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Misadventures, mishaps, and mayham.
Believe it or not, it started with a simple nap. A few years back with tags for doe mule deer and cow elk I became drowsy after lunch. Falling fast asleep with my hawken rifle close I expected to awake surounded by elk. Spying movement after awakening I readied the rifle. Thing is instead of an elk or deer I saw a bear literally right next to me strolling by like, well a bear. I sat up and told that ol' bear I wasn't accepting guests just then. He must a been hard of hearing cuz he stepped over closer. I stood up quick and hollard out a protest. He finally got the message and showed me a heel. Thing is when I turned around to collect my gear his mom was behind me up the hill heading my way. I'm too old to run so I cocked my piece and waited. Well I just don't think either a them bears gave a hoot about me cuz when the wind shifted takin' my scent to her she took off like a scalded cat.
Next day I shot a doe. That old hawken gun knocked her down flat. Being the cool headed eggspurt Hunter I am, I promptly jammed the bullet halfway in the barrel trying to reload and snapped my unbreakable pvc ram rod right in two.
Next season so much rain fell that trees were falling down like bowling pins. One almost got my camper. Had to relocate it after. Another one clipped the neighbor's tent, luckily no injuries. Then on the way home I bounced the camper off a tree slippin' in the mud. Should a chained up.
This last season actually past without incident, a major improvement from last year when I broke the leaf spring in my truck.
Anybody got any similar stories to share?
Next day I shot a doe. That old hawken gun knocked her down flat. Being the cool headed eggspurt Hunter I am, I promptly jammed the bullet halfway in the barrel trying to reload and snapped my unbreakable pvc ram rod right in two.
Next season so much rain fell that trees were falling down like bowling pins. One almost got my camper. Had to relocate it after. Another one clipped the neighbor's tent, luckily no injuries. Then on the way home I bounced the camper off a tree slippin' in the mud. Should a chained up.
This last season actually past without incident, a major improvement from last year when I broke the leaf spring in my truck.
Anybody got any similar stories to share?
My thoughts are generally clear. My typing, not so much.
Replies
And then there was the time I got shot and nearly lost my leg, but that's a bit more than misadventure, mishap or mayhem. It's also a story for another time.
Gun control laws make about as much sense as taking ex-lax to cure a cough.
Its something to do with the law of physics which dictates that when you drop a piece of bread, it always lands 'butter' side down.
Spent opening weekend in our usual boat and the following weekend hitched the Glastron up to the landrover and launched it in the river. Fired up the outboard and after letting it warm up my buddy opened the throttle. ( The boat had a pair of back-to-back seats bolted alongside each other) As the boat raised its bow to get up on the plane, the few remaining rusty screws holding the seats to the floor gave way and both seats slid along the floor with us seated on them, only stopping when the back of them hit the transom. In doing so, my buddy who was driving tried to stop himself sliding backwards by holding on to the wheel...........which promptly pulled of the boss. So there we were sitting in the back of a speeding bullet, the angle of the deck made it impossible to reach the controls heading into the mangroves at full throttle. The torque of the motor turned the boat at right angles and we ploughed into the trees at about 40mph, slid up the bank and finally came to a rest completely covered in mud that was being thrown up by the prop.
Shut the motor off, checked the boat, everything seemed to be ok, found the nut that had let the wheel come off and bolted it back on. It took all our efforts to get the boat back into the water and after another safety check we were off.
About 15 mins later my buddy said the boat feels a bit sluggish............I checked the bilge and found that we were filling up with water. We decided to run the boat up the soft mud bank and check underneath the hull. Picked a nice gentle sloping bank and at a slow planning speed my buddy takes aim. We got about halfway up the bank before we ran out of steam and slid back into the river. He tried again with a bit more throttle and we got almost up the bank onto flat ground before once again sliding back down.
I then said "Let me have a go" ( I should have said hold my beer)..........we swapped places, I backed off down river, got the boat on the plane and then opened the throttle wide as I turned into the bank................up the bank, reached the top still doing about 30+mph, crashed through the mangroves, up a small grassy bank, through a 5 wire farm fence and we ended up about 30yds into the farmers paddock, scattering livestock in all directions. The only injuries we suffered were sore sides from laughing so hard.
