Patagonian New Year Day 6 - Guanaco Wrestling

After breakfast and getting ready for the day, Abi stopped by to chauffeur us again.  We were headed to see the area south of PRT.  The drive there was a little bit on the long side.

But there was much to see and the views on the drive didn't disappoint.

We stopped at Parque Patagonia Valle Chucabuco.  This park has many guanacos which are animals in the family of lamas or alpacas.  We got behind a BMW GS motorcycle which was going slow.  This was OK since as we headed up a hill we saw a guanaco in the distance.  Abi pulled over and several more guanacos came out from behind a hilly area.  Young Sis, Nephew and I got out to get some pictures as we walked closer.  It was surprising how close we could get.  I'm not sure if they are naturally not very wary or just habituated, but at one point I was within 25 yards of a rather large group of them.  I thought about trying to ride one of them, but I suspect it would not go very well; they are also known to spit like lamas do.

From a distance, they look pretty regal.  Up close they are a bit shaggy looking.

Back in the truck we drove a little farther into the park.  We saw another group which was even larger.  But we didn't have much else to do in the park so we turned around and headed out.  As we were leaving the area, several more guanacos were in the road trying to be road kill.  They managed to avoid all the vehicles - at least while we were driving past.

We continued south and into the town of Cochrane.  Cochrane is quite a bit larger than PRT - still a small town by North American standards.  Through Cochrane by a crazy detour route, we headed to Reserve Tamango to hike for a while.  We had to check in at the Federale station before taking the route along the river.  This reserve is known to have huemule which are deer-like animals that are endangered.  Pictures in the Federale station showed that the males have antlers, but there were very small (by North American Whitetail standard anyway).
As with most of the other hikes, the views didn't disappoint.

It was a little tougher going after two back-to-back days with fairly aggressive hikes.  We continued on, passing a waterfall which was pretty, even if the flow wasn't too high.

We decided to have lunch at an overlook which was spectacular.  The scenery makes the food taste better.

The water condition of the river is both amazingly clear and almost comically blue.  I'm not sure how this is possible; the waters in this area have the most variation of color that I think I've seen anywhere.

After lunch, we headed back by the same route.

"Paths are made by walking." - Franz Kafka

Walking back was even more painful, especially the uphill part.  Being forty-something sucks. 
Once nearly back to the reserve entrance, I noticed two people coming at me, looking like they had their camera trained on me - it was a bit unnerving.  I stopped and they spoke in Spanish before respeaking in English.  They had seen a femal huemule on a rock that we had walked right past.  We turned around for a closer look - it appeared to be really hot, maybe even panting.  Perhaps not the brightest animals since there was quite a bit of shade in the area.  And it did look really shaggy.
It was hard to get a picture of the huemule without risking really disrupting it.  When I was close to it, it had its back to me.  Farther away, it was hard to get a decent picture with the small camera, and it was in the shadows.  I was thrilled to have seen one.

Once out of the park we stopped in Cochrane to get some beverages.  It was interesting to see a Patagonian grocery store.  It was somewhat small (about the size of a US convenience store), but space was well-used so it had lots of stockings.  We got some beverages before heading back toward PRT.
We were going to take a different route back by using a "floating bridge."  This is a cabled ferry that uses the power of the river for motion.  Motors are only used to raise the lower the ramps.  Sadly, it was not operating.  Perhaps the operator felt the urgent need to begin celebrating New Year's Eve early.

We backtracked and returned by the same route we had gone early in the day.  On the way, we stopped at a waterfall where two rivers meet.  Either a small waterfall or a huge rapids, the name didn't matter.  Standing at the base of it, the power of the river was palpable - it almost seemed like the pulse of the earth.

The water coming off of the waterfall was again unique in color and texture.

Abi told us a story about a British fellow who fell off a waterfall and badly mangled his leg.  His friend had to hitchhike back to get help and ambulances are scarce in these parts.  It was quite a tragic story but the dude didn't lose his leg.  Travel to remote areas does not come without some risk.

Once back at the cabana Jonny and Abi made another great dinner of fish and veggies.  Plans were made/remade/remade-again (and again) for the remaining time in Patagonia (or at least the next day).

After dinner, Nephew, Young Sis and I went worm hunting - yes worm hunting.  One of the options for the next day is fishing, so no reason not to be prepared.  It felt a little odd doing this, but the only real risk is being accused of being a gringo loco.  Nephew also grabbed quite the collection of slugs.  I've never fished with slugs, but why not?

It is New Year's Eve.  We're supposed to be out hooting and hollering.  There are other things to do on this trip, so a normal morning sounded better to most of us than any inebriating celebrations.

Patagonian New Year Day 5 - Scenery at a Glacial Pace

I woke up to a toilet which wasn't functioning properly.  This is not a good way to start the day, but I suppose if it is the worst thing to happen on a day when we're going to be climbing around the ice, that is a win.  It couldn't be dealt with immediately since we had to head to meet the guides for going to the Glacier Exploradores.
We walked down on a cool morning and shortly headed out in a big van.  The drive to get there was about an hour and a half on some terrible roads with a van which had little in the way of effective suspension.  There were a few slow downs to show us a couple things on the way.  Our guides Catalina and Alverado (I think) traded giving instructions in English and Spanish.  Over half of the people on the trip were from the US with one from Chile and three from Japan.  The Japanese either didn't understand the instructions, or chose to not understand.  The Chile guy was a bit of a free spirit too (as well as a bit of a Go-Pro overuser).
The drive also had a few of these rather frightening wooden bridges.  These aren't as bad as the bridge from the drive to PR, are definitely single vehicle only.

Eventually we made it to the load-off point for the glacier.  The guides gave us quite the list of rules - some of which seemed a little overprescriptive.  But I suppose it only takes one.
No pictures while walking... No standing if the helmet isn't on...  No fires...
Perhaps a bit of instruction is a good thing since we saw one dude in another group walking around and wearing his helmet backwards.  Of course that may have just been a fashion choice as well.

The hiking started off in the woods.  The trails were nice with most wet spots covered with wooden planks or logs.  The walking was pretty easy with only a few steep sections.
We did get an early view of the glacier we'd be hiking on.  It was exciting.

After the woods we made it to a section of glacial moraine.  This was much slower going as we had to think where each foot was going to go and sometimes the wrong decision was made.  It was still fun and it reminded me of some of the rock piers that go into Lake Michigan - only much, much longer.

Among the deposited rocks were several lagunas - evidence of retreating glacier.  It is likely that if 5-10 years much of this lower glacier will be gone.

