I’m placing this cache in memory of my Dad’s oldest brother. Uncle Gnarly was born in 1867 and grew up listening to stories and music of the Civil War. I was 10 years old when he died in 1960, and it wasn’t until his funeral that I found out ‘Gnarly’ wasn’t his real name. I had to ask my mother who Eugene Fritter was. Even my dad couldn’t tell me where ‘Gnarly’ came from, although I do remember him as being kind of a crusty old coot. In his younger days, Uncle Gnarly worked up in the logging camps of Northern Michigan and that’s where he picked up the fiddle. My favorite memory is of my Aunt Sarah shoo’n him outta the house when she got tired of his screechin’ and skrawkin’. He headed out the back door towards the barn and started playin’ for the chickens. Aunt Sarah hollered out the window for him to move along cuz he wuz disruptin’ their egg layin’.
This is Federal land and there may be deer hunters out here in season. Please take precautions if you visit during any hunting season.