By Scott Anthony

GT called me a couple of days ago, ‘I’m going to run up to that new sportsman’s store in Olympia, you want to come with me?’

GT went on to tell me a bit about the store, Cabela’s, and that it was huge, with neat things like stuffed animals inside. I usually prefer my animals unstuffed but I asked him if they have clothing items and he confirmed it to be so, and since I had been looking for a new pair of suspenders I said, ‘I’m in.’

GT pulled up in my driveway, spot on 10:00 am Sunday, just like he had said and while we idled out of the neighborhood, we chatted about the importance of punctuality. “Shows respect for the people you’re meeting,” I said. GT reminded me of a drywall man that we had both hired for remodel work in days past named Dennis who was real good at doing what he said he was going to do. “That guy never showed up late, nicest fella….how long has it been?” I figured about five years since we had seen him.

We hit I-5 south and before the rain let up we arrived in the Nisqually delta area that stretches out just before Lacey, proper. We rounded a corner to see a long drive, and then a couple of ginormous stone pillars supporting log beamwork and the huge letters of the store name, CABELA’S.The look of the building was something akin to a hunting lodge, only in double scale, and once we got inside it was a bit like REI downtown, but with a Bush Pilot buzzing your head and a twelve foot Polar Bear as your store greeter.

Just at this point, a strange thing happened. As we were standing there taking in the enormity of the space, a man walked up to us. It was none other than the man we had both been talking about on the way there, Dennis, and the serendipity of the moment made us both drop our jaws. Also, here was Dennis arriving at exactly the same time that we did (and we didn’t even tell him we were coming). Spooky.

After we shook hands too many times and Dennis caught us up with the fact that he was retired and had moved just a couple miles down the road, we parted company and started the regular tour. In the center of the big, open room was a huge fake mountain, peppered with enough examples of exotic and domestic animals in various stages of frozen animation to populate a, well to populate a giant sportsman’s mega-store.

I marveled at a Bobcat posed as if nabbing a ptarmigan of some sort, a Billy goat (not sure if he name was really ‘Billy’) and I convinced GT to pose in front of a Walrus (why he agreed I’m not sure). After this, GT went to hunt for a pair of mukluks while I began to track some wily suspenders. I searched the Carhartt mountains, trekked through the Columbia plains and took a rest in the Filson forest and finally, I spotted my prey, a Cabela’s employee. “Where’s the suspenders?” The nice gal wrinkled her eyebrows and spun around a couple of times, she seemed overwhelmed with the huge space too, but then she pointed due north. “Look around the bend, past the lake, up the trail a bit.” I went, but no suspenders. Another Cabela’s tag-wearer pointed me towards a distant corner of the upper floor. “You’ll need to go the Camo section,” he said and I roped up and began my climb. I got lost in the Camo section for two days, and still no suspenders. Luckily, I found GT, who was also lost. “Man, I’m hungry, let’s hunt down some grub.”

We followed the smell of cooked beast and found a man who looked suspiciously like Marlin Perkins behind a counter wearing an apron. He shoved a hunk of pinkish flesh at me. “Try this wild boar!” he said and though I have been called worse, the meat was very good. I was ready to have Marlin rustle me up a boarwich, when GT shot me down, “The checkout line…it’s really long.”

Sure enough, by the time we might have gotten our grub paid for, all the tables, ledges, escarpments and half-rotted log benches would be filled up with other groating patrons. Together we backed out slowly and made our way to the truck. “So what about your suspenders?” GT asked. I shrugged, “I guess if a fella wanted a thousand dollar compound bow, or a thirty pound bag of elk jerky, this is the place, but for a store that calls itself an ‘outfitter’, my own outfit is still incomplete.” GT scratched his head, “You should’ve asked Dennis…the guy is psychic.”

Since Dennis had slipped past us, we agreed that another adventure in Cabela Land was the only solution.