David's Version of the Facts
First posted October 15, 2009 Last edited October 28, 2009
Wed Oct 7
Bill arrived at the ranch. He met the ranch owner (John Flocchini) and the hunting supervisor (Sharkey) and got a brief tour of the ranch. He set up camp in a grove of cottonwoods in an oxbow of a dry creek, then drove 45 min north to the town of Gillette to pick me up. I was delayed by weather by 2 hours, but Bill's cell phone worked at the ranch, so we could stay in contact. The plane landed in a freezing light rain, with just a little sliding around on the tarmac.
View out the front door of the Gillette airport as I was waiting for Bill
We then drove back to the ranch and one mile past, to Wright, to find Mike. We headed to a store to buy groceries, to a hardware store for my Wyoming license and conservation stamp, then back to camp. We parked across a small dry creek and carried supplies about 100yds to the tents. We set up one more tent, dug a fire pit and collected downed cottonwood branches.
Bill cooked some killer pork chops in the dark. In honor of Craig, I made salad, but that was it. It was cold (around freezing) and windy, and we turned in early. We heard both wind and snow throughout the night.
Thurs Oct 8
One thing nice about antelope hunting is that you don't have to get up at 5 am to start hunting. We leisurely rolled out at 9 and looked outside: snow and cold.
Here is a bit of a panorama: to the far right, you can see across the dry creek to where we parked the cars. The cottonwoods are arranged intermittently along the edge of the dry creekbed, with the tents in a large oxbow. You can see some of the surrounding countryside, which was typically gently rolling hills and mile-wide valleys.
Here are two of the three tents. The left one was for storage, the right one is the 10 x 10 Cabela's where we slept. Off to the right, beyond this frame, is the 8 x 8 where we ate.
Here are the Dramatis Personnae of our tale, standing around the tent on the first morning:
This was early in the am, when we just went out. We were just exploring the day, and were not very prepared. I had on long johns, jeans, and windproof overtrousers, so my lower half was ready, but not my upper half. I later put on a silk longsleeve undershirt, a Mourtain Hardware synthetic turtleneck, and a down jacket under my parka, and the next day added a down vest under my down jacket. For the rest of the trip, day and night, I had on the silk undershirt, synthetic turtleneck, down vest, and Thinsulate-insulated, double-walled knit hat, even in my sleeping bag. I was not really cold, except for occasional toes, but got really tired of being bundled up all the time. It would be nice to take a shower each day, get all the clothes off for a while, and get to change underwear and socks. It is the continuity of the bundling up that gets to me, esp wearing a knit hat all the time. My hair and scalp are not used to it, so it gets to be oppressive.
Mike seems ready for Antarctica, and the facial shield was really needed when the wind blew. My cheeks got rather cold, and all of us had problems at times seeing, due to wind and cold causing our eyes to tear.
Bill seems to be immune to the cold, and I am at least gratified he condescended to put on his hat. He is wearing insulated cotten jeans and you can't see the long johns.
As we were getting set up, we looked around and it seemed like it was going to be a good hunt: we had company in camp!
We saw these guys many times during the trip. They liked the shelter of the cottonwoods and fed on their downed branches. (The above photo is through the binocs, they were about 300 yds or so away at this moment. Note the territory.)
It was a bit too cold for breakfast, so we geared up and went to the Bronco. Bill (always thinking ahead) had set up a target at 100 yds so we could prove our sighting in, or lack thereof.
Mike gets ready, Bill uses the spotting scope. The target is the white dot in the clearing, just over Bill's head and to the left.
Mike shoots over the hood of the Bronco, using Bill's back cushion for a rest...
...while Bill spots.
The target after we all shot.
Bill shot first, aiming for the diamond on the right, but could not hit the paper. He was bewildered. Bill then shot again, this time at the oval at the bottom of the paper bag. This yielded the hole on the "2" line, which made him 7 inches high! This proves you need to check once you get to the hunting area. He adjusted his sights, shot again at the left diamond, got the hole at the top of the paper, readjusted and got the hole in the yellow, then adjusted and got the hole in the green, 2 3/4. I went next. I was 4 1/2 high at 100 yds, decided not to adjust. Mike shot the right diamond, was fine at 2 1/4.
We then headed to the ranch house to check in.
The entrance to the Durham Ranch
John Flochini is the son of one owner and the nephew of the other. Great guy. He gave us "maps" of the ranch, 92 square miles of gently rolling grass/sage land. The "map" is just a printout of a Google satellite image with the perimeter fence, interior fences, and gas pumping stations marked. No roads, no topographical or UTM markings, and heck, we could not even figure out where the ranch headquarters was. Not much of a map, but to the owner, it must have seemed as clear as glass. We accepted the maps with a smile but thinking "clear as mud", promptly switched to our topographical maps and GPS units.
It is a small world. We got turned onto this by mom, who attends church at St Mary's with John's mom. John went to Mitty, we went to Bellarmine. John remembers Craig Wyosnick from Mitty, a year behind him. Turns out John's brother use to work at Western Mountaineering, where Mike and I worked as the retail managers. John thought this was so funny he just had to call his brother and talk about it. We went outside. Sharkey, the hunting supervisor, drove up and we chatted. Nice guy, really a people person. Lives in Redding but has hunted the ranch for 41 years, has been the first "hunting supervisor", this is his fifth year.
Lots of palaver, but finally, we headed out to check out the territory. We promptly found that the ranch Google map was useless (had no idea of where we were and no way of finding out), but roads marked on our topo maps may or may not still exist, and many new ones did. By marking waypoints and annotating our maps, we finally got un-lost and headed out to the hunting.
Cloudy all day, cold. We were rather disappointed with what we saw: few antelope, mostly far away with no apparent way to get there. We must have covered the entire East-West axis of the ranch and saw not much. Just scouting or road hunting, whatever you might call it. It was not real hunting, as we know it. The day was cold and Bill (nice guy that he is) had both neglected to fix the heater (barely works) or even turn it on properly (we discovered this the next day). Mike could not feel his feet, I was OK but not warm.
Bill thought it was balmy; Mike and I thought that he was.
After a long day, as the light level began to fade, we drove out while we could still see where we were going. John had told us about guests getting lost in the 92 square miles; given the flatness of the terrain, with no landmarks, we could understand. As we drove, we all decided that it was too cold for a campfire and BBQ, so we headed to town, to Kat's Cafe.
Kat's is a simple cafe next to a truck stop, with a "help wanted: waitress, cook, busboy" sign in the window, not much to inspire the customers. We were one of two parties in the place, the waitress had been off for a month (husband got back from Iraq), so she did not know much of what was available. We peeled off multiple layers and hung them over chairs at an adjacent table, there being almost no one around. Menu was simple. Bill ordered coffee, then we ordered dinners. We took our time, thawing out more than eating. Bill had a jalopeno pizza, and boy! was it hot. We all enjoyed the warmth while we could, then after over an hour of leisure, we bundled up again and headed into the cold. It hit you like a wall when you went outside. The Bronco started (always an exciting time when Bill turns the ignition switch, as we watch with baited breath), and drove the one mile back to camp. Too cold to linger around a fire outside, so we went inside the tent. It was a Cabela's 8 x 8' tent, fit the three of us nicely. Bill was along right side on a cot, I was on the left side on a cot, and Mike tucked into the back wall on the floor. Bill and I shared a highball, then Mike and I hit the sack, well bundled up, and Bill went to work, transferring his GPS data to his topo maps. Wind and snow outside.
