A MicroAdventure - A Boy and His Dog

Published in 1969, A Boy and His Dog by Harlan Ellison tells the story of a boy's life with his trusted dog in the post-apocalyptic world that will eventually get here.  Given that I'm eagerly anticipating a dystopian future, I'm drawn to parallels whenever I can find them.  As an aside only, while the 1975 movie based on the Ellison novella popularized his work, this is a very clear example where the written work is far superior to the movie - and the movie itself is really good.

It is unusual for a simple dog walk to turn into an adventure, even if that adventure is a micro-adventure.  But it happened.
I'm done hunting for the calendar year, but that doesn't mean everyone else was.  Ohio's deer gun season is split, with a week-long season near the beginning of December and a second weekend in the middle.  In 2018, that second weekend was December 15 and 16.  Late on the 16th, I was walking my dog about a mile away from home and late in the afternoon.  As I was going up a hill, I heard a ferociously loud gunshot to the east and looking over saw an orange-clad dude fire a second shot.  Immediately after this, I saw a doe and a buck running across the field in my direction.  The doe was moving, with the buck trailing significantly.  I watched the deer thinking, "That buck ain't right - he isn't hit well, but I'm quite sure he is hit."
The deer ran across the road right in front of me and made their way down to a brushy, swampy area on the edge of a field to the west.  They milled around the area, with the doe leaving fairly soon.  I continued to watch the buck, becoming more convinced by his body language that he was gut-shot.
I stood there for quite some time, watching the buck and waiting for the shooter (as this tale progresses, you may understand why I don't call him a hunter) to head in my direction.  I never saw the shooter again.  And I watched the buck for quite a while, slowly walking into a wooded area; I caught several glimpses of him as he continued walking.  I wanted to help by pointing out where I saw the deer last and even thought about walking across the field.  But walking around without orange on the last day of the gun-season just seemed like a very, very, very bad idea.  At some point, I decided there was no point in waiting for the shooter, and continued on toward home.

The following day I had several errands to run.  These errands involved deer feet, a bear hide and many rolls of coins - suffice to say it was already a bit of an odd day.  I will also admit that pulling a box of deer feet from the trunk of someone else's car feels somewhat fetishistic - such is my life.
Later in the day, I was again walking my youngest dog in the area where I had seen the deer and was absolutely compelled to investigate that previous day's deer.  I'm normally very conscientious about property rights, but less so for the train tracks and wasn't sure I would even move off of them ... very far.  But as I walked down the tracks near the area I had seen the deer last, my dog pulled hard to the north and a manner that was a bit unusual.  We continued into the woods for a bit, made a small circle around, and my dog led me right to the dead deer.

The deer was a pretty decent 9-point.  Still young without much mass.  But a decent deer.  I had a hard time deciphering the bullet holes, but he was only gut/ass shot.  And he smelled like a gut-shot deer; even with the cool temperature, the meat would be unusable at this point.
I pondered what to do.  I kind of wanted the antlers and felt entitled, as I couldn't see how the shooter made even a tepid attempt to find the deer.  But if the shooter was a young kid or something, the situation would be a little bit different, and I might even feel a bit bad for him.
On the way back home, I decided I should go to the farm where I thought the land was owned through and at least see if the shooter could be located.
Later in the day I did this and it turned out the shooter was from there (a relative who didn't live on the farm) and they had given up after seeing no blood.  I talked with the farmer for quite some time - he said he would get some pictures of the deer and I could have the antlers after that.  I asked how old the shooter was and the farmer thought for a few minutes, "twenty..." and my interpretation of the situation as well as any sympathy I may have had for the shooter's difficult situation evaporated.

The following day I stopped by the farm again after work to see if the farmer had found the deer.  He had, but the shooter had taken it, "I told him he couldn't be bothered to look for it so he couldn't have it, but he took it anyway."
It was his deer - the story had grown so I did want the antlers, but it was his deer.
"Do you want horns?"  (pet peeve - deer have antlers, not horns)
I do use them for projects at times.
"Well, I got a whole shelf of them that my wife made me get out of the garage.  They've just been sitting there for years so they are yours if you want them."

What can I say, I ended up with a pile of antlers to use for wildlife-themed projects now.  Some of these antlers are quite impressive - where are all these monster deer that I never see???  Yes - these ghosts show up on trail cameras all around the whitetail world ... at 2:00AM.

I'm quite troubled about the gut-shot buck.  Sub-optimal hits will happen - I've had them.  But two shit shots at a distance that didn't look that far?  Yeah, I guess that can happen.  Still, a hunter has a duty to expend all resources looking for the animal.  Always!  Even without my dog, I could have found the buck in a short amount of time.  This was also the same buck I've seen several times through the fall and I was kind of rooting for him to make it through the season even if he was young and stupid.

And yet, there is still a silver lining - for me.  The area I live in is very friendly, but talking to people about anything beyond the weather is unusual since people also tend to keep to themselves.  Having a chance to meet a clearly-interesting farmer was a positive.  He was also exceedingly generous to give me the antlers.

Earlier in December, I was starting to contemplate all the things I didn't do with my vacation as I had a bit more left to burn at the end of the year than I had planned for.
At the end of A Boy and His Dog, the dog's life is saved by "sustenance" provided by the boy (read the story, I won't go into details).  My dogs have a lifetime of food so the parallels are basically non-existent.  Adventure is what one makes of it:  A boy and his dog (and a gut-shot deer).

2018 Deer Hunt - An Anxious Start and Mixed Blessings

I enjoy deer hunting.  But sometimes I have to remind myself of that, and opening day isn't always my favorite.  Some opening days are too frenetic; this usually correlates to good weather.  If the weather is less than ideal, the activity may be slightly quieter, but that can make sitting there more tiresome.
These sort of thoughts make me seem loathe my own selfishness.  If the me of many years ago, when I first started hunting, would see my temperate energy levels as opening day approaches when I have time to go hunting and in a place where yesterday-me would have drooled over...
But yesterday-me is long gone.  Deer hunting may not come with the travel and adventure that bear hunting does, but if I ever opted not to go, I'm 100% sure I'd be kicking myself with even more self-loathing within a day or two of a missed opening day.
I do look forward to the placid moments on the deer stand.  A former coworker once remarked that he hated that part of deer hunting, "I guess I can't stand that voice in my own head."  I felt a little bad for him.  “It’s okay living inside your own head, provided it doesn’t slip into psychosis.”
The brain is the only organ in the body which doesn't tell you when it is malfunctioning.

The forecast for opening day had been all over the place.  Weather has been quite unusual in 2018 overall.  Winter refused to give up its icy grip early in the year.  Once summer did arrive, it was hot and very wet.  October brought July-like weather before abruptly transitioning to late fall.  Snow has already fallen.  I can't control the weather, all I can do is prepare for it ... hopefully.
An acquaintance has been bowhunting the same property I hunt on.  He took a nice buck a while back, "Congrats man!  You're killin' me."  While I'll gladly shoot antlers, deer hunting near home is more about meat.  I've been eating it so much that I've grown to not like ground beef or turkey in comparison.  But the ever-present question of what to do on opening day persists.  Hold out?  Memories persist of the lean years of 2011 and 2012; the amount of decent bucks I've seen while driving or walking the dogs this year is oddly enticing.  Shoot early (IF! I can) to put meat on the ground?  That takes the pressure off to possibly enjoy any more time in the woods.  Sometimes these decisions are not mine to make.

