First big game x 2
16 years old. Dad put in our draws and myself and my brother were drawn for Caribou. Off we go in our Ford Taurus station wagon to harvest a couple of Stags. After creeking the old wagon down 30kms of brutal gravel trails. We hit destination caribou. 5 minute walk and I shot a caribou. Velvet horned dark caribou, I was over the moon. Meat for winter.
Dad says, well Conan. "Its your turn". Another 20 minute walk and now we have two caribou down. Beautiful white colored Bou with an amazing rack.
Sad part is photo ops were non existent then. But the memory is as clear as a picture.
Taurus hit every rock on the trek home. It was so different back then. I miss them days. Simple times.
Great stories all. Keep em comin.
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"We're not polishing fine china here"-Belichick.
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