Took us 2 hours to lever the boat back into the river using the fence posts we ripped out when we took the wild ride. (Found that the bung had got dislodged during our first wild ride btw so we hammered an empty 12g shell into the hole after the boat had drained.)
There are more stories to tell about that particular abomination of a boat............When I get time I might post them up........
Nothing that gets caught on video can ever come close to the stuff that dosent.
Spot on.
Good to see you back and posting Early. Often wondered what happened to you. If you hang around here long enough, the archives will be restored and some of the newer members can look up your previous posts..............:deadhorse:
Been there-done that! Well, not exactly the same, but some of my boat misadventures could rate up there with this. Some were pretty close calls in the scheme of life and death adventures. All it takes is a Boat, two (or more) Adventurous souls, and the Call of the Wild and the recipe for disaster looms large on the horizon and always makes for one of those, "Hold my beer and watch this," moments!
:silly:___:nono:___:yikes:___:fan:
:rotflmao:___:rotflmao:___:rotflmao:
Son that's somebody with nothing to do with his time but keep me in trouble with mom.
It's really pretty amazing that a person can have what he believes to be a life-threatening escapade that lasts for a moment, and then goes right along like nothing has happened, after surviving it.
But, actually meeting a bear in the wild would rate near the top on my pucker factor scale. I go out of my way to avoid such adventures, these days.
My mishap....
about 15 years ago. I got up to camp late because of work so I decided to sleep in opening morning (I got to the cabin about 1 am). There was a real nice storm snowing that morning. My dad stayed in camp to hunt with me when I got up. I rolled out of bed much later then usual and had a quick breakfast and we decided to head towards a creek I like to hunt, always SEE elk, haven't shot one there yet. This was probably about 8am or so when we finally got off the highway and headed back towards the back country (chiro if you are reading this is the first place I took you guys back to scout, by the ranger station where Gunner got pretty winded). We pull around the bend and boom, there is a herd of elk feeding right by the road. Dad backs up a bit and I jump out trying to put my ear plugs in (muzzle brake) load my rifle and get legally off the road to shoot. The elk were not really amused and they slowly walked off into the black timber. I looked around for a bit and figured the tracks were all fresh and I could track them, so there was no use to chase them after being spooked.
So we go back to the cabin to have a nice big breakfast and to give the elk time to calm down and not run. So a few hours later I have him drop me off where we saw the elk and I picked up the tracks. Nothing better then elk hunting in fresh snow so you can follow the herd. I tracked real close to them for a few hours getting close but always seeing the back end of an elk moving towards its bed. I found fresh poo, still steaming pee, and a mix of bull and cow beds. After a few miles of really slow tracking they took me up and over a REALLY steep ridge and I got to the top thinking "the elk have to be real close, its about time to bed down". I was over looking a really deep ravine thinking they would be on the opposite ridge on a saddle looking down towards the creek. My dumb-donkey was looking across the ridge trying to find signs of elk when I heard a twig snap which made me look down. Elk were about 75 yards below me in the ravine milling about and I'm pretty much out in the open. I stepped behind a tree really quick and pulled my rifle to my shoulder. The elk had seen me but were not running, just moving at a quick trot. I saw a group of cows that were not in a bunch of trees I could make a shot at. So I step out from behind the tree, take a knee and pull my rifle up to take a shot......nothing but brown. I had left my scope on 10x
By the time I could get my scope back to 3.5x and try to find them again it was a blur of elk now running and taking off for parts unknown and I couldn't make out a single target.
Since that day, I double check my scope when I get out of the truck and start down the trail, to make sure its ALWAYS at its lowest setting. I spent 4 hours tracking a herd, only to get right on top of them, and blow it because I forgot to turn my scope down after sighting in at the range
I think I saw 25 degree low in Gunnison the other day. Pretty cool for October.
I got a phone call EARLY one Saturday morning (about 6:00 AM) from the kid across the street who was a couple of years older than me. "Come help! My boat is trying to sink!" He had beached a 16 foot runabout on his family's waterfront property the night before, planning to spend the weekend water skiing. A heavy thunderstorm overnight had almost swamped the boat, and he was afraid it would sink if it didn't get bailed out in a hurry. I got dressed and went to help, and didn't wake anyone to tell them where I was headed. Apparently, his mother didn't realize he was not at home, as well.
