The Spirit of Juniper

Just back from a week of bass fishing at The Juniper Club on the Silver Glen of Lake George, near Ocala, Florida. It's one of my favorite places on earth. The club was founded in 1909 by a group of thirty-four influential Louisville business and professional men and has grown over the years to more than 70 members, many of whom are grandsons of the founders.

While all the members are men and while many of the camps are stag, about the half the camps are now attended by spouses, widows of members and other female guests. Lucky me. For five days, Ed and I fished; we read; we ate; we slept. And then the next morning we started all over.

Every morning, we would head across Lake George to the Little Juniper River, a prehistoric-looking place if I've ever seen one.

Ed and fish.

Deb and fish.

A gator sunbathes on a palm tree trunk.

An owl sits at the fishing hole,
waiting to swoop down and grab our bait.

A pelican sits atop a piling, keeping watch for fish.

The club's forests encompass thousands of acres.
Every morning we would hike to the front entrance and back, keeping watch for black bears.

 

For more than a decade, we headed to Family Camp at Juniper with the kids and their friends.

The club house sits right on the Silver Glen, home to alligators, eagles, ospreys, otters, and a few clever bass.

Every night dinner begins with singing the club song and ends with marking the board with the number of fish caught.
That's an alligator skin mounted above the board. "Big George" was captured on the front lawn of the clubhouse.