This transitioned to a mix of moraine and ice, where various types of ice are covered with an unknown thickness of scree and rocks.  This added another dimension to the hazards we had.  This also showed the last unhealthy breath of the retreating glacier.

Eventually we made it to the glacier with very little in the way of rocks and scree.  We stopped to put on our crampons - which came with more rules.  Stay in a single file line at all times...  Stomp like a kid when you walk...  Hands free at all times...  Gloves must be worn at all times because the ice is diamonds (we're all rich!)...
Let me just add at this time that nearly every single rule was violated by all of us in the group - often multiple times.  But nobody started any fires (that I saw).

I wasn't sure if the crampons were really needed at this point, or if they were just part of the touristiness of the trip.  As the trip went on, it became increasingly clear that it would have been a disaster without them.
As we were getting ready to head out we heard the roar of an avalanche somewhere in the distance.  It felt almost foreboding.

After a lesson and demonstrations about how to go up and down on the ice with crampons, how to turn and a few more things about walking on ice we began to explore the glacier (in a sort of single file line).  I will say the guides were great, and it seemed that once they saw there weren't any real bozos or incapable people in the group, we had quite a bit of freedom.  They did have to corral us together a couple times.
It was nice that the entire adventure wasn't nanny-stated to death.  If someone wanted to be stupid, it would have been very easy to get hurt.

Seeing the glacier up close and personal was really neat.  I loved the layers of the ice and the years of snow and ice they represent.  There were numerous crevasses and holes, "If they are filled with water they are shallow.  If they are empty they are deep."

At one point they hooked up a rappel line for us to try getting up to an ice cave at a higher elevation.  It felt a little gimmicky but it was still fun.  The gimmicky-ness was confirmed when the guide walked down after we had all had our chance at rappelling.  This is OK, we all need to do these things from time to time.

We also got to explore a few ice caves which was super awesome.  They rained down frigid glacial water and were gorgeous inside.  The inside textures of the ice were really interesting as well.  Across the glacier, the various textures of ice and many types of rocks were fascinating.

Some caves were a combination of cave plus tubes.  These almost reminded me of lava tubes from Hawaii - only much colder.

We had a few breaks through the day which was helpful.  We got to a chance to talk to others in the group as well.  Ginger from Texas was with her parents in Chile, but she was alone on the day's adventure.  She was a lot of fun to talk to.  Nephew seemed to really enjoy talking to the guides since that was what he originally came to Patagonia for.

All good things must come to an end.  After a couple hours on the ice we began to head back.  At the higher elevations it was possible to see several other groups on the glacier.  They looked like jelly beans since all groups were separated by the color of their helmets.  We were blue - because blue is awesome and everything should be blue.  The guides did a good job keeping the groups separate, but we did end up in a jelly bean jam on the way back since many of the groups start about the same time.

The weather had started out nice, if a bit cloudy but it steadily improved through the day.  As we left, there were only a few clouds left and it was really nice.  This also meant it got really hot on the way back.  A small price to pay  for such a great day.
The weather also gave us a view of Mont San Valentine, which is the tallest peak in all of Patagonia.

The ride back to PRT felt very long compared to the ride there.  I actually dozed off a little bit, until the next bump or swerve undozed me, meaning any dozing was very short-lived at best.
Back at the cabana, our lovely host got our toilet to work - making her the hero of the day.

We had a somewhat traditional Chilean dinner of beans, pumpkin and pasta with slightly less common vegies and salad.
I was prepared for the Glacier Exploradores to be a bit prescripted, but it far surpassed what I was hoping for.

Patagonian New Year Day 4 - Pumpkin Spice Hike

We had a fire in the wood burning stove the previous night.  And I should have predicted this, but the fire didn't last all night.  It was muy frio in the morning!!!!  This didn't make it any easy to get out of bed.  Coffee and a shower drove me to get up.  I did notice that the water heater vented directly into the cabana.  This did warm up the cabana, but I suspect if there were building codes in this part of Chile, it would be a violation.  I guess the cabana is leaky enough that the risk is very low unless it was on for hours.

Once everyone was up we headed to the Ocampo.  We met Nephew's coworker Enigo? Indigo? (sp?) - not sure if his father makes swords or not?  We shared mate - a tea like beverage common in Patagonia, but it comes with rules.  Very specific rules.  Thankfully, the consequences for not following them were nil.  We were among friends.

It was a beautiful, if just a tad cool morning and we headed out on a hike.  The hike ranged through lots of terrain - from open scrubby areas to wet boggy areas to black timber to stone scree - and just about everything in between.  We were gaining elevation quickly which was a lot of work and it was getting warmer.  Throughout the day the coat was on/off/on/off...

And the flies, huge horse flies were buzzing around and biting something fierce.  The only relief was the wind as it fought the tyranny of those evil flies.  Mostly, the flies won, although they were easy to kill.  They actually got worse in the warmer weather on the way down in the afternoon.

We continued to hike throughout the morning, gaining elevation.  It seemed every time a peak was in view, yet another peak a little higher was soon to show.  No matter how much elevation is gained, there was always more up.

I created some Sasquatch rocks, and asked Abi if Patagonia has any mythical beasts.  She told of a few including a Trauco which is a troll-like beast that lives on an island and can impregnate young girls.  More likely, it is used as a convenient excuse for young girls to tell their mothers when...
And Patagonia has the chupacabra of course!  And that might explain this picture...

Towards the end of the morning there was a long side-hilling section in dark timber.  The scenery was pretty and the Old Man's Beard made me smile.  But it was also painful and an ankle-roll would not have been impossible.

After this long side-hill section, we broke out into a green gentle valley.  After the woods, the view was hard to comprehend; it was transformational.

We hiked up to a lake formed by the Chirifo Glacier.  It was between cloudy and silty from all the glacial run-off.  It was still really pretty.

We had lunch "on the rocks" - although there was no alcohol.  We actually ate lunch in a rough glacier/boulder area.  It worked, but wasn't too comfortable and perhaps not totally hygienic.  So it goes.

After lunch we headed towards another high elevation glacial lake from the Chirifo Glacier.  This brought us across an area with quite a bit of snow.  Coming from Ohio, it doesn't sound that amazing to say I walked across several feet of snow in December with Nephew.  But this is South America, and I walked across snow in the middle of summer.

The second glacial lake was totally different than the first.  It was almost completely clear and had rivulets of water running down across some scree, forming a river a little lower in elevation.  We ate some pumpkin spice treats Big Sis brought down - how many people can say that they had a feast of pumpkin spice at the shore of a high elevation Patagonian Lake?  At least five...

