The paperclip POTA special

For a very long time, I used paper logging for my POTA activations. The primary reason for this was convenience. When logging on paper, I preferred a standard pencil on a notepad. It was much easier to scribble down call signs and make quick erasures or corrections. I would keep the pencil in hand, work the keyer, and then move straight to the notepad to write down the call signs and signal reports. At the end of the activation, I would take a picture of the log with my phone as a backup in case the paper got lost. Because I travel by motorcycle, I always pack light and don't have room to carry a laptop. This meant I didn't have the luxury of a physical keyboard that would have made electronic logging easy, and the small touch keyboard on a mobile phone was simply too inconvenient.

However, convenience in the field came at a steep price. After every activation, I had to come home and manually re-enter all of the QSOs on the POTA website. Logging elements like park-to-park contacts added even more complications. I also noticed that I would sometimes forget to write down a band change, forcing me to cross-reference RBN reports later just to find my operating frequencies. Needless to say, I grew tired of that routine.

That is when I decided to give smartphone logging a try. My software of choice is Ham2K PoLo. I find the clean, simple design of this app a delight to use, and I have quickly grown fond of its ability to automatically spot me on the POTA site. Once I got used to the small virtual keyboard, I really began to enjoy how the software handles timestamping and automatically records the frequency as I enter each QSO. In addition, PoLo's built-in, cached call sign database means I can instantly confirm call signs on the fly—especially those who report states not directly associated with their ARRL region.

It would be wonderful if the story ended there. Unfortunately, a new problem arose. I use a keying paddle attached directly to my Elecraft KX3. It is one of the QRP Kits single-lever paddles that relies on the bending of a steel strip to make contact on either side, which means it requires a bit of side-to-side force to operate. Things went smoothly when I was using a picnic table, as the friction of the radio resting on the wood provided a stable base. Recently, however, more of my activations have taken place with the radio sitting on my motorcycle seat or a car console. No matter what I tried, I just could not get the radio to stay put. The rig would slide across the surface with every flip of the paddle, leading to numerous flubbed call signs and sloppy responses. To prevent this, I had to stabilize the rig with my left hand—the very same hand trying to hold my phone. It was incredibly awkward.

There had to be a better way. And here it is: the "Paperclip POTA Special." This is a dirt-cheap CW paddle built from a few paperclips, a small plywood base wrapped in duct tape, and a few wood screws. The core concept of a paperclip paddle isn't my original design; I found multiple examples of this clever hack on YouTube. My initial plan was to build one of these paddles and anchor it directly into the phone's USB-C charging port. However, I didn't want to risk putting structural stress on the port, so I opted for an extended base design instead. The pictures below explain the setup better than words.

I used needle-nose pliers and formed the shorter, inner loop of a paperclip into the center ground post. I then used two longer pieces of straight paperclip wire to form the left and right paddles.

 

Side view of the paddle assembly.

Top-down view showing the layout

I bench-tested this by holding the phone and the paddle base together, and it feels fantastic so far. The spring tension of the paperclips feels completely natural, and I can easily send well above 30 WPM if needed. Now, I just need to take it out into the field to see if I have finally solved this nagging stability issue. If it holds up, it will finally allow me to enjoy the full benefits of PoLo logging on the trail.

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Rainy days and Wednesdays!

I believe it would be a fair assumption to say no one enjoys a visit to their dentist. However, when the reminder for my cleaning appointment came up on my phone for the next day, I was happy and could hardly contain my enthusiasm. Now, before you go thinking that something was off with me being enthusiastic about a dental cleaning, let me clarify that my excitement was due to the fact that my usual park, US-1518, is on the way to my dentist and I could squeeze a POTA activation in. Well, that does not sound good either! Maybe something is not right with me after all...

I had an evening appointment scheduled so that I could go to the dentist after work. On the way back, I was planning to stop at the park and get the activation done. The forecast predicted rain all afternoon, so I decided to use my four-wheeler for the commute that day. The dentist is about an hour's drive away (50 miles) from work. This was during a time when pretty much every road in southeast Michigan was under construction. I looked up Google traffic and picked one of the two freeway routes that sounded promising. About 30 minutes into my commute, I hit the construction zone where the westbound traffic was routed temporarily into the eastbound lanes. This meant concrete barricades on both sides with no access to most exits in a construction zone that lasted about 10 miles.

