One more last time

You would think that after 35 years of doing this, I would have it down pat.

It's pretty much always the same. Same place, same number of days, same number of people.

Still, every year I start over again. Plan the menu. Figure out what to buy, when to buy it, what to freeze and what meals to prepare ahead of time and freeze.

So, for one (more) last time I begin the preparations from the beginning, with some notes from past years.

It's hunting season. More or less it has been hunting season in my mind all year long. But, now it is time.

Time to get all the stuff together. Check it all out and buy or fix any broken items. But this year is different. I am retired. I have time.

Hard to believe that the pressures of past years to be ready on time and to have everything prepared and set to go are not stressful, but in fact pleasurable.

We hunt in the most remote hunting area of Idaho, and the only way in is by airplane.

This requires fairly detailed planning since communication can be limited and transportation is dependent upon the weather.

So, again, I put together all the logistical elements to ensure a comfortable safe experience.

This year, though, some unexpected sentiments crept into the preparation process.

Over the years my reasons for going hunting have changed.

In years past, it was the drive to get a huge buck or bull elk.

Gradually, my planning focused upon seeing the animals and enjoying the scenery and the other hunters who had become my friends.

I find that my planning is more on good food and comfort than on how to make my backpack light.

I look forward to seeing friends that I only see annually at camp.

So, I started packing some of the items that I have purchased.

I pulled out my pack boxes from storage.

There are four boxes that I made in the late 1970s or early 1980s during some stressful years for me.

So I spent considerable time to construct these boxes so they would not only be durable and carry supplies, but also fit together to form a camp kitchen.

At first glance these are just plain old wooden boxes. But I know that they have been packed to excess and slammed into pickups, trailers, and planes more times than I can count.

They have been banged around, kicked by horses, used as tables and ladders, and regally abused.

But they hang together. There are about three layers of paint on some areas and no paint on others. But they have been there. Every year. Dependable.

I have built some beautiful furniture out of wood. By all measures these boxes are ugly - until they are set up to be a kitchen in the tent in the deep wilderness of Idaho.

Then they become some of the most beautiful furniture I have ever made.

So again this year I begin to load them to over capacity. I clean residue from last year from the doors and tops. Still they are as strong as ever. Then the thought comes to me.

What if this is, really is, the last year. The last time.

What is to become of these beloved, trustworthy boxes?

I am 73 and still fit. I can manage the rough mountains for a while yet. But other elements effect my ability to go hunting.

My hunting partners are becoming more inclined toward cruises or trips to Hawaii. My son goes with me occasionally, but lives in Indiana, and hunts very little.

I have no grandchildren. Nobody to give these treasures to when I can truly go no more.

Sell them? They aren't worth much, and I don't need the money.

Give them away? Maybe. I don't know anybody who would truly appreciate them.

So I pondered these emotions for a while and finally put them back on the shelf until later.

Besides, if I got rid of them, it truly would be the last time.

Lanny Olson lives in Coeur d'Alene. He can be reached at mahoneymayor1@gmail.com.