“The first morning that I saw Alligator Lake was around the second week in May of 1955. My uncle had been fishing in there for years, and he had promised me that when I got big enough to walk the four-mile trail, he would take me in.”

Many times, the words that originate here as the result of a few innocent taps on a computer keyboard emerge, hours and miles later, as something a bit more powerful.

Sometimes … when things work out just right … they elicit a smile or a nod … or just a fond memory.

Apparently, that was the effect of a recent piece on Alligator Lake. I wrote it, passing along a few interesting words from a fisheries biologist. Maybe you saw it.

A few days ago, I received word from a former Brewer resident. He had seen it, as well as this paper’s accounts of the Blizzard of ’62. And his e-mail was one of those special ones. It painted a picture I’d surely missed the first time by. He’s the one whose voice you hear in this column’s opening paragraph … and all the italicized pieces to follow.

Albert Jewell – Butch to his friends in South Brewer – doesn’t have to worry about blizzards any more.

I tracked Jewell down with a bit of new technology and Internet-sleuthing Friday (he didn’t leave a phone number, and I really wanted to talk to him about his e-mail). I found him in Kingsland, Texas. That’s about 50 miles from San Antonio, smack in the middle of Llano County.

Nowadays, he’s well-ensconced in his Texas life, he says.

“I’m a retired schoolteacher,” he said during our conversation. “My wife and I live on a very small cattle ranch. I raise a few cows and substitute teach … and come home from time to time.”

Home, of course, is Maine.

And it’s that sense of Home that resonated in his initial e-mail.

Jewell didn’t just know Alligator Lake. He lived it.

From that day as an 8-year-old, when he left his uncle’s ’55 Chevy behind, he lived it. Each summer after that – until he entered the Air Force in ’67 – he lived it. And he still does.

“From [the place where we parked] the trail followed a rough woods road. Rough enough that should you step in a mud hole, it would try to suck your boot off.”

Eventually, Jewell made it to Alligator. Then he met some people who changed his life.

“My fate was sealed on that first trip. I not only met two of the most wonderful people on God’s earth, but I landed a pair of native brook trout that held me speechless. They were a matched pair which went three pounds, and [were] so light in color you had to turn them from the light to see their spots.”

The people he met that day still walk with him, Jewell said on Friday. His e-mail explained that in vivid prose.

“Oh, yes. I can still see those fish. Just as I can still see Carl and Clara Bamford, who ran the sporting camp on the island. It’s the island that makes the alligator’s eye. How could I not see them; for as the years passed, they treated me like their grandchildren. When I grew older, I had the pure joy of being able to live with them in the summer and to be the camp’s gofer.”

Jewell went back to Alligator Lake two years ago. It was the first time he’d returned since Clara’s death. He drove all the way to the “tail of the lake,” and canoed up to the island.

Things were different, he says.

Now, back in Texas, he still spends a lot of time thinking about the days he spent on an island in the middle of one of Maine’s wilderness gems, back when he was a boy.

“Many is the story I could tell if it were not for the wind in my face, and many is the tale I could spin if it weren’t for the promises I made. Yes, I remember Alligator Lake like it was my living room; but I still live with the people that can no longer see its crystal waters. They are the friends that continue to wander with me; down trails that will never bring me the joy that I found on the old Alligator Lake Trail.”

Thank you for your e-mail, Mr. Jewell. And thanks for letting me share your memories.

In a follow-up to Thursday’s column, I’m happy (or sad, depending on my mood at the particular time) that I’ll be wearing at least 120 eggs on Feb. 1 during WQCB-FM’s Q-106.5 Pine Tree Camp Egg Ride.

Of course, that information may be out of date by the time you read it: That’s just what morning host Bob Duchesne told me at about 10:30 a.m. Friday … and as you know, these things have a way of spiraling out of control.

For the record, last year’s riders packed 240 eggs in their bloomers for the charity snowmobile ride. And since I require bigger bloomers than most, people inform me that I was a perfect fit for the event.

If you’re interested in helping out a worthwhile charity, or if you’re just interested in adding to my misery, feel free to join in. For each $50 donated, each of us will wear an additional egg.

Added to the list of riders Friday was Rep. Mike Michaud, who has reportedly cleared his appointment calendar and will join in.

Call WQCB at 991-9500 or e-mail Q1065@midmaine.com.

Those who use the services of Pine Tree Camp will thank you. And we riders? Well, we’ll keep our mouths shut.

For many years, there has been a harbinger of warm weather more reliable than ice-out, more awaited than the first fly hatch of spring. OK … you might want to forget the second part.

It’s the Penobscot County Conservation Association’s Eastern Maine Sportsman’s Show.

Every year outdoors vendors and enthusiasts meet – recently at the University of Maine – and begin planning for a long summer of enjoyable activities.

Some browse the aisles looking to book a trip. Others show up hoping to win a prize. Still others make the trip to Orono for another, more simple reason: Because they always go.

This year’s show promises to be another huge success, and if you’re on of those people who make a point to set aside a day or two to take in the show each year, you’ll want to write down these dates: March 21, 22 and 23.

Now, it’s a bit too early to reveal all of our in-house secrets, but I can tell you the Bangor Daily News is planning to have a presence at the show this year.

In the long-standing tradition of shows like this, we’ll be abiding by a time-tested rule of thumb: When in doubt, give something away. Give something good away.

While the details are still being finalized at this date, I can tell you this: If you’re a fly-fisherman (or woman), or if you know one, you may want to look for our promotions leading up to the show.

Another thing I can let slip at this early date: The only bad news is, you’ll be stuck with me for a day on the water. Among the good news: You’ll also be able to enjoy a beautiful June day in a drift boat with one of Maine’s most sought-after fishing guides.

It promises to be a fantastic show, and one person will end up with a memorable day of fishing. Who knows? I may even perform my soon-to-be-world-famous “Pierce-your-own-nose-with-a-dry-fly” trick, if you’re lucky.

Check back regularly, and I’ll keep you posted on the details as they develop.

Snowmobilers and NASCAR fans alike will flock to Greenville today for the sixth annual Ricky Craven Snowmobile Ride for Charity.

Craven, the Maine-born racer who drives the PPI Motorsports No. 32 Pontiac, will act as host of the event.

Craven’s mother, Nancy, said she had registered 475 riders for the event and had stopped taking registrations late last week. The event has a 500-rider cap.

In past years, Craven has raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for charity through the ride. Last year’s ride raised more than $114,000.

While riding slots are filled, spectators are invited to stop by and watch the event, which meanders along the trails near Craven’s vacation home on Moosehead Lake.

John Holyoke can be reached at jholyoke@bangordailynews.net or by calling 990-8214 or 1-800-310-8600.