"Here's the plan- - - -I'll drive the boat, and as soon as it's up on plane, you pull the bailout plug"! Good plan, except there's about 500 gallons of water in the boat and the bailout plug is nearly 2 feet underwater! Getting that much weight on plane has about two possibilities- - - - -slim and none! We discovered that about the time we got in the middle of the river channel, with no way to turn around without swamping the boat altogether- - - -gotta press on straight ahead! Then things got interesting- - - -with the boat barely making headway, the top of the transom about 3 inches above water and the throttle wide open, we hit a little wave and the transom went under! Now the only thing keeping the boat afloat is the forward motion provided by the struggling outboard motor, and we're at least half a mile in any direction from dry land! Life jackets? "We don't need no steenken life jackets!"
My buddy kept the throttle wide open, and I carefully climbed over the windshield onto the deck and got hold of the bow rope, and he steered for the nearest marina, WAY up the creek! Several "max pucker factor" minutes later, we approached the fuel dock, he chopped the throttle, I jumped onto the dock and tied the rope off, and the back end of the boat promptly sank! Now we're a little over a mile from home, as the crow flies (or the fish swims), and about 30 miles away by road! Time for a sheepish phone call to get somebody to hook up the boat trailer and rescue us! The butt-chewing we both got was epic! We spent the next several hours trying to get the swamped boat loaded onto the trailer- - - -no fun at all!
Jerry
Two questions. One, did the motor go under? and two, was it running?___:tooth:
Son that's somebody with nothing to do with his time but keep me in trouble with mom.
Predictably, Fe made many rounds at the dock while I was sitting there with the motor just above idle and in forward gear. She was just learning and kept jack knifing the trailer one way or the other. I didn't notice that the front of the boat had crept above the deck of the wooden pier and reduced the free board at the transom to about 2 inches. So after about 10 rounds with the truck the waves had caused the transom to go under. This took about 4 seconds to swamp the boat with me in it and motor running. The boat turned upside down with me in it. The only thing that kept the boat from pinning me to the bottom was the air motor stand. I struggled to get out from under it. I got out and walked up the boat ramp. Fe was going ballistic and had thought I was dead until I popped out of the water. At this point I was convinced this boat was jinxed.
I called a bunch of people but all were either not home or were busy and couldn't break away from what they were doing. I was very wet and very cold. I couldn't get my daughter or Son in Law to answer. Finally he answered and he got his brother with his boom truck and came out. They used the boom truck to right the boat. Then they pushed it to the trailer and we winched it up with the plug pulled.
The motor was toast as I figured, going down running in salt water. I gave my son in law the motor. He had one just like it, an Evinrude 48 Special, and his needed a lower unit. Mine had a brand new lower unit on it. So that was a good thing. I ended up biting the bullet and getting a used two year old Yamaha 50 HP motor which I still have on that boat. But believe me, the last thing you want to do is to get swamped in a boat on a late October evening with a cold front blowing. You will get wet and you will get cold!!!
Oh, and I have many many more stories similar to this, AND they're all true, every one of them.
Son that's somebody with nothing to do with his time but keep me in trouble with mom.
Ain't no such thing as unsinkable. If it Floats it can sink,___
:rotflmao::rotflmao::rotflmao:
Son that's somebody with nothing to do with his time but keep me in trouble with mom.
Oh man you don't know how true that really is until you come down here and go to a place like Port O'Connor which is a sport fishing and duck hunting town from hell. We are here about 120 miles south of Galveston-Houston and 70 miles up from Port Aransas, and about 160 miles south of Austin. Port Aransas is more the commercialized spot due to its proximity to Corpus Christi, Port O'Connor is more off the beaten path and more pristine and unaltered by tourism. But it has its share and has a lot of Houston and Austin weekend and Summer fishermen and duck hunters. It doesn't have the usual beach crowd like Mustang Island (Port Aransas) has because there's no usable beach close to it. The Gulf Beach is on Matagorda Island which is off limits to tourists except when participating in a Parks and Wildlife event, such as a drawn deer hunt. And also, nowadays Matagorda Island is not reachable in an automobile. You can only get there by boat. The closest Gulf Beach is on Matagorda Peninsula which is about 5 miles Up the beach system on the Gulf side of the Peninsula and again you can only reach the area by boat. So Port O'Connor is basically a fishing and hunting town and then mostly you fish and hunt by boat. No decent pier to fish off of and the land around town is private so no hunting on the mainland. You go in a boat.
