I’m not a seasoned hunter and I don’t have a lot of kill success under my belt, but I’ve hunted hard and learned a lot in the past three or so years. There is a very valuable wealth of knowledge that you can only truly gain from the life long experience as a seasoned hunter. What I lack in skill and experience, I definitely make up for with grit and determination. I have figured out that if I’m persistent enough, keep putting myself in places where animals hang out, things are bound to line up in my favor.
On this trip, that is exactly how it worked out. If you know anything about the climate on the northern British Columbia coast, you know that November is not the time of year to be getting in a canoe and paddling in the Pacific ocean to get to your hunting and camping spot, let alone set up a little tent and hunt hard for 3-4 days during a torrential rain storm.
Remember what I said in the beginning? What I lack in skill and experience, I make up for with grit and determination. Waking up nervous in my nice warm bed on the day I was to head out on the hunt, the house was shaking from a coastal storm. I definitely contemplated not going at all or taking the easier safer route, wait until it gets nice. Instead I shook my head, got up and said to myself – if I spend the bad weather day travelling, setting up camp, and scouting, then I have a better chance of getting into deer when the storm settles.
I launched the canoe in the dark and paddled out to my spot, I arrived just as it got light. Adventure in full effect on day one, I made camp, walked into the bush, and started hunting. The rain and sleet and noisy rain gear made it near impossible to walk around quietly, no chance of coming up on a deer. At the end of the day, soaking wet, I could have called it a day but I decided to wait out in an open area and do some deer calls in the hopes that I could trick a deer into walking out of the old growth forest. I was getting cold so I made the decision to put on my last bit of dry clothing knowing they would be fully drenched as evening fell. With no dry clothing left, it was a sacrifice to have a wet and cold night sleep in exchange for hunting the last two hours of daylight. Long story short, I shivered while I made lame deer calls for about an hour, but out of nowhere, I saw the unmistakable red-brown shimmer of antlers and a face looking straight at me about a hundred yards out. I was spotted and in one slow yet very smooth move, I grabbed the gun, put a round in the chamber, sighted up, and without hesitation pulled the trigger dropping the deer. In that moment you could have easily made the mistake of thinking I had a lifetime of hunting experience. There was no hesitation or mistakes made on my part. In reality, I spent so much time trying to make opportunities like this happen, the amount of days alone were bound to stack up in my favor. I gritted through unpleasant weather and used every ounce of try I had in me and it payed off. I did my best to clean the deer and hang it in a tree. After a very long, wet day, I crawled into my sleeping bag soaking wet still shivering, with a grin on my face. Though that smile quickly tuned to a grimace as the cold seeped through the wool and hit my bones, I fell asleep knowing the sacrifice, grit and determination was worth it.
Talon Gillis. Website is https://talongillis.com
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Have you ever had a hunting season that was so overwhelmingly challenging? Or a season where everything seemed to go wrong? That’s how my 2020 elk season was going. During the archery hunt in September, I was hunting every second I wasn’t at work. I put in more stalks on big bulls than I could count. And messed up just as many. I climbed thousands of feet in elevation and crossed tens of miles on foot. I had many, many failures. But I just kept telling myself…All it takes is one.
About 10 AM, I saw a herd of elk moving on the horizon about a mile away. There were 8 cows and I could tell one was a larger bull. They were moving quickly and headed to the canyon opposite of me. I took off across the canyon on foot hoping I would intercept them on the other side. When I climbed to the other side I saw a smaller draw. And no elk. I figured since I had hiked this far I would look around. I looked down the draw and saw a spike bull elk.
Where there’s one, there’s more. My motto this year had been “When you think you’ve seen all the elk, look again.” I waited for a couple minutes and from the bottom of the draw, came out a bigger 5 point bull. They were about 500 yards away. I decided to stalk in on them. Because I had been archery hunting the whole month prior, I decided to use some of that knowledge to help me close the distance. I don’t really like shooting over 200 yards, anyways.
The thermals were shifting up, carrying the smell of the sage brush with it. There was a small side hill I could use to keep me out of sight. I climbed halfway up the opposite hill and used it to stay out of sight. When I had closed the gap to about 300 yards, a couple of trucks popped over the opposite side of the hill. The trucks stopped for a minute, looked, and then continued to drive on. I assume they didn’t even see the elk and probably saw me. They might have even asked themselves what I was doing down there by myself.
Even though the trucks came close, I didn’t see the elk come out. I crept forward further. I popped up over the hill just where I thought they had been. No elk. They must have funneled out right below me. I walked towards the bottom of the draw, just to see if I could find their tracks and figure out which direction they went. I’ve learned you don’t leave elk to find elk. When I was 40 yards from the draw, 4 bull elk came out of the bottom. We surprised each other. I don’t think they knew what I was, though because they couldn’t smell me. Thinking quickly, I dropped behind the nearest sage brush and dug in my pocket for my reed call. I let out a couple of cow calls and they stopped on the hill opposite of me 100 yards away. I jacked a bullet into the barrel of my rifle, opened the scope, and started scanning antlers. Spike….5 point….6 point….lopsided antlers. I lined up on the one with lopsided antlers not even taking a good look at his antlers. He was standing full broadside. BOOM!
The shot felt good. But all 4 elk took off down towards the bottom of the draw. I jacked in another bullet and lined up for another shot but they never stopped. I watched them drop down out of sight for a second and then head up the other side. Only 3 came back out of the bottom.
My adrenaline had me shaking like a leaf so I decided I would wait for a few minutes to see if that bull decided to pop up. After a few minutes, I thought I would go check for blood. I went to where the bull was standing when I shot. I found small drops of blood so I knew I had hit him.
I followed his path, my stomach sinking a bit more with every step. I hoped I didn’t just injure him. After following blood for about 50 yards, I looked up. There was an antler in the sage brush in the bottom. It looked like his head was up. I lined up on him for another shot. I cow called a couple times while keeping my eyes on him. His ear didn’t even twitch.
I had heard horror stories of people walking up on animals they assumed were down only to be gored after startling an animal in pain. I had my rifle trained on him the entire time I walked up just to make sure. Being out there by myself, I wasn’t going to take any chances.
Once I was sure he was down, I let out a sigh of relief. That’s when I got a good look at him. He was the coolest bull I had ever seen! A regular 6 point on the one side but the other side was sticking straight out from the side of his head. It looked like he had two main beams, and one of them was where a brow tine should have been. I have always had a soft spot for a-typicals and this guy was one of the best.
And then the hard work began. I had never gutted an animal all by myself before, let alone quartered out an elk. I had my work cut out for me.
I worked deliberately and tried to be quick. The sun was starting to beat down and I could feel the temperature rising. I started getting the hide off him and worked off the front quarter. I took off the bottom part of his leg. It was then that I noticed the sheer size of the animal I had just taken. His hooves were as big as my hand. With every hunt, I admire and respect these animals even more.
Then I got the backstraps off. I tucked his hind leg underneath him, grabbed him by the head, and rolled him over. Dust went everywhere. From there I was able to get his other front quarter off. I worked on the hind quarters trying to follow the bone. I think I missed meat on the first hind quarter I tried to take off. I guess these are just things you learn by doing them. I feel like I did better on the second hind quarter. Each hind quarter weighed a TON. I dragged all the meat into the shade.
I was exhausted from the heat. I could feel my skin starting to sunburn. I had to get to the Jeep and it was going to be a long hike back. I looked around and noticed that there was a road less than 50 yards away from where the bull fell. I grabbed my gun and started my long trek back to the jeep. When I was about halfway back to the jeep I called to let everyone know that I had an elk down. Brandon was so excited he called up Troy and Ethan and they all decided they wanted to help me pack him out. I told them it wouldn’t be much of a pack out since he was so close to a road but they insisted.
I feel like I could have done a better job processing him in the field. But that’s a skill that takes time to develop. I learned a lot that day in the field by myself. We hauled the meat to the truck and loaded the antlers on a pack frame as the sun faded away.
Words cannot express the feeling of taking the antlers out. It meant something very significant. The hunt had ended. After over a month of hunting the hardest I ever had, it had come to a triumphant end. I had gotten my first bull elk. I had done my first successful solo hunt.
We got back to town after dark. We sat around and talked about his antlers and speculated how he could have possibly ended up with a rack like that. We talked about stories from the day’s events. We told hunting stories from the past. We talked about hunts in the future and what adventures they may hold. I could have stayed in that moment for an eternity.
The day was over. Brandon and I went inside. He poured us each a small glass of Lagavulin whiskey. We save this for special occasions and this occasion felt right. But we didn’t drink to successful hunts and animals killed. We drank to firsts: to first experiences, to learning, to growth, and to triumphs. This year has been full of firsts. And I can’t wait for the next one.
]]>I was barely as tall as the shotgun I carried trekking through snow as high as my knees. Looking back on my introduction to hunting, my biggest take away is my dad teaching my brother & I how to walk, talk, and constantly be looking while in the woods. Otherwise it was your standards deer drives. We were the sitters since we couldn’t keep up with the pushers. We didn’t have heated hunting blinds, scopes on our guns, or trail cameras back then. We had the basics.
Nowadays things are different. We no longer party hunt. We mainly focus on hunting separate pieces of ground & sharing in each other’s successes, stories, and strategies. And now I am a father myself.
