This week, the trail pointed North.
Straight up U.S.31 and into Michigan to be exact for the annual
Compton Traditional Bowhunters Rendezvous. The event is one of the
largest gatherings of traditional bowhunters and archers in America
and draws folks from all over the country and even a few
international guests. One thing for certain, it is always guaranteed
to be a good time. New friends are met, old friendships rekindled and
plenty of stories to be told...But for me, this trip is about making
memories.
We turn North and this year,
the boy helps to split up the five hour drive with his new permit in
his wallet and Driver's Ed under his belt. Hands at 10 and 2,
shoulders forward and eyes locked on the road, I glance over at what
used to be my little buddy. “No longer that shy, quiet, silly
little boy”, I think to myself as he gradually relaxes his grip on
the steering wheel and finds his groove. We motor along and I find
myself enjoying being the passenger for once, taking in the corn
fields and farm houses between Kokomo and farther on...
We talk about bows and arrows,
swapping and trading and hoping for a good deal. He talks about music
and four wheel drives as I try not to critique his driving skills or
stomp my foot through an imaginary brake pedal on my side of the SUV.
The miles click off and the conversations rises and falls which it
always does with fathers and sons. We agree, we disagree...We laugh
and sometimes we're quiet and I can't help but wander what goes
through his brain at times, what does he think of me?
Almost to the border, the land
of the Irish and Notre Dame, no sign of an IU fan to be had. We're
not in Southern Indiana anymore as evidenced by the distinct lack of
sweet tea and the ever present Northern, upper Midwest accent
punctuated with “Ya's” “Sure” and even a few “Eh's”, no "twangs" to be heard...Not
long and we're pulling into the sportsman's club and greeted by the
sight of dozens and dozens of tents, teepee's and campers. The smell of the
blue campfire smoke fills the St. Joe River valley and we quickly
find our own spot and set camp. The tent is up, the cots set and
sleeping bags rolled out for the night. In typical Michigan fashion,
the temperature bottoms out below 50 degrees for the night and I try
to get deeper in the sleeping bag for extra warmth.
The next two days are spent
flinging arrows, catching up with old friends and always searching
out a deal. We meet up with some of our pals from Salem, Indiana and
shoot a few rounds with them. We cut up with each other, joke and
laugh and the boy is included. No longer just David's son, he has
earned his keep with the other hunters and shooters. No shooting from
youth stakes now, the kid steps up and launches his arrows just the
same as us 40 somethings and on this day, he hands it to us, out
shooting us on nearly every target. A standing elk, almost at 50
yards and he center punches it, easily one of the finest shots I've
ever seen, no sights, no range finders, purely on instinct from years
of shooting a bare bow...our buddies hoot and holler for the boy, and
I stand off to the side and can't help but be proud of the kid, but
almost sad at the same time, because there' not much kid left in
him...
A couple weekends ago, I
watched my daughter graduate from high school and jump into the world
of being an adult. She is ready to go, chomping at the bit and for
all intensive purposes, she has already flown the nest. I know that
in just a three short years, my second bird will make his leap from
home and into life...It's things like this trip to Michigan, shooting
bows and watching my kids with other adults, laughing, having fun,
sharing experiences, making memories that keep me going.
It's not necessarily about
hunting and fishing, bows and arrows. It's about time...Friends, take
time with your kids while you can. That's what they want, that's what
they need. In the blink of an eye, it's over, in the past and you
will have missed it. If the outdoors isn't your thing, find something
that is, something that you can do together to make you own memories
along the trail...