The big attraction there is to go to the Fishing Center which is located along the Inter coastal Canal and sit in the chairs (They really should install bleachers) and watch the Houston and Austin crowds hauling in their boats on Sunday afternoon. You can witness boats ramming boats, boat sinkings, cars and trucks backed into the canal, fights, and a lot of bad language on an otherwise quiet Sunday afternoon. Just add alcohol and the party's on. It is actually a great source of entertainment for the locals. They come down in droves for the afternoon's festivities and bring food, ice chests with drinks and even lawn chairs with Umbrellas. Its a sight to behold.
Son that's somebody with nothing to do with his time but keep me in trouble with mom.
Yes, it took a bath- - - -no, he killed the ignition just as I jumped for the dock. A good cleanout and the boat and motor were back on the lake the next weekend.
Jerry
I tried to hit the switche to kill it but I was swimming before I knew it. And this being salt water didn't make it any easier.
I flushed it out that night with fresh water and the next day I purged it good with oil but it was rusted up before I knew it. It's really hard to get all the salt water out of every part. If I could have got it started I think I could have saved it.
Son that's somebody with nothing to do with his time but keep me in trouble with mom.
I fished Port O'Connor some in the 70s. I had a few successful days, and some that weren't so successful.
Once, we were fishing a sand bar in San Antonio Bay, from a friend's boat. Right after we dropped anchor, some really big shadows crossed right by the boat. It didn't take long to realize they weren't shadows, but sharks. There was no way I was going to jump out and wade that sand bar until two of my fishing buddies waded out and started catching 5-6 lb. speckled trout. So, I decided to give it a try, and pretty soon had one too. I had it on a stringer tied loosely to my belt, standing in waist deep water, when I saw a shark about as big as me a few feet away. It suddenly vanished, and I decided to get myself back to the boat. A few minutes later one of the guys who was wading had a shark hit a fish he was about to land. We decided to go chase birds for the rest of the day.
Another time we were fishing just off of the jetties and had got into gafftop sail catfish. Those have to be the slimiest and dumbest fish in the ocean. Fortunately, they're also good eating. We were fishing the bottom, and would usually feel a tap on the line, wait a few seconds, and set the hook. It was then a matter of cranking in a 3-6 lb. fish like a dead weight. Once it got to the boat, though, it would wake up and nearly pull your rod out of your hand diving straight down. After that, the fight was pretty much out of them and they were easy to land.
Anyway, after catching a number of these, I felt that familiar tap, waited a few seconds, and set the hook. This time, it was something entirely different. It took off and I just sat there watching the drag on my Ambassadeur reel scream and wondered if I had enough line on the reel. I spent the next hour and 45 minutes playing whatever it was, and ruined everyone else's fishing for the rest of the day. By the time I got it in, my arms were tied in knots. Turned out to be an 18 lb. jackfish, which I caught on 14 lb. line.
I was advised not to try to eat it, but I was bound and determined to do so. I got it home, marinated it in a mixture of soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce and whatever else I could find, and baked it. It tasted terrible and I ended up throwing it away.
This really doesn't qualify as misadventure, mishap or mayhem, but it was two very memorable events in my life. Also, the catfish were really good later that month when I threw a huge fish fry for about 35 friends.
Gun control laws make about as much sense as taking ex-lax to cure a cough.
I had been hunting Lakes Shasta for years and I knew the arm where we were hunting very well. I also knew the critters that were there. There are a lot of bear and nine chances out of ten the bears aren't interested in you but it's that one chance in ten that will put a tingle up your spine. There are also a lot of cougar and those big cats kept me on edge when I entered the woods. For that reason I always carried a side arm and knife handy any time I entered those woods.
