Saturday was great fun as the kids and us joined Andy and Nolan White over at Swain for some skiing. It was our first time in 2008, so we worked a few kinks out to be sure. Tricia blogged our ski trip so I’ll just touch on my personal highlights.

Mason Made Huge Strides
We’ve got Mason signed up for ski lessons at Powder Mills Park in February. So, I really didn’t want that to be the first time on skis this year. Mason started out very hesitant, expecially when it came to learning the magic carpet. Apparently this was the first time Swain has had one operating, so even the staff was unfamiliar with how to tell kids to ride it. The best tip ended up being to have the kids put their hands on their knees.

Although I’ve skiied since Mason’s age, teaching someone to ski is a whole different enchilada. The magic ticket ended up being Nolan. He is 5 years old, and Andy has taken him out a few more times than Mason has been out. So, when Mason saw that Nolan can ski by himself, and wanted to ride the big lift, Mason’s competitive fire was lit. I got to share Mason’s very first chairlift ride, and it was great to see the wonder in his eyes when we floated up into the air above the ski hill. To get down the hill I either had him ski between my legs, or the better approach, ski beside me using my ski poles as a support bar.

While he won’t ski the big hill by himself yet, Mason was begging to come back for more by the end of the day. You just can’t ask for a better outcome!

Taking 2 Boys on the Lift is a 2 Person Job
Anna, our litle dare devil wanted to go onto the big hill. Andy wanted to impart some skiing wisdom on her because kids never want to learn from their dads. So her first chair ride was with Andy. I thought it would be a great idea to take the two boys up on the lift to join them. Let’s just say lifting two boys onto the seat and getting myself on was not a great idea. It was one of those moments where you realize it was a bad idea, but there was nothing to do but follow through. Luckily the lift operator slowed it down so that I could lift on Nolan, then make a quick pivot to lift on Mason. This whole time I’m flashing back to my favorite guilt trip I lay on my dad for dropping me off the lift when I was a kid. Well, I think now I might just go a little easier on that joshing.

Hmmm…Something is Missing Here…
Tricia also wanted to join us at the top of the big hill. So, after watching the hilarity of me and the 2 boys, she ended up 3 chairs behind. When she got off the lift she couldn’t stop talking about how freaked out she was being up so high in the open air. Because she’s a beginner I thought for sure she was talking about the relative freedom when you put up the safety bar near the last pole. I thought nothing of it. When we were on the way home, we started recapping our day. She kept talking about how unfomfortable she was being out in the open. Then the revelation…She said, “They should really have saftey bars on those things”. I said “They DO have safety bars, didn’t you put it down after you got on?” That’s when the lightbulb went on for both of us:)

I think we’ll all be doing a lot more skiing together this winter. I’ve uploaded some pictures of the ski trip.

It was a crazy deer-lover’s weekend indeed. From the exact same tree stand where Terry put one down earlier in bow season and where I bagged a doe on November 3rd, came news this morning that Terry got a doe to fill his extra Deer Management Permit.

In the waning minutes of his weekend jaunt to Western New York, he said that a gaggle of does decided to poke around the mowed corn and bean fields behind him. The biggest of the group walked to 50 paces and presented a broadside shot almost like a decoy. Terry said that it was one of the best shots of his hunting career. Unfortunately I couldn’t be there for the great event, but I’ve got the picture to prove it. Congratulations Terry on a great deer donated to the Venison Coalition!.

Terry Rzepkowski and his doe from November 18, 2007

Saturday, my dad got a nice deer to start the regular season. Of course we had already put plenty of time in the field during bow season, including Terry’s button buck on October 20th, and my doe on November 3rd. Plus, Gary bagged a buck on October 28th. Now, it was Dad’s turn to have a 2007 deer story.

Terry was in town for one last hurrah as the cheap pre-Thanksgiving flights allowed him to sneak in one more weekend. Saturday was a beautiful and chilly November morning. The sun came up earlier than usual because of the clear skies in the east. We were all up by 5am and on stand by 6:30am. Before first light we were already hearing plenty of shots in the distance (which is totally illegal, but doesn’t seem to bug some of the fine sportsmen of Livingston County). Round about 7:40am I heard a shot from my Dad’s general area, then a second only 10 seconds later. I flipped on my radio to hear the good news. Through his excited, heavy breathing Dad said that he had gotten a buck. It was a nice 6 pointer that came right into the open field to the side of him. He took one excellent shot from 40 paces. The deer did a somersault, and then kept on moving toward the woods. Dad took a second shot which was the final blow, and the deer expired immediately.

