25 Nov Holidays Outdoors

This Blog entry is my submission to the Sportsman Channel and Outdoor Blogger Network writing contest.

Outdoors Friday

Being as entirely insane about all things outdoors as I have always been, the weekend after Thanksgiving was always better than the holiday itself. I’m not that old, mid 30’s, but I don’t remember if there even was a Black Friday when I was growing up. At least there wasn’t the inexplicable 5 AM lunatic mayhem that happens these days at strip malls across America. What there was for me, luckily, was Outdoors Friday.

My dad would call up his buddy, Lyle, I would jump in the cramped back seat of the red Chevy 2-door S10 Blazer with a pile of gear, and we were off. Usually, we would go out looking for pheasants. However, as every Utah outdoorsman knows now, and even knew then, Utah isn’t really pheasant country. Sure there are farms here and there that sometimes have enough grain planted to support a few birds, but, unless your cousin’s uncle happened to own a farm and you got in good with your cousin’s uncle, the Utah pheasant hunter is a frustrated hunter.

So, with that background info, there is a story to tell.

One of my mid 80’s pheasant hunts started with my dad, Lyle, the S10 Blazer, Dire Straits on the radio, mullets under mesh backed hats, and the whole bit. We headed out to the country with high hopes. I don’t know how every year the high hopes returned but somehow they did. But, by early-afternoon our pheasant hunt had, like almost all Utah pheasant hunts, devolved into the 3 of us chasing jack rabbits through the sage brush. Luckily, this too was fun, even though jack rabbits apparently taste like kindling. (Lyle told me).

Anyway, when we got back to the Blazer we were stuck, seriously stuck. Six inches of Utah powder (“Best Snow on Earth”) on top of 6 inches of desert clay mud is a deadly slippery combo. We weren’t that far from the highway so it wasn’t like we were going to have to resort to Soccer team-like cannibalism, or worse yet, jack rabbit, but it was far enough that it didn’t make sense to walk there and hitchhike before trying to get unstuck.

The Blazer tires were low on tread (Dad worked for the state) so we just needed to get some traction. Sounded easy enough, just shove some sage brush under the tires and voila. Dang, that didn’t work. We tried everything, rocking it back and forth, Lyle and I pushing forward, then pushing backward, and we even tried the sit there and stare at it technique. Nothing worked. All we got was sage brush/mud/snow soup.

Then, there was a flash of absolute genius. The abandoned sheep herder’s cabin that was 16 feet away had a whole bunch of old boards. Yeah, that worked.

We were off towards home, Money for Nothing pumping, and pretty glad we got the Blaze back on the road. After a congratulatory Dari-Freez burger and both the A and B sides of Brother’s in Arms we made it home unscathed, Outdoors Friday a success.

For several years the little old abandoned sheep herder’s cabin stood there, a few hundred yards off the highway. I passed it on many other outdoor adventures, some with Dad, some without. Then it was torn down. The sagebrush was cleared and a subdivision went in.

I can still see that old cabin with the sun bleached boards standing out in the snow. It makes its way into nearly every Thanksgiving thought.

Jake Ricks