I enjoyed looking at all the rocks on this hike.  There were rocks of just about every make-up and texture.  And every now and then a totally different rock appeared, dropped by some ancient glacier from who knows where.

We started to head down after this.  The views continued to be amazing but they were not the same with the sun higher in the sky.  The blues of the lower elevation lake were definitely more intense.

The side-hilling wasn't too bad going back, but it still wasn't my favorite part.  While the trip up is much more work, the trip down is almost harder both because I'm tired and because constantly bracing on the steep parts was painful.

When I was looking at what I was going to bring to Patagonia, footwear was something I needed to figure out.  Waterproof shoes are great ... until they get wet.  Then they suck and take forever to dry.  My solution was to use quick-drying mesh hiking shoes and waterproof breathable socks.  This hike convinced me that this works - and works well.  On the way back I had a foot go into a pretty serious bog.  I washed it off a short time later in a glacial stream.  It was a bit squishy for less than five minutes at which time I couldn't even tell anything was wet.  And regardless of the temperature, I my feet stayed quite comfortable.

It was getting hotter as the day went on and I was getting more tired.  It was still fun and very pretty.  On the way down we did see a huge print from a puma - nephew commented that it might explain where the chickens are going.

By the time we got back to the Ocampo, it looked like Xanadu - or at least the level ground did.
We packed up and headed back to the cabana for dinner.  Abi and Nephew made really tasty salmon with a salad followed by brownies (as an ad-hoc belated celebration for Abi's birthday).

We had a visitor that night who also shared in some salmon skin.  This was a super well-behaved dog that was also friendly and leaned against me while I worked on the computer.  I do miss my dogs at home.

This was the first real day of the adventure and it definitely didn't disappoint.  There is still much to see and do.

Patagonian New Year Day 2&3 - I Am In Patagonia!

I woke up too early for how late I had fallen asleep.  This was compounded by a pounding headache.

I had seen a Trump resort only a couple miles from my hotel on Google Maps, and wanted to walk to it, just to see it.  But it wasn't THE resort and between the snotty weather, unwalkable area and bonkers traffic, it was prudent not to.  In a way, I DID see the Trump resort - or maybe all of them since Miami seems to be where backwater poverty and ostentatious displays of wealth collide.  I also thought about seeing if I could find a white Ferrari Testarossa to rent and drive around fighting vice crime with a Colt Delta Elite.  Also imprudent.  And besides, the 1980's were 30 years ago (seriously!)...

I walked down to my gratis breakfast (Thanks Sis-in-Law!) and it was probably one of the best hotel breakfasts I've ever had.  It was also pretty crowded.  I ended up sitting next to a German couple on my fight, a whole Scandinavian family to my left.  There was some Russian right behind me and at least two Asian families (maybe Indian and Sri Lankan?).  So I guess it was a very Continental breakfast indeed!

I sat around the hotel room as long as I could before packing up and shuttling to the airport.  At first, the airport was (again) nearly empty, but it filled up through the afternoon as most of the international flights left later in the day.  By mid afternoon, I was a little sick of people - or maybe I should say I was a little sick of the combination of people and cell phones.    Phone calls?  Sure - we all do them.  But 90% of the people were using speakerphone...

Older Sis texted me and let me know that her check-in got confused with Younger Sis (who was still on a plane en route to Miami and on a different flight out).  This is the horrors of air travel realized.  Given that my two sisters' names are different, it is much easier to imagine this happening if two very common names were checking in with the same airline.  This was sorted out and the world wouldn't end if something did get mixed up.

I continued people-watching for the very long wait for the flight.  It was funny to watch the various airlines - especially the European ones - configure the queue to their own rigid way.  This was especially true of the German airlines.

I finished In Patagonia and had a few insights from it:

• Patagonia is the farthest place to which man walked from his origins.  After thinking about this, I couldn't really suggest any other alternative assuming the collective truth about human's origin being in Africa is correct.  Given that Pangea is assumed to have broken up over 150 million years ago, and the oldest human(oids) are 2-3 million years ago, the interpretations of the data would have to be wildly incorrect for how people got to Patagonia.  Although one nut-job that Mr. Chatwin talks about in his book did suggest that humans developed separately in South America.  Unlikely, but there are primates in Central and South America...
• The name "Patagonia" is thought to have originated from Magellan's 1520 exploration of the region, where he called the inhabitants "Patagons" - assumed to be giants.  However, a text which predates Magellan's exploration of the area talks about a being called a Grand Patagon - an "ill-favoured people, who eat raw flesh and wear skins."  They have "the head of a dog and the feet of a hart, but gifted with human understanding and amorous of women."  Sounds lovely!  There is evidence that Magellan had this Greek text on his voyage, so he may have borrowed from this - possibly if he heard foreign sounds since the Grand Patagon "roars so dreadfully that it would have terrified the very stoutest heart."
• Tierra del Fuego (Land of Fire) was named by Magellen when he saw the smoke from the Native's fires.  He originally called it Tierra del Humo (Land of Smoke), but there is no smoke without fire...  Vaping hadn't been invented yet (golly what a lovely time that must have been).

Finally it was time to board the flight to Santiago.  This was to run overnight and I can almost never sleep on planes.  I had paid for extra foot room - which was totally worth it.  It was even more worth it when the stewardess pointed out that there were unused rows in the extra-foot-room areas.  I ended up with a whole row to myself.
It was a stupendous flight.  The food was pretty good - I wouldn't run to it if it was a restaurant, but it was quite good.  With a row to myself, I was able to sleep a little bit.  And while breakfast in the morning wasn't great, it wasn't too bad.  The flight wasn't quite as good for Old Sis, but we both got off the plan in decent spirits.

As the plane descended into Santiago, the sunrise to the east was amazing - highlighting the mountains with the city lights sparkling closer to the airport.

Old Sis and I got off the plane.  The airport was a bit hard to get through and Old Sis had checked one bag adding complication.  But after multiple false starts we headed to our gate for the flight to Balmaceda.  It was interesting to see cars that we don't get in the United States, including MGs!  (even if Geelyized)

At this time we met up with Young Sis even though she was on a different flight.  We caught up for a bit before boarding the plane.
Cultural differences were evident as flight crews greeted by kissing (female and male/female - males shook hands and patted each other on the back).  Experiencing these small differences is one of the good parts of travel.
The plane was packed making it uncomfortable.  And even though I was in a bulkhead row, that meant I didn't have room for my bag.  I tried to doze, but I think the only thing that kept me going was nearing our final destination of Patagonia!

The scenery changed as we headed south.  The clear skies made the amazing topography of Chile evident.  Mountains, large plains, rivers, dry waddies, glaciers - I was glad I had a window seat.