I thought I’d get down out of my tree stand around 8:30 to come help him out. By the time I reached him, the deer was already field dressed. He’s got this solo gutting thing down to a science now. We took the deer over to Steele Sausage and Catering in Avon, NY where our favorite deer processor and sausage man, Tim Steele took the buck as a donation to the Venison Coalition. Congratulations on a nice deer Dad!

Kris with Dad Rz and his 6 point buck on November 17, 2007

First, this Labatt’s commercial is priceless. It is a must see before any story of getting up at the crack to go deer hunting.

Now, onward to the tale of my first deer of the 2007 season. I went down to Conesus Lake to hunt with my dad at the same spot we hunted 2 weeks ago. We were greeted at 6:30 am by a crystal clear sky and a brisk 25 degrees. I headed out to the same treestand where Terry took his deer from, hoping lightning would strike twice. At first light (7:30) I got my first chance. A doe came straight at the stand not presenting a good shot. I waited for it to pass somewhere to the side where I could get a better look. Instead it kept coming to within 15 feet. I had nearly a straight down shot and missed.

As I was kicking myself over that missed opportunity, I turned over my right shoulder to see a 6 point buck bounding playfully through the open field behind me. Bucks do not typically do this unless they’re after something. Sure enough there was a huge doe not far ahead of him. Unfortunately, they never came closer than 100 yards – nowhere near my bow range. At 9am, still reeling from all of this action and missed opportunity, I hopped on the radio with Dad. That’s when I started to feel a little better (unfortunately).

Dad had hot and heavy buck and doe action all morning. First it was an approaching 6 point buck tailing a doe all around the fields near his stand. He glassed the fickle beasts to see if they were sticking their tongues out at him as they danced on the ridge beneath another hunter’s stand. As he took in this spectacle, he heard some crunching over his shoulder. An incoming doe was making her way right toward him at an extremely awkward angle. He turned slowly to try and get his bow on her and then caught an 8 point buck in the corner of his eye. This is where dad came down with a severe case of buck fever (as I would too). As his heart raced and breathing quickend, Dad pulled back his bow to a third of a pull…then the unthinkable -tink- he somehow hit the release, and sent an arrow on a slow arc nearby Mr. 8 Pointer. Luckily the buck was more interested in doe estrus than feverish hunter sweat. Dad slowly knocked another arrow and almost got a full draw on the buck again before it became wise and took an abrupt turn. Dad said the last he heard of it was 50 yards away where it absolutely mauled a sapling.

Well, 9:10am rolled around and I was settling back into my mental boredom. I replayed Dad’s story and sang some songs in my head. Right in the middle of my rousing internal rendition of Rascal Flatts’ Me and My Gang, my second opportunity of the day wandered into my path. It was fast. I see antlerless deer at 50 yards. I quickly choose a path where if she crosses into it, I’d have a decent broadside shot. She hides behind some brush for 2 seconds. I pull back, and line up the sites on the opening where she needs to step. She takes two more steps…breathe, site picture, squeeze the release…and thwap! I connected. I could tell it was a good shot. She ran off into the woods with the arrow in the right spot. I stood there for about 20 minutes with excited adrenaline. I called my dad 4 times on his mobile, but I couldn’t reach him. So I got down out of the tree and looked for a blood trail. I found a trail, and tracked for about 25 minutes until I found the doe expired about 150 yards from where I had hit her. After all that excitement, I tied her up and dragged her out to where we could do the field dressing. It was 10am by this time, and Dad had his radio on. I asked how his last hour had been…excitedly waiting for him to say ‘nothing’. That’s when I let him know that I was out of breath from dragging a deer out of the woods. I live for those moments!

Kris gets a doe November 3, 2007

Thanks Dad for being such a great hunting buddy. No matter who gets the deer, it is always great to get out into the woods and share the thrills, missed opportunities and comraderie. Maybe we should spend some time at Wal-Mart picking out pine scented cleaner. We might see a nice buck.

