I had a great time on my little trip except for the time CharlieGodammit decided to try his hand at driving when I wasn't paying attention and damned near ran us both off the road. I keep trying to tell the motherfucker he's not old enough to drive, but you know kids and dogs. And yeah, he spent the rest of the trip in the back where he belongs.
So I managed to call in one lousy fucking coyote between Mammoth and Bridgeport. It was a running shot from left to right but the wind was gusting so hard it was blowing the ice crust off the snow (thanks Derek, for the bad-ass desert shades - they work great in the snow too) and when I finally shot, I think the bullet actually landed behind me.
And my slump continues......... But CGD didn't kill anything either so I don't feel too bad.
I was so fucking beat when I came in early Saturday afternoon that I dropped my pack just inside the door, cleaned my rifle, then climbed in the shower. I may or may not have dried off when I climbed in my rack, I truly can't remember. I slept til coyote dawn the next day, so that was something like 17 hours?
But it was a good time.