As a solo hunter the past 10+ years now, I will say my biggest challenge has been slowing myself down to focus on the goal. Simplicity is still key. As far as gear goes, I am a minimalist. My goal is to get close to my prey and I’ve come to realize doing so mainly requires patience & planning. 3 years ago, I added to my hunting goals by taking my (then) 2-year-old daughter deer hunting with me. I will admit, we used a ground blind to get her accustomed to hunting. However, our most successful hunt happened recently during Iowa’s archery season, on October 24, 2020, when I shot what you could call my target buck. We sat on the ground with only a couple downed trees for cover, the same way I sat as a kid waiting on deer drives with my dad.
It’s not as crazy, dumb, or hard as some guys make it seem to succeed on your own OR with a child, and it doesn’t require anything fancy or extravagant. Just keep it simple.
-TRAVIS SEE
]]>I’ve been trying to kill this bull for two weeks . After packing out our last hunters elk from guide season, I took my rifle with me incase I saw something worth shooting. Managed to forget my ammunition and only had two rounds with me. “Oh well I thought,” I’m a decent shot. Found this bull about 500 yards off the trails the morning after getting to camp. Put a stalk on him and got within 270 yards. He was chasing a hot cow and we stopped him with a cow call. I flinched the first shot and completely missed. He trotted forward and I went for the neck and shot again. He dropped like a ton of bricks. Me and the guy I’m with are excited and sorting our a plan to get the clients bull and this bull off the mountain. Next thing you know this bull rolls over and gets up running. Which was gut wrenching to say the least. I’ve never seen an animal drop like that and not stay down. We track him with no blood and no luck.
After packing out the client bull we go look for tracks where we think they ran over the top of the Plateau. Sure enough they ran into an area that’s behind our camp. The next morning I wake up to bugling from a bull behind camp. After glassing up the mountain I see this bull running around and chasing cows. Unbelievable. With no ammo I had to wait for days until we went to pack out our hunting camp. Between working on camp I would try to find this bull. The weather is hot and dry now and I’m only seeing him from far off just before dark and just as he’s headed to bed in the morning.
I cannot get a stalk on him. After camp is out this storm system was coming in and I decided to go up into the Wilderness by myself for one last try. I got the snow I needed and sure enough he was out with cows during the day feeding. I put a stalk on him and finished what I started with a 370 heart shot. I’m still wondering if this is real and just taking it all in. After packing him back to camp and getting the meat hung up a Grizzly bear rolls in at 5:30 the last night. I was alerted to sounds of mules huffing and snorting which made the hair on my back stand up.
Coming out of the tent with my pistol drawn I see a big boar 30 yards away. I tried yelling and firing shots in the are and he just trots into the trees nonchalantly. “Shit,” I thought. I’m in for one long night.. after that I tied a mule around all sides of my tent and hunkered in with a fire going. Every hour or so this bear would try to come in and when he did the mules would go crazy. I laid in my tent all night, gun on my chest and headlamp and boots on, ready for whatever might happen. Early morning I saw the bear headed down the main trail across the meadow. As fast as I could I got the meat down from the game pole, loaded the mules & camp. After returning home I am still in disbelief and cannot believe how everything unfolded. The hard work and consistency has paid off this time. The wilderness is no joke, and these animals are tough. I’ve learned a lot from this experience, and I’m not sure if I’ll mess with Grizz country 20 plus miles in again by myself. Yet I’m thankful for the opportunity & a full freezer.
Brandon King
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The summer was spent working out and shooting and I felt confident in everything but my ability to find a good buck. After 7 hours and 3500 ft elevation I made camp above tree line and began glassing. By the evening before season opener I had located 2 bachelor groups with good mature deer. Opening morning i was perched at 12500 ft and found 3 different groups of deer and put all 3 to bed, 1 group was in a place I thought I could get myself above with a great consistent wind. The 2 hour stalk began putting me within 100 yards of the large willow patch just under a steep cliff with a bighorn ram watching the show.(the ram was ranged at 350 yrds) With the last 70 yards of slow moving I approached a small cliff that would do the trick, but left no visual of the deer, as I slid it place with a arrow knocked and range finder in hand the buck was on his feet moving towards me thru the willows with nothing but the tops of the velvet antlers showing. I quickly positioned myself and ranged a small opening in the crazy tall willows and as he fed into the small narrow lane I laced an arrow 30 yards and connected tight behind the shoulder on a quartering to shot.
A few pictures and the work started. The mile plus hump back to camp after dark thru the cliffs and a long heavy pack out the next morning were worth the sweat. The elk tag was placed in the tag soup file and I now I set patiently waiting for a whitetail to move into bow rang, while missing the steep mountains.
Author – Jeff Lunow
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Day 1&2:
Learning the elk- For the better part of these two days, scouting took place. We were trying to pattern and see what kind of activity the elk had after the first hunt had just concluded. Rut activity was extremely limited, you can hear a few bugles off in the distance, but would quickly fade as the sun rose. During the day, we were able to glass up a bedded 6×6 with two cows. They were a long way out and proceeded to stay put as evening was approaching. As night approaches, we start to hear bugles. I look at my OnX map and see that they are calling from a different unit on the border of where we are hunting. We were using our calf calls to hopefully get the cows to where we were in hopes the bull would follow them over the unit border. As evening ended on day 2, we made our way back to the truck. I heard a very different and distinctive bugle. In my head, all I can picture is a big bull.
Day 3:
Excitement Building- On the morning of day 3 we were able to glass up a small 5×5 across the canyon. We decided to make a move to try and get closer to see if he was with a bigger bull. As we make our way to where we last seen him, I hear that very different bugle once more. I split up from my hunting partner as he continues his stalk. I go in quiet, no calls, no noise, just trying to see what I can see. As I make my way through the trees, I spot a bull at 90 yards pushing four cows. The bull comes out, I look through my Maven Binoculars and see his huge back thirds. I tell myself, “Oh my god, I want this bull”. 60 yards reads on the range finder, and the cows bust. I played the wind right, stayed in the shadows, I knew it was not because of me. In the distance, I hear a sound that I know, a Hoochie Momma call from Primos. Just like that they were gone. I was able to follow the bull by the bugles between him and another bull in the distance. I knew a fight was about to take place as the bull entered a different territory. I am now 150 yards away from the elk, and I hear something that I have never been able to witness. It sounded as if hundreds of trees were getting torn down, something I will never forget! Two world class bulls, going toe to toe, fighting for the territory and the 14 cows they have between each other. Sprinting down the mountain while they were occupied, I was hoping to get into shooting distance. As I was approaching the fight they stopped, and once again the bull I was after was 27 yards from me, tongue hanging out, breathing heavily and heading right to me. I had no shot, he was moving quick, I had to stay still and let him pass. I was in complete awe, the size of his rack was something I have only ever seen in magazines, or social media. The body on the other hand was just as big, looking like a 400-pound lineman getting ready to eat your lunch. Hoping for another opportunity, we backed out and waited till the next morning. Thinking back on the whole situation that just went down, I was kicking myself in the face for not taking a shot on the biggest bull I have seen in my entire hunting career.
Day 4:
The Reward- We started climbing the mountain at 5:30a.m. We wanted to get as high as possible so we can listen to distant bugles and try to locate them. Our first bugle came in at 5:50a.m, from then on, the mountains ignited in a bugling frenzy. We heard about 9 or 10 different bugles, that is when I heard the “awkward bugle bull”. I was excited that he was still in the area I left him in the night before. My brother and I follow his bugle to try and relocate him to get an opportunity. As we close in, we are met by another bugle in which the bull responds to. I tell my brother, “We need to move light and fast, as they are about to have another fight”. We drop our packs 175 yards away and start moving as quickly as we can to where we believe the bull is. Raking can be heard in the short distance; we stop and can make out the epic rack demolishing trees. I range him at 45 yards away. Moving slowly, I step on a stick the moment he raises his head. I think to myself he is about to bust out of here, just as he was getting ready to take a step the other bull bugles. He goes straight back to raking the trees, I take 3 more steps, range, he is at 40 yards. At 7:45 a.m. on September 19, 2020 I drew my bow back, control my breathing, settle my 40-yard pin right behind the shoulder, pull the trigger on my release, and hear a loud “thud” accompanied with a donkey kick. It felt like a great shot and I knew I had hit him I just did not know where. After the first shot he runs to the top of the mountain, looks down at us and offers a shot at 43 yards. I take it and hit a small branch I did not see, I hit the ground right under him. I can see blood from the first shot and knew this bull would not be able to go far. Seeing the bull looking down on us is an image I will never forget, the most beautiful image you could ever imagine. I look at my 17-year-old brothers face, and we are both in disbelief on what just happened. We hear the bull crash and take his last breaths. We go to the area of the first shot, my brother finds 8 inches of my arrow with the other 19 inches still inside the bull. We find blood. We wait an hour, find our packs and start the search. The bull only made it 85 yards from where I arrowed him. Seeing the “awkward bugle bull” up close and personal for the first time, I was at a loss for words. The only thing I can make come out of my mouth was a loud “WOOOOOOOO”. As I put my hands on him, I say a prayer to the man upstairs on gifting me this magnificent bull, we are gifted with so many memories and most importantly, meat in the freezer to feed my family.
The Pack Out- The pack out was quite a chore, but the most rewarding feat I have ever accomplished. With the help of my Brother Jerick, Father David, Cousins, Nathan and Damarion, good friends Tim and Tom, the pack out was that much lighter. It was worth every minute, so many memories were made with them on the hike in and out. After 5 years of not having an opportunity to hunt elk, this could not have had a better outcome. The best bull I have ever harvested, and the most rewarding. So much countless hours of shooting, bow tuning, arrow tuning, hiking, scouting, being out from sun-up to sun-down. Truly blessed with an incredible hunt, family, friends, and the good outdoors.