I took off from work on Friday to go blow the stink off with my Dad and Uncle Terry in the woods down by Conesus Lake. We have had unusually warm weather this October with some daily temps reaching the 80’s. This is not exactly ideal hunting conditions. The deer have been developing their winter coats, so frolicking in the fields in summer-like weather is not what they like to do. Instead they choose to spend much of their time taking naps. With Terry coming up from Florida for his only hunt of the season we had no choice but to make a go of it.

Friday morning was in the high 60’s low 70’s. As I sat in my tree stand I had to laugh as it felt like God was tossing a salad. First it was overcast and windy. Then it was sunny. Then it started to rain. Then it started to blow and BLow and BLOOWWWW. I was fighting off sideways rain and a blinding sun all at once. I did manage to see 2 deer in the distance, none in shooting range. Dad and Terry saw nothing.

Friday evening we were out at 3pm. We shouldn’t have been. Deer didn’t start moving until right at 6pm: dusk. I saw one running 6 point buck, and Dad reported nothing. Terry had a couple of small ones sneak up on him in the woods. He didn’t like the shot that presented itself, and took a pass.

Saturday morning I was on kid duty. While I was taking Mason to karate, and Anna to birthday parties, Dad and Terry sat in the woods. Nothing. Too bad. The weather was finally cooler. Saturday evening, 4pm I was back in action. I have never been in wind that blew so persistently in my life. I’m sure the wind was steady 35 MPH, and gusting to 45. I was standing up in my tree stand and holding on for dear life. I felt like I was on a sailboat with how much the tree swayed and creaked in the gale. I saw absolutely nothing to boot. I was getting discouraged as it seemed like the deer just didn’t want to move again. But on the radio at 6pm Dad reported seeing a herd of 7 antlerless deer in the field above him. And at 6:30pm Terry reported that he had arrowed a deer! It was great news since he was to be on his way to Florida on Sunday. He executed a perfect shot, and the deer did not need to be tracked far. All of Terry’s practice paid off.

Terry Rzepkowski’s Button Buck October 20, 2007

Sunday morning it was time to give it one more try. I admit I was starting to get fatigued. 10 hours on stand for the weekend had already exhausted every song I could sing to myself, every life plan had been reviewed, every shooting angle rehearsed. The weather was beautiful this time. Calm and sunny. Unfortunately no deer. Dad and I saw nothing. Bored out of my tree by this point, I took plenty of practice shots…with my camera.

Kris in a tree stand hunting deer

Fall in Livonia, NY field where we hunt

Terry on the other hand reported the Wild Kingdom beneath his stand. He saw 2 small deer which he declined to take. Then turkey came by and he took a shot with a bow. The turkey apparently knew karate as it jumped upward to escape Terry’s shot. Another gobbler came by and just as Terry went to shoot, a pheasant came in and scared the whole flock away. Definitely a lot of action for his money on his last hunt before his return to Florida.

Straight from the pages of Field & Stream, the Rzepkowski Hunting Crew

Overall, who can complain about a great weekend with the guys? We got a lot of fresh air, comraderie and a few more stories to tell. What will stick out in my mind the most is shirt sleeve hunting in a hurricane force wind at the end of October. No weather surprises me anymore in Western New York.

Last week I had the good fortune to be invited to Houston, TX for job board strategy meetings with CareerBuilder and a little primo golf at the Adminstaff Small Business Classic Pro-Am. This was a trip of firsts for me, and I enjoyed every bit of it.

The experience really began for me 2 weeks prior when I was invited to attend. I was quaking in my boots at the thought of putting my golf game on display in front of pros, and even **eek** a gallery. But, I accepted the challenge anyways with a high handicap of 25 and the thought that this is a once in a lifetime experience. I’m not one to back down from this sort of thing, even if I’m scared sh!tless.

So, October 10 I flew to Houston for the first time. I’ve been to Dallas and Austin before, and was struck both times by how different Texas is from Western NY. Laid back, friendly and warm vs. high-strung, reserved, and always a bit nippy – to me Texas is a foreign country, but a beautiful one. I got in at around 8pm and took a cab to a dinner at Perry’s Steakhouse and Grille. There I met with the team from CareerBuilder and a few other staffing firm clients like Kelly Services, Select Remedy, and Volt. The highlight may have been the gigantic bone-in NY Strip that I’m still digesting to this day.