As luck would have it, a careless driver decided to crash into the barricade, and traffic was completely stalled. The concrete barricades made it incredibly difficult for emergency vehicles to reach the point of the crash, meaning it was going to be a long wait. I called my dentist's office and apprised them of the situation. They said they could push my appointment back by an hour at most before the cleaning technician had to leave for the day. I let them know I would see if the situation resolved soon and if I could still make that window. After hanging up, I settled in. I fired up my VHF radio and put out CQs on three repeaters to pass the time and chat with whoever was listening.

Crickets... Eventually I decided to listen to my favorite podcast.  The minutes ticked on and went past the hour mark. No way I am getting my teeth cleaned that day. I called into my dentist office to reschedule the cleaning. 

 After what seemed like an interminable wait, I finally saw some emergency vehicles creeping up on the other side of the road (which was actually under construction). Looks like they decided to pause construction and safely let these vehicles through. After a further 30 minutes, the traffic started to creep and then move. 

To get back home from the point where I was stuck I had to pass the park I had intended to activate. A coincidence? I think not. The POTA spirits were sending me a message. I was going to be there a little earlier than planned. My plan was to get to the park close to the UTC date change so  I can get two activations together. I decided to take the plunge anyway and go in for an extended activation. The bands were decent that day. I had multiple DX contacts from EU and a first one from Brazil. I got over 100 contacts [mostly on 20m] for the one UTC day by the time the clock rolled past the 8PM local time. I quickly hopped on to 40m and nabbed about 12 contacts to complete the activation for the new UTC day. 

Rainy day activation at US-1518

What a way to salvage the evening. The rain let up just enough for me to set up my gear, log my contacts, and turn a frustrating, construction-delayed evening into a successful POTA activation. My teeth didn't get cleaned, but my logbook grew—and in the grand scheme of things, any ham radio operator will tell you that is a much better way to spend an evening anyway!

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My Journey to QRQ: From Zero to 35+ WPM

It is no secret: I am a CW aficionado.

I was originally a ham back in the 1990s, but I never operated on HF during that time. Living in a tiny apartment, I had no practical way to put up an HF antenna. VHF provided all the distraction I needed.

The Unexpected 13 WPM General Pass

That was the era when the FCC introduced the Technician Plus category. After I passed my Tech exam, a friend told me he had just passed his Tech Plus by copying Morse code at 5 WPM. Although I had no immediate intention of getting on HF, I didn't want to be outdone by my buddy.

I started learning Morse code just to upgrade. My friend handed me a bunch of cassette tapes, and I practiced diligently for the test. If I recall correctly, the code test simply involved listening to a simulated QSO and answering a few questions about the content—like identifying the sender's call sign. I passed with flying colors.

The VE administering the test looked at me and said, "Well, now that you're here, why not try the 13 WPM General test?" After making absolutely sure there were no negative consequences for failing, I gave it a shot. To this day, I have no idea how I managed it, but I eked out a passing grade. The only downside was that I now had a 365-day window to pass the written portion of the General exam to capitalize on it.

Eventually, life became busy. I was increasingly drawn away from the radio, dropped the hobby completely, and let my license lapse.

The Pandemic Plunge and an Unpleasant Surprise

When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, I decided to take the plunge back into ham radio. I took my exams via a Zoom call, which was a pretty intense experience. The VEs had me pan my camera across the entire room to ensure no one else was present, and they even made me open my closet to ensure no one was hiding inside! This time I passed the General exam successfully and picked up my first modern HF rig, a used Icom IC-7100.

As I tuned around the HF bands for the first time, I finally heard live CW. Hmm. The dits and dahs made absolutely no sense to me. I was shocked to find that my CW recognition skills had completely degraded to nothing over those two decades. As it turns out, CW is nothing like the old cliché about learning to ride a bike—you absolutely can forget it if you don't use it!

Getting Back on the Wagon

I decided to get back on the CW wagon, purely as a personal challenge. Things were much different in 2022. There was a wealth of digital resources available to learn code. I used them all: smartphone apps, websites like LCWO.net, and even MP3s of literary classics like Moby Dick rendered entirely in Morse code.

While those tools helped immensely with copying, I still needed to practice my sending. It took me quite a while to regain my confidence. I practiced sending for hours by turning my rig's break-in (BKIN) function OFF and listening strictly to the side-tones. Thanks to modern rigs, there was no need for an external practice oscillator.

Finally, I decided I was ready.

I will never forget the sheer nervousness I felt when an operator responded to my very first CW CQ. I was so anxious that the details remain a blur; I was just glad when we finally exchanged 73s. The rest, as they say, is history. Today, I am a dedicated ragchewer who is perfectly comfortable copying and sending CW at speeds near 30 WPM.