I've had lots of time to let summer wind down and finish fall chores.  I probably did a final lawn mow too early.  I almost waited too long to get the Triumph tucked in for at least a bit of a nap.  A very unusual winter storm coated the area in heavy ice.  I can't say that made me more excited about heading out to a treestand.  Yet after a few slow weekends, opening day arrived with temperatures just above freezing - which is good since it allowed the rest of the ice on the trees to melt.
I bundled up in fleece jacket and pants that I bought two years ago and haven't worn yet.  I never know how warm to dress, but I've been overall cold lately and with very little wind it seemed about right.

I got to Mike's and set up my treestand.  By the time I was sitting comfortably, I was cookin-hot and sweating.  "If you sweat, you're dead."  But it was actually pretty nice.  I was in and quiet a little over a half hour before light.  A deer came up behind me and grunted in a rather odd way; probably a buck.  It was too dark to see him, but I would have like to have gotten a glimpse of whatever it was.

Right at first light I heard the tell-tale sound of a few branches cracking.  Looking to the west, I saw a really big doe about 20 yards away and moving towards me.  Even in the dim-but-legal light, it would have been an easy shot.  But I didn't shoot.  For all my anxiousness before opening day, I didn't really want it to end after only a few minutes.  The doe milled around for quite a while before walking off to the east.  I did bring my gun up a few times, but let her walk.
A short time later a smaller deer, maybe a button buck, came walking from the east.  It would have been another pretty easy shot but I let it walk too.  Two deer passed already - I guess that answers that question.

As it got lighter there was a bit of shooting, but none of it close by.  Another deer came from the east.  It was late enough that I thought a bit more about this one, until I saw it was a pipsqueak of a buck - probably a really thin 4-point.  I let him go too.

I was cool, but never got too cold.  Wind remained negligible and I was quite comfortable.  After Pipsqueak, there was more distant shooting, but all remained quiet where I was.  I took advantage of the time to think and take micro-naps, alternating with looking all around me for anything.  Most of the deer I've seen in the last few years from this stand location have been behind me; I might have to noodle that for future stand locations.

I ate a few snacks around the time I heard Mike's neighbor head toward his house on his 4-wheeler.  His morning must have been slow since he usually shoots any deer he sees early.  I heard another 4-wheeler to the west which I figured was either another hunter or possibly the farmer checking his corn which was still up.
Pop.Tarts were probably not the best choice for the deer stand.  The wrapper was noisy and crumbs got all over the place including on my rifle.

Around 1:00 I saw another deer pretty far off to the west.  It was small and working away from me in thick brush so it was safe from me.  With things slowing down so quickly, I did start to rethink not shooting at first light.  Throughout the day there were no close shots and only a moderate number overall could be heard.

A short time later something small and dark went running to the Southwest.  At first it almost looked like a wild hog - but it was just a really big raccoon headed up into a tree.  I guess that is both good and bad.
Even with the slow mid-day, it was really pleasant.  Cool but not cold.  Little wind.  Good thinking time...
Deer season is a good measure of the passage of time.  I've been hunting Mike's now every year for 12 years.  It doesn't seem that long; I might have guessed half that.  It is hard not to think about all that has changed in a dozen years and all that hasn't.

I figured activity would pick up again as the afternoon wore on so I got a little more vigilant and was rewarded with a buck moving behind me (again behind me...) around 3:00.  I could tell he was pretty decent, but there was quite a bit of brush in the way making him hard to see.  The distance wasn't too far and I saw an opening in the brush if he continued.  He wasn't moving fast, and as he entered the small clearing I was ready, holding my gun stock against the tree using my hand as a rest.
At the shot he ran south and lunged like a hit-deer usually does.  Then he stopped and just turned around to look in my direction.  I thought the shot was good, but he was still standing and now at a much greater distance with more brush in the way.  I had another round chambered and tried to send another Nosler his way only to hear my gun go - click.  WTF*&&^^%$%^&&**  I chambered a third round it left the barrel with a bit too much hope.
Note to self - it is time to replace the firing pin spring in my 30.06!!!

I could no longer see the deer which might be good or bad.  At least there was lots of daylight left.

I climbed down in my treestand and headed in his direction.  As I crested the hill he was on, I easily saw him on the ground just a short distance from the south end of the property.
I walked up to him seeing the gnarly headgear.  Once I was next to him though, I saw his left antler was broken off right above the brow tine.  I've hunted with people in the past who would have been royally pissed at this.  Not me - even his one antler is pretty impressive and my taxidermy bill doesn't have to increase now.  There are always bright sides!
In addition to the broken antler, he had a bunch of other battle scars.  He was definitely a cool deer - a fighter with enough years to think he was tough stuff.  I guess as tough as the deer was, he was no match for a Nosler.  I hope I never cease to remember, that once I pull the trigger, something will probably die.

I'm pretty sure it was my first shot that brought him down.  It was a bit far back but through both lungs.  Given the distance, brush and misfire, if it was that second shot, that would bring all kinds of angst.
The deer was really big so I knew the work was just starting.  I drug him a short distance to where I could easily find him and packed out my gun and treestand.  I took off some of my warm clothes and headed back to field dress him.  He stunk like only a mature buck does.

Then the real work began.  Through two small ravines, down to the bottom of the big ravine, across the two creeks then up the final mother-of-all-hills.  By the last hill I was dragging him in short bursts only about 10 feet at a time followed by resting for a minute or two.  I'm in reasonably good shape, but this was painful and exhausting.  And yet, it was oddly a labor of love.

Finally at the top of the hill to next to my Ridgeline, Mike came out.  We laughed about yet another deer that died at the far end of his property, "After 2016, I wasn't going to ask for help this time."

Mike grabbed a few boards to help me load him into the bed of the truck.  I did the online check in before heading home just as it was getting dark.
Back at home I cut off his antlers and got him hung up.  I did minimal clean-up since there will be more time for that with a few days off.

Sunday was spent cutting and chopping and cleaning and cutting and then grinding and grinding.  I'm never sure which surprises me more - how much meat I get off a good whitetail, or how much (bones, hide, etc.) is left after.
The day started with a bit of residual soreness from dragging the deer and ended with more unusual pains from working on the deer most of the day.  But I know the meat will last a long time so it is worth it to take my time.

I still have vacation to burn for the year and a doe tag, but there isn't a reason to be greedy with a nearly-full freezer.
It is hard to be anything but thankful for another successful deer hunt.

2018 Bear Hunt Day 9 and 10 - Drive Home

Up early, I was paranoid that I would forget my bear meat and hide.  But I didn't.  After a quick shower I packed up my remaining stuff and drove down to the skinning shed.  I dropped the bear meat in the new cooler I bought on my way north and the hide in the huge disposable cooler.