And we landed in the verdant valley that Balmaceda is in.  

"But just as flying shrinks all sense of the distance, so to does it sharpen the contrast." - Tony Horwitz

And that has never been more true for me.  Leaving winter Ohio to head to Miami.  Staying in a really nice hotel (by my standards anyway).  Jetting off to South America.  Heading into the unfamiliar so unfamiliar that in a sleep deprived state I have to wonder if I'm still alive, it is a big amazing world.

The Patagonia we landed in was utterly foreign but strangely familiar at the same time.  It was definitely a totally new world for me, but reminded me a little of Wyoming at the same time.  It was also odd that the weather was colder in summer Patagonia than winter in the Ohio I left (of course the heat wave in Ohio was quite unusual).

I met Nephew in the baggage area and we talked while Old Sis and Young Sis made their way from their respective planes.  We met with Abi in the parking lot before heading out to Puerto Rio Tranquilo.  At first the road was a nice paved road before turning to gravel and rough gravel at that.  The views for the several-hour ride south were nothing short of amazing.

We stopped at one overlook for lunch.  I want to take my a motorcycle on this road!

Abi took us on a slight scenic detour which was a road barely more than a 2-track.  This also involved crossing one of the scariest bridges I've seen.  It reminded me of something like the bridge in the final scene of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom - except there wasn't a bald Indian Priest/Witch Doctor coming after us.  We did have to fold in the mirrors to even fit - Seriously!

Back on the "main" road the terrain changed but was always amazing.  There were several construction zones, but eventually we made it to PRT.  We stopped at our Cabana and Nephew and I went to talk to the owners.  Their WiFi was down and while that wasn't a total deal-killer, it did prompt us to look for other options.  Nephew seemed to enjoy going to many of the PRT cabanas looking for lodging that would work for us.  Eventually we found a place that would work - even if the WiFi barely worked inside the cabana.  At least we had access to it.  The cabana seemed a little nicer and larger as well.  Plus, it ended up being cheaper.

Having Nephew as a translator was invaluable.  His Chilean Spanish was really good and seemed to build rapport with the already friendly people.  It is probably healthy for me to occasionally feel like the bumbling foreigner; this should build perspective for use back home - something really needed from time to time.

We changed plans about 384 times as we decided what to do.  This was a bit painful to a planner like myself, but did seem to be the Chilean way.  Eventually we settled on a plan before heading to a restaurant to eat - at which time we changed the plan another 298 times...

Back at the cabana, we unpacked and got ready for the morning.  This is an amazing start, and I can't believe I'm here.

Patagonian New Year Day 1 - At Least a Start

Most of my packing was done on Christmas Day.  So after getting up the day after, I quickly finished getting ready to head out.  As it got light, I leashed up BOTH dogs and headed out for a walk.  Since this was going to be the last walk for them for a while, I though they both needed one.
I spent the rest of the morning watching TV (ugh) before heading to the airport way too early.  Being early meant no need to rush, which was nice.  Thankfully, the long term parking had spots available right up front.

I was expecting mayhem and long lines for the day after Christmas at the airport, but I made it through security within about 10 minutes and walked to the gate.  Even at the gate the terminal was very quiet.  Not what I expected, but I'll take it.
I can't help but wonder if this bird lives in the terminal, or flies in and out for free food.  Given how unafraid it was of me - at one point it was eating some crumbs right at my feet - I suspect the former.  I guess it isn't too bad a life since the weather is always good and there are no predators.  But it is a little sad at the same time.  How often do people get pooped on though?

I started reading Bruce Chatwin's In Pagagonia - one of the classic Patagonia travelogues from the 1970's.  It was pretty good, but I almost needed a translator in parts, not for the Spanish, but for some of the very British text.  At the end of the Introduction to the book, there is a not-so-subtle jab:
"We should write something on the gringos who come here [Patagonia] with In Patagonia," says Fabio Roberts de Gonzalez, who sings in the choir.  "It's their Bible."

Eventually, it was time to board an EMB140 and take off.  The plane was small but tolerable for a two hour flight.  Thankfully the guy in front of me didn't recline.
Landing in Miami it was partly cloudy and sticky-humid - exactly what Miami wants to be.  The Miami airport was more of what I expected for the day after Christmas, with lots of people and a bit of mayhem.  I made my way out of the terminal and called the hotel for the shuttle.
It took a very painful amount of time to get picked up.  At one point, I saw the van, but it didn't stop.  I did eventually get picked up, but it took about as much time to fly from Ohio to Miami as it did to get from the plane to the Four-Points Sheraton...

My sister-in-law was able to help get my room at a substantial discount which was nice.  But when I was checking in, it gave the appearance that I was spending the night with her in Miami.  I suppose that will be Exhibit A in the divorce proceedings?
Before heading up to the room, I checked how long the restaurant was open, "Ten minutes, better order now."  I was famished; the burger was good.

It wasn't a good start that I wasn't feeling so hot - I know it is mostly due to the stress of commercial air travel.  The hotel room was really nice, but the road noise, even six stories up, was not insignificant and the window shades did only some to darken the room.
Still, the Patagonia adventure had started.

Patagonian New Year Day 0 - How NOT to Plan a Trip...

...if one is a chronic worrier.

My sister's email was short and to the point: We're (other sister) thinking of going to see nephew for New Year's.  Wanna go?
Yes.
I just about spit coffee all over my laptop when Google Flights showed what my air travel would cost.

Patagonia is interesting in that it is a place without defined borders and which isn't even contained by the artificiality of national borders, much like the Sahara Desert or the Amazon Rainforest.  Patagonia varies from very dry desert, to mountains, to glaciers, to ocean coastlines.  It has only some in the way of natural resources, yet is largely self-sufficient.  It conjures up images as the final refuge for scoundrels from Butch Cassidy to unrepentant Nazis.

Flights were planned - this took hours and manual manipulation to find flights that would work at a not-too-heinous cost.  An interesting-looking Cabana was located.  But a lot of the details of the trip are uncomfortably sketchy at best.
I really enjoy planning since it builds excitement for the adventure.  And the bigger the adventure, the more I like (need?) to have my ducks in a row.  Not that I'm inflexible; I've been known to wake up on a road trip and completely change the plan for several days into the future.  But when flying a quarter of the way around the globe, those ducks better be lined up in a pretty neat row.
The planning for this has probably been a little closer to what it would be like to try to line up actual ducks:  one can probably put a duck where one wants it, that duck will not stay there though.

And I am a chronic worrier.

