The word bounty always leads me off on a tangent from other posts. I always think of H.M.S Bounty and Pitcairn Island. And how Fletcher Christian set Captain Bligh and his followers adrift at sea. (After these many years Bligh still holds the world’s record for surviving at sea. No on perished because he forbid it.)
As many folks know, Fletcher sailed to Pitcairn Island and set the H.M.S Bounty afire in order to escape Bligh’s wrath. They survived and flourished.
Fast forward to about 1991.
For many years fuel was delivered to Pitcairn Island once each year. If the residents experienced a normal year those who were amateur radio operators were able to run generators and work the world for one day. In 1991 such a year occurred. And they set an operating schedule.
I had yet to earn my general class license, so I was not authorized to operate on the frequencies the islanders were using. But my close friend, Jim Isom (now a silent key) operated that day and made contact with Mary Christian, Fletcher’s granddaughter.
And that is what Bounty means to me on this Christmas Eve Day.