Stories on unexpected weather changes

Sitting here writing this story I’m a bit ticked off. I had planned to hunt ducks this morning but it’s raining.  Contrary to what most people think, ducks don’t fly well in the rain. And I don’t like sitting in the rain.

Actually, most outdoor activities – hunting, fishing, camping, hiking, wildlife and scenic photography – are all so contingent on weather.

I can think of so many times when foul weather affected my outdoor adventures.

When my wife, Beth, and I were still newlyweds we took a camping trip to Red River, New Mexico. My Mom and Dad were with us, camping in the bed of their pickup. They had a simple camper shell on the truck bed. Beth and I had a simple army-issued pup tent.  It had no floor. During the first night it began to rain. It was a real mountain rain. Water began to drip through the canvas of the tent. Then rivers of water began to flow under the tent, soaking our sleeping bags totally.  Everything in the tent, including us, was soaked.

Finally, Beth, thinking it almost time to get up, said, “I’d be the happiest little girl in all the world if I just knew what time it is?”

I finally located a flashlight and looked at my watch.  Thinking I would say 6 a.m., I said 2:30. She immediately burst into tears.  It wasn’t one of our better camping experiences.

Years ago my friend, Ron Carnes, my son, Terry, and I were fishing the bay area near Port O’Conner. We had an icebox full of trout.  Those were the days before any limit had been imposed on speckled trout. We decided to beach the boat on an island and fry some fresh trout just before dark.  While we were cooking we could see a massive weather front forming in the north.

“Maybe we should get out of here and run for the dock,” suggested Ron.

“I think we have enough time to finish our meal,” I said.

Wrong! The storm hit with vengeance. Powerful winds, driving sheets of rain slammed into us.  Huge waves began to drive the boat up on the island. We wrapped Terry in a sheet of black plastic on the shore and Ron and I got in the water to hold the bow of the boat into the wind.  For hours, with lightening flashing and thunder crashing, we laid in the water trying to keep the boat from being tossed upon the island where we would never be able to move it.

Finally, the storm passed.  Exhausted, all three of us crawled into the boat, laid down on the flood and slept until morning. We survived.

When Beth and I had been married about four years we decided to go to Nebraska pheasant hunting.  We knew nothing about pheasant hunting but all the stories I had read about it sounded fun.  We had no kids, so why not go for it?  Mom and Dad traveled with us.  They were still camping in their truck bed.  We now had an International Scout in which we had prepared a bed. 

The pheasant hunting was awesome.  A local hunter helped us learn how to hunt them.  We quickly learned that pheasants would rather run than fly.  So Beth and Mom became pushers through the corn fields, driving the birds toward me and Dad.  When the pheasants finally realized that they were trapped, they would take flight.  Not a good plan.  They usually died when our heavy lead loads smacked into them.

One afternoon, while cooking some pork chops on the grill, a wild wind came out of nowhere.  Anything in the camp that was not tied or anchored down took flight. It blew our pork chops off the grill. If we had been staying in tents they would have been flattened. Later, we asked a local about that wind and he said, “No big deal –just a western Nebraska wind storm.”  It seemed like a big deal to us.

Several years ago my youngest son, Tim, and I were duck hunting on a lake near Buda. Several days of rain had soaked the ground but we got down to the lake okay in Tim’s high-base, big tire, 4-wheel drive truck.

While hunting, a down pour fell.  By the time we gathered the decoys and our gear, the mud roads had become a quagmire. Slipping and sliding, we began to make progress toward the gate. Tim put the pedal to the metal.  We knew if we slowed down, we would stick.  Tim blasted into a deep, mud hole, filled with water. Water and mud flew over the hood, covered the windshield and sailed over the top of the truck.v It was like monster trucks on TV We were laughing hilariously. We did make it to the gate. 

Unexpected weather changes are just part of the outdoor experience. Don’t let weather stop you from enjoying the great outdoors.