A LITTLE PEACE and quiet. Sometimes, that’s all a person can ask for and if the person gets it, it’s enough. My lovely wife and I found our own little corner of the world last weekend where peace and quiet abounded. For us, for the better part of two days, it was enough.

We packed up our camper Friday evening and Saturday found us sitting around a campfire in a secluded campground over Fifield way, next to a lake where no motors are allowed and on a road where no ATVs or UTVs are allowed. It was beautiful.

Of 17 sites, half were occupied. The campground population included a young family, two families with teenagers and the rest old codgers like us. It was a very nice, friendly mix.

Practically everyone had at least one dog, we had Gordie and Molly, and though there was some daytime barking, by evening, all dogs were as quiet as their human companions.

Once we had our A-frame camper set up, it was time to get the Yeti full of food and cold drinks to the picnic table, our little gas grill hooked up and camp chairs set up. I know this camping of ours is meant to be couples stuff, but an hour after we got there, I couldn’t help myself but stir from my tilted-back lounger and make for the lake.

My lovely wife, thank goodness, expects nothing less and is probably pretty happy to have me out of her hair while I fish and she either works on crafts or reads books. It’s a good and long-standing relationship we have worked out.

As I unloaded my kayak at the boat landing, I watched for a few minutes and talked to two young anglers who were fishing from shore. They’d had a little luck catching a bass and some small bluegills. They had also watched a “huge pine snake” swim past them at close range, a snake which I informed them would have actually been a northern water snake. They insisted it was a pine snake, a mean one at that, so who was I to argue? A pine snake it was.

About the time I had my rods in their holders, life jacket on and assorted gear ready to go, the older boy announced to the younger “It looks like you are done fishing when your worm is gone. I’m taking the last one.” Well, having a full carton of beavertails, I gave them a handful before shoving off, earning myself a sincere thank you from the boys.

I wasn’t 50 yards from shore when the younger hollered “Hey, I just caught a fish. Thanks, sir.” When was the last time you heard those unsolicited words from a young child, at least a child who wasn’t being paid to say that as he handed you a sack of burgers and fries?

I made for some downed balsams on the far side of the 30-acre lake to begin with and on my first cast a feisty largemouth that turned out to be a 15-incher latched onto my leech.

After a fun battle, he was landed. In short order, the hook was out of his lip and he was back in the water. “Aha,” said I to myself as I smirked. “The fish gods are with me today.” Well, they were and they weren’t. Two hours produced exactly one more bass, a handful of extremely colorful sunfish and one beautiful 11-inch brook trout. Yep, they co-exist in that lake. Only the trout would feel the heat from a frying pan. The rest went back in the lake to fight another day.

After supper, we took the dogs for a much needed run. A few miles up the well-used gravel road past the campground we found another gravel road that turned north. It wasn’t much more than a single lane wide and looked pretty much untraveled. It would lead us to a tiny lake about 2 miles up the way, but we figured a mile walk each way in and out was enough.

The sun was low in the sky, almost ready to create a gorgeous sunset, when we set out. Gordie and Molly ran like wild banshees as they always do when first out of the truck, but in short order, they got down to some serious sniffing in the thick woods abutting the road.

Half a mile in, they struck pay dirt. Racing along the road, Gordie suddenly came to a screeching halt as a ruffed grouse bounced out of the roadside grass and crossed over his head into the woods on the other side. He had overrun the bird, but turning back, he put another bird up, this one rocketing right toward us and over our heads by a mere 6 feet. Before all was said and done, five birds had jumped, leaving Gordie and Molly well pleased with themselves.

Our 2-mile walk had the desired effect of taking the “p” and vinegar out of the dogs, at least a little bit and when we returned to our campsite to sit around the fire until dark, they were content to lie quietly next to us. I would like to believe they were enjoying the peace and quiet as much as we were.

Sunday morning we abused our normal rules and slept in until 8. There had been “daylight in the swamp” for quite a while by then and even though the sun was above the trees to the east, a huge, silvery moon was still hanging out in the western sky. Breakfast was a brace of apple turnovers apiece, another concession to spoiling ourselves on a weekend camping trip.

I took another whirl on the lake and caught a half dozen bass. Another dozen or so bluegills and sunfish were caught and released, but no more trout came my way.

Back at the campsite I had to keep a wary eye on three delightful little children from Medford, two girls and a boy, ranging, at least in my estimate, from 3 to 7 years old. The girls, especially, had fallen in love with Gordie. I feared dognapping was in their minds. At home, their family was owned by a pair of yellow labs much in the mold of Gordie. I believe the girls spent more time at our site playing and running with Gordie than they spent with their parents. Lest you worry, they gave plenty of attention to Molly as well.

The campsite mostly emptied out by late Sunday morning. We pulled out in early afternoon, leaving two sad little girls waving good-bye to Gordie. Though all too short, our weekend had been one of complete enjoyment in a setting of peace and quiet which we need more of in our great north Wisconsin woods.

I do believe we might do it again at another such campground before summer is over.