My cousin Claudia’s in-laws have a cottage on western New Hampshire Lake Mascoma, and she and her husband John allowed a bunch of us to invite ourselves to help them install their dock. They are brave souls. Anita, Melissa and I had all been there before as part of our book club’s girl’s weekend. A couple of the guys hadn’t seen the place yet, so we set the date and made our way north with food and adult beverages, bathing suits and sweatshirts, looking for any mischief we could get ourselves into.

While the men toiled the ladies floated around the lake with Rum Pums (AKA Rum Punch as stated by those who have, as John put it, “lost touch with the spacetime continuum.” There were several of us).

Claudia’s father, Roger, also known as The Fish Whisperer, had been there just before we arrived, and told tales of a big one hanging around at the base of the steps to the water. This freshwater carp (Cyprinus carpio), 30 inches long, and probably 25 pounds was said to be just off shore and was responding to the chum Roger was feeding it; sticky oatmeal made into small balls. He’d caught it once and it fought him for a while, eventually spitting out the hook, and then it stuck around to torment him. So there was a weekend quest to see (or catch and release) the carp.

First things first; dock installation was handled expeditiously by an electrician, a plumber, an engineer and a former police chief. Hell, somebody had to keep them in line. While the men toiled the ladies floated around the lake with Rum Pums (AKA Rum Punch as stated by those who have, as John put it, “lost touch with the spacetime continuum.” There were several of us).

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Once the work was done we started dinner, and what a dinner it was. I found a recipe for the aptly named “Crack Dip”; sour cream, ranch dressing herbs, grated cheddar cheese, bacon and scallions. I used low fat sour cream and low fat cheddar cheese, and tallied the points in my Weight Watchers e-tools to find out a serving is only 4 points! Just don’t leave me alone with the bowl. We served it with pita chips and crudities, and more Rum Pums.

While I made dinner there were folks chumming for carp on the dock, fishing from the end of the dock or out in a canoe, or attempting to fish spot the monster carp.

John threw some fennel seasoned chicken thighs on the grill, and Claudia’s brother Matt brought some marinated venison tenderloin wrapped in bacon. I’d grilled up some onions, peppers and zucchini and added them to a pasta dish with garlic, olive oil and pepper flakes, and made my favorite arugula salad with fresh corn, tomatoes and Parmesan and a lemon basil vinaigrette. It was a feast!

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For dessert I found a perfect and easy refrigerator pie made with light cherry pie filling topped with a chocolate pudding – cool whip mix in a chocolate cookie crust. I topped it with more cherry pie filling and cool whip. We ate dessert and toasted marshmallows around the fire pit until the rain drove us inside, where we played cards until past our bedtimes.

The next day after a breakfast that included John and Claudia’s hens’ eggs we headed off to hike Holt’s Ledge, which is part of the Appalachian Trail. It was lovely in the woods, cool and green, and glistening from the previous night’s rain. The view from the ledge was beautiful; Smarts Mountain, Mount Cube, Mount Cardigan, and Mount Kearsarge in NH, and Vermont’s Ascutney could be seen in the distance. The cliff face below the overlook is a nesting area for peregrine falcons, though we didn’t see any while we were there. We did surprise a mama grouse and her chicks, though, and waited while she collected them all up before we passed. The hike down was over a green trail down the Dartmouth College Ski Way. Melissa noted how amazingly fast one could ski down a trail vs. the time it took us to walk down. But the views were worth the hike; fields of lupine, ferns and what looked like alpine strawberry flowers. We broke into song multiple times; one can’t traverse an alpine meadow without singing “the hills are alive with the sound of music” at least once.

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The next stop had to be someplace with beer; nothing like a beer after a 3-hour hike. The Salt Hill Pub in Newport, NH fit the bill, with beer and sandwiches all around, then back to the cottage for more carp hunting, canoeing, Rum Pums and campfire. The water was really cold from the previous night’s rain, so only the very brave went swimming. The carp remained the focus and various carp chum ideas were discussed; pasta on the hook was attempted; Irish beef stew in the water was tried; more oatmeal was given a shot. No carp. I was starting to wonder if Roger was just messing with his kids.

Were there other fish? Absolutely. Bass, fallfish, trout and pickerel were around, and Matt probably caught one of each. But we all wanted to see the monster carp.

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The next morning the first order of business was coffee, and carp hunting. When Claudia got up I told her the carp had knocked on the door twenty minutes ago and wanted some more oatmeal. The cottage has a perfect view of the lake and the calm water made it easy to see; easier still if you had polarized sunglasses. So everyone was glued to the window in their jammies and sunglasses fish spotting.

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I’m pretty sure Roger was home laughing his ass off.

Deborah