Riots and protests broke out in Chile while planning was just underway in October; this was largely contained to the major cities such as Santiago, but still affected the Patagonian region.  Chile is in a difficult if interesting place economically, where it is a developed country in the context of a developing region.  From what I've read, there are legitimate concerns and gripes about how the economic system works (or doesn't) in Chile.  But burning buses, looting stores and killing people doesn't really help prove any relevant point.  The United States and the developed world in general isn't immune from this same type of disproportionate reaction.  Despite having cell phones, LED lighting and ready-made waffles, humanity is only barely removed from our stick-wielding, cave-dwelling ancestors.

Even with an overabundance of angst, I'm looking forward to New Year's in Chilean Patagonia.  My nephew is on a gap year there.  I took the more typical path out of high school into college with only a summer in between.  But that was a critical summer in many ways for me - more critical than I ever would have imagined at that time.  A gap year is the perfect time to live in a bit of chaos and exploration; I sometimes wish I would have done this, although I'm not sure I ever would have left since college at the time was mostly the default option.
Still, I would not want to go back to the age of 18.  And quitting the cubicle to spend the remaining lifetime trekking through South America sounds like a good idea only in the abstract.  We're quick to celebrate those who throw off the shackles of 9-to-5 and and fall ass-backwards in the unknown successfully, but simultaneously ignore those who end up begpacking to recover from a horrible decision - or justifiably call them irresponsible.

And so I prepare to head south - chronically worrying about those damn ducks quacking all over the place.

My First Attempts at Hunting Ducks

Duck hunting has been on my bucket list for years.  I have a good pile of gear for big game hunting.  Upland small game has modest requirements at best.  But duck hunting has more specific gear than most other hunting.  Waders.  Decoys.  Non-toxic shot.  A boat would be nice.  And putting these all together requires knowledge that is realistically difficult to come by from books or magazines.
Dedicated duck hunters are quite the closed group.  I'm not the best pass-shooter with a shotgun and I can't justify a guided hunt with minimal knowledge and experience.  I have a few friends who love duck hunting, but I don't think they believed me when I said I wanted to go.
2019 was different.  I went into the lottery pool to hunt a local state park, none of us in a small group were picked, but I guess this did make my wish to hunt waterfowl appear earnest enough.
Dave is a down-to-earth guy.  He emailed me mid-October to ask if I wanted to head to a nearby lake to try to go after some ducks.  I was in - 100%.  Sadly, as the day approached after a near-drought late summer and fall, that day appeared to be ferociously wet and windy.  We bailed on the idea.  But the following week Dave asked.  And again, I was in - 100%.

November 2
The day before the end of daylight saving's time I met Dave at a nearby convenience store just a short distance from the lake.  My truck smelled plasticy like my new waders.  I had tons of other gear for hunting - and hopefully enough.  We caravanned to the lake and got set up in the parking lot.  My Amazon-purchased waders, nylon and rubber, were sticky to get into.
We loaded up the boat and dumped it in the lake.  Some other waterfowlers were in the area Dave wanted to go to, so we headed out to another spot.  We dropped a bunch of goose decoys and a little closer to shore dropped some ducks in the classic "J" pattern.  Then it was time to situate everything tucked into some cedars on the shore.  It was getting light at this time.  It was cold - near freezing - but I was still comfortable.  For all I had brought, I forgot to bring an extra pair of socks.  The comfort of my feet diminished until they were numb.  But I was not going to complain.
I was almost anxious as legal shooting light brightened.  If ducks did come in flying fast over my head or across the water, I wasn't sure how well I'd do.  Big game usually allows some time to look over the situation - ducks don't meander in the sky.

No blow-by-blow run through of the morning, but there were a few highlights.  We saw several ducks, most too far away and none wanted to commit to our most lovely decoy spread.  We did have two geese come in twice.  We both shot and both missed twice.  So it goes.  I was just thrilled to have seen a few ducks and to have been able to get a couple shots off.

A couple other hunters did set up a little too close to us a short time in the morning.  They didn't get any shots off and almost lost some decoys in the deep water.  When we were packing up to leave, they did stop by and apologize as we talked ducks a little bit - they hadn't seen us when they set up.
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November 30
With a very "ducky" final Saturday of Indiana's deer gun season, I was glad for a reason to not go deer hunting.
Dave was going to take me to Grand Lake to hunt ducks on a controlled hunt he had drawn for, but he had a family emergency.  "Family Emergency" is a euphemism nobody wants to think about - let alone think about on Thanksgiving.  Tyler was free so Dave gave his Mercer permit to us, allowing us to head north and hunt ducks.

I was up early by even my standards.  Just about everything was ready to go so it was a quick few minutes to take care of the dogs, dump them on SO and head out the door.  Predictably, there was no traffic and I suspect some of the cars I did see were late-nighters heading home, rather than Saturday morning goers.  As I drove through a nearby city center, I'd never seen so few cars; the Christmas lights coupled with wet roadways sparkled - very pretty.
We met at Tyler's parents house since it was a safe place to drop the truck and relatively convenient for both of us.  All of my needed stuff was transferred to Tyler's car and we headed north.  I had only met Tyler once before but we got along pretty well.  As we traveled the couple hours we talked hunting, life, hunting and hunting...
We got to the DNR office early and signed in.  They had a calendar with the recent activity on the various controlled-hunt stands.  Most were zeros, but a few looked decent and the period before the windstorm the day before Thanksgiving had apparently been quite good.  The drawing was done promptly at 5:30 - we were picked first.  It was hard not to jump up and down at this, but I suspect that kind of behavior would have been call for a beat down by other hunters.  Tyler chose the stand that had had the most activity, closest to the fish hatchery.

With minimal instruction from the DNR, we headed to the hunting area and changed into waders and hauled our gear to the pit blind in the dark.  The concrete pit blind looked pretty nice, but it had several inches of cold murky water in it.  We set up duck decoys on the left with goose decoys on the right, an open area in the pond right in front of us and got into the blind to wait for daylight. It was raining, but Grand Lake was right on the edge of the rain.  The rain stopped as it started to get light.  The pit blind smelled like a swamp...

At first, we didn't see any birds.  Then one lone duck came in and landed off to our right.  Tyler said to hold off shooting since two more were coming in.  We waited, but the two didn't land.  Tyler peaked up and said he thought the duck that did land was within range but with some brushy grass between us.  He told me to stand and see if I could shoot since it was on my side of the blind.  I saw what I was nearly certain was the duck's head above the grass - I aimed like I was shooting at a deer, not pass-shooting ducks and pulled the trigger.  No duck flew away; the duck was hit.  I got out of the blind to finish the duck and bring it back.  My first duck!!!!