Joining the QRQ Crew

It would not be an exaggeration to say that I am completely hooked on CW. I love conversational ragchewing and constantly strive to improve my operating proficiency. While groups like CWops are fantastic for bringing code enthusiasts together, many major organizations today tend to lean heavily toward contesting. Because I am not particularly into the contesting scene right now, I wanted to find a space focused purely on the art of high-speed conversation.

That pursuit naturally drew me toward QRQ crew, a group dedicated to promoting conversational CW at 35 WPM and above. It has been an incredible experience so far. I am thoroughly enjoying the challenge, the rapid-fire pacing, and the unique operating opportunities provided by the crew members.

If you are curious about high-speed operations and can sustain even a brief burst of conversational CW at 35 WPM, you should absolutely look into joining the crew.

The À-La-Carte Buffet of Amateur Radio: There’s Room for Everyone

 The "Isms" Dividing Ham Radio: Are We Our Own Worst Enemy?

Amateur radio is a deeply personal hobby. There are so many facets to being a ham. You can choose to tinker and build your own homebrew rigs, work QRP, chase DX, work satellites, brag about contest victories, or try your hand at SOTA and POTA.

There is, of course, one major factor that cross-cuts all these aspects: the mode. You can choose to do voice using SSB or AM on the HF bands, or FM on the VHF/UHF bands; you can pound brass on CW; or you can try wide-ranging digital modes, from the veteran RTTY to the more recent FT8 and FT4.

Nothing about these opportunities is mutually exclusive, and many amateur radio operators explore most of these options at some point in their journey. This à-la-carte buffet ensures there is no boredom, as there is always something different to try.

The Pitfalls of "In-Group" Thinking

It does pain me when I see online forums and even the airwaves filled with "in-group" and "out-group" thinking. There are purists who look down upon anyone who does not use a personally built rig, labeling them as mere "operators." I would prefer if they took pride in their own achievements rather than using them as a cudgel to put down other hams.

Then there are the "code" vs. "no-code" wars that never cease to elicit strong reactions from all sides. The removal of the CW code requirement for operator licenses seems to irk some of those who went through those rites of passage in the past. To them, it feels like a lowering of standards.

The code requirement was historically seen as a bulwark against the "CB riff-raff"—a way to keep them away from the pristine portions of the amateur bands. As an amateur radio operator who learned CW and finds great enjoyment in it, I understand the effort it takes to get proficient. I always have great respect for other amateurs who opt to do the same. I derive great pleasure from operating CW and wish more amateurs would give it a try. However, this pleasure is in no way diminished by others who enjoy being on the air in their own personal way, nor do I believe they are lesser hams.

The Polarizing World of FT8 and FT4

I dare not bring up FT8 or FT4 in any group of amateurs. Nothing divides the camps more than these weak-signal data modes. Even among those who love the mode, there is a rift between those who believe using high power is acceptable and those who do not. Then there is the fundamental debate about whether using computers makes it a true amateur radio pursuit.

I will grant you that these modes do not appeal to me personally, but I can certainly see the joy they bring to many amateurs with compromised antennas or the inability to run high-powered stations. From my interactions on local repeaters, I know of a senior amateur who gave up his favorite home and moved into a living arrangement with strict antenna restrictions. He is over 90 years old and regularly chimes in with excitement after making contacts through FT8.

A few other hams I know use a magnetic loop antenna inside their condos or have a hamstick out on the balcony just to enjoy being on the air. FT8 makes it possible for them. Objecting to it entirely discounts the technical intricacies that make FT8 possible in the first place.

Contesters: Spectrum Annoyance or Spectrum Protectors?

And finally, let's talk about contesters. Every time a major contest ends, the airwaves are filled with vitriol about how contesting is taking over the bands. This animus applies to POTA activities as well. Most critical opinions discount perfunctory exchanges with a standard signal report as going against the grain of amateur radio. Many comments also cite the "entitlement" of contesters.

I have been on the receiving end of this, where contesters muscle onto an active frequency. One moment all is fine and you're enjoying a QSO; the next moment, the contest starts and the airwaves explode with contesters calling CQ. Yes, busy contesting weekends can make the airwaves difficult to access for regular hams, which is especially pronounced on the voice portions of the band.

