1/4 Mile


 I woke up to a partly cloudy day that was supposed to be a rain filled flood baring slogfest.
Elated at the prospects of being able to go hunting instead of performing the planned truck maintenance during the storms, I decided to go deep and check a close to the vest spot. I call it Patrick Swayze because it’s always awesome. I name most of my spots after the Swaze – Roadhouse, Throat-Rip, Bodi..  It’s a good 3 1/2 hours on dirt to get there, but it’s usually a place to get a heavy game bag in a hurry. The below was before 11AM on an average day and the row extends beyond the photo*.

*Breaking Two Rules to prove my point.
1) No Chest Thumping
3) Don’t get your panties in a ruffle, 2 limits by 2 idiots.

I hadn’t hunted it since the closer last year and was eager to see how the birds held out during the dry year.
It got real muddy a few miles from Patrick Swayze and at a quarter mile before the parking spot my truck started to sputter.
Well shit.
Over 100 miles from home. At least 25 miles through the soaked desert to a phone.
No other hunters near. And this prophesied mega storm bearing down sometime that night.

Dread in the water.

I don’t pray and I’m glad I didn’t stop to do so because that would have drained the rest of my battery due to a failing alternator.

I was able to get the rig around in the deep clay and scuttle it home for the next 5 hours. Always have a fresh battery in the Big Empty kids. It can mean the difference.
It was good to get lucky in a different light at my sacred spot. It adds to the magic of the place. 
Although being within earshot of my favorite cackling rocks and having to slink home with a pit in my gullet made me crave the coming weekend more than usual. 
At least the big storm cleansed a bit of the gumbo from my rig.

Rabble Amongst Yerselves or Holler Back

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