My buddy Ian called me about a crazy plan. Let's go Chukar hunting he says! We'll go camping, hunting, and drinking. Sounds pretty good to me, only one problem though. Ian is what I like to call a real sonofabitch! The kind of skinny guy, that's in shape, and loves walking up hills. All kidding aside this was a great trip.
We arrived a little late on Friday night,and set up camp in the dark. We somehow managed to set the trailer up perfectly with a perfect view. Shortly after setting up camp I was able to stick two nice bullfrogs with a fishing rod and a bare hook. Less than an hour into the trip, and we're already into game. Awesome.
The next morning we slept in, had a nice leisurely breakfast, and hit the road. It was a short truck ride from camp before we started up a canyon. We walked up for about an hour before we got to a guzzler, no birds, no problem, back to camp for lunch and beers? Nope. Some fukar named Ian thinks we should go higher and farther. Ok. I'm down, just a fat guy walking uphill all day, no problem. We walked higher, and farther, and higher, and farther. No birds. We finally started to head back to the truck, when I saw a perfect canyon. Steep, rocky, with signs of bird shit. I sarcastically suggest that perhaps the Fukar should go check it. He does. Not ten minutes later he opens up with five shots!!!
Dave sees two birds land at the bottom of the hill we just walked up, against our better judgment we lose altitude to check them out. We walked down, waited, stomped. Nothing. They must of flown further down the canyon. Oh well, we tried. Ian comes down the hill with two birds in hand. As he gets to the bottom the other two birds jumped up, one went towards me, one went over his head, two more birds down. Four birds in the bag. Ian and Dave chased after the rest of the covey while I waited and held my ground, did I mention I'm the fat guy. Dave shot one hard, but a huge gust of wind blew it a hundred yards away. It hit the ground running but was never seen again. We headed back to the truck, and it was brutal. I was fighting two blisters, and some serious chafing. Did I mention I'm the fat guy? Dave's legs were cramping up, but we fought it off to make it back to the truck. Just in time for some pics and a couple of beers. By far the toughest hike of my life.
We headed into Gerlach for some Bruno's. We had a couple beers, and some good hot food. The raviolis are better than you've heard. We made in back to camp, and I slept like a log.
I went to bed Saturday night with no intention of going chukar hunting ever again. My allergies were killing me, my toes were blistered, I was chafed and beat dog dead tired. I felt surprisingly well the next morning, and after catching a couple of trout in the morning I decided to go again. We drove to a different spot with a natural spring. On the way in we saw the most rarest of all creatures, THE ROAD CHUKAR!!!!! That's right three chukar running right down the road. Unbelievable! We stopped, loaded up, and gave chase. They immediately flew across the road, never to be seen again. This of course led us on a chukar chase, up and down again. Ian ended up going way up another hill, while Dave and I stayed a little lower. Ian did manage to get one more bird, and I got one shot after he chased them down. We chased a couple of rabbits, and called it a day.
Back at camp I made some awesome Cajun chicken pasta, had a few drinks, and hit the sack. We were up early the next day to catch a few more fish, have a couple of fantastic Bloody Marys, pack up the trailer, and hit the road. It was a great trip, and I hope a new tradition.