BOING: Birds, Beer Cans and Bullets

I recently experienced the most North Idahoan tradition that I am sure exists: road hunting. Because of this truly redneck ritual, I have ultimately realized how skewed my interpretation of this sport was – nay, how skewed was my perspective of all sports.

Indeed, I may have once deemed any “sport” boasting the use of animals or wheels (such as rodeo and big game hunting, or NASCAR and BMX racing) was as far away from the wide world of sports as one could reach. If baseball was the sun in our solar system of sports, NASCAR was a black hole in a different universe.

I even proclaimed they were simply reasons for rednecks to congregate and drink themselves into oblivion – much like St. Patrick’s Day for us Irish folk, or college for guys like me.

However, after a close friend of mine took me on this life-altering journey through the woods, with a rifle in one hand, a Natty Light in the other, and his knees on the steering wheel, I now understand why rednecks road hunt: It’s like shooting fish in a barrel!

Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve been around hunters my whole life: my dad, my grandpa, my uncles and my cousins. Oh sure, I went camping and fishing and I’ll be the last one to turn down a venison dinner; I even work for Black Sheep Sporting Goods – the leading vendor of all things fishing- and hunting-related in the Northwest.

But let’s face it: I’m a city kid. While my cousin wears camouflage, I shop at the Gap; when they’re up four in the morning before daylight, I wake up in time for the 1 p.m. Seahawks’ game. While I’m at parties chasing tail, they’re in the woods chasing whitetail.

Needless to say, I’m the last one you’d expect with a gun. Yet all it took was $30.50 at the mighty ‘Sheep, and now I’m an official card-carrying resident hunter/fisher.

And that’s all it took for my cousin to throw me in the pickup with a rifle and 12-pack. The walking, talking, human quote-machine of a cousin of mine has been like my big brother; so if he says it’s legal, I simply assume it is.

“Laws? What laws?” he once said. “I write the rule book as I go.”

We embarked on our journey slowly but steady, a stop for gas, a stop for beer, and a quick pep talk before heading up the mountain to slay the bird locals know as “grouse.”

“In town I may be the biggest loser around,” he said, staring off into the wilderness. After a momentary pause, as a devilish grin slowly spread across his face and the twinkle all but vanished from his eyes, he added: “But up here on the mountain, out in the woods, I am God – I decide what lives and what dies.”

He reared his head back, bellowed a satanic chuckle and peeled up the swerving dirt roads.

I have no other worldly experiences to justly compare the following two hours of my life. In short, I flat-out don’t remember the most of it, simply quick images of the sky clouding up for a rainstorm (“If this weather was a pizza,” said Gene, “than it would be extra-saucey!”).

I remember answering a phone call from my girlfriend – to his complete and utter disgust, as women apparently do not belong in the world of hunting, or even on the minds of men in the “hunting zone.” Yet as quickly as he was to denounce my answering of the call, he yielded one more bit of advice from his ever-growing repertoire: “Tell her that she has the body of a supermodel and the brains of an astronaut.”

At one point, I’m pretty sure we were knee-deep in elk feces searching for a fallen grouse carcass.

All in all, we didn’t end up with a single bird in the bag. In fact, the journey in which I speak of lasted only 25 minutes – that’s all it took before we reached the real hunter’s plateau: a monstrous grass field where grouse are aplenty, the deer and the elk roam, and beer cans and shotgun shells can be seen for miles.

It was indeed a true redneck’s paradise; worse yet, I found myself awe-struck when I quietly muttered one solitary word in this land of animal solitude: “Glorious.”

Apparently road-hunting is illegal, some rule about being 200 feet or so from any roadway. Yet what I considered road-hunting was actually legal: riding to the prairie with guns behind the seat.

Consequently, I have now budged from a position that many felt was impossible: I will be the first to admit hunting is a sport. The adrenaline rush you get when ending the life of another living creature is simply unparalleled.

I’ve never scored the winning touchdown in a football game, but I have played co-ed recreational softball. I’ve coached two Little League teams and I’ve sunk a hole-in-one on the third hole of Seattle’s most notorious mini-golf course.