  As I came back, Tyler was walking away from the blind telling me he had seen another duck land on the main pond a ways away.  I watched as he stalked the duck, eventually jumping it.  He shot and hit it, bringing it down a short way away.  He had to walk around the pond to finish it before joining me in the blind.  We had both shot big drake mallards.

As the morning progressed, we would see waves of geese a few hundred yards away, but none would head our way.  We thought they were headed to the main lake.  Some ducks were mixed in as well.
We did get a few more small groups of ducks to take interest in our decoy spread and tried a few tactics to bring them down.  Waiting to watch them land in our little pond resulted in the ducks not liking what they saw once they started cupping and flying away.  Shooting early when they were on the edge of range resulted in them flying away.  It was a losing game; the ducks had probably played this before.
We were really glad to be in the blind we were in, since the birds we did see were stragglers from where the large masses were landing.  The other controlled-hunt blind a short ways to our right only shot once all morning - and it was a prayer sky-busting shot at geese that was outside of any range except hope.

I did get a chance to try to stalk one lone duck that landed in the same pond Tyler shot his from.  I got very close to it, but trees and brush prevented me from shooting as soon as the duck took off and by the time I had a clear shot it was moving fast on the edge of range.  It was still exciting to try.

As it got close to the end of legal hunting for the controlled hunt, we almost left a couple times only to have ducks come in for a look-see again.  But eventually we started to clean up and head out.  The wind had picked up and it started to rain again.  I was still mostly comfortable, but my feet were unhappy from sitting in the frigid muskraty water in the pit blind.
We dropped off our report card for the hunt by the fish hatchery and saw hundreds of geese and many mallards in the hatch ponds.  This is where we had seen geese all morning.  The scene was almost funny after the morning of hunting ducks.

We headed south, stopping for lunch before getting back to Tyler's parent's house.  We took some time cleaning the ducks.  Since Tyler was going to breast his out, I chose to clean the whole duck so he could teach me both methods.  Neither was hard, but plucking results in feathers going wherever they want.  Gutting the duck wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world, but not too different from a very tiny deer.  I couldn't help but thinking that doing this at Tyler's parent's house felt a little like high school - the non-wretched parts...
I headed home for the day as the rain came down and the night sky took over.  While a long day, it was an awesome second attempts at ducks with my first duck in the bag.  I'm not ready to run out and buy a boat and a few hundred decoys, but I do hope for future opportunities to go after ducks again.

2019 Deer Hunt Part 3 - Nothing Goes The Morning

I wasn't sure there was going to be a Part 3 this year, but I've got the time and have enjoyed (most of) my time on the stand this year.
It has also been a crazy couple of days at work leading up to Thanksgiving.  Basically more than a week's worth of work needed to be done in three days.  At least it was pay week.

So after getting to a good (enough) stopping point at work, I snuck out a bit early.  A storm had come through bringing some rain, and behind the rain was heinous wind with gusts in excess of 50MPH.  This is a terrible time to go hunting since deer don't move much under these conditions.  So I went hunting.  Actually, I just really wanted to get my stand set up so I'd have to go out on Thanksgiving morning.  Plus, not many other people would be hunting on such a blustery day.
I set up my stand and walked back into the ravine.  With the high winds, I really didn't want to get into a tree, so I used my camo bucket and set myself up in a thicket of honeysuckle.  I absolutely loath honeysuckle, but it does make good impromptu ground blinds.
The afternoon was one of sitting on a fairly uncomfortable bucket, listening to the wind roar overhead and watching crap blow all over the place.  Predictably, nothing was moving except one wild grape vine which looked suspiciously like a deer out of the corner of my eye.  By the time it was dark, I was ready to head home.
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Thanksgiving morning came and I was up early.  I watched some morning-news TV (ugh) with the dogs before taking a quick shower and getting ready to head out.  Temperatures were near freezing and the wind was still significant.  I got to Mike's and was glad that I had set up my stand the previous afternoon since I'm about 97% sure I wouldn't have gone out otherwise.
As it started to get light, I heard a tremendous racket above me as a turkey which had roosted above me in a nearby tree took off.  I'm surprised it didn't bolt when I climbed into my stand.  Throughout the morning I heard turkeys as they made their way around the woods.  Seeing and hearing turkeys on Thanksgiving morning made me smile.  I also couldn't help but think of all the things to be thankful about on Thanksgiving morning - among those things are that I have a nice place to hunt and have a doe in the freezer.  That and the new roof on the house as I thought about the previous day's ugly wind.

As it started to get light out I kept my eyes open looking for any deer.  The squirrels were in overdrive, running all over making a ruckus doing squirrel stuff.  Other than squirrels, not much else was moving.  With the wind and temperatures, I was surprised I remained comfortable, if cool.  But not cold.
I second-guessed leaving my stand set up in my usual "2-tree," but I never know if Mike's neighbor is going to be hunting, and setting up in a tree in the ravine risks putting me very close to him.  Overthinking this gives me something to do during the slow times.
Around the time I started to think I might as well head home, I looked off to my left and saw a deer right on the ridge.  I brought my gun up, but there was brush in the way; I saw her pass through a clear hole before going down toward the ravine.  A second doe came up behind her, I almost shot as she crossed the hole that I now knew was in the brush, but hesitated too long.  Second guessing myself, a whole mess of deer came out in the same area.  I only briefly had a clear shot at one small doe before they moved in a slightly different direction.  As they did, I saw one was a small buck and not one that I think I've seen previously.  Holding off shooting was probably the right thing to do.  I don't like shooting over the ridge - but probably would have if I hadn't already gotten one.  I guess the deer have something to be thankful for as well.
I briefly saw another deer directly across from me in the ravine (far too far to shoot with lots of brush in the way).  Based on where it came from and went to, I'm pretty sure it wasn't one of the ~8 I saw to my left.  I also noted it probably went very close to where I had been sitting the previous afternoon.

Seeing all the small bucks made me wonder why I don't see more that are at least moderately interesting.  Not THAT many people hunt this area, so presumably most of the small bucks will live for at least another year.  I'm reminded of my hunting guide in Wyoming during my mule deer hunt in 2017, "I just want one that is a nickel better.  But I think and say that every year."

I waited for another 45 minutes to see if the deer would double back - I've seen this happen enough over the years.  But the cold was starting to get to me and there was a turkey at home to get in the smoker.
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No crazy Black Friday shopping for me.  After watching the PBS Show Nova about human violence, I was out the door for another morning at Mike's.
Getting to my treestand, I unlocked it and started to climb.  As I did so, it started to sprinkle - no worries (right?), the forecast and radar said a slight chance of a few sprinkles.  Once sitting comfortably, the sprinkles turned into a shower.  Rain came and went most of the morning; It got bad enough that I wished I had had my rain gear on and waterproof cover for my gun.

