Ughhh.

Just finished flying. Stomach hasn't settled down yet.

In this part of the state, we do most of our antelope classifications from the ground. In other places, where access is difficult, they do most of these data collections from the air.

I have one large ranch, covering a little more than four townships, where I am persona non grata. The rancher and I squabbled about what type of fence should be built along a county road about 5-6 years ago, and since then he has made it clear he does not want me on his property.

So I fly.

And, in a way, he has done me a favor. The two routes that I no longer drive were the absolute worst roads of all my routes. Highly erosive clay soils with several places that I knew I would spend 15-20 minutes shoveling dirt into new ditches so I could get through. Constantly driving off road around deep ruts, and crawling through bumpy, narrow ditches.

A real pain in the butt.

The worst places to be on the morning after a thunderstorm came through (like this morning).

And now I cover that ground in a two-hour flight, instead of ~12 hours of driving.

I hated these routes. If ever I had to fly, I would have picked these routes to fly instead of drive.

Of course, it was on one of these routes where I actually got to watch rattlesnakes mating. Close up.

Fun.

But the rancher still gets his revenge.

Only threw up once this morning. Right after the pilot suddenly dipped the left wing down so he could see an antelope that was directly below us. And felt queasy for the remainder of the flight. But at least that was near the end. Most of the flight was quite enjoyable. Even with the windy bumps near Rendle Hill.

Pilot did thank me for never spraying across his back.

Knew I was in trouble when I arrived at the airport and found the pilot topping off the fuel tanks of the Super Cub.

I have vomited on airplanes so many times that my body has become conditioned to the smell of jet fuel (or AvGas, as some call it). Just smelling that aroma immediately makes me nauseous.

And the pump shut-off didn't work, so sheets of fuel poured off the wing like rain to cover the tarmac.

Both wings.

Lovely.

But the fumes were gone by the time we were airborne, and we had a fun flight.

Especially when one buck to tried to charge and attack the airplane (yes, we're flying that low).

Now, after I get my first cup of coffee down, I have to transcribe the flight tape and map out the antelope.

You know, like figuring out where "about a half mile southeast of the dry lake" is. Or "just north of the two-track."

Hopefully I didn't tape myself while I was evacuating my stomach. I've listened to myself retching before, and it brings back the memories quite well. Almost too realistically.

And then I will have to see if I can get caught up on diaries.