A few nights ago, I pulled my pickup into the driveway around 2:30 a.m., kicked the brake on and turned the ignition off. Phew, that was a long trip! I thought to myself.
My dad and I were returning from a turkey hunt for Merriam’s gobblers in northeastern Wyoming, with our friend Ralph Dampman at Trophy Ridge Outfitters. And we were successful, both tagging beautiful toms in some gorgeous, rugged country.
Thanks to knowledgeable guides, an abundance of cooperative birds, and our conditioned (conditioned enough for the mountains we climbed, anyway) leg muscles and lungs, Dad and I were blessed to double on the first day of our hunt.
Then we spent the next couple days driving 1,400 miles up, down and all-around Montana, taking in the views and continuing…