After double and triple checking that I had everything, I was on the road by about 4:15.  I usually have the road to myself in the morning, but this morning was to the extreme.  Between leaving camp and getting to the US border, I could count the other cars that I saw on the road on one hand.  

I took another route from my usual route given that I've had issues getting my bear across from Ontario before.  Going through the Warroad, Minnesota crossing was a good way to go, but the route did require about 30 miles of gravel road driving.

I was surprised at the amount of skunks I saw while it was still dark.  They had said in camp that there were a lot of them, but I think I actually saw more skunks than other cars.  I was able to avoid all of them and so remained stank free.

Crossing the border into the US was the easiest I had experienced since first hunting in Canada.  The bored-looking border guard asked me a few questions and then had me come inside to fill out a "dec form" for my bear.  I was back moving again in no time.
I listened to the book Crazy for the Storm by Norman Ollestad.  It was a really gripping tale but much of the book seemed just bulk and the end of the story was filled with adolescent machismo and blindness.  This would be OK if it were tempered by adult hindsight awareness, but it wasn't.  It was a good way to pass a few hours, but I won't be keeping this book.  It is probably a case where less would have been more.

Crossing into the US farther west than I have before meant most of my time was spent on 2-lane roads.  This made driving a little more time consuming with more difficult passes and there were a few caravans of trundling motorhomes.  Holy shit those things are awful - how do people live with themselves in those things?
The scenery was interesting.  Much of the first few hours in the US was Northern Minnesota muskeg and other swampy forests.  I know I've motorcycled through this area before, but I don't remember it being so moosey.

The drive got a little easier and more boring once on the interstate.  I started a few text conversations at a gas stop with my sister and taxidermist.  As I continued south and east the weather turned crazy nice with bright sunshine and tolerable temperatures.  I was a bit worried the sunshine would help thaw the meat and hide though.
Eventually I made it down to Madison and met my sister for dinner at a sushi place.  The food was good and even though I saw her a few weeks previous, it was good to catch up without the cacophony of the larger family.  After dinner we went to her place where we watched a few episodes of Ozark.  I had seen the first episode after the eclipse last year, and I was wondering if it would be as good as that first episode - it was...  Sometimes I do miss pay TV just a little bit.

After a surprisingly good night's sleep and a scrumptious breakfast made by Sister's SO, I was back on the road for the final drive home.  The timing of the drive meant that I missed the heavy traffic through most of the cities I drove near.  There were a few heavy spots, but I know the route very well so it was easy to get through it.

I was home near 3:00 at which time the heavy work started.  The rest of the day was a flurry of unpacking, cleaning, cutting up bear meat, grinding up bear meat, running to the taxidermist, and thinking about all the other things which needed to get done.
And it will get done.  I'll have a list a mile long, but there isn't anything on the agenda for several weeks so there will be lots of time to get caught up.

This was my fourth bear hunt.  I know I'm fortunate to have gone on one bear hunt - let alone four, and all have been great experiences.  I'll do some mental cataloging over the next few weeks as I readjust to the day-to-day routine.  I was up close and personal with several bears in only a few days of hunting; had some poor fishing and some great fishing; and I met some new and interesting people.  If the anticipation of the adventure is one of the best parts, the memories will be there to play their role for years to come.

2018 Bear Hunt Day 8 - A Rainy Final Day in Camp

The weather forecast was for rain, but only a moderate chance for a few hours.
The final Manitoba morning sunrise was surprisingly nice.  As before, I threw the lure a little bit partially as an excuse to see the sun rise.  The clouds, while anticipating rain added a surreal quality to the scene.

After breakfast the Arizona crew went looking for the one guy's bear.  I went fishing with Max.
We went back up to the general area where I had caught the big pike on the previous day.  Action was good - probably better than the previous afternoon, but not for the big guys.  Still, I'll take pike after pike after pike any day.  There were a few good fish in the mix though.

There were also a handful of good smallmouths brought in.  Pound for pound, these smalleys do fight better than most fish.

Sadly, my magic lure broke.  Making things worse, the only other white spinnerbait I had was destroyed by a pike when it ate the skirt.  Luckily another spinnerbait did yeoman's duty for the rest of the morning.

On the way back to camp the rain started - first as a light shower then to a full-on rain.  The wind picked up as well, making the final few miles in the boat a little less fun than the great weather that has been experienced so far.  Once in camp it poured for a short while before raining most of the rest of  the day intermittently.

Back in camp the Arizona crew was gone; the bear wasn't found.  It was a bad shot; frustrating.  It does happen.

After lunch I wasn't sure I wanted to go way up river to fish in the rain, especially with the threat of heavy rain so there was a bit of down time.  When it lightened up I did want to go, but Max and I went down river to bait bear stands instead.
Baiting bear stand is fun as well and there is always a chance to see a bear when walking in; while this might be intimidating, I was hoping this would have happened.
There were a few other people fishing in the area and I can only guess what they thought we were doing by beaching our boat and walking into the bush for 15 minutes or so.  If I saw that, I'd assume it was a grow operation and maybe go snooping.  I'm sure it happens.

Once done baiting we went to tie up the downriver boat.  I was pushing off some rocks and ended up slipping and basically falling in.  I got out quick, but not quick enough as my borrowed boots filled with water and my pants and feet were soaked.  I guess this is all part of the fun...

Dinner that night was excellent Mexican food made by Max's girlfriend.  It is a little odd, maybe even awkward being the only person left in camp.  Yet, it was fun too as I got a chance to talk to everyone at dinner and after. 

As it got later, I knew I needed to pack some stuff up and prepare for the drive in the morning.  Bear camp was quickly coming to a close.

2018 Bear Hunt Day 7 - The Pike Hunt

The bear hunting life was starting to get to me.  I'm not built for late dinners and later nights even though I'm often one of the first to turn in.  I woke up a little later than usual and couldn't get myself out of bed even then.  I even missed the sunrise which I'm sure was grand.  The wind had stayed up overnight so the water wouldn't have had the graceful presence of reflection.

After breakfast the groups from Missouri/Iowa/Kansas and South Dakota left.  One person left without a bear, but that was partially due to pickiness and his choice of weapon.  He didn't seem too upset about it as he had shot a really big bear previously.

Bob took Arizona guy and me out for fishing near Wally Bay.  Action was pretty respectable - still not as good as I've seen it, but the pike action had definitely picked up.  We'd get into pockets and bring in a few fish, then have slower periods.  But the conversation was good during the slow times.  I wasn't so sure about Arizona guy when I first met him, but he was a really interesting character.  He admitted that fishing wasn't his thing; I still felt bad when I probably caught near 10 fish to his one.  This included a really nice smallmouth bass that fought the good fight.

After lunch with the smaller crew, the remaining two hunters went out while I went fishing with Bob again.  Young Arizona guy had school work to do...

Bob took me up river a ways to go after - what else - pike.  While headed upriver, I couldn't help but notice in the brilliant sunshine that the leaves were just starting to change in places.  It isn't fall yet, but it is coming.

