton and I spent a day in a magical place on the edge of civilization. Spruce Swamp is a world of its own.


Anton saw three hare today. I saw one. No shots were fired.

Nature has a way of taking care of her own. Can you see the hare in the center of this picture?


The fire died down during our hunt in the Swamp. The was just enough heat and time left to sign the log before we left.


This post is in memory of Bob Reed. Bob and his beagle Stump joined us on our February 2007 Hare Hunt in Spruce Swamp. Bob died of natural causes in November 2007. He is sadly missed by the members of Spruce Swamp Beagle Club. Center kneeling.


Bob and Stump January 2007

Looks like a very special place.

Coalman,

As usual very cool. I notice a lot of snow shoes in your pictures, how deep is it? A friend of mine move to Cadalac Michigan and he said he was having troublt hunting because they had 7 feet of snow by mid December. Yikes! Wondering if you are the same.

It has been a cold wet one here, but no snow to speak of. It is like the cold and wet are out of cycle to make snow. It has rained a lot.

I hunt quite a bit and my wife is starting to complain about being a hunter's widow. I think you hunt even more than myself. I am a little green with envy.

Always wanted to ask, Why Coalman? Do you do some mining?

Best Regards,
Vic

Outstanding pics! I agree wtih Dale, a very special place indeed.

Having just lost a treasured hunting spot, allow me to say this: drink deeply and savor every moment in such a special place. They do not exist indefinitely.

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.

Coalman,

Didn't realize you were a transplant. I grew up in northern West By God Virginia. I miss the area, but jobs are scarce and I like to eat. I like the area around Baltimore but don't care for the local attitude. I am use to friendships meaning something, but in the Northeast corridor, they are a thing of convenience. Great stories. Keep them coming.

I spent Sunday cleaning my guns and putting them up for the winter. I am hoping to go hog hunting in Georgia end of Feb, begining of March. I have never shot my own pork and thought it time.

Hope the trapping goes well!

Regards,
Vic

Vic, I am a Yankee true and true. I was the Secretary for the NH Trappers Association. The Northeast Trappers Conference was going to be held in Glenville, WV.

Jim Woods of Hilton Village, WV a hall of fame WV Trapper (RIP) invited any rep down to stay at his house and hunt spring gobblers. They didn't have to ask twice.

Jim took me to Middle Hollow and I shot my first WV longbeard. That afternoon Jim introduced me to two of his friends. The rest of the week we hunted together. One fellow was the preacher at Hilton Village Baptist Church. I called in the first spring gobbler he ever shot. I was invited back and went down and stayed at the preachers house for 14 straight spring gobbler seasons.

I haven't been back since 2002. My host was able to secure the lease of Coalman Hollow. I owe him a visit.