One of the delights of my life has been various outdoor activities. The range of my interests are about as broad as the outdoors themselves, so I have at one time or another attempted many things related to outdoor affairs, not all of them very successful.
I know a lot of very competent outdoorsmen and women. These are the people who take their pursuits seriously and are mostly very successful whether they are hunting, fishing, trapping, backpacking or any of the other numerous outdoor activities people are involved in.
Personally I have had some nice successes, but to be honest, I have had some humiliating failures also, or you might just call them misadventures. I recall one such occasion when deer hunting in southwestern KY sometime around 1982 or 1983. That country was not exactly ‘thick’ with deer and there was not a lot of public hunting land, that I was aware of. This friend, whose named happened to be Jimmy, said he knew a perfect place for us to go hunting, it was covered with deer, so he said. But the one catch was that we had to get in there before daylight and set up on a hillside at the edge of some trees. I was game to try anything that might get me a deer.
What Jimmy failed to tell me was that we would be “trespassing” without permission, nor did he tell me the condition of the “trail” that we would be trying to drive his old Chrysler on. You know those Chryslers from the ‘70’s, about the size of a small ship, only heavier and low to the ground!
We started up this steep, water rutted hillside in the predawn of a November morning, with the headlights off of course. That is when my friend Jimmy explained to me about the “lack of permission” to be hunting there. But he went on to say that he was “sure the old fellow would not mind, as long as he didn’t know we were there”. I was not sure how that logic worked, but I was along for the ride and kept my thoughts to myself. I did feel sure it was very unlikely that “anyone” would be where we were!
As we climbed in that old Chrysler on up the hillside, making fairly good progress considering the state of the trail, we were doing well until we were about ¾ the way to the top where Jimmy wanted to hide his car in the trees. Then it happened. I felt the sudden drop of that ‘big boat’ as it dropped into a deep water rut, I could also tell, in a flash, that we were not going any farther, from the sound of gravel and dirt tearing at the mainframe under that car. We were “bellied out” with both drive wheels hanging in the air while the mainframe sat on “high ground”.
A quick look confirmed our suspicions. But, since we were more interested in deer hunting than extracting that beast from its current home, it was decided we would ‘hoof it’ on to the top of the hill, about ¾ mile away and worry about getting the car out after the hunt.
We took off up the trail that was steep enough for goat traffic to be slowed down. Finally we reached the top where the woods began just ahead of daylight. My favorite method of deer hunting has always been from a tree stand, naturally we did not have a stand on this strange hillside, but as I looked around in the dim light I spotted a big oak tree that was leaning out from the tree line and looked easy enough to climb. Perfect, I thought. Not having a shoulder strap on my old .30-30 rifle I handed it to Jimmy so I could climb up to a fork that looked comfortable to make my stand. Once there, I must have been about 10 feet off the ground because it was all that we could do for Jimmy to hand my rifle up to me, but in order to reach it I was compelled to hold on to a limb and lean over the side of the tree to reach the end of the gun, which did not have a shell in the chamber for safty reasons.
When I climbed that tree I noted that there was an old barbed wire fence attached to it, which happened to be exactly where Jimmy was standing to reach my rifle up to me. I had just gotten hold on the rifle barrel when to my great ‘disappointment’ I felt that tree limb I was holding to with the other hand “snap”! The results were quite predictable. I gave a warning shout to Jimmy that I was on my way down, while at the same time thinking of that barbed wire fence that I wanted to avoid at all costs if possible! With the last bit of control I had on the tree I threw myself just enough to clear the fence, but not enough to make a controlled landing. (Which incidentally, is a landing where you hit feet first and roll to break the momentum and hopefully do no harm to yourself.)
Having lived with one leg slightly shorter than the other, due to another mishap, I have been well practiced at the drop and roll method of ‘biting the dust’. People with a leg just slightly short are prone to stepping in a low spot and have their ankle turn, to keep from harming the ankle I always just went with the flow and let myself drop and roll. It looks a bit ridiculous in public places for a grown man to suddenly drop like a rock and roll on the ground, but it better than having a sprained ankle, trust me. J
Ok, I digress again. Since I did not have much control of my decent, I landed at a poor angle with my right foot taking the brunt of my weight. Snap! I heard, not to mention felt, something give in that foot and assumed it was not going to be a “good deal”.
Jimmy, only being somewhat alarmed, ask me if I was ok. I assured him I was not badly injured. He said, “get back up there, we will try again.” I laughed a little and told him that sitting at the foot of this tree would be ok, I really did not want a rerun just yet.
After assuring him that I was all right, we agreed on a time to meet back at the car, which still had to be jacked up and gotten out of the hole it was in, and Jimmy went on around the hillside to make a stand.
It did not take too long for nature to begin taking its course on my right foot. The longer I sat there the tighter my boot got and the more that thing “throbbed”. Soon it became apparent to me that my foot was very likely broken, it was certain that I was not going to be able to walk on it. Since I had given up the ideal of shooting a deer, I turned my attention to how I was going to make it back down that hill to where the car was stuck. I needed a crutch.
Looking around I found a small tree that would fit the bill, so I took my hunting knife out and went to work making a makeshift crutch.
When I got it done, I went ahead and started hobbling toward the car. Knowing Jimmy as I did, there was no reason to expect him to show up any earlier than we had agreed too unless he shot a deer. It was obviously going to take me some time to make the trip.
When me and Jimmy had both finally arrived at his car, it was then time to figure a way to get it’s tires back on solid ground. This was accomplished by jacking the car up and putting logs, rocks and anything else we could find under the tires until we could get free and turn around. Needless to say it took many attempts at jacking that thing up and putting all this stuff underneath the tires before we were free.
Not having been to a doctor in KY up to that time, I was not sure where I should go. A friend recommended an “old doctor” that he said was one of the “best in the country” and would not charge me an ‘arm and a leg’. Well, I don’t recall if he charged very much, but I do remember looking at the x-ray and saying to myself that a ‘normal’ foot does not have the bone sticking up about an half inch, right on the top of it. The old doctor assured me however, that it was not broken and a few days of staying off of it would make it right. Sure it would. But like a fool I let it at that. Now I am reminded daily of a misadventure that happened nearly 30 years ago. Every time I walk more than a few hundred yards that old bone lets me know that it was not in the right place.
But then, if I had not busted that foot, maybe I would have forgotten about Jimmy and his grand hunting spot by now.
It is strange how we can dig up memories even in unpleasant ways, but yet cherish the little adventures we had long ago, in another world.
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