Well chit... I've been reading some Articles, I've been looking at pictures... Even Picked up a book too... I also watched the videos. I'm as good as there !!! And Just Yesterday (Feb) My dad called and said "So... what ya doing for hunting this year...."
"The old DeHavilland Beaver struggled to get airborne, under the heavy load of dreams that Young Oscar and Old Oscar were hauling into the backcountry. Fifteen days of father and son sharing Golden sunrises and Orange sunsets was about to unfold.
You could smell the Old Spice on the Bush pilot as the air in the cockpit circulated to the Oscars. But their eyes were outside, as the took in the majesty that is Alaska."
"Me and Dad got in the Plane. Was cool as CHIT !!! The fuggin Wind was Howling and the rain was Coming down jsut like the Yahoo's on my Hunting Website said it would !!! The sun was in our eyes At take off but I didn't care, I was on the plane to Experience 16 days in the Bush killing CHIT !!!!"
If I shoot somethnig that is big enough to go in a MAgazine.. Should I write the ASrticle Or ask Gunner to do it for me
"The deep rumble that can only be produced by a radial engine was felt clear to their bones, gently stirring that set of butterflies that one often feels at the beginning of a new phase in life. Months of preparation and planning had provided the basis for this rite of passage, and now Oscar was thinking about the coming tests.
A small lake on the horizon appeared under the nose of the sturdy Beaver. And as constant as the sands through an hourglass, the lake increased in size as the plane approached. The pilot pulled the carburetor heat lever which resulted in a decrease in RPMs, signalling the destination was near, and the adventure was beginning.
Another reduction to 1700 RPMs resulted in the wind noise now entering Oscar's head, and the sudden change in attitude of the airplane upon the pilot adding 30 degrees of flaps stirred the remaining butterflies from his stomach.
Had he bitten off more than he could handle? Had he made too many sacrafices in getting his gear list down to 180 lbs? All the doubt and anxiety flooded into his thoughts as the pontoons gently splashed down on to the water."
that just gave me an Idea !!! What if we started my hunting adventure... ANd people continued the hunt a couple of Sentences at a time....
Or jsut write the Whole dam thing Gunner.. I need to go to Bed But I'm Anxiously awaiting to see how I set up camp !!! What did I see the First day !!! It's Killing me !! I might get up tonight to Continue reading.. Remember, I have 16 days of hunting.. 10 for Moose.. So Don't blow it on the First day
I haven't been this Excitend since the New Hary Potter book came out
"The deep rumble that can only be produced by a radial engine was felt clear to their bones, gently stirring that set of butterflies that one often feels at the beginning of a new phase in life. Months of preparation and planning had provided the basis for this rite of passage, and now Oscar was thinking about the coming tests."
Oh he'll be feeling the butterflies as they fly through Lake Clark pass, or worse case scenario merril pass. Down drafts are causing the plane to drop a couple of hundred feet at a time, with wingtips real close to the mtns. Sniff, I wish I was going with them and I hate to fly. Good times and alot of future good memories.
"The plane delivering the load of dreams for this adventure quickly lost speed as the drag on the floats increased. Oscar continued looking at the water, not noticing the pilot unfastening his seatbelt in order to hasten his self survival if the plane were to overturn in the water. As the plane approached the brushy shore of the lake, the pilot pulled the mixture lever out, starving the engine of fuel. Oscar marveled at how the plane gently approached the shore without any remaining power.
The flip of a few switches, the unbuckling of the Oscar's seatbelts, and the adventure was beginning. The pilot jumped from the left float of the airplane onto the muddy shore and grabbed a wingtip to turn the plane around. Oscar climbed down from his seat, and stood on wobbly legs on the float, desparately clinging to a wing strut to avoid falling into the bone chilling water."
"The grizzled old bush pilot dug his lighter out of his shirt pocket and lit the Camel that had been dangling from his mouth since mid-flight. He then let the Oscars know this was as close as they were going to get, so they might as well start unloading the plane.
Young Oscar quickly stepped off the float in order to take gear from his dad and deposit onto the shore. The sudden chill and pain quickly entered Oscar's body as he realized he had forgotten to pull his hip boots up before jumping off the float. For the next 10 days of Moose hunting, he would have a constant wet reminder of the serious impact of carelessness in the Alaskan wilderness."
"The elder Oscar shook his head upon realizing his son's boot was now full of Alaskan lake water. He thought back decades earlier when his young son had fallen in a neighbors goldfish pond when they lived in California. He had always thought his boy would grow out of the awkward stage, but something reminded him this was not the case. Oh sure, the boy could still stand on his hands, but standing on his feet was always a bit more of a challenge.
The elder Oscar began pulling dry bags and backpacks out of the rear of the plane, and tossing to his son. The pile of gear on the bank began growing as the Beaver began floating higher in the water as the weight of their gear was removed.
Young Oscar had a million thoughts in his mind, as he tried to stack the gear. He wanted to grab his video camera to record the process, ask the pilot for advice where to pitch the tent, and begin scouting for a suitable place for the camp, as nothing was obvious in the Alaskan bush."
"The pilot wished them luck, and stepped onto the float. As he climbed up the steps to the plane, young Oscar mused to himself how well the Carharrt pants looked on the pilot.
After a few minutes, the big round engine coughed and sputtered to life, creating a wind on the pile of gear from the prop wash. The elder Oscar dove on the pile of maps that were stacked on the bags, but not before two of them had blown into the wet, soggy, grass.
The Beaver began taxing across the lake, while the pilot anxiously looked at the Oil temp gauge and the looming storm front bearing down on the isolated lake."