About the Author: My name is Joshua Urban I am 24 years old and am from Bernalillo, New Mexico. I am an avid outdoorsman and fisherman and love to spend most of my time in the outdoors. I am a full-time firefighter with the Los Alamos County Fire Department in New Mexico. I recently started my own exterminating company, Bosque Pest Control, LLC. My friend Johnathan Borg and I have also started our own clothing company, Triumph Outdoors Apparel, LLC. Volunteered with the New Mexico Wildlife Federation to take a youth hunter on his very first deer hunt with a tag that was gifted to the federation for a youth or veteran hunter from the New Mexico Game and Fish
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If you ask me one of the best feelings in the world that you can experience is walking around a tree and the first thing you see is the tines of a big ole brown elk or deer shed. That little spurt of adrenaline you get from that is one of the many reasons I shed hunt. That feeling never gets old.
I recently found a good sized brown moose paddle with my good friend Mason. Finding a moose shed s something I have dreamed about and wanted to find for a long time now. When I came around the bend and saw it laying there I about lost my mind! I haven’t been that excited in a long time!
The memories I’ve made shed hunting are some I will never forget. Even though you don’t always find any, it will still be a good time on the mountain with some good buddies or family. If you go solo like I do often, then it’s a time to enjoy some peace and quiet in my favorite place.
Shed hunting is not for everyone. It takes patience, knowledge of the animals and their habits, good physical shape and a strong mentality. Some make it seem easy to find sheds, mostly because we only post pictures of our success. Most of us don’t share the long days and sore feet, hiking upon miles weathering snow and rain only to not turn up thing.
There have been many times I wonder why I do it, exhausted and worn down thinking to myself why am I up here. But then that all changes as you see a shed laying in a little clearing or glass one up on the opposite hillside. That feeling of excitement and accomplishment is what keeps me going back.
Over the years I’ve gotten more into shed hunting, and over the years shed hunting has
gotten more and more popular as an outdoor activity. As the market grows for antlers, more people shed hunt. Its pretty amazing to think about how something no one really cared to pick up let alone go out and actually look for 30 years ago has become the booming business and hobby it is today.
This shed season was a tough one, I ended up finding half of what I did a year ago. It was a rough winter so the Utah DWR closed shed hunting state wide from February to April. Waiting sucked but that wasn’t the worst part. The worst was on opening day going out to spots we normally turn up a few in and seeing nothing but old boot tracks from dishonest people who didn’t wait like the rest of us did. The closer was a good idea but all it did was keep the honest guys honest.
It still ended up being a really fun and memorable shed season. Found some good stuff, had fun and made memories! I hadn’t found a moose shed until this year and I ended up finding 4 and a friend of mine matched one of them up! All were found on public land in Utah where you wouldn’t really expect to find moose which was pretty cool. I also had some really good days finding deer sheds, had my best day finding sheds with my good friend Tanner where we ended up with 27 deer sheds in one afternoon of hiking! Got to make a trip to Nevada with a couple of my other friends Tanner and Dalton and we had a pretty good day with 21 sheds total in a new area we had never been to before, not bad for going in blind and only having a day to look around!
It’s really awesome how many opportunities we have in the outdoors where we get to enjoy doing what we love and with others who enjoy the same interests. I’m very grateful for those opportunities and having so many people around me who enjoy hunting, fishing, shed hunting and being outdoors as much as I do. I am very lucky to have been raised by a family that loves the outdoors, hunting and fishing.
My dad and grandpa introduced me to hunting before I could walk, now I get to spend time with them doing what we love. Some of the best memories I have are shed hunting with my dad, I enjoy having him there and spending time with him. I can’t wait to share all this with my kids, teaching them to hunt and fish is something I really look forward to in life.
-Bryson Mackey
My passion from day one has been hunting!! Shed hunting, fishing and being outdoors are all close behind! 20 years old
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It’s not very often that I say publicly that I am EXTREMELY proud of myself. But May 3, 2017 I had my very first successful solo hunt. This was the very first turkey I’ve ever shot. And if you understood how many hours I put into finding and harvesting this bird, you’d understand.
I’d been out probably 10 times prior to this hunt in the season, give or take. I’d had close encounters almost every time. But turkeys are smart, fast, agile, and quiet (when they’re not gobbling). These were public land hunts, and trust me, these turkeys were not tame. The night before my harvest, I found the roosting tree in a new hunting spot that I wasn’t familiar with prior in the season.
This morning I came back before daylight and set up a decoy. Big Boy Tom was in the tree with his back to me and I watched him until he flew out of the tree. He went to the next hillside over. I packed up my decoy and followed him. By this time it was light out. I watched him strut and flip his fan up and down. I listened to him gobble like crazy.
He was all by himself. I couldn’t set up a decoy, but I blew my call a few times and he responded. Slowly he made his way further and further from me until I couldn’t see or hear him anymore. Then I decided to try and follow him. I saw his fan in the distance, but as I got closer, I lost him again. I decided to just quietly glass the area and maybe walk until I found the flock.
At this point, I could hear some hens yelping off and on. At the point where I about gave up for the morning, I walked around a corner and saw a head. I quickly backed up and squatted down. I watched several turkeys walked over the hillside, and this big boy was last in line. I ran back down the trail and over the hillside and watched the hens climb up the other ridge, and then I saw Mr. Tom. I don’t even remember flipping my safety off as I made a 20 yard shot and kill. BIG BIRD DOWN.
At this point, I think I said a few choice words, purely out of excitement. Then the tears came… I DID IT. I did ALL of it. Don’t get me wrong, I love hunting with my boyfriend, dad, and friends. But this time, I planned this hunt. I beat this beautiful animal at his own game.
I’ve hunted my whole life and shot plenty of animals. But for some reason, when I harvested this turkey, I felt a sense of remorse I’d never experienced before. I felt bad for taking the life of such a beautiful animal. He had no idea I was out in his home hunting him that morning. He had no idea he was breathing his last breaths on May 3, 2017. After I shot this Tom, I remember sitting on my knees holding my chest, breathing hard while a few tears ran down my cheek. I’m sure it was a mixture of adrenaline and remorse, but I remember being so thankful that I was not that bird. I remember thanking God for the experience and the way he weighed this feeling on my heart, because I sometimes forget how lucky I am to live in a country where I am safe and I am protected. The last time I encountered this feeling was a little over a year ago on my mission trip to El Salvador when I listened to story after story about the danger and fear several women and families encountered every single day of their lives. And it made me so grateful to never have experienced that in my life. It’s little moments like this that make hunting such an important part of my life. Little moments like these that remind me about the important things in life – being grateful, thankful, and blessed. Thank God I’m an American. Thank God for the great outdoors.
Blessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where other people see nothing ??????
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The 2017 Fallow Deer season was different for me. Hunting on a new and unfamiliar property was a daunting prospect but this year I accepted the challenge. I put countless hours underfoot, many weekends were spent searching endlessly only to find one or two does on the odd occasion. I soon realized that this area has a very low deer population, almost non-existent in fact! I knew I had my work cut out to find a male deer, let alone a trophy class buck! Frequently left frustrated and disappointed, I often found it hard to push on. However, I continually motivated myself to persevere even with a lack of animals seen.
After four weekends of letdowns and not a single buck seen, I set out for one final mid-afternoon hunt in a promising looking area. Hunting along the top of a major feeder gully overgrown by wattles and dense eucalyptus canopy, it was dominated with steep rocky cliff faces either side. I was excited. After tirelessly glassing to no avail, I finally spotted this mature chocolate buck marking his territory on the valley floor some few hundred meters opposite me. One well placed shot at 312m stopped him in his tracks, the 87gn Berger VLD hand loads working flawlessly.
Now slinging a 70kg carcass over your shoulders is no easy task for anyone, let alone myself. Combine that with near vertical, 2km trek back to the vehicle made for one hell of a challenge. After everything was done, I was back at the car too sore to walk another mile.
Solo hunting is not for the faint-hearted, especially in this sort of impenetrable terrain. It’s physically demanding and pushes mental strength to new levels. It’s overcoming challenges such as this that make it all the more rewarding. The effort to harvest, butcher and carry out an animal is often unseen but it makes the 100% free range organic red meat taste just so much greater.
Hunting steep gully systems was a challenge, yet I wouldn’t change it for a thing, it’s all part of it. I don’t hunt because it’s easy, I hunt to feed the growing passion that runs from deep within.
W I L L I A M Avid hunter on an endless fishing mission @liquidgoldlures @thefishermansshed @predatorbluewaterlureco www.liquidgoldlures.com.au
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16 miles with a pack like this will wear you out! It’s always fun exploring new country. Packing in alone can be a little eerie especially in grizzly country. I only had one encounter. I couldn’t get the big buck to come out of the trees but his little sidekick posed for a few pictures. Hopefully I’ll find him again in two weeks with a rifle this time!
The last few days have been the toughest hunt I’ve ever been on! After being rained on every day, 3 inches of snow last night, and getting bucked off my horse twice. It’s been quite the rodeo. We packed up our muddy camp and are trying a new area. Hoping one last hurrah in the morning will pay off for us!!
Talk about the highs and lows of hunting! After getting skunked last week I decided to go back up one last time. No one could come so I went by myself.
After rain and hail the whole trip I got sick of it I packed up camp and took one last look at the hillside. I happened to spot this buck and was able to sneak to 308 yards.
It sucks hunting alone but packing a full deer and camp 7 miles out is even worse! So glad this trip paid off. He is 28.5″ wide and scores 171″
Since I was a little kid I have dreamed of taking this picture. I have always wanted to take a solo backcountry buck after reading about people like Cameron Hanes and others in magazines. Although I think it is a lot more fun to have someone with me, there is still something about the challenge of being alone that is enticing. I’m glad that I was finally able to make it happen!
