It happened Friday night.
A light breeze tickled the few leaves that clung desperately to branches. The sun had dropped well below the horizon when zombies started to rise out of the atmospheric noise that rustled in my headset like dry leaves tumbling and sliding across pavement. On a really windy day. With a lot of leaves.
Not many zombies appeared, to be sure, but enough to make this op’s first Zombie Shuffle a memorable event. Not so much for the very distant stations contacted (there weren’t any). And not so much for the large number of contacts between yours truly, Zombie No. 849, and other putrefying brass pounders (there weren’t many).
No, it was memorable because out of the various operating events I’ve participated in over the years, this is the only one I know of where a measly nine contacts over six hours still nets a mid-ish five-digit score (all digits to the left of the decimal place).
The co-hosts, Paul (NA5N) and Jan (N0QT) Harden, started this Halloween-season gig 12 years ago. They call it the shuffle because, well, it’s what zombies do.
With a six-hour operating window, you can afford to take time to walk your zombie dog, brew a pot of coffee, and have a transcontinental telephone chat with an undead offspring, and still rack up the points.
As Paul and Jan, the Dos Horribles from Socorro, NM, explain:
There is no point to the Zombie Shuffle whatsoever except to get on the air and have fun with fellow Zombies and QRPers. Even with only 2-3 QSOs, you can earn a fairly large score to brag to your co-workers and QRO buddies, or your ARRL Sweepstakes (SS) friends next weekend!
To be sure, atmospheric conditions — what radio geeks refer to as propagation — were ugly. Over at W2LJ’s blog, QRPing wordsmith Larry Makosk got the tenor of the evening about right: A few managed double-digit contacts, while others of us, well, I won’t go there.
After reading Larry’s post, I found that we may share a common hypothesis: When conditions inhale sharply, a.k.a suck, it helps to be in the middle of the continent. You have hams to the east and west of your station (north and south, too, but we won’t get into radiation patterns).
Your signal may not get far, but at least it’s landing on antennas at a large number of points around the compass (remember those?).
Here on the East Coast you have hams to the west and fish to the east and, for us Northeasterners, to the south as well. To my knowledge, SpongeBob Squarepants has no amateur radio license.
That said, I enjoyed my hard-won nine contacts. When they’re worth some 40,000 points, and your scores for other events hover around a couple of thousand, why not have one night of good-natured self-delusion? And the coffee was delicious!






