You put in the application....and wait, and wait, checking constantly to see if results are posted. The forum posts a back-door and I realize that I have been drawn for the bull tag, my heart is pounding, my fist is pumping and a war whoop fills my small office. A long lost friend and I are going to get re-aquainted...Teanaway is her name.
My mind wanders to the hunt, knowing this will be unlike any other. My last time to the Teanaway was with my Dad and Brother, 13 long years ago. Wandering the woods throwing roundballs through smokepoles. Some of the best times, over many years, were spent on the hills and around the campfire there. Once a year, every year no matter how busy we were, Teanaway time was sacred time. Time to clear the soul and talk about things that aren't usually discussed. Man to Man time only those who have shared such a campfire understand.
I remember the lessons. Sitting in the woods after making a hasty, noisy tromp to the top of the hill. I remember waiting impatiently, and the hyper-alert feeling after finally seeing movement, only to feel my heart sink moments later when I realized it was only Dad. As I sat silently over the next hour and a half I suddenly felt silly for wanting to be the first to the top. I sat that day watching as dad slowly, methoticall picked the woods apart. One silent step at a time, stopping each time his foot touched the ground, he did not just see the woods...but saw THROUGH the woods. He missed nothing, not a movement, not a sound. Around the campfire that night I told him I had watched him. He smiled and said "I know". I remember my surprise as I suddenly realized that although I thought I had gone un-noticed, he knew I was there before I knew he was.
It was in those woods I learned he had Cancer. Walking up the hill on what would be our last hunt together, he told my brother and I his bones hurt. 2 months later we would learn what Lymphoma was, and 2 years later I would learn the pain of loosing a piece of my soul. Our dream of killing a huge bull in those woods never transpired, but it never fully evaporated either. The gifts he left are part of who I am, and he is remembered with each slow, methotical step through the trees.
I could not go back, not to those woods. They were sacred, but also painful. The smokepole sits on the wall gathering dust and I picked up a bow after running into a college friend I hadn't seen in years. We have shared dream hunts and sweet brotherhood together during our archery hunts with a group of friends I am blessed to have.
But for the past thirteen years it has been there, smoldering. The fire and love of Teanaway. The memories and sweet times that helped form my hunting life, the call of the outdoors that constantly burns, but much more so during September and Elk season. I have always told myself driving through Cle Elum and looking up into her hills...I will be back. I dont know when, but I will be back.
My old friend and I have a date on Wednesday, a date I have been preparing for like no other before it. I hope she's ready, Teanaway, because I am going to throw everything I have at her. All the years of waiting are down to 3 days. Nothing will be left on the table because I have a dream to fulfill, a nagging 13 year feeling there is unfinished business that needs to be taken care of. If I'm blessed with the Bull Dad and I always talked about, the one that always seemed to be one step ahead or behind us, I will take a knee and give thanks...and send it's spirit to Dad to chase around the hills and draws of Heaven. I will spread ashes. I will let out a war whoop, I will shed a tear.
Teanaway, I know your secrets, and you know mine. Let's dance.