Thursday morning was a whirlwind. Up at 5:30am and to the Augusta Pines Golf Club by 7:00am.

Arriving at Augusta Pines Golf Club at 7:00am

I registered, got my rental clubs and RAN to the practice range for only 3 minutes of swings. Let me just say I didn’t straighten out my game within 3 minutes. We found that we were paired with R.W. Eaks so it was off to the 8th hole for the shotgun start of stroke play. This being only the second tournament I’ve ever played in, I barely understood how this was all going to work.

We briefly shook hands with R.W. and his caddie “Johnny Mac” who were both very personable guys. Then it was crunch time. I was shaking so much on the first tee that I could barely see the ball. And when I swung the ball ended up going no more than 20 yards – ouch. Luckily the other guys on my team at least got the ball down the fairway. The good news is that in however this scoring works, we could get no higher than par. If we were shooting above par on the hole, or the extra strokes given because of handicaps didn’t keep us in contention for birdie, we could just pick up the ball and let the other guys play it out. If none of the amateurs got birdie, but RW did, then we could take the pro’s score.

R.W. Eaks’s sweet golf swing

Well, I didn’t have enough good shots on the first 5 holes to even be putting 🙁 however, slowly I could feel my nerves subsiding and some semblance of a swing return. By the 8th hole I was hitting some shots and taking some putts. The great news was that we had some excellent golfers on our team, especially Michael Morrow from Kelly. At the turn we were in a tie for 3rd place in the tournament!

Proof that we were on the leaderboard

On the back 9 I actually managed to have the best score on 2 of the holes to help contribute. This was a great moral victory and therefore made the entire day perfectly enjoyable. We ended up the tournament at -19 in 4th place. No trophy, but a very respectable finish. I picked up some great tips from Johnny Mac, and got to see how effortless a tour pro makes this sport.

During the afternoon, I had more meetings with the CareerBuilder, then in the evening we had a real treat. We were able to attend the player’s dinner. Johnny Bench spoke as well as Roger Clemens, who had just returned from NY after getting ousted from the ALDS. Arnold Palmer also was a central figure. He’s the spokesperson for Administaff these days, and while he is getting on in years, he’s a very inspirational person to listen to.

Arnold Palmer speaks at the players’ dinner

To top off the Texas evening they brought in a live, unplugged country music show featuring Pat Green and Jack Ingram. I’m no country music connoisseur, but I’m going to become one. Their music was awesome!

I haven’t been as emotionally involved in a football game since the Music City Miracle. Last night’s Monday Night Football game between the Buffalo Bills and the Dallas Cowboys had all of the trappings of a classic Western New York sports moment.

Somehow our defense, who has more starters on injured reserve than not, managed to snatch 5, yes f-i-v-e interceptions from the NFL’s new golden boy, Tony Romo. We scored a kick-off return for a touchdown. Every time the Cowboys punched, we punched back. Yet, I’m sitting there watching with 22 seconds left in the game and a 24-16 lead, and I just know that something is going to happen. C’mon it’s the Bills. We have Scott Norwood’s karma. tick-tick-tick As Tony Romo gets a touchdown pass, then misses the 2 point conversion to T.O…tick-tick-tick as a miracle onside kick is executed…tick-tick 2 seconds left…Jauron tries to ice the kicker on a last second timeouttick-tick-tick…the kicker makes his second attempt from 53 yards away…GAME OVER…the Bills managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory yet again.

I guarantee this one is going to be talked about for the rest of this season. Have fun comparing 2 of the darker days for a Bills fan.

Monday Night Football October 8, 2007

Music City Miracle

I dedicate this post to my new old boat. This ’67 Starcraft was my Dad’s first boat that I think he got sometime around 1985. At the time he and my mom called the boat “Dreamweaver”. Pretty ambitious for a small aluminum, but a proper forerunner of bigger boats in our family’s future.

Dick Rzepkowski with the “Dreamweaver”, 1986.

The boat was old then, but was a major upgrade to the four of us who fished the ESLO derbies in it on Lake Ontario. My dad, uncle John, my cousin Jason and me were used to fishing in an aluminum MirroCraft workboat with a temperamental 25hp Merc and bench seats. So, sliding into the brown ‘deluxe’ padded seats and hiding underneath its dilapidated canvas during inclement weather was luxury fishing baby. Dad built a custom rod holder array and downrigger mounts on the transom out of pressure treated wood and PVC to make it the perfect Lake Ontario rig.