But I contrast this with the signal desert that symbolizes the airwaves during normal times. In this regard, contesters bring much-needed activity to the air. I believe that when the time comes to revisit amateur radio band allocations, the high utilization during contest periods will provide strong evidence to keep our current spectrum from diminishing.

Ultimately, amateur radio thrives because of its diversity, not in spite of it. Whether you are pounding brass on CW, chasing weak signals on FT8, or racking up contacts in a weekend contest, every operator plays a vital role in keeping our airwaves alive. Instead of building walls between our chosen modes, we should celebrate the fact that our spectrum has room enough for every kind of passion.

A-la-carte buffet with place for all

Ultimately, amateur radio thrives because of its diversity, not in spite of it. Whether you are pounding brass on CW, chasing weak signals on FT8, or racking up contacts in a weekend contest, every operator plays a vital role in keeping our airwaves alive. Instead of building walls between our chosen modes, we should celebrate the fact that our spectrum has room enough for every kind of passion.

Playing the field

 It was field day eve. It was the Friday and I did not have any specific plans for the ARRL Field day 2026. I was performing a regular scan of my spam folder to ensure nothing that was needed was lurking there. And lurking there was a piece that did not belong there. It was an email from Dan (KB6NU) wondering if I could work the CW Station for W8RP field activities. Fortunately, he had sent me his mobile number as well. So I immediately texted him, that I can fill in any slots if they still had a need. I get an immediate response from him that I can do the 8PM-12PM (0000UTC-0400 UTC). That suited me fine. 

Around 6:30PM on Saturday (2230 UTC) I head out to soccer fields adjacent to the Ann Arbor Municipal airport where the ARROW Club had set up the W8RP stations. It was a pretty grand affair with about 4-5 trailers and a tent. The info tent had information booth for curious visitors. I also believe there was a GOTA station. There were two CW stations running on two different trailers. One trailer was dedicated to data and possibly the other for SSB. After having IRL QSOs with fellow hams, I headed over to the CW station. The happiness on the ham operating the station was a sight to behold. He told he'd been at the station for over 7 hours. 

K4D at W8RP during field day

After a quick hello, I was ready to take over the operations. The radio for the day was an Elecraft K4D. It was paired with a KAT500 tuner and a contest filter paired to a dipole. It was further kitted with a large panadapter display and a Begali Sculpture to boot. I've never seen or operated a K4D before, and I was eager to jump in. So after a quick familiarization with the setup I jumped in to continue the operations. It was not a very busy day and the atmosphere there was not competitive. The previous operator was running in the mid 20wpm and I continued to do the same. At around 0100 UTC I switched over to the 80m band and continued operations there. I was almost entirely "running" the operation. I did not do search and pounce as a) I was not familiar with N1MM+ and did not want to change the settings b) The tuner was narrow Q and I may have to retune often. The latter involved bypassing the contest tuner, and turning on the LP tune mode on the K4D after engaging the KAT500 into the tune mode. All in all I believe I averaged just over 50QSOs per hour in the four hours I was operating there. Come midnight, it was time for me to leave. My XYL had to work the next day and I told her I will be there a little after 1AM. It was a cool night when I geared up for the ride home. There was still a near full moon out. It was eerie to see the football fields where the field stations were set up punctuated with the glow from the monitors and other electronics. I was on the lookout for deer on the way back, but fortunately none of them were active. Soon I was safely ensconced in my bed.

Field day setup at Maybury State Park. Operated as class 1B

The next morning, after seeing off my XYL to work, I headed over to my favorite park to have a combination field day and POTA outing. I operated as "1B" station and managed to have great fun. I was happy to see the bands buzzing with activity. After a while I decided to setup my station in the downtown Farmington (Michigan) area. I worked a few hours there hoping to attract any curious passers by. But strange as it may seem, there never was a curious glance or questions about what I was doing. Perhaps the fact I was right beside the local police station did not stir the usual suspicion in the public passing by. 

While this lack of curiosity was disappointing, the active bands more than made up for it! 

Breaking My Own Golden Rule (And How I Saved My uSDX+)

In my previous post, A Brick Becomes a Diamond, I confessed my absolute dread of firmware updates. I outlined my tried-and-tested workspace mantra: "If it ain't broke, don't fix it!" Applying the version 3.0 update to my MicroPA50 amplifier was a rare exception because that unit was genuinely broken from the factory, constantly rebooting on oversensitive SWR spikes. The update transformed that brick of junk into a rock-solid, 40-watt diamond.