We went into a bay with a stream going into it.  The stream was more of a trickle, but others had had good pike action when jigging for walleye.
After only a few casts a big fish took my lure.  It got off, but I hoped it was a good sign.  Barbless hooks may be a bit controversial, but after fishing in Manitoba several times, I really can't blame any lost fish on that hook rule.
It only took a few more casts until another big fish was on.  This one was putting up a much tougher fight.  At one point I thought it was snagged, but then the tugging started again.  It took about 10 minutes to land the fish on the light tackle I was using.  Keeping pressure on the line is critical.  Soon enough, Bob netted the fish.  We took a few pictures and measured it (36 inches) before quickly returning it to the water.  It swam away, just a little bit wiser than before.  Actually that probably isn't true - the reptilian brain of pike means it will probably grab a lure again just as soon as one pisses it off.

Pike action in the bay stayed really good.  There were lots of fish, mostly small, but a few in the 25-30 inch range.  The action was really good.
Then another lunker grabbed on to the lure.  This fish didn't fight near as angrily, but it felt heavier.  It took a little less time to land it, but we were able to get the slimy guy into the boat.  This one was 40 inches and much fatter as well.  It also had a lamprey eel on it.

We caught a few more fish before heading to another bay.  Action was a bit slower, but still much better than earlier in the week.  I didn't hook into any more huge ones, but fish came into the boat at a rate that when the little guys fell off as they were being taken out of the water, it was almost a blessing.
By this point the lure I had borrowed from Bob had been bent and twisted and rebent so many times I was worried it would break.  But I just couldn't stop using Old Reliable.  Given how bad the fishing was earlier in the week, this was one magic lure!

In the end, Bob kindly gave it to me.  Perhaps I'll have to look for more of these...

We stopped at another lodge that Bob might be doing some carpentry work on in the near future.  I had been there before and it needed a lot of work at that time.  The improvements were already noticeable.  Also noticeable was the change in water level.  The dock is often only a couple feet above the water!

After a bit of down time, it started to get dark on the last couple hunters out for bear.  Arizona guy one texted Vance that he had shot a bear.  When the boat didn't come back early, there were some questions in camp.
About 45 minutes after the end of legal shooting light the boat motored slowly to the dock.  Arizona guy two had also shot a bear and it was in the boat.  It was a pretty nice bear, likely just over six feet.  He had been hunting on the same stand I had shot my bear on so I couldn't help but wonder if that was one of the bears I had seen while sitting there.
Arizona guy 2's bear had been hit hard enough that there was lots of blood and even bone fragments found.  Our resident veterinarian identified the bone as part of the radius or ulna depending on the size of the animal.  It is a bit hard to see how even an off-side killing pass-through could could shatter the forearm of a bear, but bullets can do inexplicable things once their flight is interrupted.  The plan was to head out in the morning and resume the search.

After taking care of Arizona guy two's bear with some associated carousing and imbibing, we had another late dinner, with everyone turning in shortly after.

2018 Bear Hunt Day 6 - Moderately Better Fishing and Lobster Claw Mushrooms

I thought about sleeping in since there wasn't anything going on in the morning, but after waking up I found myself thinking about work.  I quickly got up.

After having some coffee I grabbed my fishing pole and headed out to throw the lure a bit.  I didn't figure it would be too productive, but it gave me an opportunity to watch the sun rise.  The Manitoba view did not disappoint.

After breakfast two boats headed way up river for a full day of fishing.  Drew took the Iowa/Kansas/Missouri crew while Bob took myself and young Arizona guy.  The ride up river was cold, but I figured it would be worth it since the fishing is typically much better up there.

The Drew boat was going to be jigging, and we decided to cast for pike.  I'm not sure that the fishing could be considered The Great Shark Hunt but it was moderately tolerable.  We motored around several bays and rocky points, casting into weeds or on the rocks for pike.  We would get into a good pile of them followed by long stretches of nothing.  Pike are normally pretty aggressive so it was very unusual that the northern pike fishing required so much finesse.  Several fish were only brought in by carefully playing the lure, or casting back to where a strike was felt a few times.  I prefer lots of pike action, but using skill can be fun as well.
None of the fish were huge (in fact the jigging boat got a couple bigger pike than we did), but several were pretty respectable.

I was also able to hook into one decent smallmouth bass.  This was in a sandy and grassy spot right by some rocks - pretty good smally habitat.

After fishing for several hours we headed to rendezvous with the other boat for lunch - a proper shore lunch on an actual shore.  Between the two boats we had enough fish for a pretty good lunch along with potatoes and onions.  Drew also found some lobster claw mushrooms which we ate.  They were good, but the guides may have just fed them to us to cause us to hallucinate that the fishing was better than it actually was - far out dude.

The spot we ate at had a Canadian Shield ridge off to one side which I hiked up.  The view of the water and endless wilderness was stunning.  This would be a great place to get lost; this would be a great place to get lost on purpose.

The sandy area where the boats were beached was riddled with wolf tracks.  It was pretty cool to see so many of them - I've yet to see a wolf up here despite coming up four times.  This will have to do for now.

There were some other tracks as well, some of which I couldn't immediately identify and one set which looked like it came from a small bear.  No doubt the wolves and bears are there to scavenge on fish leavings from shore lunches.

We jigged a bit after lunch but I find jigging to be painfully boring unless the action is reasonably good.  There were a few bites, and Arizona brought in a couple fish, but it was slow.  Arizona got his line wrapped around the motor which took a while to untangle; I asked to finish up by casting again and we brought in a final couple pike.

The ride down river was really nice with warm temperatures and skies still very sunny.  It felt like we were leaving too early, but I have to remember that this is a job for the guides and they have other work to get done as well as likely have more bears to deal with when it got dark.

And about an hour after dark the boats starting returning with the remaining three bear hunters.  It was a tough day for them.  The only bears seen were a sow and three cubs by South Dakota guy.  It was supposed to be his last day in camp, but I could see the noodling of alternate plans.  The two guys from Arizona still have a day to hunt.

Two of the remaining hunters have passed up a bunch of bears - hunting for the "right" animal prolongs the hunt which can be fun.  I did that last year when I was hunting mule deer.  But that does come with some risk as animals can do inexplicable things.  A bear has 24 hours to be in the woods.  I feel bad for the one Arizona guy as he hasn't seen squat while many of us have seen bunches of bears.  Four years ago it was the fourth day of hunting before I saw my first bear, so I've been there.  And as luck is defined as "success or failure apparently brought by chance rather than through one's own actions" - the last day has nearly as good a chance as the first.  Arizona guy did say (semi-humorously) that his standards for this trip have started to go down.
And as I've said before, the hunt is the experience.  Frustration can be part of that.

2018 Bear Hunt Day 5 - "Beware. There ARE No Fish." -HST

After the very late night, I thought about trying to sleep in.  But once awake the mind started to churn and I knew it was both not going to happen and a bad idea to try.

And I was glad I did get up.  The temperature had dropped considerably overnight and it was definitely feeling like a Manitoba fall.  Since the air temperature was considerably below the temperature of the water, fog could be seen rolling off the lake on the unbelievably still morning.  It was absolutely gorgeous.

