Outdoor Recreation

By Melanie Lee Johnston

When I was a kid, I learned a lot of things at camp I suspected I would never again need to know. Like how to braid plastic strips into a key chain, how to weave rags into pot holders, and how to use a bow and arrow.

Then along came Kevin Costner in the motion picture Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. While he was no Errol Flynn, I must admit that Kevin sharpened my interest in archery.

So I started investigating whether anyone really “archs” anymore. I was referred to Mike Fournier of East Valley Apache Archers. Bull's-eye. Mike not only revealed that archery is a thriving sport in Arizona, thanks to our warm, sunny weather, but he also loaned me his wife's bow and introduced me to the impressive county-owned archery range at Usery Mountain Recreation Area in east Mesa where the club practices.

To every new task I bring an optimistic overconfidence that can best be described as dangerous. After a few instructions about what to do and what not to do with what was essentially a modern high-powered version of a medieval weapon, I aimed at the wide bale of hay, called a “butt,” not 20 feet away. Then I thought of another question I wanted to ask.

My arrow in full ready position, I pivoted slightly to talk to Mike — and watched as everyone within arrow-shot either dropped to the ground or scrambled to get behind me. As I heard a frantic chorus sing, “Don't let go!” I recalled with a faint wash

utdoor Recreation IN ARCHERY YOU AIM, TOO, PLEASE

Of nostalgia the afternoon an entire row of target shooters at the Yuma Proving Ground hit the deck when I turned around to ask a question about the .44 Magnum I was preparing to fire. Some people just don't respond well to a novice's questions. So I turned back to my intended target and gently released the string. After an impressive flight, the arrow disappeared into the thick brush to the left of the butt. “Needle in a haystack,” I repeated to myself during the next 15 minutes while I searched for the borrowed arrow. I finally found it and regained enough composure to fire off a few arrows that actually hit the target.

Wanting to quit before I lost any more arrows, I hung up my borrowed bow and followed Mike and his friends as they played a round of “archery golf.” Just as in real golf, archers try to hit the cup on the “green,” a target shaped like a golf green, in as few strokes (arrows) as possible. If they don't hit the cup, they move to a closer position to try again. While the more common events in field archery feature competitors aiming for the dead centers of circular targets set up along a course, archery golf is a fun variation on the theme.

Mike's fivesome on that day included Tom Henriksen, a top amateur from Copenhagen, there to sharpen his skills for international competition.

Tom was the one to watch. His black leather archery holster, slung low over his hips like the belt of a six-gun, was adorned with pins won in competitions around the world. The binoculars he used to scope out distant targets hung rakishly from a leather cord. His souped-up bow looked better suited to a space colony than to Sherwood Forest.

Pulling back his arm, the bow's black cord stretched taut across his lips and chin, Tom trained his steely glare on the target and stood virtually without movement for five, 10, 15 seconds until he felt the time right to send the arrow sailing. If the force wasn't with him, he would slowly release the bow, shake his arms out, and try again.

Hmmm. I still don't need any key chains or pot holders, but prowess with a bow and arrow just might come in handy.

WHEN YOU GO

For a list of archery clubs in Arizona, contact the National Archery Association (Attention: Mark), One Olympic Plaza, Colorado Springs, CO 80909; telephone (719) 578-4576. Check with outdoor-sports stores for a local contact. You also can obtain information from Arizona Bowhunters & Field Archery Association, c/o Elaine Roark, P.O. Box 161, Skull Valley, AZ 86338. Many members of this organization are field archers who do not hunt.