A Campfire Story About Rip Van Winkle

There are few things in this world that make this old Mountain Eagle happier than packing up the family, heading deep into the Catskill Mountains, and spending a weekend camping beneath the tall pines. No ringing phones. No busy schedules. Just the sounds of birds singing, a bubbling mountain stream, and the crackling of a campfire as the stars begin to fill the sky.

Maggie had spent the day teaching the kids about animal tracks while we hiked through the woods. Rusty discovered a salamander hiding beneath a mossy log. Scout somehow managed to climb every tree he could find before lunchtime. Pip filled nearly every page of her notebook with things she wanted to write about later.

After roasting marshmallows and making what Scout proudly called "the world's messiest s'mores," we all settled around the fire. The flickering flames danced across everyone's smiling faces.

Pip looked up at me with those curious eyes of hers. "Dad...tell us a story."

"Oh, not just any story," Scout interrupted. "Tell us one that's spooky!"

Rusty grinned. "Or one that's a mystery!"

I smiled. "How about I tell you the greatest Catskill Mountain story ever told?"

All three kids leaned closer.

"The story...of Rip Van Winkle."

Immediately, Pip's eyes got wide.

"Was Rip Van Winkle a real person?"

Maggie smiled without saying a word. She already knew where this story was headed.

I leaned back against the log.

"Well now...lots of folks will tell you Rip Van Winkle is just a legend written by Washington Irving." "But..." I continued, lowering my voice just enough to make everyone lean in closer.

"I've spent a lifetime flying over these mountains." "I've seen places where the fog rolls in so thick you can barely see your own feathers." "I've heard strange echoes bouncing through the valleys."

"I've watched sunsets make these mountains glow with colors you wouldn't believe if you hadn't seen them yourself."

"So..." "Could something mysterious have happened up here hundreds of years ago?"

Scout's eyes got huge.

"I think so!" Rusty scratched his head.

"But twenty years? Could somebody really sleep for twenty years?"

I chuckled. "That's the question people have been asking for over two hundred years."

"Maybe Rip found a hidden valley."

"Maybe he wandered farther into these mountains than anyone had ever gone."

"Maybe he met some very unusual people."

"Or..." I paused just long enough.

"...maybe the Catskills have always held a few secrets they aren't ready to give away."

Even Maggie laughed at that one.

Pip pulled out her notebook.

"So...you're saying it really happened?"

I smiled. "I'm saying every great story begins with a little truth."

"You know the Catskills are real."

The kids nodded. "You know Washington Irving was real." They nodded again.

"You know the story has been told here for generations." Another nod. "So who's to say Rip wasn't real too?"

Scout suddenly looked toward the dark woods beyond our campsite.

"What if he's still sleeping out there?"

Rusty laughed. "He'd be the world's biggest sleepyhead." Pip looked around at the towering trees surrounding us.

"I kind of hope he was real."

"So do I," I admitted. "You see, that's part of what makes these mountains so special."

"Every trail has a story." "Every old stone wall has a mystery." "Every waterfall has a legend." "And every generation adds another chapter." I looked up at the stars shining over the Catskills. "History isn't always just dates written in books." "Sometimes history lives in the stories people tell around campfires." "Sometimes history is found in the places we explore."

"And sometimes..." I smiled.

"...history leaves just enough mystery for our imaginations to keep it alive."

Just then... CRACK! A stick snapped somewhere deep in the woods.

Scout nearly jumped into Rusty's lap.

"What was THAT?" Maggie couldn't help laughing."Probably a deer." I grinned.

"Or maybe..." "...someone with a very long beard just woke up from a really long nap."

Nobody said another word.

The four of us simply stared into the darkness for a few seconds.

Then Scout whispered...

"I think I'll sleep a little closer to the campfire tonight." We all laughed so hard the echoes bounced through the trees.

And if old Rip Van Winkle happened to hear us... Well... I hope he smiled, too.

I'm Scoop the Mountain Eagle...

...and I'm always watching over you. Follow us at Facebook.com/TheEagleFamilyPage