In The Curse of Lono Hunter Thompson writes a note on a paper and puts it in a bottle, dropping it off South Point in Hawaii only to find it again the next day.  In some ways, that is what today seemed to be - at least the first day from that part of the book.

After breakfast, I went fishing with Kansas guy and Dave.  (Note:  I've finally learned everyone's name, but since I started to ID people by where they are from I'm going to continue.)  After a cold ride out to some of the fishing areas, we fished for much of the painfully slow morning.  It took a while, but Kansas guy was able to bring in a few small fish.  We kept some of them only because they were gill-hooked and probably wouldn't survive.  I was without any fish and only one follower until well into the morning.  I caught one and only one small pike on one of Kansas' lures.  At least I wasn't skunked and it was enjoyable even if it got to be exhausting toward the end of the morning.

Back in camp after a cool and windy boat ride, we had a shore lunch in the lodge.  The fish were really good as were the potatoes cooked with onions.  I ate too much, but I guess that is what shore lunch is all about.

Then it was back out to fish.  Drew took me along with the Missouri/Iowa crew out for fishing.  We mostly spent time jigging for walleye, but it was even slower than the morning.  Iowa City guy caught a mooneye and Missouri girl caught a perch, a mooneye and a walleye.  I had one good bite, but that was about it.  However, it was a great group of people on the boat so it was still a really fun afternoon.  Only in a boat full of nothing but good camaraderie can a woman say, "Women are crazy bitches" - and have it be genuine if also humorous and somehow acceptable in what are arguably overly-sensitive times.  More people in this world need more moments like this even if the fish are not biting.  No - especially when the fish are not biting - both literally and figuratively.

We did turn back to camp early as Drew said that it was getting too painful.  He was right...  I put a note in a bottle and threw it into the river as we left.

After some down time, the remaining hunters started to filter in after hunting for the evening.
Kansas guy had shot a deceptively nice bear.  When the boat came in the bear looked to be on the smaller side.  Up on the skinning table it looked like a totally different bear and it actually measured out larger than Missouri girl's bear.  But it is hard not to raise an eyebrow at some of these measurements for two reasons.  One - A short, fat bear will measure out small even though they be really impressive on the hoof.  Two - it is somewhat dependent on the person doing the skinning and measuring.
Actually there is a third more important reason - the numbers do not matter.  The thing that matters over all else is the experience from A to Z and 1 to infinity.  Hunting isn't about just sitting on the stand.  It is about anticipation and preparation.  It is about watching small bears chase tiny squirrels.  It is about watching a big bear come in and leaving before anything happens.  If it were only about the split second it takes to shoot, hunting would be a horribly boring past time.  And yet, along with millions of other people including the nine others in camp this week, I keep doing it and even keep coming back to the same place since the experience can be so great.
Of course one of the ways to extend the hunting experience is to wait for the "right" animal.  And after the day's fishing, that may have been a wiser choice than shooting early.

Arizona guy saw his big bear again but wasn't able to get a shot off with his bow.  He was mulling succumbing to the lure of the rifle on the next day.  The other Arizona guy didn't see any bears - he has the no-bear curse this week.  South Dakota had only one small bear come in and it wasn't what he wanted. 
The hunt is winding down as it looks like several people are leaving early due to other obligations.  But the week isn't over yet.

It has been a while since I read The Curse of Lono, but if memory serves me, Hunter Thompson catches a shark the next day (or maybe I'm confusing that with his book The Great Shark Hunt - but I'll assume I'm not).  So if today was dropping the note in the bottle - tomorrow should be the day to catch a great fish!

2018 Bear Hunt Day 4

I woke up to the forecasted thunder and lightning.  Listening to the rain hit my cabin, I thought of the Iowa guy whose bear wasn't recovered the previous day.  I don't imagine the rain is too comforting.

The rain moved out as it got light.  Temperatures were still nice, but the forecast was for the front that came through to cool things down from the previous day's high near 80F 27C.

I fished around camp with some jerk tubes Ken at work had given me to try.  I didn't land any pike in the early morning, but I definitely did piss off a bunch with it.  I had several hits down by the boat ramp and one fish almost came out of the water onto the dock twice near the lodge.  Most of the pike in the bay near camp are small - I'll give the jerk tubes another shot.

After breakfast, I went fishing with Bob.  We started out near Wally Bay, drifting around rocky points and through weedy areas.  We hit a few pretty good pockets of pike and probably brought in somewhere around 15 pike total and one oddly green small mouth bass.  The largest pike was a 28-incher.

Most of the other boats out did similarly well.  One of the Arizona guys caught a really nice 41-inch pike.  Fishing was decent; I've definitely seen it better here.  And this rain and forecasted cool weather will probably affect the fishing.  Of course it could make it worse...

After lunch I joined Carter and the younger Arizona guy to go up river.  We were headed up to feed bear stands and do some fishing nearer the fly-in areas.  Weather was cooling down slowly, but in the boat for 25+ miles it did get cold - especially on the way back.

The scenery along the way is quite amazing.  Mile after mile of uninhabited water and trees.  We saw almost no other boats and the few we did see were connected to bear camp.  The river is extremely low this year, so rocks and outcroppings that normally need to be avoided are now out of the water.  Areas that were not dangerous now have prop-damaging reefs. 

And while it didn't take in the picture very well going past at speed and some distance, we saw several eagles as well (there are about three flying in the picture below).

The relationship between Canada and the UK is a little more complicated than it needs to be.  It isn't part of the UK and is probably culturally closer to the heathens to the south in the United States.  So hopefully this weather-worn flag plunked down on on a rocky point implies some sort of imperialistic anger?  Or maybe the low water gave the British the 16th century notion that new land belongs to them.  I'm sure there is a story there...

Seeing all the bear baits was fun as well.  I walked into the Gas Can stand where I shot my first bear almost a decade ago.  The water was very high then; between that and the growth and other changes over the time, it was almost unrecognizable.  It did mentally take me back to that very cold May.  That hunt seems like it could be forever ago.  The of time can be relentless.  But I know I'm exceedingly fortunate to be here for a fourth time along with so many other adventures through the years.
The Honey Hole stand was anything but.  The low water meant beaching the boat in some of the stickiest, gooiest, muck I have ever seen.  I was wearing some of Vance's boots which didn't fit terribly well and the muck held on like grim death. 

Fishing along the way was quite good as well.  I don't know how many fish we brought in, but it was probably over 30 with a number of really good hits in addition to the landed fish.  The largest two were 29 inches and 33 inches.  We had several good followers as well which is almost as exciting as bringing the fish in the boat.  The 33-inch pike followed my lure in, hit it a couple times at the boat, hit Arizona's lure, then Carter finally got it on hook.  The fishing hopping lures happened a few other times as well.

It was a bit interesting hanging out with two guys significantly younger than me - younger collectively than me.  It is a lot like working with interns at work - fun, but a good reminder that I don't want to go back to that age.  And atavistic attempts would be suicide anyway.