Other than the rain, it was a nice morning.  Cool temperatures, cloudy skies and basically no wind at all.  Maybe the rain was a godsend since it allowed some noise with the calm conditions.

And it was a slow morning.  No turkeys.  No deer.  At least the squirrels were running their fool heads off which was at least something to keep my damp self company.

There are still a few days left in the season, but Saturday looks ferociously wet and I have other obligations.  And going out on the last day of the gun season wreaks of desperation when I have a deer in the freezer.  Still - there is still the muzzle loader season...
I am slightly (if pleasantly) surprised how much I've enjoyed the post-opening day hunting ... for the time just being in the woods and on the stand.  In many ways, this has been one of the most enjoyable deer hunting seasons for at least a few years.

When I first started hunting so many years ago, even seeing a deer was a near cause for celebration.  Days like this remind me how good I have it now.  As a primarily meat hunter, plump deer are plentiful.  These days when I don't at least see one are rare, and I won't get too upset at the reminder.

2019 Deer Hunt Part 2 - Being Picky

With a deer in the freezer and a few more days of vacation, I couldn't think of a reason not to head out again.  I have quite a bit of bear meat left as well, so I was (probably) going to hold out for a deer with interesting headgear or nothing.  Probably...
Monday started slow at home, with a lot of napping with the beagles and even a quick walk before heading out to Mike's again.  With warmer temperatures I was back in my "normal" deer hunting clothes and it just felt so much more right.  Setting up the treestand in the full light of afternoon is also much more enjoyable.
Soon enough I was comfortably in my spot.  Sadly, the quiet solitude that I so enjoy about hunting was not to be as there was an obnoxious, flatulent tractor plowing a nearby field.  Round and round it went ... all afternoon.  It would tease me from time to time, making me think plowing was done, only to hear it throttle up again and keep going.  I suppose that agriculture is what gives us these plentiful and large deer, but may I suggest a look into no-till farming?  Or perhaps I could buy you a muffler?

Not much was moving and it was hard to hear anything.  Squirrels were running around as they always do.  I caught some movement behind me and to the west - it was the turkeys again (or another group of turkeys?).  Regardless, I've seen more turkeys than deer by this point.
Time passed at a reasonable pace and I caught more movement behind me.  Taking time to look, I saw at least one deer at the far south end of the property.  It was too far away and through too much brush to tell if it was a buck or a doe.  And it was headed nowhere near me anyway.

It started to get dark very early as the clouds and thickened considerably.  The clouds gave up their liquid in the form of a mist or light drizzle.  A noise behind me that clearly wasn't more squirrels made me carefully look behind me again as I saw a small buck walk behind me, working around next to me.  It was was quite small, almost certainly a six-point, although possibly an eight.  Its short main beam was almost palmated and the tines were really short.  Definitely not a shooter, but he may look quite interesting next year if he lives.

Darkness came and I climbed out of my treestand, locking it to the tree overnight.  I walked away from the tractor as it continued its flatulence.  After packing up my gun in my truck, I left in a heavy drizzle toward home.
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Tuesday ended up being one of those days where state-of-mind and opportunity meet in a rare and amazing way.  It ranks as one of my top deer hunting days in years - no trigger pull required.  It was good to have a day like that, since it reminds me of the real reason of why I continue hunting.

I was out the door early before SO left for work.  As I drove to Mike's, it was quite foggy in spots and I wasn't sure what it might look like in the woods. 
I got to Mike's and with enough light to see, made my way to my treestand.  Up comfortably in the stand, the sky above me was partially clear, but the fog hugged the ground in patches all around me.  It moved slowly with the wooded ridges - almost like it was alive itself.  Two owls were hooting behind me.  It was absolutely magical.  As the sun came up the fog slowly ascended, eventually dissipating into nothing as the sun burned it away.  Wow...

With the moderate temperatures and the now mostly sunny skies, the squirrels were really active.  They are fun to watch.
Hearing a non-squirrel noise, I looked ahead and saw a doe pop out in front of me, then another and another until 5 of them were right in front of me.  They were following the trail that originally made me choose this stand site - even though I don't see it used near as much as I used to.  After walking in front of me they turned around and headed back in front of me again, before making their way beside me and to the south.  I calmly watched them as they meandered away.
I saw more movement, and four more does were walking behind me to the east.  For the longest time the two groups of deer stopped and just stared at each other.  I stared at all of them.  I guess they decided all was OK because the mingled together before heading away to the east in one spread-out group.
I sometimes wonder if my scent control is enough, but when I can have five deer within 30 yards of me for an extended period of time, it gives me some confidence.

Shortly after the deer left I saw turkeys on the next ridge to the east.  They made their way out of the ravine and toward the south.  It has been a turkey-ful year.

More time passed as I just enjoyed sitting in the stand on the wonderful morning when two more does walked out right near where the group of five did earlier.  They were quickly followed by a small six-point buck.  I watched them for 10-15 minutes while they made their way around me.  At one point the buck looked right at me - a little confused or nervous for sure.  But he just side-stepped a little bit and kept on going.

The weather continued to improve as the day got even more gorgeous, with bluebird skies, little wind and pleasant temperatures.  I was thinking of making Tuesday be my last day to hunt, but with as much as I enjoyed the morning, I decided to take one more day.
The tractor heard the previous afternoon started its flatulence about 15 minutes before I was planning on heading home.  That told me it was time for an amazing day of hunting to end.

Even though I didn't shoot anything, seeing 12 deer was great - especially 12 deer that were almost completely calm only a few days after the mayhem of opening day.

It rained that afternoon and evening.  It wouldn't have been enough to make hunting miserable but would have been enough to be very uncomfortable - especially with how long it lasted.  I was hoping the cushion in my treestand wasn't going to be soaked.
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Wednesday came and I had a little less energy to go out.  The rain had stopped overnight, but the air was still quite heavy.  Temperatures were a near-balmy 42F.
I got to Mike's but the clouds were so thick I actually needed my flashlight to get to my stand.  Thankfully the treestand cushion was only damp and I made my way up.
Once up in the treestand, it was unbelievably still.  There was basically no wind and nothing was moving.  A coyote howled very close to the west with the oddest howl I've ever heard.  I love hearing that sound while sitting in the darkness.
Daylight slowly grew but everything remained still.  I guess the morning's low energy wasn't just me since not even the squirrels were running around very early.  Wind remained negligible so it was hard to not feel like I was making tons of noise every time I moved.  Intuitively, I knew I wasn't.
I spent much of the early time in the stand trying to decide if I should take another deer that wasn't a big buck.  I'm not hurting for meat, but it always seems to get eaten - and deer does seem to last much longer than things like wild hog.  I sort of said I was going to stick to my original plan and only shoot a big one.  Probably.  Maybe.

