We had driven a long way and were many hours from civilization. I stood surveying the campsite where we had camped in years past. And suddenly it dawned on me. I had forgotten my tent.
I could see it in my minds eye, that lonely tubular tent bag, sitting all along on my garage floor like a lost child. And while it sat there with so much wasted potential 6 hours away, I stood, in my campsite with a dumb look on my face, feeling foolish and knowing that I could be paying a serious price should the wind pick up and/or the weather turn. Pride wouldn’t let me snuggle into a one man tent with my hunting buddy. So I rolled my sleeping bag out on my inflatable pad and borrowed the Tyvek ground sheet for the one tent that was brought on the hunting trip. I tried to think positive thoughts.
After an 8 mile scouting hike, a shot of bourbon, and an ambian, I snuggled in to my sleeping bag and closed my eyes. I slept like a baby under that Tyvek sheet.
We got lucky and killed two turkeys opening day and were on our way home by 2 pm. It was a good turkey season.