Back at camp the hunters started to roll in.  Amanda from Iowa shot a really nice chocolate-phase bear with some blonde streaks.  She was really happy and color phase bears aren't too common here.  Other Iowa guy shot a bear around the same size as mine with a bright white "V" on his chest.  He was thrilled as well.
Down river, the older South Dakota guy shot an absolute monster of a sow - a solid 400 pound bear and built like a tank.  Waiting for the right bear usually pays off.

As we finally ate dinner, I saw Stephen Colbert come on.  No doubt about it that bear camp screws up the body's schedule - especially for a morning person like me.
But I guess that is just part of the fun.

2018 Bear Hunt Day 3 - Schrodinger's Bear

I woke up early and got up mainly so that I could look at my bear pictures.  This was a better alternative to lying in bed overthinking things.  It is more gratifying to overthink in front of the pictures.
Ultimately I decided that my original interpretation was (probably) correct.  Bear 3 was a decent bear but not a Day 1 bear.
I'll think this until I overthink it some more.

The morning turned out to be one of those unbelievably still Manitoba mornings.  Pictures in this amazing country on these kinds or mornings are almost like cheating.

I threw the lure into the lake some more.  I caught another hammer handle pike which was pretty good for just a few casts off the shore in the bay.

After a bigger breakfast than I'm used to, it was off for fishing.  I was in the boat with the guide Dave and we tailed the other Dave to some of the pike fishing spots.
Fishing was sadly slow.  No, it wasn't.  It was fishing in Canada! when the pike were busy doing other fish stuff.  I initially caught just one pike and both Dave and I were happy that we didn't get skunked.  We tried several spots and in the last 15 minutes at the last spot I brought in four more pike.  None of them were huge, but it was nice to bring in a few.

After lunch it was back to the bears.  I was dropped off by Bob at the Metros stand.  This stand is really close and feels even closer - especially when the first bear made an appearance only 30 minutes after I was sitting.  It never actually came into the bait, but milled around in the background.
Most of the rest of the afternoon passed fairly quickly.  But the bears behaved differently than the previous night.  Where the bears on the previous day were ambivalent to just about everything, all the bears on Day 2 were extremely skittish.  They would saunter in quickly, maybe not even stop at the bait and quickly exit.  A few would grab a few crunches of food before exiting again.  None of the bears even took the time to knock the logs out of the barrels.
And the same bears would come in, leave, only to reappear later.  There was never more than about 20 minutes between bear sightings which keeps things interesting.  So I'm not really sure how many bears I saw, but I think it was five.
Bears are really tough to judge size on.  Small bears do look small, and huge bears look like Volkswagens.  But the bears between around 150 pounds and 300 pounds all look pretty similar.  So they are like Schrodinger's Bear.  Until I can walk up to them, they are both big and small.  Once they are dead, then they actually get their size (at which point it is also pretty meaningless).

As the afternoon wore on, two small bears had come in and left when another bear came in from behind the barrel.  Compared to the two previous bears it looked really good and from the direction it looked big compared to the barrel. 
With it moving in and right back out, I didn't have too much time to think and took the shot.  It ran partially up the hill immediately to my left and collapsed right where I could see it - it was actually closer to me than the bait was.  They always look small on the ground (even reasonably big wild hogs look like cocker spaniels once on the ground).  Still, I knew it wasn't a monster.
I waited a bit to make sure it was finished before getting out of the stand and walking over to it.  I've never had the pleasure of dealing with a wounded bear, so caution is prudent.  It was in the five to six foot range with a beautiful deep black coat.  It was also really fat which is part of why it looked so big in those fleeting moments before shooting. 

I packed up my stuff and trekked it back to the shore, putting my orange flag in the tree on my way.  Then the waiting.  I thought about dragging my bear out, but that can be hard on the hide and it would be a lot less work with the guide.  I tried to get cell service on the top of the ridge but was out of range.  So I just waited enjoying the wonderful evening.  I did poke through some of the pictures that I took, and I think the really terrible picture below might be of my bear when it came in much earlier.  Or maybe I saw more bears than I think I did.

I'm not sure why I had so many issues getting decent pictures of bears when hunting.  Previous hunts have been much, much easier despite using (I think) the same equipment?

Soon enough Bob saw my flag and came in to get me.  We wrapped Schrodinger's Bear in a tarp and hauled it out.  I should have gotten a few better pictures in the bush, but I didn't think of that until it was in the boat.
We left and picked up Amanda at my stand from the previous night.  She had seen one bear come in but didn't get a shot.  Back at camp the guy from Kansas had shot and probably cleanly missed a bear in Blind Bay (tree branch?).  One Arizona guy took a bear very similar to mine with his bow and the two guys from Missouri/Iowa hunting together (to get it on camera) each shot.  Missouri shot a smaller bear while Iowa's would have to be looked for in the morning.

It was a late night of skinning/quartering and eating dinner.  I did get a few more pictures of my bear back at camp but with all the commotion it was hard to do it right - and with three bears near the skinning shed it was a bit bloody.  My bear wasn't quite the monster that I know is out there, but I was happy.  Schrodinger's bear will be tasty and if I had shot a whopper I wasn't quite sure what I would do with it.  If there is any disappointment it is that I'm done bear hunting now - this will be greatly tempered by the fact that it is now time for some serious fishing!

2018 Bear Hunt Day 2 - Already Second Guessing

After waking up and getting ready I walked outside to a very cool morning.  This instantly got me more excited about bear hunting.  I packed, checked, and rechecked about 15 times before being almost positive that everything was where it needed to be before leaving.  Once I locked the key into the room, anything I left in there would be stuck as the hotel desk was not going to be staffed at 4AM at the independent hotel.
I was on the road.

I headed north the short distance to the border, telling the border guard that I was going hunting and had guns with me.  She "invited" me inside and said in an accusing way that they were going to run a background check on me.  No worries - people who's lives are as boring as mine really don't need to worry about background checks.  (Right?)
The border took less than 15 minutes and I was on my way.  I wanted another cup of coffee but didn't want to stop so soon.  I figured I would get one down the road a ways, but that didn't happen until I got gas near bear camp.

Canada's Southern roads were nearly empty.  I hit a bit of rain, but it was light.  I meandered north and west toward bear camp.  Roads were good until I hit Ontario (or is it Manitoba?) 44.  The first stretch of this was patched and repatched with more patches into a brutal bump-fest.  I remember this from my last bear hunt throwing me all over the place in the Tacoma; the Ridgeline's independent suspension ate up the bumps better, but it was still pretty heinous.

After stopping for gas I made the last leg to camp.  The area immediately around the last turn wasn't quite like I remembered it which is a little scary.  I'm sure they haven't completely redone the roads which makes me wonder what I am remembering - or misremembering.

Camp was a zoo.  Even though Labor Day isn't a holiday for the Canucks, it must bring in a bunch of Yanks.
I said Hi and talked a bit with Vance and Maureen - but they were very busy.  So I threw a lure into the water for a while.  I was pretty pissed that I lost one of my few spoons and one that I remembering being pretty good the last time I was up here.  Oh well - what the Canadian Shield takes, the Canadian Shield does not give back.
I did end up bringing in one hammer handle pike.  It was small, but the first fish is the first fish and is critical!