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It’s 3am as I drive into the empty parking lot. I grab my pack, decoy and gun. I lock my doors and put my keys in my pack. I turn my headlamp on, take a deep breath and start walking. I have a four mile hike to the roost. The first half mile is easy, it’s a little uphill but on a dirt road. Its’ cold out, I can see my breath. I reach a small stream, cross it and carry on. I walk across a field and catch a glimpse of wild horses with my headlamp. I make it to a creek crossing, find a fallen log and cross. Midway through the maze of buck brush I stop. I get that feeling that I’m not alone and have to re-gather myself. I take a deep breath and carry on. I reach a second creek crossing. I’m halfway there now. I carry on using the creek as my path. I check my watch, its 4am. There are signs of the daylight but it’s not yet light enough to ditch my headlamp. I carry on. I get to my final creek crossing, STOP! A gobble? They’ve never been this far down the creek to roost! Check my watch, 4:30. Change of plan, I’ll set up here…….
I set up my decoy and sit down under a big oak tree. I’m worried that I accidently got in too close to these turkeys. I’m right. They pitch out behind me and slowly move away. I’m angry with myself for walking in so carelessly. As I start to make a plan to get in front of these turkeys, I hear another gobble from up the creek. I let out a yelp and he instantly responds. He closes the distance in a matter of minutes. I yelp again. Before I know it he is at 15 yards. I shoot. As the tom flops on the ground, an instant burst of excitement and satisfaction rushes over me. Public land and solo, you can’t beat that. I pack up my things and start the long hike back. It’s 8am as I walk in to the empty parking lot.
Often times, either on TV or in person, I hear people talk about the comradery and friendships that can be created while hunting in a party or with a hunting partner. While I would never disagree with that, I can honestly say that my latest hunting adventures haven’t ended in a bond or companionship with another hunter. The reason for this is because I’ve become what some would call a “solo hunter”.
I’m not antisocial and, no, I’m not the Scrooge of the hunting woods. I am, however, a man who enjoys the solitude and time for reflection that a mountain top, miles from any road, can offer. Hunting allows me time to find myself, to ponder life and to clear my head. Hunting tests my toughness, my resiliency and my ability to make good decisions. Hunting offers me opportunities to succeed and it helps me learn to cope with failure. But most importantly, while I’m hunting, I don’t have to answer to anyone! I relish the idea that the end result of the hunt will always lie squarely on my shoulders. If I want to sit on a hilltop for six hours or walk until my quads cramp, I can do so with only one person to credit or to blame. Myself.
But this story isn’t as much about WHY I’m a solo hunter but rather about HOW I became a solo hunter. I, along with all other modern day hunters, didn’t just naturally emerge as a solo hunter. Nobody just magically loads a weapon and harvests an animal without some type of guidance from another hunter. My becoming of a solo hunter happened over a span of 26 years of hunting and four major transitions of my expertise.
As I just said, all hunters are a product of some type of mentor. For me, that person was my dad. I began going on hunts with my dad when I was just 5 years old. I can still remember my first hunt as a spectator, laying under a burlap sack against a barbwire fence on an afternoon goose hunt. A perfect way to introduce a kid to the sport of hunting. 5 years later, when I had my first opportunity to actually participate in a hunt, my dad made sure that I understood that hunting takes hard work, patience and persistence. All skills that I’m still struggling to perfect in my mid-thirties. My point is, the lessons and opportunities that my dad gave me as a kid are the reasons why I can walk away from my truck at 3 am in the pitch black, alone, with only a pack and a gun and feel completely safe and in control of the hunt.
My dad and I would continue to be each other’s hunting partners for the next twenty four years. Although at some point, around 16 years old, I became way more passionate and obsessed over hunting than he was. We still hunted most weekends together but I was more committed and willing to spend much more time in the duck blind than he was. This would mark my first transition to becoming a solo hunter.
I can remember the first few hunts I did on my own. At that time they were no big deal. Mainly because I was hunting a wildlife area that I was very familiar with and a species that was all I had ever hunted. I remember bringing home 5 drake mallards from one of my first solo hunts and my dad’s reaction was somewhere between being very proud and being shocked that I did it on my own. From then on we worked together as equals on our hunting adventures. The decisions of our hunting locations, how to set up our decoys and how much we should or shouldn’t call had become a collaboration.
That collaborative partnership lasted for about 7 years, at which point I went through a second transition. For lack of a better way to describe it, I guess you can say that I took over as the alpha in our hunting partnership. It was a natural transition and my dad was content in letting it happen. I would scout, decide our locations and determine our decoy spreads. I had my own gear, my own dog, my own lease and I was fully committed to a lifestyle of hunting. Although I may have seemed obsessed at times, he continued to humor me and join me on all of my adventures. I’m happy to say that this phase provided me with some of my best hunting experiences and memories I will hold on to forever.
The third transition happened almost simultaneous to the second. At this point in my life I had developed a desire to hunt other species. My dad and I had hunted primarily waterfowl with some upland birds sprinkled in. Now I had become interested in hunting turkeys and big game but didn’t know where to start. It was at this time I was fortunate enough to meet one of my best friends to date, Joe Croteau. Joe is a diehard turkey hunter and a fantastic deer hunter. He has been a great influence in my hunting lifestyle and has taught me so much about the sport of hunting and the conservation behind it. Joe took me on my first turkey hunt and introduced me to big game hunting. Not long after that I met my good buddy Jim McDonald. Jim is the owner and outfitter of Rawhide West Outfitters, a pig hunting guide service based in Northern California. I worked for Jim at Rawhide West for a little over a year. Jim was also with me when I harvested my first pig and deer. The mentorship that these two guys provided me over the past 7 years has helped me expand my hunting knowledge and expertise significantly. I credit Joe and Jim for helping me grow from a one dimensional hunter to an all-around hunter.
The fourth and final transition took place just under two years ago when I moved from my hometown in Northern California to Southeast Washington. Desperate to not skip a beat in my hunting adventures, I have spent the last 18 months studying Washington public land for waterfowl, turkeys, deer, bear and elk. I have spent more time in the woods by myself in the last two years than I have in the previous 24 combined. So far I have had minimal success but my knowledge gained has kept it from feeling like failure. Aside from learning about the surrounding area and the animals that inhabit it, being a solo hunter, has taught me to slow down and enjoy the entire process. I now understand that the preparation, the hunt, the harvest and the meal are all linked as one. I have a greater respect for the animals that I pursue. I respect the life they live and bounty that they provide.
Although there are times when I still feel like a toddler learning to walk, I know that this transition has been the most important for me. I have become my own mentor, my own guide and my number one resource. I have embarked on a hunting journey unlike anything I have ever experienced. I am confident that I will emerge from this journey a new hunter, a better hunter, a solo hunter.
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It all starts off as a crazy idea but after you get to thinking about it seriously it’s not so crazy after all. After a stellar moose hunting season in 2015 it seemed that everybody had a bull besides me. I helped a few friends and my wife harvest their moose, but I had not yet punched my tag and there was still a little room in the freezer.
Combing through registration hunts and different opportunities on the Alaska Department of Fish and game website I found a registration permit for an any bull area.
Before you know it I was headed to Western Alaska on yet another big game adventure. This hunt required a drop off from an experienced pilot, short
landings and short take offs with heavy loads. Not to mention a pilot bold enough to fly in the dead of winter with variable weather conditions. I picked out an area according to ADF&G biologists that held a sustainable population of wintering moose and found myself deep in the Alaskan wilderness.
After we touched down I set up camp and began to survey the area for signs of life. I spotted a few moose off in the distance about a mile away and came up with a game plan for the following morning. On the flight from Anchorage to a smaller town, the commercial airlines managed to lose my bag and I was stuck hunting in street clothes. Good thing they didn’t lose my rifle or my binoculars and that I decided to wear all of my warm clothes anyhow. The super cub pilot left me with his survival tent and personal sleeping bag, that was very nice of him considering he only had one bag and if he had an unplanned landing he would spend the night cuddling a fire.
The next morning I woke up to total darkness and proceeded to climb the nearest vantage point and locate the moose I found the night before. First light revealed several moose milling around the willow flat in front of me. I picked out the two bulls immediately and started to watch their behavior. One moose was extremely poor looking but had a much bigger frame. The other bull was pacing the cows near him and seemed to have an incredible amount of energy post rut.
You could tell immediately the older of the two bulls. One bull a war torn ancient warrior, the other was the new alpha of the area who had earned breeding rights after many battles. Winter or wolves would claim the older of the two. I made the decision that whichever moose presented the best shot opportunity I’d take. Nearing rifle distance on the stalk the younger bull spotted my movement and caught a swirl of my wind sending him trotting up the river bank that mirrored the willow flats. I laid prone and steadied the rifle on my KUIU pack, the older moose just stood there while the other bull boogied. I ranged my target at 400 yards and squeezed the trigger, the brute didn’t even flinch. He tipped over and fell almost immediately, it seemed he just wanted to lay back down permanently.
