An energized crew arrives at the Sacred Hunting Grounds the night prior to discuss the next days adventure. After a awesome meal of grilled sausages and mac n’ cheese, plus of course the consumption of a few adult beverages, plans were set for the opener. A push to watches below the Meadows resulted in a glorious day observing the very dense and still green and yellow foliage. Obviously the warmy-changy thing has convinced all of the trees to hold on to their leaves for now. Not to have .01% visibility conditions hamper the gangs plans, all performs their assignments as directed. Part two of the day led the gang to the other side of the creek and a push back to camp was accomplished, with not one mule being seen.
Waking up to monsoon conditions, the crew decides to hunt “local”, which in reality isn’t. All donning what was once dry gear, which is suppoda keep them dry – the crew heads to the hills to thoroughly test said gear. Most succeed in their quest to stay dry, and some gets soaked. not one mule is seen until the very end of the drive, where Digger trips over a bedded mule which disappeared quicker than the couch when Spike arrives to camp.
Everyone seems to have found their stuff as left the season prior, and brings it all home wet.
Next week, the first Friday hunt – and for those in the esteemed FAMHC, the earning of the CHU’s to maintain membership.