2 Bulldog alumni notes today:
Rick Cramer (64)
Paul Case (67)
From: Rick Cramer (64)
What a kick this site is, I sit and read with awe the stories and forgotten memories of a time long past and marvel at the crazy things we did in those days and wonder how any of us made it out alive. I haven't been in Pasco since 69, have wandered a bit but no memories are as fond as those in Pasco.
The closest I have ever come to recreating AC sauce was equal parts Mayo and catsup, a touch of mustard and a touch of lemon. Loved the Artic Circle and the Bob-A-Lou.
Ya'll take care.
Rick Cramer (64)
From: Paul Case (67)
Cliff Brown's story about hunting on the Columbia River brings back memories I have of duck hunting, albeit legally, with Ron Cramer (67) and Randy Jackson (67). It must have been 1965-66 and it was a regular ritual to get up about 4:00 am on Saturday morning, load Randy's father's ~12-foot boat onto the Jackson family's Rambler station wagon, and head out toward Ringold.
We would drive out to where some power lines crossed the river - I think one tower was on an island - and put the boat in the water, mount the small outboard motor on the transom, and load two bags full of duck decoys. Then we'd cross the river and head downstream on the Hanford-side of several small islands. I can't remember how far we'd go, maybe a mile or so. There was a nice beach-like spot where we would set up our blind and wait for the sun to come up and the ducks to start flying.
We generally did pretty well getting our limit of ducks, but geese were harder to come by. One day, however, our luck changed. It was a foggy morning and there was virtually no visibility even after the sun had been up for a couple of hours. We were just sitting there twiddling our thumbs when we heard faint sounds of geese flying in the distance. We didn't think much of it at first. When geese did fly over they were always far too high to get a shot at and they never paid any attention to our duck decoys.
But we began to notice that the honking was getting louder, much louder. We started to think that we might just get a lucky shot or two, but we had to improve our chances somehow.
There happened to be a small ridge behind us, maybe ten or twenty yards back and maybe fifteen or twenty feet higher than where our blind was. We figured the extra height might be just enough to get a shot at a couple low-flying stragglers. So we headed for the hill!
By the time we got to the top of the ridge the geese were getting close - and much, much louder! It was, in fact, one of the most impressive wildlife displays I have seen. It sounded almost like a huge windstorm - without the wind.
As I said, geese never paid any attention to our decoys - they were always very wary and flew high over us when we did see any. But this time was different! As the fog lifted the honking and the "wing-wash" got louder and louder. Then all of a sudden the geese - must have been one hundred or more - dropped down below the fog and without any hesitation set down on the river amongst our decoys! I don't recall if we would have had a shot from the ridge or not - but I think we were too stunned to have taken a shot anyway. I do remember that we were too far away to take a shot from the ridge. So there we were - a plethora of prized geese intermingling with our decoys and we were too far away to have a chance for a roast goose dinner!
Our options were to take a chance on a few long shots (I don't know if any of us had any goose-loads or not), or make a run for the river's edge and hope we could get there in time for some better shots. To make a long story shorter, we decided on the latter. Off we go - scrambling down the bank as fast as we can! I doubt we had the safeties on so we're probably lucky no one got shot.
Needless to say the geese took off as soon as we started running. That was an awesome sight, too - and loud. About halfway between the ridge and the shore we stopped and started shooting. There were too many geese to really pick one out to aim at - we just pointed and shot. We were really still too far away for good shots, but I think we did manage to bag three or four birds.
I was always baffled on our way back up river during the daylight. Then we could see boulders as big as trucks lurking just below the surface. Of course we couldn't see them in the predawn darkness, so we just didn't worry about them. But we always had to take it slow and weave back and forth to avoid them in the daylight. I don't know how we managed to never even break a shear pin! Must have been those angels that Cliff mentioned.
Ironically, all the fun we had duck hunting eventually led to me flunking the only class in my education career - Boys Home Ec! But I'll save that story for another time.
Paul Case (67)