Walking up to the elderly animal I knew hunter’s fate had worked it’s magic, the bulls hip and shoulder bones protruded from his lose skin. His antler was broken at the first brow tine, upon closer inspection his skull was crushed with his pedical growing around his eye socket, this forced his eye out of his skull and exposed to the elements. I suspect he sustained this injury during the summer growing months, leaving the entire left side of his skull weak and susceptible to a broken paddle. This half antlered – half blind moose experienced his last winter. I thanked him for giving himself to me and feeding my family, respect first and last for the game. The half mile pack out to the “new” strip wasn’t that bad, the pilot decided he could land closer to the moose than the original strip where I got dropped at. After eight loads of meat and bone, the super cub pilot plucked me and the moose skull and we were back to civilization in no time. #solohntr #solostories #missionalaska #whatsyourmission
Mission Alaska Living the Alaskan lifestyle one adventure at a time. AK DIY hunting, fishing, and exploring. Be sure to follow along on Facebook & YouTube
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Second Chance Antelope! – Chasing antelope in foot-access-only country must be one of the most enjoyable hunts you can do, unfortunately in Alberta, tags are hard to draw. I finally collected a sufficient number of priority points to make a hunt reality.
In the morning I had spotted this small herd a few times until they disappeared on the other side of a very wide creek valley. Somehow I managed to forget both my binoculars and lunch in camp, so after a quick run back and forth I headed back in. About 2 miles from the road I glassed a group of antelope, possibly the same little band, about another 2 miles further West. I hiked closer, but got disoriented, until with a modicum of skill and a whole lot of luck I found them again. I had to circle around to stay out of the wind, but after a little while I found myself ditching the pack and putting a round in.
Just as I was ready to peek over the ridge I saw them below me, 400 yards away, going towards the creek valley; and I thought I was being so sneaky. I figured the gig was up, but the lead buck took his party down into the valley at an angle. That was my second chance! By the time I got to the edge the biggest buck was at the far end of my comfort zone and moving, but another buck lingered just a little too long. After the initial excitement had worn down a bit, I checked to find that I was over 4 miles from the truck, daylight was fading fast, and rain clouds rolled in to cover whatever moonlight there might have been.
With no features on the landscape and no moon I was very happy that I managed to take a GPS reading at the truck. After finishing butchering and loading the pack, the next two hours were spent with my headlamp pointed at the GPS screen, watching the yards count down. I was thankful for the second-chance buck, but almost just as happy to cross that last fence line and drop that pack on the tailgate. #solostories #solohntr #antelope #hunting #alberta
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]]>I am a Hunter. I hunt not to kill, but to harvest clean organic meat that will fill my freezer. I hunt because it is in my primal DNA. I hunt for the experience, and to connect with gods beautiful country, and amazing wild creatures. But there was a time in my life when I was not a hunter. I grew up in northern Utah and hunting was a long family tradition. I have many fond memories of deer camp as a young boy and couldn’t wait to become a teenager and be a become a hunter myself. When I turned 14 than long awaited day became a reality and my parents gave my a hand-me-down 243. Id didn’t matter that it was old and used, what mattered is that it was mine and it shot true. I hunted as a teenager for 4 years anI harvested a doe and my first buck, and a cow elk. My senior year in high school would be my last year hunting as I would leave for church mission. After returning life priorities took over. I went to college, I met and married a California girl, and would end up moving to California and raising a family and start a career as a fireman after being hating a couple other jobs.
For 18 years I did not hunt and could not even identify myself as a hunter. I was no longer a hunter (or at least so I thought). However something deep inside stirred and didn’t know what it was and could not figure it out. Then one day in January 2015 a college at work was talking about a cow elk hunt in UT he was going on in a week. I asked where they were going and it happened to be an area that I was familiar with, about an hour away from where I grew up. I told him I grew up not far from there and that I even hunted there a long time ago. Inside my gut I wanted to go on the hunt with them but then my brain said “no your your a hunter anymore, you don’t even have a gun”, and I felt a sting as I conceded to that thought. Then unexpectedly he said “Hey do you want to go with us?” I was in shock and did’t know what to think or say. “What do you mean, the hunt is next week” I said. My mind was all the sudden racing, at the thought that i could really be going hunting. He said well we had a guy back out so we have a spot open, “you should go with us” he said. With hunt being a week away I thought there is no way I would be able to go. I didn’t have a license, I didn’t have a gun or any hunting gear, and what would my wife think when I tell her I want to go hunting, she’ll think I’m crazy, not to mention I was scheduled to work and would have to get my shift covered. And then like magic everything just fell into place.
We called the Utah division of wildlife and they were able to look up my hunter ID from 18 years ago, and I was able to buy my license, the outfitter said he could get a land owner tag for me, my buddy let me borrow his old 30-06, the hunt was in January so my ski gear would be fine, and wife to my amazement (probably sensing my excitement) was very supportive and wanted me to go, and I was able to get my work shift covered. With the encouragement of my wife and friend I made it happen and went on my first big game hunt in 18 years. For by buddy and the other 3 hunters in our group the hunt was anything but successful. We had equipment failures, the weather didn’t cooperate, and the elk didn’t cooperate and none of us harvested a cow elk. Crazy huh! But for me the hunt was amazing, because it was not about the kill or the money lost on an unpunched tag. It was about the experience. I experienced a a feeling of excitement and connection to the outdoors and that I had not felt in a very long time. Something inside me came alive on that hunt and it was the realization that “I am a hunter”. I guess it was that stir in my gut that i could not figure out.
Yesterday being “muleymonday” and essentially the two year anniversary of that cow elk hunt, I posted my first hunting photo on instagram. It was a pic of my 2016 mule deer buck from Idaho. He’s a mature 3×4 and to most hunters he’s nothing spectacular or even that great of a buck but to me his meaning is significant. He is a special buck because not only is he the biggest buck i’ve ever harvested but the 1st harvested animal since I became a hunter again. He represents a the hard work and dedication it takes to be a successful hunter. I am a hunter and I hunt to live.
Husband, Father of 2????♀️. Firefighter ??. Love God??, Family????, Country??and the great Outdoors ??⛷?????Life is Good???
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My 2013 buck. 34 wide with a main frame just a hair under 30 and character for days between the trash, blading and mass. My dad was stuck at work and buddy Mike was out of town, so I was flying solo. The afternoon before the opener, I spotted the big buck hanging with a couple young bucks. Hoping they would stay put, I watched them til dark before heading back to camp. Laying in my tent, I couldn’t sleep from the anticipation and the near daylight brightness from the full moon. So at 2:30 in the morning, I quit fighting it and left camp hiking in the moonlight. Once I was to where I needed to be, I couldn’t believe how bright it was and I was able to locate the bucks. I got all setup and watched the bucks for a few hours under the moon waiting for first light and once the time came I put 2 good shots in the buck at 670 and 700 yards dropping him in his tracks.
J Ray >>-Just an average Joe hitting it hard to hunt the above average–>MONARCHS Addicted to monster muleys over 20 years with no plans of quitting!
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When I was young, my dad was a carpenter by trade. Being a carpenter is a tough way to make a living, especially during the winter in Utah. Each year as the temperatures dropped and snow started falling, my dad’s work would slow down and he’d get laid off for a few months, usually to be rehired as spring approached and the weather warmed up again. The slow months made for a difficult time financially. One of the ways my dad would make up for the loss of income during the winter was to go hunting and stock up on meat in the fall. Hunting became a necessity in our lives. I remember a few times when we weren’t fortunate enough to harvest an animal. The look in my dad’s eyes said it all. He was worried—unsure how to feed his family of eight without the extra food hunting provided.
These experiences had a lasting effect on me and have given me a strong respect and appreciation for hunting and what it means. Many people probably wouldn’t consider me much of a hunter, but I do love to hunt. I was raised hunting with my dad—his little sidekick until I was old enough to carry a gun, then his hunting buddy up until I started playing football in high school. Since then, school, a church mission, marriage, kids, and trying to make a living has cut into my hunting time. Recently however, with the direction and stability my career has provided, I’ve been fortunate enough to find more time to spend on the mountain where I feel like I belong.
Hunting has also taught me to love the amazing and majestic animals we pursue. I’ve always had a talent for art and I really enjoy drawing. When I was young, one of my dreams was to grow up and become a wildlife artist. I guess you could say that dream came true, though not exactly in the way I expected.
My first job as an artist was working for a clothing company. Because this company had stores in Alaska, I was often tasked with drawing wildlife to incorporate in tee shirt designs. After learning as much as I could there, I decided to go solo as a freelance designer. Going out on my own was a scary thing, but I did it successfully for almost a decade. During that time, a majority of my clients were in the hunting industry. I continued drawing wildlife for apparel while also learning other skills of my trade.
After nearly a decade of freelancing, I realized that I’d reached the limits of what I could do on my own. I wanted to continue to learn and expand my knowledge and experience, so I started looking for the opportunity to do so. It was then that I met the Harbertson brothers and we decided to start a marketing firm called Zulu Six. This led to the amazing experience of being one of the co-founders of Mtn Ops. After three years helping Mtn Ops get off the ground, I decided to step away and pursue other opportunities, leading me to join the SOLO HNTR team.
For the most part my days are spent sitting at a desk in front of a computer coaxing creative ideas from my mind into actual existence. I produce graphics for branding, promotional and marketing collateral, strategies for branding campaigns and revenue generation, and any other creative assets my clients may require. I love every minute of it. However, at times it can become stressful and even cause me to burn out or hit a creative block. Thankfully, I’ve recently found a solution that helps me through these phases.