Flush with that victory, I returned to my bench feeling a bit too brave. I looked over at my Chinese clone uSDX+ "White Buttons" QRP transceiver. It was sitting there, doing perfectly fine. Did it have a few quirks? Sure. But it didn't need surgery.

Naturally, I broke my own rule anyway.

I decided I wanted to upgrade the code to add a few custom Morse code CQ messages. It sounded harmless. Fast forward several hours, and I had successfully trapped myself in a cascading nightmare of software locks, ghost buffers, a backward tuning knob, and a radio that was transmitting on completely incorrect frequencies.

If you have ever let workspace hubris get the best of you, here is the non-technical story of how I battled the uSDX+ firmware—and how a single line of code saved the day.

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Hurdle 1: The Modern Computer vs. The Unsigned Driver

To send the new code to the radio, I used a standard USBasp V3 hardware programmer. Modern Windows 11 has incredibly strict security rules regarding unrecognized hardware, and the standard USBasp driver files are essentially digital antiques. Windows immediately blocked the programmer, refusing to acknowledge its existence.

• How it was navigated: I had to bypass the normal Windows infrastructure using a modern utility called Zadig. Zadig wraps the legacy file in a clean, digitally signed security capsule. Windows finally stopped panicking, and the flashing tool successfully established a link.

Hurdle 2: The Bluffing Error Message

The moment I hit the upload button, the software log screamed in bright red text: Error: cannot set sck period; please check for usbasp firmware update. It looked like a catastrophic failure.

• How it was navigated: This turned out to be a total bluff by the programmer clone. After locating the physical JP3 (Slow SCK) jumper on the USBasp board and bridging it to slow down the data speed, I re-ran the program. The red error message still appeared, but the data stream pushed right past it, completing a 100% byte-for-byte verified flash. Lesson learned: sometimes you just have to ignore the warning text.

Hurdle 3: The Persistent Memory Lock

I booted up the radio, eager to see my changes. My new callsign showed up flawlessly on screen (MY_CALLSIGN lives in the main Flash memory), but my old Morse code messages were still sitting there, completely untouched. Even worse, I realized the tuning was completely off. The radio now assumed it had a standard 27 MHz system clock tracking profile, but my specific "White Buttons" clone board houses a physical 26 MHz crystal.

Because the software math and the physical hardware crystal were out of sync, the internal VFO math completely broke down. The radio interface looked normal, but the actual tuned operating frequency was wildly incorrect on every band. I tried manually clearing the memory using command-line commands and hardware erase flags, but the radio completely ignored them—reverting to its old 27 MHz data blocks on every single reboot.

Hurdle 4: Walking Backwards and Overridden Variables

Before I could even tackle the clock, I ran into another headache: spinning the main tuning knob moved the frequency in the completely wrong direction. The rotary encoder was reversed. I opened up the massive .ino file and changed a configuration constant (like SWAP_ROTARY) to make the knob turn the right way.

Next, I tackled the frequency issue. I used the search bar, located every single active occurrence of 27000000 (the clock frequency constant), and meticulously updated them all to 26000000.

I compiled the code and flashed it again. The result? Total disappointment. The knob turned correctly, but the radio booted right back into its broken 27 MHz loop, the tuned frequency remained incorrect, and the old Morse code texts remained. Updating the base constants in the code text was completely useless. The uSDX core engine is built to protect the system profile. On boot, if it detects any pre-existing structural initialization signatures, it completely ignores the user’s code edits and restores the old 27 MHz data framework over your changes anyway.

The Ultimate Solution: Tactical Interception

The breakthrough happened when I dug deep into the code and found the exact line where the system menu binds the clock parameters to the chip:

case SIFXTAL: paramAction(action, si5351.fxtal, ...)

This proved that the uSDX engine forces its built-in memory blocks to load after the initial variables are parsed, completely undoing any user edits right at startup.

Instead of fighting the radio’s complex formatting layout loops, I decided to use a bit of tactical code interception. I went to the absolute last line of the radio's startup sequence (void setup()), right before the code exits to hand control over to the live tuning screen. I injected a single, unyielding line of absolute code:

si5351.fxtal = 26000000;

By placing it at the absolute end, I let the radio finish its messy, stubborn startup loops first. Then, a millisecond before the radio actually woke up, my line stepped in, overrode the memory blocks, and forced the true 26 MHz clock frequency directly into the VFO processor.

The result was instantaneous. The radio booted up perfectly calibrated, and the VFO math was flawlessly restored—bringing the tuned operating frequencies back into perfect alignment across all bands.

