N8CPA
02-04-2005, 01:59 PM
I just posted a note of encouragement to a future YL--can't call her YL until she gets her license--in another forum. And it reminded me of something I wrote years ago, after camping with the Buckeye Belles under conditions that out-Field Dayed Field Day. To the tune of the "Edmund Fitzgerald," the "Ballad of the Gals of September." And yes, it was sung at a campfire on a subsequent trip with N8XE playing the guitar.
"Ballad of the Gals of September"
In the annals of hams
Every woman and man
Harbors a secret ambition.
Most all of them say,
If they had their own way,
They'd go on a Dx-pedition.
It's the same I could tell
Among Ohio's Buckeye Belles
When they endeavored to take such a mission.
And I'm proud to admit,
I took part in that trip,
A lesser ham would eschew that position.
First, let me relate
That our part of the state
Is considered by many a high land.
But farther up north
A few gallons' gas worth
Is Ohio State Parks' Kelleys Island.
A few weeks to prepare
And to plan what to wear
In September's unstable condition,
The Belles and their crew
Were about to get abused
By Lake Erie's autumn transition.
[Bridge]
The gang had agreed
Friday morning they'd leave.
All except me
'Cause I worked late.
My departure delayed
Because employmenmt held sway,
I would leave early the next day.
NOAA radio had said
There'd be weather to dread
That a low would be anchored by morning.
When their departure time came,
They drove through hard rain
And the island was under gale warning.
And if that's not enough,
The ferry crossing was rough,
Storm waves o'er the gunwale were spraying.
But no panic ensued,
The gang stayed quite subdued
Though some waterspout funnels were playing.
Once disembarked,
They drove to the park
In the deluge's tight circulation.
Though cloudy and dark,
They thought it a lark
When their tents absorbed precipitation.
The wind howled--What a fright!
And so cold fell that night,
They might as well have been unprotected.
Through threats of more spouts,
Like the most stalwart of scouts,
They slept though their bedding got wetted.
[Bridge]
Now my poor wife, Chris
Had been enduring all this
And I knew that I better not fail her.
As Saturday broke,
As soon as I awoke,
I was northbound with our Coleman trailer.
About half way there,
I got on the air
And called to the camp on two meters.
When I got no repsonse,
I knew in a nonce,
I was still too far from the repeater.
When they finally called me,
I was driving leisurely,
And they told me I better not tarry.
So I poured on the gas
To make the miles fly past
So I would not be late for the ferry.
When I got to the site
In the dismal daylight
I found a fire of one hissing ember.
The firewood was spent!
In the waterlogged tents,
I found those drenched Gals of September.
But the ladies still joked
No spirits had broke
'Twas a sight to spur inspiration.
With the camper set up,
Hot coffee poured in cups,
We proceeded to assemble the station.
It all started as a whim
But the word has come in,
That it's now an annual tradition.
So plan to prepare
The raincoat you'll wear
On a mini-YL-DX-pedition.
Banish all doubt!
Don't shut yourself out.
There will be good times to remember.
Step up to the mark!
It's always a lark
When you camp with the Gals of September.
"Ballad of the Gals of September"
In the annals of hams
Every woman and man
Harbors a secret ambition.
Most all of them say,
If they had their own way,
They'd go on a Dx-pedition.
It's the same I could tell
Among Ohio's Buckeye Belles
When they endeavored to take such a mission.
And I'm proud to admit,
I took part in that trip,
A lesser ham would eschew that position.
First, let me relate
That our part of the state
Is considered by many a high land.
But farther up north
A few gallons' gas worth
Is Ohio State Parks' Kelleys Island.
A few weeks to prepare
And to plan what to wear
In September's unstable condition,
The Belles and their crew
Were about to get abused
By Lake Erie's autumn transition.
[Bridge]
The gang had agreed
Friday morning they'd leave.
All except me
'Cause I worked late.
My departure delayed
Because employmenmt held sway,
I would leave early the next day.
NOAA radio had said
There'd be weather to dread
That a low would be anchored by morning.
When their departure time came,
They drove through hard rain
And the island was under gale warning.
And if that's not enough,
The ferry crossing was rough,
Storm waves o'er the gunwale were spraying.
But no panic ensued,
The gang stayed quite subdued
Though some waterspout funnels were playing.
Once disembarked,
They drove to the park
In the deluge's tight circulation.
Though cloudy and dark,
They thought it a lark
When their tents absorbed precipitation.
The wind howled--What a fright!
And so cold fell that night,
They might as well have been unprotected.
Through threats of more spouts,
Like the most stalwart of scouts,
They slept though their bedding got wetted.
[Bridge]
Now my poor wife, Chris
Had been enduring all this
And I knew that I better not fail her.
As Saturday broke,
As soon as I awoke,
I was northbound with our Coleman trailer.
About half way there,
I got on the air
And called to the camp on two meters.
When I got no repsonse,
I knew in a nonce,
I was still too far from the repeater.
When they finally called me,
I was driving leisurely,
And they told me I better not tarry.
So I poured on the gas
To make the miles fly past
So I would not be late for the ferry.
When I got to the site
In the dismal daylight
I found a fire of one hissing ember.
The firewood was spent!
In the waterlogged tents,
I found those drenched Gals of September.
But the ladies still joked
No spirits had broke
'Twas a sight to spur inspiration.
With the camper set up,
Hot coffee poured in cups,
We proceeded to assemble the station.
It all started as a whim
But the word has come in,
That it's now an annual tradition.
So plan to prepare
The raincoat you'll wear
On a mini-YL-DX-pedition.
Banish all doubt!
Don't shut yourself out.
There will be good times to remember.
Step up to the mark!
It's always a lark
When you camp with the Gals of September.