At some point one of our group came looking for me. He found tracks in the blood trail of my new found friends elk. Assuming it was me he followed till he found the fellow resting. ď are you Bill? Why yes I am. That means your buddy Empty is at the other end of this blood trail asking for your help.Ē
He shows up and is much welcomed help. It would seem that somewhere between unassing myself, humping up that hillside and being bent over a dead elk my back went on strike. Back spasms just arenít much fun. Anywho, as weíre wrapping up my partner casually asks if we can get back before supper? Lunch says I, were done here, the horses can get back here easy enough.
Turns out heís got an elk down that I know zero about! Off we go... till my back said a hard NO, this malarkey is over. I get on the little radio, could someone help a brother out? We are conducting a walking tour of the drainage this afternoon. Two answers of, ďI have my own problems up hereĒ, 4 elk on the ground. Unheard of in our encampment, welcome problems indeed.
Eventually someone broke free and came to help. I strapped my pack on, cinched the waist down good and tight. After hobbling 200 yards that pack and waist belt acting like a backboard, got my spine back where it needed to be. Though not healed I got myself the mile back to our camp in decent time.
I need a kinder gentler machine gun
**Concealed Carry...Because when seconds count help is only minutes away**