A Rondy-Voo Journal - Part 4

And here at last be the final installment o' our time up at the rendezvous...
Next mornin', which was Saturday, was our last day at the Cache Le Plew, an' knowin' we had to make the most o' it, we got an' early start.

First thing after breakfast (an awesome casserole made by Uncle Kent), my fren J an' I followed Mountain Man an' Uncle Kent to the shootin' range, while Little Big Man, his fren T, an' Reaches Up went to throw some sticks on the archery walk (here it might be noted that there was a mite o' trouble gettin' our shootin' gear together, an' that much as I would like to say it, we wouldn't ha' made it into the band o' Minute Men gathered durin' the War for Independence. Now if there were sech a thing as the Hour Men...). :)

At the shootin' range Uncle Kent, fren J, Mountain Man, an' I threw some balls at some animal targets in a contest called The Varmints Shoot. As soon as we finished up that (and accomplished several trips back to camp to restock our ammo) we all hoisted up our guns on our shoulders an' did the Rifle Walk (this second time, fren J an' I only shot for fun, as we had already done it fer score). As I watched Mountain Man an' Uncle Kent throw lead at them thar targets, I couldn't help but be glad I wasn't on the wrong side of them gun barrels! Ha!

An hour later found us returnin' to camp, where Dad an' I met Little Big Man an' Reaches Up. Mom an' the young ladies o' our home also drove up from the house to visit us. As they arrived right around the time appointed for the hawk an' knife throwin', they settled down with a tin-type machine an' watched the proceedin's (gotta love them new-fangled gadgets, even if cameras are several centuries ahead o' the fur trade).

First came the Camp Throw, which was jest throwin' single turns at a ard in the middle o' a log; after that Reaches Up, Mountain Man, Little Big Man, an' I joined other men in a rather complicated contest, made up by our friend Many Scars who also happens to be a famous knife-maker. We had to throw both hawk an' knife at a log criss-crossed by rubber bands. If'n you cut the rubber bands - zip! ya get a zero...notta...nothin'...get my meanin'? After ya threw that part o' the competition (whether ye got a good or bad score), ye had to throw distance throws (turn-and a- half, double, etc.) at a log that was close to the size o' an M&M. Okay, maybe not that small, but it was the smallest log out thar, alright! That too was fun, though challenging, an' even if we didn't win (though Little Big Man lived up to his name by scorin' among some o' the top throwers) it was a great throw, an' everyone enjoyed it. :D

Forty-five minutes later everybody in camo gathered for the award ceremony an' coucil fire. As the Rendezvous was dedicated to a reenactor who had recently passed away, his son stood up an' made a short speech on his behalf, an' then in respect Dad an' six other men fired a seven-gun salute (see picture).

As soon as this ceremony was finished, the winners of the various events were announced. I have below a list of the events won by me an' my brothers jest in case your interested:

• 1st place Camp Throw (ages 9-12): Little Big Man
• " " " " (ages 5-8): Reaches Up
• " " " " (ages 13-15): Scribe (Soli Deo Gloria...even I know a bit o' Latin!)
• " " Rifle Walk (Youth): Scribe (Soli Deo Gloria)
• 3rd " " " (Youth): Little Big Man
• 1st " Archery Walk (Youth): Scribe (Soli Deo Gloria)
• 2nd " " " (Youth): Little Big Man
• 1st " Varmint Shoot (Youth): Scribe (Soli Deo Gloria)

Well, thar ya have it, folks! And though "officially" Dad did not win anything off the prize blankets, if it hadn't been fer him, we'd ha' never known how to throw a hawk or knife, shoot a gun, or even participate in rendezvous like this one. He be the one who taught us what it is to be a good sport even when you ain't the winner, how to be a gentelmen,, an' most o' all how to be a bold, manly follower of Christ. Thanks fer everythin', Dad! :)

And now I'll jest wrap up by sayin' that all the glory for our success in the events goes to God, the Maker of all things. There's no higher callin' than to be a soldier in His Army!

Now, I'd better get back to me boks - it is the first day o' school for the Poff Clan, an' 'twouldn't do for me to fall behind in me learnin' already would it now (not that its ever okay)? :) So goodbye fer now!

-Scribe