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Every Life is a Story
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Monday, May 5, 2008

Hellish Honeymoon

My parents were married in September. This was right at the beginning of hunting season, and my father was an avid bow hunter. They decided that for part of their honeymoon, they would go on a hunting trip. They were poor young newlyweds, so they borrowed a pickup truck with a canopy over the back. That way they could put blankets and sleeping bags in the pickup bed, and sleep under the canopy.

They got married, then after the reception, left to go to eastern Oregon. They found a small hotel in Oakridge, Oregon to spend their first night together. It was the first hotel they could find on the way. It was also filthy and infested. They were understandably up early to continue on to their hunting trip.

They travelled up to Hart Mountain Reservoir, way up in the mountains of eastern Oregon. They were poor young newlyweds, so they borrowed a pickup truck with a camper shell over the back. They put a plywood board down on the pickup bed, and had a foam mattress on top of that to sleep in. Thus they spent night number two. They woke up early, soaking wet, and shivering, wondering where the water was coming from. It took a few minutes for them to realize that it had gotten so cold, their breath had frozen onto the roof of the camper shell, and had dripped down onto them, getting them wet. Not wanting to stay in the camper shell, they tried to get up and fix breakfast, and found that the eggs they had packed were frozen solid. They spent a few hours hunting, and while my Dad got a couple of shots at some deer, he was unsuccessful. They were so miserable, they decided that they were done with hunting, and packed and left just as it became light.

The third night was much better, because they ended up going to Lakeview, Oregon, where my parents met with a college friend, and had dinner. It was a pleasant evening. They couldn't delay and stay long in Lakeview, because my father had a bowling tournament up in Portland the next day, and they were at the wrong end of the state. It was hard driving to get to the tournament in time.

The bowling tournament was a Pro-Am tournament, and my father got to play with some famous bowlers my parents both admired. They both had a wonderful time, and finally the honeymoon started being fun. If perhaps not terribly romantic.

Ask them about the honeymoon, however, and there is no mention of dinner with friends or bowling tournaments. It's all frozen breath and frozen eggs. Happy happy honeymoon.

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