Where to begin....I guess, at the beginning.
As my plane took off from Boston at the end Bear Quest I last year, I suffered from the immediate pain of withdrawal. Whip and I had planned for a do-it-yourself walkabout in Australia with cobber Al Kidner in 2008 so it would be a while before I would see another Bear Quest.
A week or so into withdrawal I got a call from Whip, who was glued to his monitor reading all the tales recounted. Joe beat around the bush for sometime...finally proposing that maybe we should postpone Australia and go to another Bear Quest together? As much as I longed for the trip Down Under, the warm glow of the recent memories made at Quest I were simply too fresh to deny. We cinched up plans and got on board with Tom.
The next 11+ months were filled with pleasant distractions: some great hunts came and went, sports with my boys, family vacations etc....but throughout all the hustle and bustle of life, I often found myself drifting back to see lurking black shapes as I sat in the Canadian backcountry while darkness slowly covered the green canopy. The days drew nearer for my return and thankfully the last month or so flew by with blinding speed.
Before I knew it, it was Friday the 13th and I was sitting in my seat as the plane lifted off for Boston. My nervous twitch was not caused by fear of the superstitious date, but by anticipation of what was to soon come. The flight was only 3 hours or so but felt much, much longer. I'm confident the first guy to invent a Star Trek-like transporter will certainly be a hunter who simply cannot stand the agonizing delay of travel to his anticipated adventure.
Tippit picked me up at the airport without a hitch, to many grins and nervous laughter between us. A sincere hug from a close friend is the sort of thing a fellow hangs his hat on when he counts his blessings, it was good to see him again after far too long.
We parked in a shady area away from the airport and caught up while we waited for Whip, all the while grinning from ear to ear like two kids killing time on Christmas Eve. Joe's reception was the same as with Jeff and off we went to Jeff's.
Now, the plan was to hang out at the house, meet up with our traveling party (Paul, Jay, and Steve), have a fine meal prepared by Miss Molly and boogie towards the border around 9pm. Not sure how many of the chosen few out there have had the pleasure to see Tippit's basement...but those who have know that "hanging out" consisted of fondling Jeff's incredibly diverse collection of bows. Joe and I were mesmerized by the graceful curves and sensuous lines of stickbows that begged to be shot. Tippit graciously offered our pick of any and all for the flinging…and it took us each a mere moment to grab and go.
As we puttered and played, shooting many bows neither I nor Joe have ever seen, let alone heard about, the rest of our party arrived. More bows were broken out and Jeff’s bear target was given a thrashing none short of what the French saw at Agincourt.
A few of the Tippit’s bows that I shot stood head and shoulders above the rest, particularly two recurves that shot as good as most any I’ve ever wrapped my paws around (don’t post the names here Jeff, in case there are any wandering around used bow land I might have missed ).
I’m not a selfbow man, only shot one or two I cared anything about and neither of those would make me lay down any good glass bow I’ve shot. However…Paul broke out two beautiful bamboo backed sticks that seemed to glisten far in excess of the sunlight that reflected off of them as the sock slid off. These were something special. The first, was a fine short bow, it certainly got my attention with it’s lack of shock and blistering performance. “You sure you didn’t slip any of that carbon you’re playing with in here?” :eek: Paul grinned and handed me the longer of the two “Try this one” as he did his best imitation of the Cheshire cat.
Topic: BEAR QUEST II Spring BEAR HUNT 2 Openings (Read 40471 times)
