AFTER DINNER, the hunters were assigned their guides. The two youngest, Rick and Tim, were given to Gary Francis, Duane's son-in-law (Black Otter Outfitters is very much a family enterprise). My tent mates, Bob and John, in their 40s, drew Delmer Cox, a well-traveled Canadian and licensed architect who, for reasons unknown, had become a hunting guide. Nolander and I, previously terrified that we would find ourselves trying to keep up with the comparatively youthful Cox or Francis, were pleased to be matched with our brother geezer, Dave Morton, a retired Forest Service ranger. Morton's head, innocent of hair except for a band of gray above his ears, and his--shall we say--less than killer abs were reassuring. We immediately dubbed ourselves "The Nursing Home Gang."