What a year. So many ducks so many Experts. After the Founders Tour Cliffy and I went out the following week. Dismal was the situation. Not much water, too many hunters, too few ducks (0.0). I also noticed that the huge pack that I carry was ripping on the shoulder straps, one good pull and I'd have to either leave my blocks or make multiple trips back and forth. So I figured what better time to call my season. I wash and packed everything up for the next season. A couple of weeks go by and Cliffy so generously invited us over for dinner for a wonderful delicious Dungeness crab feed. Cliffy proceeds to tell me about what a great day he had out at the Old Old spot cilin for the King all by himself. Water up, still too many other hunters, but most importantly birds were flying. Makes sense the season really doesn't start out there until cilin for the King week. Cliffy, being the Expert once and current OR chapter Expert, coerced me to get my stuff out of storage and join him for a hunt on Sunday. The next day I dusted off my OG hunting bag that can hold 8 normal size blocks and all my gear along with my OG chair.
The day promised cold, snow and water up. 5:15 pick up time gives plenty of time for the drive, the walk, the set up and the settle. We arrive at the lot only to find "Balto." Balto is a husky that lives at the park in a car with a guy that rides the trails at 5 am. I'm only assuming this because every time we get to the park no matter what day they are always there. Most times we see them or they pass us on a trail on the walk out. Today Balto came by to say good morning and give a us a good sniff. Why are we the only ones there I wonder? No water? Too much water? Season is actually over? (I thought the season ended every year on MLK day) We make it to the Old Old spot to find perfect water conditions. Just enough water to slog out to the Point where dog walkers can't make the commute. Cliffy finds the spot he was last week, a great spot on the Point. Water perfect, you can throw out your blocks in knee high water that goes 30 yards past your blocks. I resurrect the blind. A 20 minute settle. The promised weather failed to rear its face. After a promising pre fly the opening bell brought nothing. Some high flyers here and there nothing wanting our limp motionless spread. Conversation of jerk rigs and Leroy ensued. Cliffy goes for a walk and of course two GHB fly into the spread and I expertly missed both. Awkward shooting position. The morning dried up in the light rain and we call it. Overall a good day at the Point good enough to want to go out the following week.
Another 5:15 pick up time ensures us of enough time for the morning rituals. We arrive at the lot to find Balto and four other trucks. Right? I jump out of the truck and ask one of the guys if they had made reservations. He looked at me crossed eyed and I proceeded to tell him that you need to make reservations in order to procure a hunting spot. Went right over his head. We realize that all four trucks and all four guys are together, great I think just one other party besides us. As I'm passing the what appeared to be their leader, he asks me where we are headed. Another snide remark from me aboot something aboot water. The young stripling tries telling me aboot the water! Tries telling me aboot where to go! Imagine! I proceed to tell the young lad who I am. "Don't you know who you are talking to" I ask? "I've been hunting here since you were hooked to the teat." We exchange pleasantries as they are packing up a boat on a pull trailer with 4 huge bags of blocks and were off. A chorus of mallards and geese great us as we make it to the Point, the Point and Cove were packed! Water up slightly from last week slight wind and aboot 40 degrees. Cliffy suggest a new spread sounded great to me. I freshen up the blind and we proceed with a 20 minute settle. Again another disappointing morning fly. High flyers mostly Pintail at mach speed. At about 8am another group of hunters decide to join the party, late. Deciding to set up right behind us, directly behind us in the Cove.
[Websters Dictionary defines TheCove as: A place where Bob DaFolder experienced a heart attack and was almost given a Viking funeral] Noisy they were as they threw out their what had to be 50 blocks plus a dozen full bodied goose decoys. Recognizing that they were way too close to us I wade over to them and give them a what for "Hey you malaccas now that were set up right here!" They recognized that I am a founding member of the H7HT and garnered much apologies. I suggested that they take into consideration where we were sitting when all three decide to unload their fire sticks at a Widgeon. And they respectfully did. The morning ended like every other day at the end of the year. Enough ducks flying to peak your interest all morning but sadly nothing to show for it. Conversation on the way out usually is aboot how can we make this almost 2 mile hike easier for these old bones, bikes? game trailer? scout a new better hunting spot? Today I spoke of how much I enjoyed my OG pack, my OG chair. 8 blocks is plenty hunting out there. We never see huge flocks. I can fix up, re-flock some old blocks and make new again. My walk was easy, enjoyable. We also spoke of our excitement to hunt the Potholes again next year. Bob D. thanks for your hard work investigating. Another season comes to end. A few notables: it was 20 years ago we started hunting together and this season ends with Bob D. as the Expert, congratulations Bob D.
