Javelina Hunting with Friends.
When
a stray dog shows up in your yard, you don't go to feeding them or
they will never leave. I warned Lynn and Scott of this fact but they
kept on putting food in front of me.
I had a few simple
goals for the day: Scope out an RV Dump, do laundry and get back to
Aquila before dark. Goals are for sissy's. I'm not a sissy, I am a
Snowbird and Snowbirds don't have goals....they have wings!
Shortly after
chores we took Lynn's Tacoma into Wickenburg to find an RV dump. You
would think the Team Roping capital of the world would have two on
every corner and one at McDonald's. Not so. We found the only one at
the 76 Station on Wickenburg Way. We made sure we could get our rigs
in and went in search of breakfast.
Lynn wanted to try
the Gila Monster Eatery. Not only did we not spot any Gila monsters,
but they weren't serving breakfast for another two weeks. You got the
impression from the man and two pit-bull's that met us in the yard
that in two weeks you may be served breakfast by the Mexican Cartel.
Lynn and I quickly thanked the nice man in his wife-beater T and
bandanna and wasted no time in our exit strategy.
The
“Cowboy Cookin' seemed more befitting two country girls fresh off a
weekend of shooting and riding. Good food and great service. We made
plans to ride after breakfast behind Lynn's place and take our LQ's
to the RV dump later. I hoped we could squeeze all this in before
dark or I might end up in California trying to find the turn off to
Crandalls in the dark.
Lynn's intent was
to ride to “The Baby Mountain” as she dubbed it; a small hill
covered with Saguaro. The cactus grow at a certain elevation and The
Baby's elevation is perfect for them. It felt good to be out on the
trail in this beautiful State. Unfortunately, we didn't get an early
enough start to make it to the Baby Mountain on horseback. We needed
to get the trailers to the RV dump before it closed.
We stopped at
tractor supply for a septic hose for Lynn's LQ before turning into
the 76 station. The drain valves are low to the ground on my LQ. The
septic dump is on the backside of a curve....causing the hose to
essentially lie uphill. I think I got a third of it dumped before
calling it good. I might try pulling the tires up on chucks to make
it higher than the curb. I don't know. It occurred to me the other
morning as I was cleaning horse pens, scooping dog poop and now
stressing over septic that 'POOP Management 101' could be it's own
blog.
We did a little
shopping at Bachas' grocery before turning back to Nine Irons Ranch.
I needed a few groceries and a sewing kit. I've been carrying around
a cholla sticker in my thumb for a week. I didn't want to make my
thumb sore by digging it out prior to my shoot.
I wanted to take
the dogs for a walk before bed and Lynn was determined to show me The
Baby Mountain. Lynn said she would finish up chores while I took the
dogs out – then her and Pete would pick me up in the Ranger and
take us to the mountain. The dogs and I made it to the first gate
before we heard the roar of the Ranger.
Pete and I piled
in the side-by-side and hung on for dear life. Lynn drives like a
crazy woman being chased by jumping teddy-bear cholla. First
impression of Lynn might lead one to believe her to be
demure...almost fragile like. That would be the wrong impression.
Lynn is about as fragile as a handful of silly-putty and three times
the fun.
We were flying
over washouts and sliding around corners going 9-0. There wasn't much
daylight left. Lynn was determined to make it to The Baby Mountain
before dark. I was lost as soon as we passed the area we had ridden
earlier.
We came to a
collection of bee boxes. Peter showed me how to spell “BEES” in
sign language. When I spelled out the letters with my hand – I felt
like I'd just learned to how to read. I can't explain it and do it
justice. I'd spell it out: “B” - “E” - “E” - “S”
with my fingers and Pete would nod his approval. I craved that
approval – I spelled it again and again. He'd smile and pat me on
the shoulder. Several more times of this and I think I was getting
the courtesy pat - “Ok woman...you can shut the hell up now.”
We reached the
Baby Mountain at dusk. We snapped a few pictures, piled back into the
Ranger and sped for home...or so we thought. Lynn didn't seem at all
worried. I was a bit concerned when we'd climb into a wash we'd not
been in before...ducking mesquite and creosote brush as it whipped
past the side panel.
Lynn's driving of
that 4x4 was impressive if not somewhat demon possessed-like. Both
hands on the wheel – bent forward with eyes squinting to see in the
ever darkening desert night. She'd whip around one corner – down
into a wash I swear was going to swallow the Ranger...back up the
other side of the wash and onto a barely used trail. Then she'd stop.
“This doesn't look right. Oh-well, it has to go somewhere, right?”
Off she sped...then suddenly bust up in a belly laugh that made
everything right again. Even if we didn't know where we were going,
we were having a heck of a good time getting there.
Jackrabbits the
size of Hank darted here and there. If we get stuck out here, it's
raw bunny for dinner. I wonder what kind of slow, painful death
consuming raw rodent brings about in a person? Maybe we would get
lucky and spot ourselves a Javelina to hunt! I secretly hoped not. I
know they say they aren't a pig or even related to a pig – but they
look like a wild boar to me and those creepy bastards will eat you!
Lynn said we were
all good as long as we could see Vulture Peak in the distance. It was
her landmark to home. I couldn't see my hand in front of my face let
alone a peak 15 miles away. A flashing red tower light in the same
direction as Vulture Peak shone like a beacon. Lynn pointed the
Ranger at the light and sped across the desert. The fence line we
needed soon appeared and we were back on track.
I was tired. Pete
was tired. Lynn wanted to head back out and try her hand at Javelina
hunting. If she did, she was going all by her little lonesome. Pete
signed that he was going to bed, gave me a hug and hooked his index
fingers together and smiled. I looked to Lynn for an explanation.
“Friends,” she said. “That means friends.” I made the same
gesture and rushed off to my trailer before they could see me get
misty-eyed. Some fearless Javelina hunter I turned out to be!
No comments:
Post a Comment