I’M NO SHUFFLEBOARD PLAYER, and the odds of my learning to play inside a West Texas water-silo-turned-hunting-camp powered by solar panels seem slim. But the 22-foot, regulation-size shuffleboard table is here nonetheless, and my three aoudad hunting companions—all of whom have been into the whiskey—are goading me to slide a puck across the sand.
“I’ve never played shuffleboard in my life,” I say.
“You weren’t a long-range shooter until this morning either,” says the outfitter, Jim Breck Bean. “But you did fine with that, so step