On many of the hunting trips my dad and I went on when I was young, there was often a third person in our party—my Grandpa Ron. Ronald N Parry was like a second father to me. I count myself very lucky to have had such an amazing man as an additional father figure in my life. My grandpa had many creative and artistic talents of his own. After a long day on the mountain hunting, when we finally made it back to camp we would often find Grandpa Ron sitting by the fire with his pocket knife out, whittling some figure out of wood. I loved watching my grandpa carve and many times he was forced to do so in order to meet one of my requests. Guns, knives, dogs, swords or anything else I asked for, Grandpa Ron was always willing. In the past his talent has inspired me to pick up a pocket knife and dabble in a little whittling of my own. It’s something I’ve always enjoyed and often thought that I’d like to do more. Then a few years ago my Grandpa Ron lost a battle with cancer and died. Losing him has increased my desire to carry on his legacy of carving. Carving has become a way for me to honor him while coping with the stress that comes with my day job.
Inspired by my Grandpa Ron and many other talented artists, I’ve committed more time to the hands on creativity of carving and it has become my creative therapy. After seeing my work and learning how many hours go into each piece, many people ask me what goes through my mind while carving, or what do I think about. Wonderfully, the answer is nothing. My mind goes blank. I enter this peaceful zone where the worries and stresses of the everyday battle to provide and survive cannot penetrate. It’s in this zone that creative blocks are obliterated and my mind is cleared and refreshed. It allows me to return to my daily obligations with a fresh perspective and open mind, ready to attack the next creative challenge.
I feel lucky to be able to make a living working in an industry that I love and I’m grateful for those I’ve met along the way who have helped me at each step. I look forward to continually carving a creative path to success, developing my skills and sharing my talent with those around me.
Many of you I have known for years, if not my whole life. Others I have recently met through travels and associations in Alaska. I came to Alaska not having any real idea of what to expect or the opportunity to come.
This hunt I wanted a challenge like I’d never taken on before, a new experience that challenged every aspect of being a human predator and self reliance.
Carrying a backpack full of hard earned meat through the thick and brushy heart of bear country will give you a new respect and perspective of the daily fight for life and survival these animals spend their lives living. The summers are short and the winters are merciless in the arctic mountains. How these animals often thrive in such country seems to almost defy nature; It’s nothing but a true testament of their will to survive, and adaptability to the environment. If we take the time to observe, absorb and reflect, Mother Nature will always continue to be our greatest teacher.
I have been guided myself with the help of many of you and continuing support in all forms. I don’t know how to ever repay anyone other than continue to challenge myself, make mistakes and grow from these experiences along the way.
This particular “hunt” is far more about the people in my life that have made me who I am, given me confidence, trust, love and opportunity. It’s also about the Dall Sheep. I have yet to lay eyes on a more beautiful and stoic animal, who calls home to the most stunningly ominous country in North America.
When you leave the truck and head off into all of the possible variables that may be encountered during a sheep hunt, Its about as real as life it gets.
I left my truck roughly 10 PM on a thursday night and returned the following monday morning, soaked to the bone, with bloody feet and 70+/- lbs of perfectly cared for sheep meet.
The first night I camped a few miles in and the following day was a big push up and back down into a valley of timber to reach a massive climb to get on top of a ridge line that was the approach to the pocket of mountains I was targeting. Throughout the days travels I spotted several groups of lambs and ewes in the mountains to the south, a grizzly I had to push up and out of a valley I needed to get through and came across two massive moose sheds. This was some of the finest moose country I’ve seen yet. The amount of big wildlife in the surrounding area was astounding.
With exhausted legs, I reached a point about 16 miles in that would suffice for a spike camp that night, quite relieved to be above tree line and glassing the mountains Id be in the next day looking for a full curl.
That night I spotted 15 sheep or so with several sub legal rams. One, from a couple miles away looked to have promise of a legal ram but hard to tell from that distance. My plan at that point was to get up early, glass the hills again and head to the back side if there wasn’t a full curl on my side in the AM. Thats exactly what happened.
This is what it looked like glassing the “front side” from camp.
I left camp early that morning heading to the backside looking for the possible full curl I thought I had seen sky lined the previous night. Within hours I had that all to familiar thought and slightly terrifying feeling Ive heard many other sheep hunters refer to… “what in the fuck am I doing up here.” Scaling across the backside of the mountain at 5300’ elev with extreme exposure is not a good position to be in and I knew I’d have to go back a different route but this was the only way to wrap around and check every nook and cranny for rams. Towards the middle of the day I spotted a group of three rams bedded 2/3 of the way down in a valley.
My approach and final stalk took close to 2 hours to position for a 230 yard shot on the bedded ram deep in the valley.
The ram never got up from his bed and was dead before the sound of the shot had stopped reverberating off the mountain walls.
Its impossible not to succumb to the the rush of emotion in these short lived moments. There is no urgency during this period. Its deathly silent and time seems to stop. Nothing else matters. A life has literally ceased and its a time for gratitude and raw emotion. I have never felt more alive as an active participant in the natural world.
I have taken the lives of many wild animals, all of which I remember with vivid clarity and reverence.
Absolutely nothing has had an impact on me like that of watching the life expire in a Dall Sheep.
It would be a dishonor to the essence of the animal not to put my own existence on the line in the pursuit of.
The mountains in the background of the picture above are what I packed him up and out of to get back to the “front side.” Crossing two more deep drainages along the way, I found myself back at camp about midnight, to find where a grizzly had dug up the hillside just several hundred yards below my tent while I was gone.
Looking North from camp after returning with the ram that night.
Below are two google images of my route. I killed the ram 19 miles from the road. My route back was slightly different to try and avoid some of the elevation gains and losses. If Ive learned one thing hunting in Alaska, especially sheep, its that nothing comes free. To avoid the ups and downs means brush country… There is no easy route, pick your poison. It proceeded to start raining over night and continue through the next two days. I was off the face of the mountain at that point and heading for the truck fightin through the timbered valleys and miles of unrelenting head high willows.
The ruthless simplicity of a backcountry hunt with nothing but your pack is its own beast. Every ounce matters. Every detail matters. Experience matters, much of which I’ve gained from those who have already experienced such hardships in both sheep hunting and in life. This hunt was a mental and spiritual exercise which I never would have been able to take part of without those who have guided me in all avenues and helped me grow from the mistakes Ive made along the way.
As I stared at my loaded pack weighing between 125 and 130 lbs, ready to leave my ridge top and drop down thousands of feet into a wet misery, several things were on my mind. I carried a magnificent life that once was; Now trimmed out and packed into game bags. My pack still carried life. It was literally covered with blood, sweat and tears. It carried a moment of time forever burned into the essence of my human makeup. For thousands of years, people before me have had this same moment. Lets make god damn sure, for generations to come we have this same opportunity to be so human.
I don’t have to do this to survive. I need to do this, to keep my soul alive. To keep my body strong and my mind true. To push the limits of what I thought I was capable of. To be a part of, not just the top of the food chain.
What really matters right now is what’s inside of my pack. I have a job to do and that’s get it back to the truck. There is no easy way… Funny how life seems to work the same – I’ve learned this myself, through hunting.
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It was mid-September in Eastern Oregon. Prime elk hunting time at my favorite backcountry hole, where spike camp pitches 7 miles from the closest trailhead. The previous week in Idaho just about wore the tread off my boots, and adding another day’s climb up the mountain with a loaded pack left me spent. Coupling that with a sunny break in the otherwise damp weather, it made for the perfect, and welcome, opportunity to set up on an active wallow for the afternoon.
Two miles beyond camp, on a route toward a familiar haunt where I had bugled in a 5×5 the past fall, I passed through some well-traveled rutting area torn up with rubs and elk sign. Anticipation hung in the air as I settled in for the heat of day, periodically working a cow call sequence while standing guard over the raked pit of mud. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen, yet despite my best efforts, time rolled past with no action. The sun had just begun to dip below the western peak when I opted to pack it in and glass the feeding areas along my return to camp.
I replay these next few moments of my story often. What if I stayed just awhile longer? What if I set off in a different direction? What if I had not turned around to check my six? It is impossible to say for sure.
What I do know is I shouldered up my pack, stepped out of cover, and made a dozen or so steps toward the nearest meadow before glancing back over my right shoulder. Something out of place caught my attention, and the instinctual double take confirmed it. A mountain lion crouched low, and creeping in my direction.
The beast froze in response as I turned to face it. Muscle memory taking over I ranged at 24 yards, nocked and arrow, and drew all without breaking a stare on the largest set of eyes to ever size me up. The cat was slightly three-quartered my way, but halting in mid stride with the left paw forward offered a clear window to vitals.
Settle the pin, exhale, and let carbon fly.
The ensuing reaction was mass of coiled muscle and bone, exploding in reflex to the arrow with extraordinary speed and power. A backflip, three belly rolls, and a few final twists before all was still. Just paces from my feet lay the ultimate predator. In total, the encounter just seconds from sight to silence. Gravity of the situation settles in. Nine miles from civilization, solo, and face-to-face with one of few creatures on the mountain that deals in death. Several thoughts roll through my mind, yet easily summarized in one sentence said aloud. “I just shot a &%$#ing mountain lion!”
Daylight fading, I opted for a few photos and quick field dress in order to make camp before dark. After a little backcountry engineering the lion was awkwardly secured to my pack. I started off down the mountain with 100 plus pounds in tow, head and paws draped over my own shoulders to balance the load.
This was my first mountain lion, and the following morning was spent meticulously skinning and boning meat. I took great care to preserve the cape and every edible scrap from my harvest. A few hours later and I was back at the truck with all on ice. After a quick carb binge and change of socks, I turned and headed straight back up the mountain. It was bow season, and I still had tags to fill.
Dining on mountain lion, or any predator for that matter, is received with a mixed reaction even among the hunting crowd. I can now speak from experience, and review it as some of the best wild game I have ever sampled. Similar to pork in taste and texture, lion has graced my table as grilled backstrap, stew, smoked meatloaf, and even a bone-in salt cured ham for Christmas. I would challenge even those with the most refined palate to give it a try and tell me I’m wrong.
