Last night I said my farewells to my hunting friends.
Today I leave early in the morning, at 5.00.
My plane leaves at 10.00, so I want to be at the airport by 9.00. At dawn Babsie asks me if I'd like to sit in the driving seat of the Polaris for one last time. I climb up onto the trailer, which is where the Polaris has spent the night. Babsie says he will always remember me as the Hungarian lad who constantly wanted to drive the Polaris. He appoints me its official driver, and says I can take it out whenever I pass this way again.
Patti drives the Ford through a landscape straight out of a Hollywood movie. As with every parting, this one was hard. Something good has come to an end, and that is very sad. Montana has been everything that I could have possibly wanted. And some that I hadn't even expected.
Because, when going through my itinerary receipts, I can see that the cost of the varmint hunt has not been added to the package. Babsie gave it to me as a bonus. He has not charged me extra for using his guns, and a lot of his ammunition, either. He's the type of man that does this job because he loves it. It's impossible to fall out with him because he never stops smiling.
This goodbye has been made a little easier because it is not final. It is just a temporary, half-goodbye. I will see Babsie's Coca-Cola house again! He also organizes hunts of white-tailed deer, and I'd certainly like to bag myself a big bull, as an example of this American species. I can't do it this trip as the season only opens some weeks after my last hunt has finished. The American hunting season takes a short break between the end of October and early November.
For many species the hunting season ends in October, but the November hunts don't begin until a couple of weeks later.
I will return to the New World at least one more time, I hope, and, of course, I will be bringing my gun.
Sticking to my original plan, I am at the airport before 9.00.
Today is the 11th September.
Since 9/11 it's never been a popular day to fly on, especially on internal US flights. And it is particularly risky if carrying a gun and ammunition. Many people warned me about travelling on this day, and I wasn't too happy about it myself. I've heard that TSA officers have very little sense of humor on this day. Before I left I checked all my permits several times over to make sure I'd done everything according to the book, and ensured that all my documents were in order. I've
Chapter VI.: Return to Alaska
Page 3
checked and re-checked my Blaser to make sure it's not loaded. In the end, going through airport security this time proved to be one of the smoothest check-ins I've ever had, and, since leaving Hungary, I've done quite a few, I can tell you.
The surprise was waiting for me after the check-in.
They don't use the 24hr. clock on American electronic tickets. For example, no ticket is issued saying 13.00. Instead, in the column for departure time, is written 100P, the P indicating PM, for the afternoon. I'm afraid that yesterday I was a bit careless and negligent; when I looked at the first two numerals I assumed it meant 10.00 in the morning. Well, I was wrong; I shall be flying at 1.00 this afternoon. I have got here three hours before I need to. I could have slept in, and started my day with a big healthy breakfast. Patti wouldn't have had to get up so early, and I wouldn't have three hours of boredom stretching ahead of me in the departure lounge. I console myself with the thought that it's better to be here at 10.00am for 1.00pm, than at 1.00pm for 10.00am.
Also, it gives me time to write up my diary, so I won't have to deal with it in Anchorage.
But it would still have been better to sleep in those extra three hours.
Room 1164
Expedition Headquarters
Anchorage Hilton
Anchorage
Alaska