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The Virtue of Procrastination

When I updated my MicroPA50 amplifier, I learned that a little patience pays off, and that sometimes the next firmware release fixes the bugs you were planning to solder away.

But with the uSDX+ clone, I learned a different lesson: if you break your golden workbench rule and try to fix something that isn't broken, you better be ready to dig through thousands of lines of open-source math to find your way back out!

My portable field stack—the Elecraft KX-3, the MicroPA50, and the newly recalibrated uSDX+—is officially stable, accurate, and ready for action. But the next time I get the urge to touch a perfectly smooth piece of gear? I am leaving the USBasp in the drawer, turning off the soldering iron, and going out for a walk instead.

I Will Ride 200 Miles... And I Will Ride 200 More!

I am very last-minute when it comes to planning trips. I guess it is a holdover from planning motorcycle trips, which can be highly weather-dependent. Now, I am not averse to catching bursts of bad weather during a road trip. In fact, I cannot remember a single cycle trip where I didn't get at least a drop of rain on me. Such is life in the Midwest around the Great Lakes! However, I am also not crazy enough to ride straight into an extended patch of bad weather that blankets an entire geographic region.

Sometime early in the year, one of our POTA enthusiasts mentioned that the 3rd Annual Michigan POTA meetup was planned for June. I filed it away in the back of my mind. Unfortunately, I got distracted by some minor health concerns and work, and it entirely slipped my memory. Needless to say, when I finally tried to look up the dates on Thursday, I found out it was happening on June 6th, 2026—only a few days away.

I usually try to work in a camping trip around the POTA meetup. But this year, I was caught a little unawares. I didn’t have enough time to verify the state of my camping gear, so camping was out of the question. At best, this had to be a day trip. I checked the weather, and it was going to be a gorgeous day here in Michigan. In addition, this year's meetup was at Hartwick Pines State Park (US-1503) near Grayling, MI. It is in the central part of the state, so I knew there would be some new hams making the trip out there.

Riding weather

A quick check of the maps indicated about 200 miles each way, with an estimated riding time of roughly 3 hours per leg. I packed up my KX-3, my N7DDC tuner, the Micro PA50+, and a small snack bag.

I departed at 0630 AM local time. Of course, it was at the very tail end of a shower. So, my streak of never having a trip without a drop of rain remains unbroken! Thankfully, the temps were in the mid-60s (about 20°C), so the rain didn't really matter. About 15 minutes into the ride, the rain clouds cleared out and the sun started to peek through. I could not have asked for better weather. I was incredibly comfortable under my riding gear. On the ride up, I made a quick stop at a rest area to gobble down my yogurt and banana, followed by a quick stop for gas. I rolled into the park around 0940 AM. The organizers were already out and about setting up for the meet.

I decided to squeeze in a quick activation since I had never activated this park before. I set up the KX-3 and the JPC-12 vertical. I started off on 40m but didn't have much success there. After about 20 minutes, I was left with just a single QSO. It was still a little too early for 20m, but when you're desperate, you'll try anything. I adjusted the loading coil on the JPC-12 for 20m and found that it tuned to a 1.3 SWR. I set the ATU in the KX-3 to bypass and hooked up my Micro PA50+ between the transceiver and the antenna. This was going to be the second field test for this amplifier since the firmware upgrade. I started to run at around 30W. Success at last! The new firmware held up flawlessly, and I got about 14 contacts in the next 30 minutes.

After that, I packed up all the gear and headed over to the picnic shelter to see if I could help with anything. The area was already set up. A great feature this year was POTA Bingo. It's a little hard to explain, but the concept should be clear from the image below. This game ensured that the hams mixed freely and got to know one another. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

 

After shooting the breeze for a while, it was time for lunch. Some of the hams took the opportunity to secure a local activation. It was fun to work hams sitting right next to you via 2m/70cm. The occasional feedback squeal from being too close was hilarious to watch. For those who were short of their 10 contacts, walkie-talkies were passed around so other hams could help them establish a contact. I will need to check the activation status of US-1503 around that time block.

After lunch, it was time for the traditional raffle. Alas, my luck did not hold out for a prize! Not to worry, though—completing my bingo card netted me a custom Michigan POTA coaster.

I cannot thank the meetup organizers enough. I have been privileged to attend all three meetups to date, and I am glad to see this event thriving and getting better every year.

With a great smile on my face, I snapped a picture of the trip odometer when I pulled into the garage back home.