Unlike the previous day, the morning passed s l o w l y .  V e r y  s l o w l y.
Through the first half of the morning, the only thing remotely exciting was when a squirrel fell out of a tree right behind me, breaking branches and crashing to the ground with a thud.  It chattered and headed back up the tree quickly.
Shortly after this a buck walked behind me from the west to the east.  It was another small buck and not one that I'd previously seen.  There was some brush between me and him and I wasn't going to shoot a small buck.  Sadly, that was the only deer I saw all day.  I guess my questioning what I was going to do wasn't really relevant.

Clouds remained thick and temperatures barely budged.  I was waiting for my time to leave, and as it approached I heard thudding off to the west.  It was obviously the sound of the rocks in the mostly-dry creek bed.  But what was making it was a mystery.  It wasn't something walking down the creek bed, and there was no indication any people were around.  The best I could figure is it must have been a raccoon flipping rocks over looking for a meal - I thought I had seen a raccoon earlier in the morning.  Weird.

None too soon, it was time to go.  I walked to the south end of the property but didn't see anything.  I did think about about a couple trees I could use on a future hunt.
So Wednesday wasn't quite the magic that Tuesday was.  That is how hunting works.  I did remind myself that hunting was preventing me from going to some work meetings that I wasn't too upset to be missing.  But that really isn't even a fair comparison.

2019 Deer Hunt Part 1 - Every Year is Different

It has been an unusual weather year and that continued with a very early snowfall on the Monday preceding Indiana's deer gun season.  I'm not sure if that is better or worse than the ice storm before the 2018 deer opener, but the temperature drop after this year's storm was brutally followed by temperatures in the single digits.  The weather had moderated somewhat, but I was still obsessing about it since it was forecast to be much colder than usual.  Granted, temperatures in the low to mid 20's are well within the normal range, but it has been a few years since I've had to do an all-day sit in that weather.

Friday came with a very stressful day at work.  Several people have left the department this year and none have been replaced.  This spreads the joy of the required, if painful and sometimes dull work, to everyone else.  The longer I've worked, the harder it can be to get away, even for a few days, with a clean brain.

But none of that mattered by Saturday morning.  Awake early, I tried to get back to sleep; I ended up watching the clock more than anything.  I could hear the east wind blowing against the house.  The cold temperatures are not too hard to deal with - wind is worse.
Eventually I got up and started to get ready.  Everything was set to go so it was pretty easy and the dogs were cooperative.  I was out the door shortly before 5:45.  Temperatures were well below freezing and thankfully the wind had died down.  On my drive to Mike's house I saw several other hunters getting ready to head out - this was in places I never see other people hunting.  So either it was going to be a busy year for the deer, or people were parking in unusual spots.
I got to Mike's and finished getting ready at the truck.  I realized my camo snowsuit - which I have never worn before for deer hunting - didn't have enough pockets for all my crap.  I figured out how to make it work ... well enough.
I got to my usual "2-tree" spot and got my climber set up.  No matter how quiet I try to do this I always end up sounding like a native banging gongs and pounding drums.  It actually isn't that bad, but in the dark cold morning, it feels worse than it is.  I was sitting comfortably a little less than 30 minutes before legal shooting light.  I was also drenched in sweat...
Settling in, there was lots of light, with a fairly bright moon and some snow still on the ground.  There was a constant din from grain driers which takes away a bit from the serenity of the beautiful, placid early morning.  Something was walking slowly near me, I'm nearly certain it was a deer, but I never did actually see it.

As it got lighter, the shooting started.  And there was a LOT of it this year.  Mike's neighbor shot very early and he shot a few times through the morning.  I'm pretty sure based on the various noises I heard that he shot at least two deer.  The neighbor shooting wasn't unusual; what was unusual was how close some of the other shots sounded - and from nearly every direction.
While it must have been a good opening day for most people, it was slow for me.  I typically see quite a few deer opening day, but I didn't see anything until around 8:30 when I saw two does walking at the extreme south of the property - far too far to shoot.  This was followed a little while later by turkeys in the same area.  I can't justify the out-of-state tag cost for turkeys in Indiana ... yet.

The morning wore on the shooting slowed.  It got warmer and the wind picked up.  Thankfully, while I had been a bit chilled, I never really got that cold.  I cursed Mike's neighbor getting his deer with his 4-wheeler.  But I'm sure he has cursed me a few times dragging my deer out when he is still hunting.  So it goes.
Shortly after that, a doe went right past me running 100 miles-per-hour.  By this point, with all the early shooting and mayhem in overdrive, I made the decision that any pickiness for opening day was gone.  And if I got a gimme on anything reasonable, I'm going to take it.

Around 10:00 another doe came up quite close to me.  She was nervous, but not panicky.  She was also a gimme.  Although it was a bit hard to find her in the scope, with her head looking away, I put the crosshairs on her boiler room and squeezed the trigger.  At the shot she bolted.  I said to myself, "I do not like the way she is running."  I was worried that despite being close, I had duffed the shot.  I marked the ridge where she cleared my view and climbed out of the tree.  More shooting was heard in the direction she ran and I wondered if she had been subsequently shot by someone else; I knew she was no longer on Mike's property.
I found where she had been running where she crested the hill and found her only a few yards farther behind a deadfall.  My shot was probably a bit low for the angle, but the bullet did its job.  I drug her to an easy spot to find here back on Mike's property and packed out my stand.  I changed into less clothes at the truck since wearing my winter woolins would be impossible for the drag.  Back at my deer, I field dressed her and started to drag her out.  That last hill to my truck seems to get a little harder every year.

Mike came out when I was loading her in the truck, we talked for a bit before he invited me in to at least wash my hands up a bit.  For this (and lots of things) I am grateful.
I talked with Mike and Mary for a while before heading back to my truck to check in my deer and head home.

Back at home, I cleaned up a bit and strung up my doe.  I was happy to have venison on the hook. 
Sunday was spent butchering the deer and getting her in the freezer.
I have some meetings at work I'm avoiding so I'm still taking a few days off.  I'll let the mayhem of opening weekend calm down at least a little bit and will head out again.