My Inspiration
It may sound cliche, but I do not believe there can be any stronger bond between two people than that of a boy and his grandfather. A lifelong teacher, mentor and friend, my grandfather truly is the greatest person I have ever known. There is no one whom I trust more than my grandfather. He has always been there for me through thick and thin with kind words in time of sorrow, smiles in time of happiness and strong advice in times of need.
As a Depression survivor, my grandfather has always lived meagerly. His skills as an outdoors man put more than one meal on his family's table in his youth and provided him with a more than impressive whitetail trophy collection in his later years. He has never been able to venture far or wide, but has never lost that sense of adventure following his post World War II service years.
When I was born it was as if we were instantly best friends. I spent summers with him while my parents worked and he became the, "Babysitter." We fished nearly every day and while we weren't always successful, I was taught the art of patience, diligence and overall respect for wildlife in general.
My grandfather taught me the thrill of the hunt in ways that only a grandfather can. There were never and condescending words or looks of anger when I made mistakes. There were only the suggestions and encouragements of the perfect teacher. Through this I learned to love the pursuit of all game animals coupled with the sights, sounds and smells that accompanied it.
Our friendship continued to grow into our adult years and we still hunt together to this day.
It was in the winter of 2008 that we were met with disastrous news. My grandfather's habits from a generation gone by had finally caught up to him. His smoking led him to a diagnosis of lung cancer. At the time, hopes for survival looked bleak and although I tried to remain optimistic, it was as if a piece of myself was dying with his aging lungs.
At the age of eighty one, his chances for successfully beating cancer seemed to be virtually impossible. As our family prepared for the worst, I prepared for something different. If I was to lose my best friend, I would spend as much time as I could before what we thought was to be the inevitable.
It was never possible for my grandfather to visit the American West. He could never afford it raising four children and supporting a one income family. His desire to see it was always there but it seemed like a dream more than a possibility.
I decided that even though it would dent my savings, I was going to take my grandfather on a Western hunt before it was too late. I contacted Cabela's Outdoor Adventures and was set up with a classic antelope hunt in Wyoming for a two on one guided hunt with Brian Artery of Hunton Creek Outfitters.
When we arrived in Denver, my grandfather was a "Kid in a candy store." All signs of sickness had left his body and he became the physically tough man I had known in my youth. He breathed heavily in the high elevation but paid no mind to it. His excitement was gratification enough to me before we even stepped into the field.
When we arrived at camp, the other hunters in camp had rallied around him asking questions and complimenting him on his love of the sport. They told him how they could only dream to come West and do a hunt at his age. He never said it, but I could tell he felt as big as the world as the men listened for hours on end about his hunting stories of many years gone by. It was a touching moment for me and I fought back the tears.
We were off to the field the next day and Brian guided us personally. He was as patient and knowledgeable as anyone I have ever hunted with and took exceptionally good care of my grandfather. We walked very slowly so he could keep up and Brian put us right onto the antelope almost immediately.
As the antelope filtered into the draw below us, my grandfather was overcome with excitement. When the fine buck stepped out broadside 320 yards in the high wind, the .257 Weatherby barked only once and the beautiful buck dropped in his tracks. It was an extremely impressive shot that amazed even me. My grandfather is one of the best shots with a rifle I have ever known, but that shot was exceptional is such a strong cross wind.
We walked slowly down to the buck and took our pictures. The smile that graced my grandfather's face didn't disappear for days and only grew with each passing handshake he received in congratulations in camp that night.
The next day saw my turn on the trigger in which I shot a magnificent buck. The two animals were transported to the local taxidermists in which they were mounted together and currently reside in my grandfather's house. Surrounded with framed pictures of our western adventure, he smiles proudly every time he looks at the mounts.
It is impossible to underestimate the strengths of the, "Greatest generation." A surgery later and several chemotherapy treatments and my grandfather is officially cancer free. At eighty two years old he beat his cancer and is doing very well.
I like to think that the hunt we shared together with Hunton Creek Outfitters had something to do with his will to survive. I will never be sure if it did or did not, but it is of little consequence. I cherish the memories more because it was time in the field with great people providing an amazing experience for my best friend.
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