Uncle Joe’s Outpost:
In theory, this blog post is meant to be an introduction to our new glamping tent at Cave Country Canoes Campground. This glamping tent is a furnished version of camping with a beautiful view of the Blue River. With a king-size bed, ceiling fan, electric access, and more amenities, it really is a swanky way to spend a weekend camping. It’s an adventure for those who aren’t quite willing to rough it.
That word — “adventure” — has a lot to do with what we do at Cave Country Canoes. And no one I’ve ever met has known adventure quite like my Uncle Joe. Which is how we landed on the name of this new glampsite: “Uncle Joe’s Outpost.” And right here is where I may lose some of you… but I just couldn’t leave it at that without telling a long-winded tale about my Uncle Joe and his adventures – in true Uncle Joe fashion.
Randel Joe Bruner was my great-uncle (my mom’s dad’s brother). I was lucky enough to know him for 29 years. Uncle Joe never had children of his own, but he had a very special bond with my mother. Her father and Uncle Joe both had an undying need for adventure and flat-out thrill-seeking, which they passed on to my mom — and fortunately, to me.
When I was little, I didn’t know a lot about Uncle Joe. I knew he had the most beautiful grove of walnut trees, meticulously planted in perfect rows at his home along the Lost River. He gave me a few ski lessons at Paoli Peaks as a child (and even left me on the ski lift once because he thought, at five years old, I would “just know how to jump off”). Truthfully, he taught not just me, but nearly all of his nieces, nephews, great-nieces, and great-nephews how to ski at one point or another. I also knew that anytime we went to his house, we would be there for hours. Everyone would talk and tell stories all night long, and no one really knew how to keep from getting lost in tales of his adventures.
It wasn’t until I was about 19 that I really got to know Uncle Joe. I had just started working at Marengo Cave and quickly became friends with coworkers who would go caving after work. At the same time, I was a student at IUS and had to give a speech about anything I wanted. Of course, I chose caving. I gave this whole speech about caving and my family’s history of cave exploration. Uncle Joe offered me a helmet with a carbide light to use as a prop. I went out to borrow it and, of course, ended up there for hours.
The difference was that this time I wasn’t just a kid waiting for my parents to leave — I was part of the conversation. Something clicked. I finally understood why no one ever made a quick trip there. He was genuinely one of the most fascinating people in the world. At first, it was his stories of caving all over the country that captivated me. Uncle Joe dedicated years of his life to exploring and mapping portions of the Lost River cave system, something that became a huge part of both his life and his identity. For years, he hosted groups of campers at his place and would assist them as they explored the cave system.
Skiing, of course, was another shared passion, so all his stories about working ski patrol at various resorts across America were especially intriguing to me. But as I got older, I learned so much more about him. At one point, he got a wild hair and headed out West, where he worked as an actual cowboy on a ranch. He operated massive cranes and equipment all over the country. He traveled coast to coast on his motorcycle and even designed and built a special A-frame camper that he could pull behind his bike. He even managed to get himself arrested on Mount St. Helens for being too close while it was actively erupting — which honestly tells you almost everything you need to know about Uncle Joe. He loved national parks, the outdoors, the mountains, the forests, and everything in between.
I can’t tell you how many times he called my mom and said, “Check on the place and the cat if you get a chance — I’m in California!”
All this to say: this man loved adventure. I’ve always believed that some people carry a genetic need to wander, explore, and see as much of the world as they can. Uncle Joe certainly had it. And I think, in some ways, the rest of us inherited a little bit of it too.
So when my mom said, “I’m thinking about naming the glamping tent ‘Uncle Joe’s Outpost,’” I honestly couldn’t imagine a more fitting name. An outpost is a place to rest before the next adventure. A place to slow down for a little while, swap stories, enjoy the view, and then head back out into the world again. Sitting on the edge of the beautiful Blue River, that’s exactly what this little place feels like to me.
We hope “Uncle Joe’s Outpost” becomes a place where other people make their own stories too.
