Well, we got to the lodge, just under the wire. I have never seen so many new, white, four-wheel-drive GMC’s lined up at one time in my life, except at a dealer’s lot. Wow. ey
Th were ready to pull out to take us to the shooting range to make sure we knew how to handle our weapons, and could hit a target, one at one-hundred yards, the other at two-hundred.
The wind was, as usual, roaring. I saw little children riding horses, and numerous herds of horses, just hanging around. It was a peaceful time, and took me back to my childhood, growing up in the little town of McRoberts. A much more loving time.
After we shot and talked a few minutes to our guides, we were told to go to the reservation store and get what we would need to eat and drink. We had fueled at the last big city, “The Battlefords” before we came into the “First Nations” land, so I knew gasoline was $4.5 a gallon. What I didn’t know was that a case of Bud Lite was going to be $54.99 a case, that a gallon of milk was $5.99 a gallon, and bread was almost $5. Before we got to the check-out, we had loaded six cases of Bud Lite into our cart, a 32-ounce jar of coffee, bread, and three gallons of milk. Then the wheels fell off.
Carl Jr. and Carl III almost passed out on me when the things were rung up. The coffee was $16, the beer $54-plus a case — they lost their minds. What I can’t figure out is why would you leave to go on a trip if you never had the money? Three cases of beer went back, three gallon of milk, and all except one loaf of bread. The people looked at us like something was wrong.
Carl Jr. was not about to pay those kind of prices, even if it meant doing without. I pulled around the truck, and fueled it up. I am glad I already had their gas money in the pot; we may have been out with a hose that night.
The ones of you that have been readers of Struttin’ Time know already, hunting is just not about pulling a trigger, it is about the adventure. Back to the lodge we went, to ready for the hunt. It was finally about to happen.