One of the things used for bear baits was popcorn popped in old grease, and between that and some nearby fires, camp had quite the smell going.  The popcorn bait smell carried to the stand later in the afternoon.

Introductions were made at lunch.  As of this writing, I don't remember most of their names but there were three guys from Arizona, two from South Dakota and four from Missouri, Kansas, and somewhere else near there?  So including my lonesome self, there were 10 in camp - a pretty good mix of people; a few big talkers; a couple others which seem a bit more interesting.

My cabin was ready with barely enough time to get ready to head out.  Normally Day 1 isn't a hunting day, but the other people in camp have screwy schedules.  At some point I'll probably have to have an awkward conversation with Vance as to whether this means I'll be getting kicked out early too?
A quick shower, into camo, ammunition into my pack and we headed out in the boats.  Carter and M? took the two Arizona guys and me out.  I was dropped off in Petruski Bay.  The afternoon was brilliantly sunny with tolerable gusts of wind.  I was in my stand and ready.  It was wonderful.  It was bear camp.

The first couple hours passed anxiously.  Birds of all sorts and squirrels were fun to watch eating what they could from the bait.  A few micro-naps helped as well.
I caught the movement of a bear leg ahead of me and watched a bear come in - 4:30 on Day 1 is good!  It was a smaller bear but made short work of the logs in the bait barrel.  It was mostly oblivious to me and spent about 20 minutes eating popcorn and watching movies (what kind of movies to bears watch?).  At one point when I was moving stuff in my pack it did turn to look at me and sniff the air, but it didn't seem very concerned with me.  With all the bears I saw it almost seemed like could have done jumping jacks in the treestand.  Unlike some areas where bears interact with lots of people - these Manitoba bears are quite content with a minimal amount of human intrusion.

It moved on and around 5:30 another bear came in.  This was a very small bear.  While I was mentally telling bear one to leave to allow bigger bears to come into the bait, this little guy needed all the food it could get.  And it did eat.  And eat.  And eat.  For two hours it munched away.  Even though it was a small bear, it was really fun to watch, especially since the squirrels started to piss it off and it started to go after them.  But squirrels are faster than bears.

The little bear headed away and almost immediately a third bear came in.  This one was definitely more interesting.  It had a bit of a belly and some bear swagger, but I couldn't decide if it looked better because it was really better?

Or if it just looked better in comparison to the first two since they were small.  Ultimately I decided that it was a decent bear, but not a first day bear.  It is always possible I'll regret this on Day 5 - I know this...

The third bear hung around for a while until bolting out of the area - I knew this meant another bear was coming in.  As the fourth bear came in, I had more second-guessing on the third and the fourth.  This fourth bear was slightly taller, but definitely more narrow.  Like the third, it wasn't a Day 1 bear - or should the adage be to not pass on a bear on Day 1 that I'd shoot on Day 5?  I love hunting but I sometimes wonder if a chronic overthinker like myself should be doing this.
It was getting dark so I never even tried to get a picture of the fourth bear.  (And frankly, most of the bear pictures I took were pretty crappy in the thick, dark, Manitoba brush).  That fourth bear hung around until I got picked up well over an hour after dark.  Since it stayed in the area - I just hung out on the stand.  Hearing that bear chomping away in the pitch black was a little unnerving as I could misinterpret it as chomping on the bones of its enemies.  Maybe that is going to far.

Back at camp lots of guys (one of the Missouri hunters is a female - so I'll use the term "guys" to generically describe people - no offense intended in the overly sensitive times) saw bears, and several saw many bears.  But everyone passed up on everything.  One guy did have at least one really nice bear come in, but his contacts gave him trouble to where he wasn't able to shoot.
We had a Thanksgiving dinner (that just couldn't be beat) while talking about the evenings adventures before everyone turned in for the night.
I turned in second guessing that third bear.

2018 Bear Hunt Day 1 - Fire and Steakums

Despite my best attempts, I didn't sleep well.  And after tossing and turning for a while in the morning, I decided there was no reason not to get up and hit the road.  I also realized that the hotel room air conditioner sounded almost exactly like the static on my clock radio at home which is my alarm clock, so I suspect my brain was in constant-alarm-must-get-up mode.  Perhaps this explains my even earlier than usual wake-up.  Perhaps.

But the great thing about hitting the road early as that I had it to myself.  There were a few truckers on the road, but it was mostly just me.
As my route headed north, I started to see thunderstorms to the west.  This area of Illinois is pretty flat, so I could see them quite a ways away and the lightning was nothing short of spectacular.  Still, I wasn't too keen about driving through torrential rain.
It did rain some, but it wasn't too heavy and it didn't start until around the time it started to get light out.  The rain stopped near Madison, Wisconsin before picking up again for a while a bit later.  Closer to International Falls it got really nice out.

Watching the driving habits of other drivers can be maddening.  Let's all say it together, "Keep right except to pass!"  And there was a Uhaul truck and a car that were obviously traveling together that were alternating going 100mph then slowing down only to speed up again with seemingly random lane usage.  They must have been paranoid to even have one car between them as I found if I did put myself between them they instantly got in the right lane, slowed down and regrouped.  I did this a couple times, only because it was funny.  I guess I can be maddening too.

I was listening to the book American Fire by Monica Hesse.  It was a riveting book about a series of arson fires on the Virginia Eastern Shore.  The book goes off on a few tangents in a good way as it tells the tale from several viewpoints.  I interpreted an anecdote about Steakums to be pivotal in what happens, only because it makes the story better.
When that was finished I listened to Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451.  This seems like it is a book I should have read before, but I haven't.  It was read by the author, but his voice was really hard to hear at first with road noise and rain.  Once the weather cleared a bit, it wasn't so bad.  The story of the book is pretty simple and second half is more social commentary.  Still, I couldn't help thinking that Bradbury had predicted a lot of what we are degenerating towards today - although not to the extreme presented in the book.  But earbuds and huge TVs figure prominently.  In a way, he predicts social networks as well.  It did feel a bit odd listening to it on an MP3 instead of reading it; since Bradbury was reading it, that must be OK.
I'm not sure what to think about listening to two books with fire as a central theme; I'll chalk that up to coincidence.

After the previous day's issues with the cooler, I had the cheap Styrofoam cooler cinched down pretty tight in the bed of the Ridgeline.  I was a bit worried about it making all the way too and from Manitoba even though my reorganization seemed to have worked.  I had thought about buying a new-fangled rotomolded cooler a couple months ago and decided to just do it.  Walmart's website said Duluth had one of the 55Qt. Lifetime coolers that look pretty good and are an absolute bargain.  In some reviews it actually outperformed some of the big players in rotomolded coolers.  I may still get a much bigger one later, but I'm sure I'll have the capacity of what I need for this trip even if I do lose the Styrofoam one.  I might hold out for a while though since Lifetime is planning on making some bigger ones in the future (I emailed them) with timing TBD.