Jason, Kris, Uncle John with the ‘Dreamweaver’, 1986 Fall ESLO Derby

The boat could take 5 ft. waves over the bow and still keep the lines in the water. The local tackle shops liked to tell stories of the ‘idiots out there in a little white and green 16 footer’. Plus, the 40hp Evinrude was a HUGE speed upgrade topping out at 20mph. So, when we weren’t fishing I learned to waterski, tube and kneeboard off the back.

After a few years we grew out of the boat. We wanted an open bow for family rides plus many more horsepower to push our skiing skills. Dad kept this old boat in the family by selling it to my uncle and grandpa for use in Dunkirk, NY on the walleye grounds of Lake Erie. As soon as my grandpa got his hands on the boat, it underwent an amazing transformation. He painted over the awful green bottom paint to make the boat completely white. He tore off the rotting canvas and had a perfectly fit replacement canvas installed. The trailer got a paint job, a VHF radio was installed, and grandpa even mounted his mid-1950s Evinrude trolling motor.

Grandpa Rz, Kris and Dad with the boat in 1990

Grandpa and uncle Neal got a ton more use out of the boat. I remember going to Dunkirk a few times and fishing on Lake Erie. As long as the ‘walleye chop’ wasn’t too much, grandpa liked to get out his chugging irons and sheisters to have a go at the tasty fish off the Niagara Mohawk power plant. My grandma loved the boat too. They would go out on the lake to ‘see if the sunset was still the same’.

Around 5 years ago, grandpa became more interested in parking within his one car garage than having the boat take up space, so he stored it at uncle Neal’s house in the snowy hills of Cassadaga. It was there that the boat took the brunt of a wicked snowstorm. 3 feet of heavy snow cracked the windshield and broke the canvas. Uncle Neal mothballed the boat from then on in a relative’s garage where it sat for the better part of 2 years.

Fast forward to September 2006. After moving back to Rochester and getting the fishing bug from my first excurison to Canada, I convinced my wife to let me rescue the unused boat from my uncle. For some reason she said yes.

Kris’s First Boat, September 2006

She (the boat, not my wife) was a little battered and bruised. The windshield was cracked, the canvas frame was bent, the lower unit on the motor was cracked and leaking, the tires on the trailer were dryrotted, but overall it was much as I had remembered it. It’s a boat, and it’s mine that’s all that matters. I quickly came up with a name for her – the Fish Fry. While Mason didn’t think it was a tough enough name, like the Predator or Salmon Slammer, I think it is absolutely fitting. The boat is a small fry will certainly put fish in the pan.

The Fish Fry has become both a tinkering hobby of mine (a place to pour my time and money), and a great place to spend a sunrise with family or friends. This page will link to the good times had and the projects completed.

Fishing Fun

• A Salmon and a Dancing Hula Girl, September 20, 2008
• First Salmon Catch: September 23, 2007
• Labor Day 2007 Family Fishing
• Tricia’s Biggest Fish, 10 lb. Northern Pike
• First Fish Caught off the Fish Fry, May 2007

Boating Fun

• Thousand Islands, July 2008
• Erie Canal Boat Trip: Anniversary July, 2007
• Summertime boat ride on Conesus Lake, June 2007

Happy Boating!

Finally! The monkey is officially off my back. I have been hitting the salmon fishing hard off the mouth of the Genesee for much of late summer and early fall. Every time I’ve gone out, I’ve gotten closer and closer to getting a salmon. There were a couple of other occasions where I’ve been skunked, or blown off the lake. The other day we had a screamer shake a lure free right off the end of the pier after a 25 minute fight.

So, this morning was awesome when my Dad and I got into a hard fighting Coho right around 6:50am. The sun wasn’t even above the horizon yet. We got her on a black spoon with a green glow in the dark ladder-back. She fought for about 10 minutes. I had the net (which I bought for our Canada trip last year) poised. Now I know how big salmon can be, but I really thought the new net was big enough and deep enough. I swiped at the fish once, and she got out of the net. She took a quick dive, and then Dad horsed it back to the boat. I took a second swipe and missed again. I really do know how to handle a net, but it quickly became clear that this net is NOT big enough for Salmon fishing. Finally, on the third try, after I was sure my dad would push me over the side if I didn’t land the fish, I got her in.

