Posted: 10/31/2012 in Hunting

This is an awesome tale – closest I can come is being 18 in a bunk house with most of the NCO’s and two officers from the 324th MP Co., all of whom were CHAMPIONS at percussive snoring. As in ‘the rest of the week, I put earplugs in before going to bed.’

Hunt Forever

gallagher-treesMy first hunt in Alaska was a long time ago. Things were different then. The Captain Cook Hotel had just opened up, and eggs were two dollars each.

The town was a lot smaller than now, and when we went to the Malamute Saloon for a drink, a bunch of boys were whooping it up as a piano player was hammering out a ragtime tune. There were actually some characters walking around with guns and knives in their belts, and rowdy, semi-attractive women seemed to be everywhere. Ah, for the good old days.

A friend and I had signed up for a 10-day hunt with a wild man who called himself an outfitter. Many interesting things happened before and during this hunt. First of all, about three weeks before we left, my friend asked a friend of his to join our parade, and then the friend of a friend asked…

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