Once off the interstate, the roads started to get that Northern feel to them with lots of granite and more birch trees and tons of water.  This made me get more excited about the coming adventure.

I'm not sure what it is about this area, but I saw an over-representation of 2nd generation Honda Ridgelines between Eau Claire, Wisconsin and International Falls.  I almost never see them at home, and it must be because they are all up here.

Soon enough I was in International Falls.  I stayed in the same hotel I stayed at in 2011 and it is just as I remember it - although my brain said it was on the other side of the street.  Still, getting a cut key for a room is a nice piece of history.  While objectively the room wasn't as nice as the previous night's, I like it much, much better.

I walked down to the restaurant I ate at in 2011, but decided I didn't want to eat there.  So I headed back the other way to another restaurant that was about a mile away.  En route I saw a sign in front of the VFW that said, "Cafe Open" - I decided why not.
I walked in and there were only three guys sitting there chewing the fat.  One of them got up and walked over to me, "You want the fish -"  It was more of a statement than a question.
"I guess I do."
It was good and I listened to the three gentlemen talk the weather, diesels, guns, politics...

I stopped by a gas station on my walk back to the hotel.  I didn't need the ice cream, but it seemed almost criminal not to.

2018 Bear Hunt day -1

We've had a few of those oddly cool days that remind us that summer really won't last forever.  But the cool days were short lived and the past several days have been more like mid-July than the end of August.  While the hot and humid weather makes it easy to get excited about fishing, it makes it a bit harder to get excited about bear hunting ... until the last few days.

I dealt with a few things at work before spending most of the day getting a rather complicated (for me) macro to do what I wanted it to in eXcel.  I'm glad I got figured that out as there is a risk I would have thought about it too much.  My inbox was gloriously down to zero by the time I ate lunch at my desk.  I left a very empty work, as the Friday before Labor Day meant many people were already off or were "working from home."

Once at home I felt like I was dithering around while packing the last few things.  Soon enough I was on the road.
Starting out on the small 2-lane roads near home, I almost immediately got behind an evil motorhome.  This is not a good way to start.  Despite the fact that I had lots of time, passing him as soon as possible was the only option.
There was one road-closed construction zone which I had pre-scoped a short route around and it was on to the interstate.
Traffic around Indianapolis was just starting to pick up, but I made my way through.  It was a little unnerving having a tractor trailer hauling granite slabs lose a tire shortly after I passed it.  The noise was crazy loud and the result could have been terrible.
Once out of the Indy area traffic lightened only slightly and there was lots of construction.  My massive but cheap Styrofoam cooler came partially loose so I ended up getting off the interstate and pondering a better fastening system.  I use the term "better" loosely.  After getting back on the interstate, I decided that if I have more issues with it, I'll throw it away and buy a better (real) cooler in Duluth!

SO had kicked me out a day early as she was worried about me driving a zillion miles in one day.  Or maybe she just wanted me gone - who knows.  The hotel room was gratis, but I got to it wwwwaaaaayyyyyy to early.  I easily could have gone a couple hundred more miles.  But when the reservation had been made, I didn't know if I'd be able to escape work early and even the distance I did go will help for the next days journey.

I ordered in Chinese food for dinner.  The scallops were quite good and the shrimp were huge.  It was a good thing I had my ice cream spoon as they didn't have the foresight to give me a plastic fork.  The garbage went right outside as I didn't want to smell the leftovers when I woke up in the morning.  Then it was watching TV until I made myself tired enough to call it a day.
Tomorrow the adventure really starts.

Great Lakes 2018 Day 7 - Home

Lexington, Michigan to Home:  358.9 Miles

I woke up in end-of-vacation mode which means it was time to head home.  After getting up and making coffee, I started picking stuff up and putting things away (my Mom later complained about the noise of putting dishes away).

As it started to get light, people started filtering downstairs.  Everyone was eating breakfast, talking and starting to pack and clean and get ready to leave. 
SO even found a few minutes to watch the sunrise through some hazy Huron clouds.

I kind of liked the fishing pole I bought at the garage sale, and rigged up a way to take it home.  I took the reel off and packed it away.  I strung the pole between the helmet holders on the back bag, using zip ties to secure it in place.  It worked much better than I anticipated even though the pole halves stuck out a little bit to either side.

It seemed like there was more dithering than there needed to be.  And dithering was definitely not compatible with my being ready to leave.  First thing in the morning on the road is always best.  And it was a long drive home.

My younger sister and Mom were the first to leave.  My sister was dropping off my Mom at home, and had the longest drive.  

My older sister and two nephews were next.  They had to fly out.

My older brother, his wife and my youngest nephew (the now master fisherman) were last to leave.  Little kids do take time.  

Once everyone was gone I took a few minutes to make sure the house was left how it was supposed be.  The letter from the landlord asked us to put the garbage out at the far left of the property opposite the leaning trees.  I didn't see any leaning trees (only some crooked stumps?) and left is ambiguous - left from where and while looking at the house or from the house?  Hopefully the garbage cans were left in the right place.  They are at the NW corner of the property - which is a much better description than on the left corner of the property.

We were on the road around 10:00.  The trip south started out well enough.  We caught a few glimpses of Lake Huron, but it was time to go home.

The area around Detroit was lousy with construction, including an I-75 closure.  If there is any benefit to leaving on Sunday it was that traffic wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.  But it would have been better had I left at first light...

The drive went well enough even though I did start to get quite tired.  We got stuck in one traffic situation which lasted about 15 minutes.  It wasn't too bad but wasn't too good either.

As we neared Dayton, I remarked to SO that it looked like rain off to the East.  She checked her phone and said it looked like a few miles of "green" rain - meaning the radar was green which usually means light to at most moderate rain.

Nope, it was several miles of the worst rain I've ever ridden through.  Cars were pulling off the road or slowing down (slowing down was fine with me).  Idiots were even using their hazard lights.  Water was pooling over the interstate.  The tractor-trailer next to me was throwing huge amounts of water onto us.  I could tolerate this as it was also blocking some wind and hail.  Yes, hail.  It was hailing, and not lightly.  At one point I looked down and between my leg and the bike was a small pile of hail.  We wear open-faced helmets and the hail hurt my lips.

Pulling off the road would have been the smart thing to do, but I plugged along.  The heavy rain waned and for the rest of the trip home it was anything and everything from hot sunshine to more rain and wind.  Both SO and I were completely soaked through.  But we did eventually get home.

The home alarm had a SNAFU, so it may have been screaming for a time while we were gone.  I'm a little disappointed the neighbors didn't notice.  Or maybe they did.  But everything else looked good.

I got dogs from beagle jail.  SO made a quick grocery trip, and we unpacked, getting ready for another work day in the morning.  I hate not having a recovery day after a vacation, but that is how it works sometimes.

For a short vacation, our trip to Chicago a few days ago seems like a very long time ago.  It was definitely not a motorcycle tour about hauling for miles and miles across the country or about crossing many state lines.  The SS Badger across Lake Michigan was a lot of fun.  It was good to see family at several stops as was spending several days with my siblings and Mom.

The dogs are back at home so things can get back to normal - for at least a few weeks.