We were psyched! It has been since probably 1990 since we’ve gotten a salmon. This one was only 11 lb 3oz, not very big by salmon standards – but exactly what we were hoping for. We put the lines in the water for another 3 hours, and there wasn’t even another hit. We were very thankful for the one fish that hit and we landed.

It was fun to come home with something other than an empty cooler, and show his grandkids why we spend time sitting on the water drinkineg coffee and eating donuts.

This is the first salmon that I’ve caught from the ol’ boat since I acquired it. I hope it is a sign of more to come.

This weekend I took some time to be with my parents and enjoy two of their favorite hobbies – classic cars and vintage racing. We participated in what amounts to a public holiday in the town of Watkins Glen, NY – the Grand Prix Festival. Plus, my dad was racing in the SVRA Zippo US Vintage Grand Prix up at the Watkins Glen International race track.

Friday morning I got my Pit Pass and helped prep my dad’s 1967 MG Midget race car for his first qualifying race. The bad news from the previous day had been that he was disqualified at the tech inspection for illegal coil-over springs (his vintage car is supposed to have leaf springs) and therefore couldn’t place in any of the races. They still let him race though as ‘Racer-X’, which was nice of them considering he paid for the privilege. The other bad news from the previous day was that he only made it through 2 laps of his test before blowing a rotor. A rotor, as I learned after hearing the story MANY times, is a $3 plastic part that spins under the distributor cap delivering spark to the plugs. He changed the rotor and the car was now ready to go for the day’s qualifier.

My mom and I accompanied dad down to pit row where they ‘grid’ the cars for the start of the race.

Friday was beastly hot, with highs in the upper 90’s. Our job is to keep the driver cool while he awaits the start of the race. .

It is especially hot after he puts on the fire resistant hood and the helmet. That’s a lot of gear to have a good time.

Finally, they are ready to roll. What boy doesn’t dream of having his Hot Wheels cars on a real track? These big boys with their big toys must have a lot of fun.

The qualifier was exciting…for the first 2 minutes. He got one and a half laps into the race and blew another rotor. Dad got on the radio and said that the tow trucks were towing him in (it’s a free ride no AAA needed). All he needed though was one timed lap, a 2:35 for officials to determine where he would start in the feature races.

In the afternoon, my mom and I went to downtown Watkins Glen to see exactly why the kids have a day off from school for the festival. Apart from the concours d’elegance (a car show featuring the best of the best) and the terrific local beers (with no open container laws) I could see why.

Many of the local roads were shut down completely to re-create the old 6.5 mile road course the went right through the heart of town. The place was buzzing with energy as wave after wave of vintage cars ran the track. The special marques for this year’s festival, BMW and Bugatti, were especially cool to see.

As far as experiences go, all of this paled in comparison to the highlight of my day. At 6pm my dad, along with all of the other SVRA racers brought their cars down from the track. I donned a helmet and took my place in a makeshift jumpseat beside him as we readied for the grand prix race reenactment. I had pretty low expectations as officials intend to keep the “race” at low speeds. I was shocked at how much fun I had though as the green flag waived.

My dad took his little roller skate around the first corner at 35 MPH with crowds of people cheering as though we were doing this for real. Then in a heartbeat we climbed the hill to the top of the Glen at 80 MPH.

From that point onward, the smile never left my face. He drove us through winding turns, over a stone bridge, and down into the Glen with a spectacular view of the south end of Seneca Lake. I’m not sure how my dad was able to concentrate through my obnoxious YEEEEHAWWWW’s and thumbs up to the crowds, but he handled it like a pro.

When I saw the checkered flag I was disappointed that this was not a 500 lap race, but alas we needed to give the streets back to the town again. Now I understand why everyone gets so stoked for racing. Our enthusiasm must have shown through our helmets because the local paper picked up the story of the race. There we were on Saturday morning with our picture on the front page.

I’ve got to thank my mom and dad for an awesome time together. It really was a weekend of memories. I also need to thank my bride for taking care of the homefront so that I could go off on this racing adventure.