The horizon was full of tall pine trees. All along the back side of the old house. The warmth of the sun provided some heat, breaking through the open window blinds in the morning. No chance of seeing the sunset in the evening. With mountains so high, the last ray of sun would be seen in mid-afternoon. Ed's home was set in the Appalachia foot-hills. Amazing how tall the mountains seemed right behind his old house. So damn steep. Almost straight up in some spots. About 120 acres total, owned by Ed, had been owned by his family for many generations. This had always been home to Ed.
     What might be on the other side, I wondered. Ed told me of a lake. Once surrounded by farmland. At least 30 years it had been since he'd seen the other side. He had pointed out an old abandoned road. There was no longer a clearance for travel, but a ridge in the side of the mountain, gradually climbing around, disappearing into this large forest, halfway up the north side.
     I had a few guns in my case at home. It had been years since my last hunt. Ed and I had seen many large bucks in the area. Figured I'd give it a try. Hell, if I bagged a big one, the old man would teach me a little about preparing and cooking, maybe?
     Saturday morning, I head onto the old abandoned logging road. Stopping now and then for a listen. Plus, with the long, steep climb, I was bound to begin sweating if I pushed myself. Sweat would guarantee no trophy buck for the day. I took a total of about 40 minutes getting to the "sweet spot." Overlooking fields, amazingly not covered with trees. I could see the old lake below, to my right. After sitting, watching for an hour and a half, I had lost interest in my direct surroundings. I could see a ridge running down the face of the mountain I had been watching from. If I follow there, it should lead me straight to the lake.
     The walk downhill wasn't so bad. The path I chose had led me to a brook, leading to the lake. Gravel on the banks of this narrow brook were too tempting. Hell, I could skip a few, then head back to Ed's. First throw, the flat stone darted straight down and fast into the lake water. Near the bank. The water was deep, I could tell by the sound made when the stone thudded into the water. As a huge lunker splashed the top of the water where I had just thrown the flat stone, I thought to myself..... "I knew I shoulda brought my fuckin pole!"