In the interest of time, I also left out one amazing piece from my elk hunt turned mountain lion encounter. My return trip to camp that evening following the kill was not without its own story and lesson. Considering my cargo, I opted for the most direct and easiest route back to the tent which took would take me across a high alpine meadow. I reasoned my luck was done for the day, and since the weight of my pack made it all but impossible to move quietly I put my head down and marched on. I did not even slow down when approaching the meadow as I crashed through the underbrush near the edge emerging into open space. I’m not sure who was more surprised, me or the 6×6 bull standing broadside less than 40 yards away. I made a feeble attempt at slowly knocking an arrow, but staring at a mix of mountain lion and man surely conjured up visions of his worst nightmare. Without a second thought the bull swapped ends and tore off through the timber. Had I been wiser, my chances at notching another tag that evening were almost certain. It just goes to show, NEVER STOP HUNTING!
In the interest of time, I also left out one amazing piece from my elk hunt turned mountain lion encounter. My return trip to camp that evening following the kill was not without its own story and lesson. Considering my cargo, I opted for the most direct and easiest route back to the tent which took would take me across a high alpine meadow. I reasoned my luck was done for the day, and since the weight of my pack made it all but impossible to move quietly I put my head down and marched on. I did not even slow down when approaching the meadow as I crashed through the underbrush near the edge emerging into open space. I’m not sure who was more surprised, me or the 6×6 bull standing broadside less than 40 yards away. I made a feeble attempt at slowly knocking an arrow, but staring at a mix of mountain lion and man surely conjured up visions of his worst nightmare. Without a second thought the bull swapped ends and tore off through the timber. Had I been wiser, my chances at notching another tag that evening were almost certain. It just goes to show, NEVER STOP HUNTING!
Persistence is the key to success no matter what you are trying to accomplish. Tracking down an elk in frigid temperatures has got to be tough. Not to mention shedding your gloves to do the chore of field processing.
To be able to come away from an event like that wearing a loaded pack on your back and a smile on your face is something to be proud of. I love how @sn.outdoors didn’t focus on how tough the day was or how brutal the cold felt. You just here a story of action, success and getting the job done.
Great job CJ. We will be sending you the SOLO HNTR hat and T-Shirt of your choice for having your #SoloStories selected and posted. Thank you for the continued support of the SOLO HNTR way. -TIM
Cj Steffen
“The man on to of the mountain didn’t fall there.” ~Vince Lombardi
m.youtube.com/channel/UCPugZalytG9OBmNT-H9V_GA
Wednesday I realized there was still an any weapon elk season open in Idaho. So I decided to give it a try on Saturday. I’m very glad to have had the opportunity to get some more meat for the freezer.
I spotted this young bull early in the morning and followed his track for 4 1/2 miles before he came to a fence that was too much for his tired legs. He made me use every bit of my tracking knowledge to decipher his intentions. I got in front of him once, but he held up and let me get past him before continuing. He crossed my tracks twice.
After he saw me the second time he decided to head for the mountains and ran for at least 3 miles without stopping. When he came to the road he tried 3 or 4 times to jump the fence, but was too tired. He made it difficult to figure out where he went by backtracking, waking back and forth over a 400yd section of the fence, and leaving the fence in a few areas but coming back.
I worked his track by the fence for about an hour before I figured out which way he left. I knew he couldn’t be far.
I took up his track and 600yds later spotted a set of ears in the sage brush. He spotted me and was planning his escape while I ranged him at just under 300 and readied my rifle. He was laying broadside and facing away when I settled the crosshair and squeezed the trigger. He stood up and ran about 50yds before I put another round into him. I could tell he was fatally hit, but I moved closer and find him off with a head shot.
When I walked up on the animal I was surprised to find out it was a male. He had one eye and a broken skull that put his unicorn spike flat on his face.
Also, it’s tough getting solo pics when it’s -15 and you only brought the cell phone.
Not a bad way to start my time here in Idaho.
I am always amazed by hunters from all across the world. We are all so different and yet so similar at the same time. Though we may speak different languages and have a variety of cultural and religious upbringings, those of us that are hunters seem to always speak to commonality.
For those of us who choose the SOLO HNTR way of self sufficiency and independent providing, the bond of brotherhood goes even deeper than some may have the ability or desire to comprehend. Nothing feels quite like being a man on your own. Or women I guess, but I wouldn’t know. hee hee
Such a great post and photo by @fair_chase_adventures. Congratulations on your success and adventure.
He will receive the SOLO HNTR hat and T-Shirt of his choice for this #SoloStories post.
Tag us by using #SoloStories , #solohntr and/or #solohunter on your social media posts. Maybe your story and photo will be the next one featured on the #SoloStories Blog.
-TIM BURNETT
Taking a moment to admire my first bull will be forever ingrained in my memory. Reliving the stalk, the shot, the sketchy river crossing, following every drop of blood that lead to a successful recovery. Only hunters know the feeling of recovering an animal. Only hunters feel the relief, the remorse, the overwhelming gratitude of taking one life to feed many. We, are truly blessed in Alberta to have public lands that grant us the opportunity to experience moments like this. I, am truly blessed to have had the opportunity at harvesting one of these elusive and delicious creatures. Being a solo hunt I had more than my share of work cut out for me but I embraced this challenge with a smile on my face and dreamt of backstraps and beers with friends and family!..
]]>It’s hard to know how best to describe Ryan Lampers. I guess I’d have to say he is a mans man. But then again hes a ladies man too.
I first met @sthealthyhunter at a Train to Hunt get together at the Reno Cabelas this past Spring. There was no way in hell I was going to compete but I would do anything for my friend Kenton Clairmont of Train to Hunt. I was asked to attend a pre-event meet and greet with Kenton and all the participants.
I still remember scouring the crowd of would be studs. Watching them all to see if I could peg the men from the boys. Looking across the room I saw myself. Well, a much taller, stronger better looking and undoubtedly better hunter version of myself. I remember leaning over to someone I was talking to and whispered, see that guy over there? That guy is going to be your winner.
Ryan kept to himself and was quiet and polite to everyone he spoke with. Only after the crowd calmed did he make his way over to introduce himself to me. And I’m glad that he did. I met a man that day. A real man. And it has been a true pleasure following his posts and lifestyle ever since.
-TIM BURNETT
Ryan Lampers
Hunt-Harvest-Health Husband, father, gardener, fisherman, bowhunter. Always DIY, always public land. sthealthyhunter.com
Interesting how we as hunters can endure some of the most harsh weather conditions, dangerously treacherous terrain, grueling and often painful packouts, only to look back and be completely satisfied and stoked at how we spent our vacation time.
#arewecrazyorsane? .
Rainy, wet, sometimes snowy Washington weather was the theme this year in the high country chasing bulls… unexpectedly the bulls were super quiet with very little bugling. The bulls that did come in were coming in silent. It took persistence but finally was able to connect on this bull in the end. This hunt was a tough grind it out type that had me exhausted, soaked, and completely frustrated at times. Between the quiet bulls, thick fog, sleet and never-ending downpour this was a hunt that could have easily been quit. Reflecting on the off season prep, the #traintohunt challenges and all the grind sessions to be ready for this kept me going, it kept me giving everything I had to achieve success when success was looking very grim..
Hunt-Harvest-Health Husband, father, gardener, fisherman, bowhunter. Always DIY, always public land. sthealthyhunter.com
Interesting how we as hunters can endure some of the most harsh weather conditions, dangerously treacherous terrain, grueling and often painful packouts, only to look back and be completely satisfied and stoked at how we spent our vacation time.
#arewecrazyorsane? .
Rainy, wet, sometimes snowy Washington weather was the theme this year in the high country chasing bulls… unexpectedly the bulls were super quiet with very little bugling. The bulls that did come in were coming in silent. It took persistence but finally was able to connect on this bull in the end. This hunt was a tough grind it out type that had me exhausted, soaked, and completely frustrated at times. Between the quiet bulls, thick fog, sleet and never-ending downpour this was a hunt that could have easily been quit. Reflecting on the off season prep, the #traintohunt challenges and all the grind sessions to be ready for this kept me going, it kept me giving everything I had to achieve success when success was looking very grim..Ω
Every once in a while you’re walking around looking at your feet and you stumble across something. This is kind how it was for me when I cam across Dan Solsman and the rest of his Pacific North Wild crew on Instagram. There are several contributors there that represent hunting so well and are not too bad at photography. Yeah, lets just say they make me a little jealous.
When I messaged Dan to let him know we chose his photo and story for the #SoloStories post that week, I was pleasantly surprised. I didn’t find a man with an ego or something to prove. What I found was a man who thought not of himself.
Each person we choose for the #SoloStories week is awarded a hat and T-shirt of their choosing. Dan only asked that I find something for him to share with his military comrades. Asking nothing for himself. Thanks to Dan, this Christmas there will be a couple dozen who will benefit from his generosity. Hopefully the package makes it out to you all in time.
-TIM BURNETT
Dan Solsman @PN_Wild
No guide•No roads•No excuses• All public land DIY? ?First Lite R&D?Kenetrek boots?Veteransoutdoors?? m.facebook.com/pnwild
One more look at my 2016 Idaho OTC archery buck. I was in the middle of a mental battle with myself, when this encounter transpired. pushing through crazy winds, warm temps, and I had just run out of water, mid-afternoon at 9k ft. That little voice was telling me “go back, you’re not going to see anything. You tried your best.” I’m so glad I didn’t listen!
