Brushy Creek Invitational 2002

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Yes, the weather reports were being less than friendly, but it was the first rendezvous of the season and an excellent opportunity to tune up for the Pacific Primitive Rendezvous coming up in Oregon at the end of June. So I took three days off from work, gathered my kit together and drove to Jean Baptiste's house. There we transferred my gear into the back of his truck and headed out for Brushy Creek.

Brushy Creek is located in the Spenceville Wildlife Refuge outside Marysville, California on land set aside for recreational usage. This gathering is the annual club shoot of the American River MuzzleLoaders and is by invitation only. Their public event is two weeks later and almost always very well attended. This gathering however is much smaller. There were about 25 camps set up and perhaps 70 hearty, or foolhardy some might say, individuals of all ages in attendance.

Jean and I pulled into the camp site around two o'clock on Thursday afternoon. We quickly located a good spot to pitch our camp, close enough to the creek to let it speak to us all the while and not too far from the "biffy" located across the small foot bridge that spanned the creek. The short walk to use the "necessary" was to turn into an adventure time and again, but I am getting ahead of myself. As a pre-1840 rendezvous we had to arrive in camp in period attire. This generated a bit of humor when Jean and I stopped at the Burger King in Roseville to get an iced tea and the woman clerk at the drive-through window asked if we were going to a Renaissance Faire. "No, but close," was our answer. Neither of us felt like giving a class in historical re-enacting, we just wanted the iced tea.

Just a little before three o'clock we had unloaded our gear and pitched the tent. It was time to park the vehicle and see if we could finish setting up the camp before our friends arrived to set up in the space we had saved just north of us. We did. We had a turn to with the fly but sorted everything out in short order and were sitting in its shade when "The Reverend" pulled in. We offered words of encouragement and he set up his camp, and after seeking his advice on a suitable location for the fire pit our camps would share, set about preparing it and the evening's meal.

The AHLHA Campsite

Oh, did I mention that it rained? And rained, and rained. Well, it did. From about 11 o'clock Friday morning until almost 9 o'clock Sunday morning. Not constantly, but certainly consistently. There was a small window in the clouds Saturday morning for about three hours. Just long enough for me to wander through the camp taking some pictures and meeting those folks who hadn't dropped by the camp. But then it was right back at it, first drizzling then showering then raining in earnest and finally tapering off into a sprinkle again. The pattern was repeated again and again throughout the weekend, soaking the ground and raising the water level in the creek flowing just east of our camp.

Jean Baptiste, being the seasoned camper he is, knew enough to bring half a bale of bedding straw to act as ground cover between Terra Firma and our brown "tarp of shame." With the canvas floor in our 8' X 10' A-frame tent in place we were well

Emptying the Fly

insulated from the elements. We derived an unexpected bonus from it however when, after if had rained for a while, we were able to scatter the remainder of the straw about and have a reasonable mud-free camp in spite of the weather. Perhaps this is a well-known camp trick but it was new to me. It is certainly something I will remember the next time we go out, regardless of the weather forcast. Once again Jean proved his value to a well-run camp. Thanks, brother.

I had worn my new RevWar style boots from John Mangum of Running Iron Outfitters. They were certainly an opportune footwear choice given the weather conditions. I saw many a cold, wet foot encased in a water-logged and soggy moccasin, its owner casting a covetous eye at my boots and saying "Nice boots. Where'd you get 'em?" They were a life saver then and sure to be some of my favorite foot coverings for a long tim to come.

Boots were part of the everyday clothing of Colonial America. Many of us think that boots were strictly an item of military dress, not so. Check out Chuck Casada's latest iteration of his regular feature, 18th Century Traveler, in On The Trail magazine (subscribe if you don't already.---Ed). The title of his most recent article is "Some thoughts on Boots, Trousers, and Weskits." In it he provides some very convincing documentation that boots were worn by almost every section of society. That's especially good for me. I just don't have moccasin-friendly feet. The pair John Mangum made for me are typical of the period and would be correct from the mid-eighteenth century probably all the way up to the Civil War. Chuck Casada describes them in his article as having "a height that is just below the knee and (may) have a turned down portion that was contrasting in color. Brown tops and black lowers were the common style." These are exactly what John made for me; worth every penny and then some on this rendezvous.

Sye Parker and the boys

During a lull in the storm on Saturday morning Jean Baptiste and I managed to get out and about for a bit to see who else had made it to the rendezvous. We managed to meet up with Josiah Parker and some of his trekking buddies who were braving the elements with the rest of us. You may remember Sye from our Readers Gallery feature. We spun a yarn or two with our Northern California "brothers in arms" and prevailed on another attendee to record the occasion for posterity. From left to right is Sye Parker, Erik Wahlman, Paul Lust, Matt Szychulda, yours truly, and Jean Baptiste La Jeunesse. Sye was braving the elements in an open-ended A-frame tent. I believe in historical accuracy but not when it involves the wind and rain whipping through my tent while I'm trying to sleep. Not if I can help it anyway. Josiah is made of sterner stuff however and made it through the entire rain-soaked weekend without so much as a whine. My kind of re-enactor, for sure.

Despite all the weather the American River Muzzleloaders held their club shoot, awarding prizes for the best marksmen and women able to keep their powder dry. We stayed pretty close to camp, busied ourselves with chores and making new friends. There was plenty to eat and drink and I'm sure none of us would have traded all of the cameraderie and good fellowship for some more sunshine.

Jean Baptiste proved once again why he is one of the most valuable people in any camp. He could get a fire started in almost no time with his flint, steel, and tow even when we had to relocate it partially under our tent fly after the rains came. And he is a magician with some of the simplest foodstuffs. Hey, he ought to write a column on the subject!

So the 2002 edition of the Brushy Creek Invitational Primitive Rendezvous passed into history at noon on Sunday as we all struck our camps and prepared to travel not only the miles that seperated us from our homes and families but also the years. I think all of us are thankful we live in the world we do but it is oh so nice to take some time off from the twentieth century every now and again and live like our ancestors did. Well, almost like they did anyway. It is by walking a mile in their boots or shoes or moccasins that we become closer to them and in turn a little closer to ourselves. Thank you, Brushy Creek. We'll be back next year. Rain or shine.---JBW

See more of Brushy Creek at our Fire and Rain Photo Gallery

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