The beginning of the Morel season has begun. My old buddy Trevor Storlie and I have been pounding away over the years, competing in ever sense of the way, on who can collect the most morel mushrooms in a single weekend. If you read this blog last year, you know that the winner wears the ring, Precious. So the Storlies decided that they had to have a Morel Mobile Recon Station in order to compete this year.
The Nanna’s however roll in something a little bit larger, only because they take the Morel quest a little seriously and the new King needs a palace with a comfortable throne if you know what I mean.
Trevor came to Morel camp sort of like a heavy weight fighter who won his first fight, then underestimated his next opponent so he decided not to train. Instead he decided to eat, and drink like a true egotistic champion. He was unfocused and lacked discipline. I came into camp mentally prepared and focused on my efforts to put thy ring on thy finger. While I was up at first light combing the mountain side, Trevor remained in bed.
When I returned I noticed that Trevor was speaking to some mountain bikers and having a ridiculous conversation on what seat was more comfortable in the rain, if the rear brake theory was really true, and if they ever saw cougers riding their bikes.
I walked by as I refocused my attention on the other side of camp where morning light was concentrated. His oldest son Askel must have been bored with the conversation and decided to join me on my quest up the other side of the mountain.
I remembered vaguely how his father had once burned the fire in his belly, and now it was apparent that his son would carry the torch from this moment on.
It did not take long before we found what we began our quest for. The infamous black morel.
We celebrated in the woods, finding Askel’s first morel at 3 years of age , and his father by birth right was nowhere to be found.
The two of us returned back down to the mountain to where the woman and children were. Guess what we found?
Trevor was still talking a big game, but had produced nothing but hot air that morning.
The remainder of the weekend I basically put on a “Morel Clinic” for my friend. He never recovered in count, and I kept racking the morel count numbers with my excellent vision, sweat, and the purest of due diligences.
On the second day, he knew he had been bested and the ring was loose on his finger.
The season is just upon us and really has not kicked into high gear. I would say about a week or so out, but I think it is going to be another fantastic season. On the final day, I was finally knighted and we all celebrated fresh morels from the hard work of Axel and I at the fire side, while his father sat alone eating a hotdog.
It was a slow start to the season, with about forty mushrooms found. But as I said it is only getting started.
Well folks that is the story of the weekend. I am sure there will be more to come, I hope Trevor will regroup to his training camp and come back for another beat down in the woods.