And then, nothing. No drama. Just the broad day, a day in the middle of this week at Loch Raven Reservoir, with the white-tailed deer drinking in the shallows, then up periscope! Spooked by something human, the deer flee into the woods, afraid of something, waiting for that something to pass so they can return to drink. The deer don't want any drama, either. Not out here, especially now.
A week ago today, 42 young people were robbed at gunpoint in a remote area of the reservoir called the Cliffs - a hangout far away from the road and the sound of traffic and the taste of the city. Most were high school kids, just lying on the rocks and yakking and swimming. (Swimming is prohibited in the reservoir, a minor point given the mass robbery.) After the strangers arrived, the young man with the 9 mm handgun ordered everyone to strip and empty their pockets. Cash, jewelry, cell phones were stolen. Early this week, bail was revoked for the male suspects.
Until the crime, the latest news out of Loch Raven Reservoir had been another routine fishing report: White perch are jumping the boats, this newspaper reported last month. Troll a spinner hook with a nightcrawler. And before that, news of bass in the shallows and yellow perch spotted in Dead Man's coves.
Ryan Ward works at the Loch Raven Fishing Center and supplies these fishing reports. Talking with him this week was a brief enterprise. A few visitors to the fishing camp did say they were angry and surprised by the news but realized it was an isolated incident, Ward reported in short. Got the sense the man wanted to talk instead about fishing, and why not? Hot, beautiful days this week, especially Wednesday before the storms came.
About Wednesday:
Walking alone along the scraggly beach heads, with tree trunks wrapped in monofilament line signaling failed casts and fresh starts. Seclusion achieved. Isn't that the point? To get away from it all, away from the nearest road, to be alone or to be with friends? Strength in numbers and all that.
Walking alone, perspiration beading under the shirt, personally assembling near the intersection of Loch Raven Drive and Morgan Mill Road - where folks (and those high school kids last Friday) come to get away. "Have Fun Fishing!" says a wrapper for Beak snelled hooks (size 4). Trash always sets part of the scene: Newport smokers were here, and Kodak moments were seized and beer was here, of course. Cracked hulls of Miller Lite are dodged.
In the sand, Blair Witch-y stones are arranged in campfire circles. Sun-bleached tree stumps are ripe for some trolling, crafty furniture maker. Fresh goose scat is underfoot. There, on a plain of grass, maybe a hundred Canada geese with their peeps learning life's ropes. They say the reservoir has 5,000 Canada geese.
There's a nervousness today. But geez, how is it possible to feel nervous out here in the middle of all this birdsong and strafing dragonflies and perch popping the water surface? One feels the need to stay a little closer to the road. The sound of traffic even sounds pretty good today. The overreaction will pass.
Finally, another walker. He's an older man, with a week's worth of stubble, Bermuda shorts, black socks and carrying a paperback of Sophocles. The man doesn't want to be quoted, so he won't be. But he does want to say he's been coming here for years and brought his children fishing here a long, long time ago. And for the first time, when he parked his car on Loch Raven Drive, he wondered today how safe things are. He didn't look like a man seeking seclusion. He seemed like a man who was happy to see another person on the trail.
By the way, Ryan Ward reports the white perch are still bountiful this week. Troll a spinner hook with a nightcrawler, he still recommends. See the geese, butts bobbing in the shallows. Deer will peep out of the woods to drink.
At Loch Raven Reservoir, these are not isolated incidents.