G left this morning for his annual pilgrimage to South Dakota for the turkey hunt. Last year he chose to go in early April, at the opening of the season. Once he got there he found himself sitting around all day in near-freezing temperatures and camping in below-freezing temperatures. To make matters worse, he never bagged a bird. So this year he decided he was going to wait until the end of the hunting season, when the weather was a littler warmer and perhaps the birds more in the mood to frolick.So about mid-morning I received a call at work - it was G. The conversation went something like this:
Me: How's the drive?
G: I'm driving through Wyoming in a blizzard.
Me: Oh no.
G: And I've been sitting on I-80 for 40 minutes in an endless line of semis who are getting stuck in the snow trying to get up the hill. Gosh, I chose the last weekend of the hunt because I thought it would be warm and sunny.
Me: Why don't you turn around, come home, I'll take the day off and we can make hot chocolate and sit by the fire?
G: I really need to pee.
I spoke with G earlier this evening. He was going to camp, but when he arrived at his location and the temperatures were, again, near freezing and the wind was blowing 60 miles/hr, he found himself a hotel room. Good luck with the hunt, baby!
P.S. Alta and Snowbird got two feet of new snow today. Welcome to spring time in the Rockies!
UPDATE:
Friday G calls me and says,
G: I woke up this morning to a foot of snow, and it's still snowing.
Me: Do turkey's come out in the snow?
G: No.
Me: So, what are you doing?
G: Driving around. The entire town is pretty much shut down. I think I'll come home. I should have just turned around when I was stuck on that hill in Wyoming.
Told ya so :D
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