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>a few summers ago
>arrived in the morning. grabbed my bag out of the trunk
>short hike to destination ( like an 40 minutes or so, not really a hike more of a sort of casual walk where I stop to look at every mushroom or flower I come across to look at it like the autistic kid always does at the model airplane shop)
>arrive and look around. looking as stunning as ever
>slowly start to notice some trash left behind by probably teenagers squashed beer can in fire place. busted cheapo camp chair that they couldent be assed to carry to the trail head where there is even a trash can
>clean up
>set up tent. fire. fish for a bit
>after I get a bit bored with fishing I decide its time for breakfast
>cook fresh eggs and potatoes. tasted define. plannened on having cought some fish but they weren't biting
>as im sitting there enjoying my meal looking over the lake just taking in the site
>an really old man (atleast 70) dressed almost entirely in tweed in the way only old men can pull off comes riding in on a bike, like one of those old timey city bikes with space for a advert on the cross bar
>we greet and I offer him a bite to eat.water. beer. but he declines says he has something else to do
>don't really think about it but kind of odd since we are in the middle of some woods where there isn't really anything to do besides fish and be in the woods
this is where it gets kind of depressing
>so the old guy goes a little down the beach where there is a big rock and starts rooting through his pockets.
>he pulls out a wooden framed picture of an old lady smiling (wife maybe? given his age it would be quite possible he is widower)
>sits down and reads the daily newspaper for about an hour then packs up
> smiles at me and says his goodbyes to me then rides off
pic is the lake