One year The Coope expressed an interest in deer hunting and I agreed to take him with me but he couldn't carry a gun as he didn't have a license. I entered the woods a lot later than I normally would have that morning and about half way up the mountain I found a heard of doe. I decided to hunker down under some bushes to watch them. After two hours Coope got bored and wanted to go back to the jeep trail. I agreed but handed him my 357. He asked "What's that for?" I said "just in case." Coope, "Incase of what?" Amused and laughing I said "In case you see a big buck. Go ahead and shoot him and I'll put my tag on him." I knew very well he wouldn't see a deer where he was going. Now the Coope has moved to the jeep trail and is sitting above a very steep ravine. He heard a ruckus in the ravine and thought "Ha ha ha I'm gona get Ron's buck for him!" not knowing that deer don't make a ruckus. He turned to his right and waited revolver at the ready. After five minutes the ruckus stopped. Confused he turned around and saw a 400 pound black bear on the jeep trail 30 yards from him "Holy shiznit! It's not a deer!" Now the bear stood up and the Coope and the bear were having a conversation that lasted close to a minute. Evidentially the bear wasn't impressed with the intelligence level of the conversation and decided to return to the ravine. Coope went running back to where the truck was shouting words that would have made a sailor blush. My BIL and I heard all the noise and came quickly down the hill. Jim jumped down on to the jeep trail and said "It smells like crap here." There was Coope white as a ghost. He had drank three beers and took a dump right in the middle of the jeep trail. I said Coope what happened?" he replied "BEAR" I asked "Will you please speak I a full sentence." He replied, "BIG FONKING BEAR". Jim said 'What" He shouted, "NOT A DEER!"
He got a new nickname in deer camp that day. Bear bait!
Now, the next year Bear Bait wanted to go hunting again and this time he had a license. I had found a nice bubbaed Mauser sporter for, him cleaned it up, put a trigger and stock on it and replaced the scope. He was ready for another hunting adventure. I had him in position at about 5am. I had set him down in a comfortable spot next to a large log and told him, "Ok Coope, when the sun comes up fork horns or better, any shot is good I'm out of range and in a safe area below you. And by the way don't be calling me on that radio before nine o'clock." He asked, "What are you gona do?" I replied "I'm going down to a big ponderosa pine I know and take a nap, I suggest you do the same." He asked "How can you sleep in the woods?" I said "I'll just pile up a bunch of leaves and lay down". Coope; "But what about the animals?" I replied "Let'm find their own bed! and don't be calling me on that radio before nine o'clock."
The sky was just beginning to turn when I awoke from my nap. I moved to my hunting location and was enjoying the morning watching the and listening to the woods wake up when I heard, "Brill, Brill, Can ya hear me?" I knew he was a newbe but it was early and I was slightly irritated with the intrusion. I replied "Yes Bear Bait, I can hear you, and so can the rest of the woods. What do you want?" He asked "Are skunks in season?" I'd been hunting there for years and never saw a skunk. I replied "Skunk? They're vermin, theres no closed vermin season, why?" Coope, "There's one coming up the hill at me" I chuckled a little and replied " Don't worry about that skunk he's not interested in you, would you please be quiet." I was amused, a skunk of all the luck. I sat there watching the birds and squirrels and was enjoying the view when I heard, "Brill, Brill, can a hear me?" Annoyed I replied, "Yes I can hear you without the radio, what do you want now?" Coope, "Are you sure that skunks not interested in me." I replied "No he eats nuts and berries, snails and bugs. He's not interested in bear bait. Will you please be quiet." Now I'm frustrated with his fascination with the skunk. I was just settling down when I heard, "Brill, Brill you still there?" I replied "Where the hell else would I be? What do you want?" Coope, "That skunks getting close, I'm gona shoot em!" I scolded him, "No coope don't be shooting no damn skunk! Every deer in this county will be in the next before you know it." Coope "Well he's getting close, I'm gona throw a rock at him!" I shouted, "NO COOPE DON'T...." Too late!
I heard "Ohhhhh arggggg". He came running down the mountain like his butt was on fire and his hair was a catch'n...... and the skunk was chasing him!
He got a new nickname in deer camp that day The Poo Bear