Graybeard Outdoors

The Great Georgia Gun Hunt.....
By: The Junglerat

Saturday, October 23rd, 1999: Departed Greensboro, North Carolina in "Blackie", my wife’s 1993

Ford Ranger XLT extended cab 4x4 with two spare 'cans' of gas and two spare 'cans' of potable

water.

The trip to south Georgia was expected to take 8 hours and some change, depending on pit

stops, etc.

All was going according to plan until leaving I-85 in Georgia, a little south of Atlanta and taking up

I-185.

Traveling on I-185 at around milepost 37, with the traffic a little tight due to "something" up ahead,

the burgundy-colored soccer-mom van in front of me was cruising along at about 45mph when all

of a sudden it sort of bounced into air and the brake lights flared. I hit my brakes and felt a heavy

thump as I did so.

Coming to an abrupt stop, I was contemplating the events of the moment when this van's backup

lights come on. I lean on the horn but to no avail. She backs right up into my truck. I get out of

the truck and then notice the head of a deer stuck up between my front bumper and the rear-end

of her van. I tell her to pull forward, to which she sends several expletives but does so.

As the vehicles separate, I see the deer’s head drop to the highway. A rather nice looking deer

but dead as dead can be never the less.

After some 50 minutes or so, and small replica of an encyclopedia's worth of forms to be filled

out, we part and I continue towards Lumpkin, Georgia. Burgundy paint on my wife’s truck’s

bumper and a fog lamp busted completely away.

Turning off the paved road near Lumpkin and onto the dirt road (as per previous directions) I feel

I am quite close to the gate to the deer camp. This dirt road surely is the last turn to navigate.

The road is only 1.2 vehicles wild. As I come around a turn, another truck, a red pickup come to

me. We both pull to the side a little and stop. I lean out my window and see a middle aged man

with a full gray beard. Thinking this to be "Graybeard", I say "Howdy". Then, because we had

established a "relationship" for open candor and humor on the web - and because I feel this must

be Graybeard because it is so far out from everywhere and no one else could ever be that ugly, I

continue the discussion with "get your fat ass outta that truck and welcome me properly"....or

words to that effect. Well, several other things are said back and forth in a hearts beat of time.

Finally, I realize that Graybeard said he would be driving his Blue Bronco.

This was a red chevy. Ouch

Numerous attempts to render an apology are made. The only saving grace - perhaps - is all the

guns I have "mounted" in my truck? Anyway, I escape that ordeal and continue along the yellow

dirt road.

Arriving at the gate to the deer camp, I find it locked with no less than a dozen various warning

signs posted all about. Three locks on the chain and no key for either (later Rick would swear he

sent an email to me identifying the location of the hidden key...um).

Sitting there, I try once again to raise Rick on the cell phone number he had emailed me. No joy.

No contact. Left one message (but Rick later sez, "I don't check my messages"...another "um")

Perhaps 15 minutes pass when I hear a vehicle coming up the sandy road towards this gate. On

it is a man and a very young girl (who is driving the ATV). I consider that it might be graybeard.

And so, once again I begin with a pre-emptive level of "knowing this man" but quickly pull myself

up short when this gent looks me dead in the eye and asks what I want! I inform him that I am

merely a visitor from a long way off, here to meet some gentlemen from south Georgia for a deer

hunt and mean no harm or mischief.

He says nothing except to direct his daughter to turn the ATV around and head back to camp.

Eventually, Rick shows up with a key and I am allowed to enter the sanctum sanctorium of deer

camps.

And upon arriving at Rick’s gold and white camper, I then see the old graybeared one. Even uglier

than I had expected. (Later he would write that I was gravely overdue on arrival. um)

After a few moments of handshaking and a brief effort on my part to explain why I was (actually)

only 20 minutes past my 2PM-arrival time, we sit down near the fire to discuss the next days

hunt. And it is here that the truth does not take a holiday in my case. But from this juncture on,

ol' Graybeard has already proven that he is amongst Zane Gray and others when it comes to

"wild" stories about the "wild" west. The "west" in this case, being south-west gawgia.