Thanksgiving

With my dad having passed away four months ago, I thought I would write a Thanksgiving tribute to the man who taught me how to shoot a bow.

When I was around the age of thirteen, my dad decided it was time he would start taking me on his annual Thanksgiving Mule Deer hunt. This was always in the Cascade Mountains and it was always a bit of a scary experience. Armed with our bows, snow camo, and the Toyota Land Cruiser, we were off. I always dreaded these trips, but I felt bad having him go alone, and I’m not sure if I really had a choice; so off we went on my dad’s version of a winter vacation, in pursuit of the elusive Pope & Young trophy Mule Deer!

A fairly typical trip included at least one near death experience, and this was often before we even got to the secret hunting area. This was due in part to my dad’s prevailing faith in his 4WD Land Cruiser – a faith which manifested itself in various ways...for example, he seemed to think that no matter how harsh the driving conditions, putting chains on was somehow cheating. Because of this, at some point on our hunting trip, we usually came close to sliding off an ice-covered country road, like some John Denver song gone bad. One year, while making our chainless drive, our forward momentum quickly became rearward acceleration…we were sliding backwards, with a rather ominous drop-off on my dad’s side of the Land Cruiser…i.e., a pseudo cliff. By this point I had grabbed the door handle, preparing to eject…my dad, heavily breathing due to his Alpha-1 Antitrypsin Deficiency Syndrome, gasped for air and told me to get ready to jump. Waiting for the perfect moment to lunge out of the sliding car, and I’m sure praying like I’ve never prayed before, we slid into a dirt wall opposite the cliff.

Once securely imbedded into the dirt bank, my dad felt it was time to put the chains on…hello!!! So, we chained up, and proceeded to climb the iced over, rutted out, logging road. We then saw a Big Foot’esque Ford Pickup nearly slide off the road, as well as some other 4x4. At one point, I looked over the edge of the cliff and saw an upside-down Ford Bronco with a sign on it that said “Thieves Will Be Shot!”

Due to trauma, I’m not sure what happened the rest of that hunting trip, but it was certainly not my only memory of near-death due to plunging off an iced over logging road. I also have memories of a blizzard nearly killing my dad...meanwhile, I had made my way back to the Land Cruiser, in the dark, waiting for him to come out of the mountains. Again praying like crazy, I was wondering what I should do? I had never driven before, and the roads were terrible, but I kept praying, and honking. The prayers were answered and he made it out alive. There was also a Thanksgiving trip when the temperature dropped into the negative 20’s, which, even in my dad’s hybrid tent, was about 80 degrees cooler than a comfortable room temperature for sleeping…and, mind you, this was not just your ordinary tent, my dad had added on an extra cooking room/enclosed covered entryway. This must have added at least 30% more living space to our already spacious five-man tent, yet somehow it still fit nicely in his aftermarket, water resistant Duffle Bag (my dad was a master folder).

Last week, when out taking pictures and shooting video, I had a hunting trip flashback; sensing that those experiences were more than just life endangering memories that I shared with my dad – but times of development; learning skills that I am using and benefiting from today. So, this Thanksgivings in particular, as I’m away from my family, I find myself missing as well as appreciating my dad, and all of our memorable hunting trips, knowing that these were invaluable times of learning – learning to patiently watch, listen, and wait for that perfect shot.