Yet all those pale in comparison to shooting a grouse. Worst yet, I bought a deer tag this year, too. If they’re at all like shooting a grouse, than may God have mercy on the whitetails of North Idaho.

Bambi, prepare to die.

Sailing with Speed

North Idaho College already boasts a wrestling dynasty. Both men and women’s soccer teams are on a rampage through their new conferences and the Lady Cards are nationally ranked ninth in the NJCAA volleyball poll.

However, there exists one more realm for the Cardinals to rein supreme and dominate the national playing field with a severe upper hand.

“NIC could have a nationally ranked sailing team!” said Craig McBurney, of The Catamaran Club, a sailboat dealership/club that has found a new home on Lake Coeur d’Alene.

With the enrollment of NIC increasing each and every term, it seems fitting that the population of Coeur d’Alene is rapidly rising, as well.

And for a city defined by its lake, the increase in boats is only to be expected.

Thus, it was simply a matter of time before sailing found its niche in what National Geographic has proclaimed one of the five most beautiful alpine lakes on the planet.

“When I first visited North Idaho,” he said, “I quickly realized that this area has some of the best sailing in the world.”

Miles Moore of sail-s.com, the local Hobie Cat and MacGregor yacht dealer, is also the sailing instructor for NIC. Once he contacted McBurney at Reynolds Sailing and his role as r33.com dealer territory manager, he sought to bring in the Reynolds Sailing line of performance sport racing and cruising catamarans.

The catamaran procured by Moore, a 33-foot double-hull with a 14-foot beam, stands nearly 50-feet out of the water and can catch even the slightest breeze.

“The funny part,” said McBurney, “is that Idaho was actually one of the last states on my list to prospect for dealers! Miles quickly convinced me otherwise.”

The addition of Lake Coeur d’Alene to the Catamaran Club adds a new home to four of the West’s most premier sailing waterways: San Francisco, Long Beach, Los Cabos, Mexico, and now Coeur d’Alene.

Lake Coeur d’Alene is a beautiful lake to sail on and produces some amazing winds to sail with, said Moore. The deepest point is 187 feet, which, combined with the warm summer months, tends to produce smaller waves ideal for sailing.

For students who can’t fit a sailing class into their schedule via the PE department, they can still join the local sailing club and/or the Catamaran Club, related to the Reynolds 33 Catamaran. Or, by simply heading down to the NIC beach, the boat is ready and waiting on the dock.

“Walk down the dock and meet me on the boat, the Lake Cat,” says McBurney. “We will take students out for free; and for those who dream of sailing the world, we’ll shanghai them into being first mates, as we are always seeking a good crew for our charter operations.”

What makes the Lake Cat an ideal sailboat for this lake is its incredible bulk: Once a big cat begins moving, it creates some of its own wind and then converts that into sail power, called apparent wind. Another reason this area attracted McBurney is the occasional shift in those same winds.

“On light days, with puffs and shifts, one quickly develops real sailing skills by necessity,” he said. “Big, steady air, like the Caribbean trade winds, for example, makes it easy to get a boat moving.

“Lake Coeur d’Alene, with its many protected and phenomenally gorgeous anchorages, and no rough wave conditions, combine for the perfect environment for beginners to seasoned ocean sailors.”

Indeed, McBurney and crew have sailed all over the world, professionally and commercially. With their expertise and knowledge of all aspects in this sport, a strong endorsement and commitment to NIC, as well as the surrounding area is quite the accomplishment.

While NIC currently offers sailing classes and dawns an active group of sailors off the college-owned beach, the catamaran that Moore has brought in is an added bonus few can claim.

“NIC is the only college in the country that has this kind of high-tech racing multi-hull available to introduce state-of-the-art gear, carbon fiber sails, high apparent wind and extreme sailing techniques; as well as seamanship skills in general,” McBurney said.

Now it simply remains a matter of time, and a matter of will, before a competitive sailing team will represent the Cardinals of NIC. Athletic funding aside, the possibilities are sky high for a future sailing team: The necessities are available, now all that’s needed is a team.

“Sailing is truly a life-long sport that can be enjoyed by all persons, regardless of ability or disability,” said Moore. “How many sports do you know that can be done from the age of six to 106?”

For more, contact 888-LAKE-CAT, or visit www.r33.com.