Just a few minutes later as I rounded the south face of a big shale slide I caught a glimpse of a solid 4×4 standing in open sage brush at only 100 yards. I ducked behind a small pine tree between us, and used the gusts of wind to muffle my steps, as I closed the distance. I managed to get to the tree and found a range of 62 yards between the branches. I snuck out at full draw, and the buck was staring right at me. He was on high alert, but the main frame 5×4 with 7 eye guards next to him was feeding toward me unaware. I held steady and let him take a few more steps. When he picked his head up I buried an arrow at a hard quartering angle the whole length of his body. He took two steps and found his final resting place. He’s my biggest buck to date, and it was all due to having the perseverance to keep pushing, and a positive attitude.
Thats my #solostories #myhuntstory I need to give a big thanks for all the positive influence we have as public land DIY hunters, from guys like @solohntr @brian__barney @zacgriffith_com @meateatertv @randynewberghunter #solohunter #idaho #muledeer #muleyfreak #muleymadness #huntbackcountry #backcountry #bowhunting #hunting #story #hike #camping #solo #bigbuckdown #diy #photography #wildlife #firstlitehunting #vortexoptics #whyidoit #massntrash #otc #meateater #solohunter
]]>I would dare say that if you are waiting for your buddies to get off work or for better weather or to draw a better tag, then you will never get out and experience your full potential in the hunting woods.
I am always inspired by stories like mtn_standard.
Becoming one with the wild is all about experiences. There is no greater teacher than experience. The more you do, the better you be.
-TIM BURNETT
Ty Berry
I spotted this buck the evening before the opener in a high basin along ways off. The next morning I found him again in relatively the same area. So I packed up camp and decided he was worth a closer look. I circled all the way around and above the basin I had last saw him in. After repositioning above him and one other buck I waited for him to show. After hours of waiting the small two point he was with fed out into the basin but the four point never showed. I had wondered if he left the basin while I had moved camp. So a little discouraged I got up early the next morning made a cup of coffee and began to glass the basins. Right off I was seeing a lot of doe and fawns which only added to my discouragement. I continued to work my way around and found the two point from the night before I moved probably only five more steps and found the two point wasn’t alone he was with two other buck one being the buck I was looking for. So I set up with the rifle took a range reading 280 yards. After five minutes the other two bucks cleared and the four point was perfectly broadside. I sent one shot he spun twice and fell over. The pack out was brutal I deboned the meat then headed up to camp rolled it up and headed back down to the buck. When I reached the deer I decided I could take it all in one load. So I loaded every thing and headed down. Half way down I called in reinforcements and had my brother in law heading my way. With about a mile or so to go Jason found me I was never so happy to see him! #solostories #solohntr
]]>How SAWEET are the words “I got my first kill- My first buck and I did it solo”? I hear this often but it will still never be enough. There is nothing like a first hunt, first kill and first pack out. But to do it on your own is something special.
This post by jessanna.13 brought back memories for me of my first buck at age 13. And yes I was also SOLO then too. It is experiences like these that forge who we are and what we can become in the future. Great work!
-TIM BURNETT
Mommy.Medic.Fitness.Huntress.Adventurer. ?? SC:jessannaj
Yesterday evening is a time I will never forget. I got my first kill- My first buck and I did it solo. All the hard work finally paid off- all the miles and countless of hours put in- feels so good when it all comes together and I know God was smiling on me. Yesterday was worth the rain, fog and rough terrain- and dragging him down to my truck in the dark! This is why I hunt. Not for show or trophies but for the love of the outdoors and to put clean organic meat on the table for my kids. Feeling so thankful and blessed and I wanted to share with people who understand everything about this picture!
]]>I don’t care what anybody says. Nobody has as much heart as Mr. Trent Penrod. known as trent_off_the_grid to many of us and elk_assassins to most on Instagram. Trent is hardcore. And… a little crazy.
I’ve had opportunity to spend time in hunt camp with Trent. I know him personally and am pleased to call him friend.
Below his post and story on his elk, I will include an episode we did on SOLO HNTR last fall where Trent won the first ever SOLO HNTR Challenge.
-TIM BURNETT
Trent- OFF The GRID
#ChainsawCarving #HuntinFool #ElkWhisperer #MtnAthlete #FreelanceOutdoorVideographer #crazymountainman LOVES #God#Christ #Family and LIFE!
1076 miles on the Tundra over 86 miles on the UA boots 9 LONG days on the Enchanted Navajo Nation. 6 with my Eternal Companion. 3 Solo. Countless hours kneeling before my maker, praying for guidance and direction. Heard only 5 bugles. Sunup through sundown creeping through thick pinion pine bedding areas. Napping in elk beds. 4 evenings sitting wallows or water. 2 Arrows shot. 1 clean miss 1 Fatal. All night (9hrs) tracking job after a thunderstorm washed away all jump tracks and blood.
]]>To some it is not nearly enough to just portray yourself to live an active outdoors lifestyle. It seems that many like the “idea” of being a man of the wild but few actually have the true active lifestyle that they portray.
@tonygillahan is just a man that is one with the wild. Well, one as much as he can with his trusted companion Remi. (the dog)
I am always impressed to see Tony’s new adventures. He is one that if I don’t see a post from that day, I actually search out his page to see if there was something that I missed. Truly one to follow on Instagram and Youtube. Tony represents the SOLO HNTR lifestyle very well. Thank you Tony!
-TIM BURNETT
Tony Gillahan
TG OUTDOORS AUSTRALIA
I’d just about had enough for the morning when I saw this stag and a hind feeding in a great spot for me to sneak in for a closer look. The wind was perfect, I got into what i thought was about 40yards and just before I could get a range on the shooting lane, the stag decided to walk straight towards me which is when he realised something was up. His large alert body size was my downfall, I hit record on the camera and drew back, I guessed him at 20 and sent an arrow on its way. I watched with horror as the arrow kept dropping and still hadn’t reached the stag. He took off, seemingly unscathed. Naturally I was pretty mad at myself, but I got bit of shock when I picked up my arrow and saw a bit of blood on it. I went over the footage and sure enough I’d clipped his front leg, a non fatal wound at best. At least he’ll be here for next time was all I was thinking to keep my mind off my stuff up. It was at this stage I noticed Remi wanting to track the flecks of bloods along the trail so to kill some time I thought I’d let her track him for awhile and see what happened. I wasn’t expecting much, so i dropped everything and just carried my bow. The bush was thick, but Remi confidently moved through the bush along a very faint blood trail…
2 hours later I’m still following Remi, I hadn’t seen any blood for awhile so I was about to pull the pin when I heard something down in the gully below us. Surely it wasn’t the stag? Remi was keenly awaiting a command so I just said “get him Rem” Next thing i know Rem is off and I hear crashing and bashing up and up the hill. I kept making my way up and to my amazement saw a few flecks of blood along the trail, it was him. I called Remi back and got her to trail again, she lead me straight down into a cooler gully and low and behold there is the stag out of breath just below me. I told Remi to “get him” again and she ran off almost circling him. The stag didn’t seem to phased by her, but it enabled me to close in and send another arrow on its way and this time I was on the money.
#solostories
WHAT’S YOUR STORY?… As Solo Hunters, we don’t often have the opportunity to sit around the campfire with our buddies and swap hunting stories. We want to give you the chance to share your stories and adventures with other solo hunters.
Whether it’s describing a close-call, a successful harvest, a particularly difficult pack out, or one of those scary experiences we’ve all had on the mountain alone, we want to hear about it.
Like @shadowtrekkeradventures you too can have your story featured by SOLO HNTR and we’ll send you a FREE shirt and hat! It’s simple. Just follow the steps below:
1) Post your story to your social media page
2) Use #solostories in your post
3) We’re searching the hashtag regularly to find a story to feature
4) If yours is chosen, we’ll feature it on our social pages and email
5) We’ll send a FREE shirt and hat to the owner of the featured story
Start sharing now and dont forget to use #solostories
-TIM BURNETT
Charles Whitwam Hunter. Adventurer. Beauty Seeker.
www.youtube.com/c/shadowtrekkeradventures
3 years now I’ve hunted Idaho, solo filming along the way. I’ve either been wildly successful by taking my first elk, first mule deer or the hunt has completely wasted me; physically and mentally destroyed. It’s that kind of place. It’s also why I keep coming back. I don’t want a draw zone, I don’t want an easy hunt. I know what’s in there. I know I can do it. (And probably just a bit easier if I wasn’t trying to self film)
Scouring satellite maps in the off-off-season, recalling memories of now 3 years of learning this country and I’m just beginning. It’s a journey that I’ll take every September and although I always go in with a plan the great wilderness will generally remind you exactly who is boss. An example to that point is when a 60mph gust suddenly decides to flatten your wall tent while you’re sleeping followed by 3 days of rain and snow. Beams snapped, guylines broke and I’m 14 hours from home. It’s not just the steeps, swirling winds & chasing these wild elusive creatures that will test you. Nature doesn’t heed your presence.
Not so much unlike the real world, you think you’re getting ahead & new bills show up, your truck breaks down or you get laid off. Life comes at you from all angles. For me that’s why I love the public land wilderness of Idaho. It throws everything at you. That’s also what makes it even sweeter when you EARN your meat in such wild and fantastic places. The beauty is more often than not found in the pain, the unexpected and the rugged land these creatures call home.
The pic is related to my latest solo filming adventures throughout California & Idaho. The film is named Wild Soul. I left a lot out but to be honest I made it to cheer me up because man did I get my butt beat on this last outing! Enjoy & enjoy the sitar! #solostories
#bowhunting #hunting #hunt2eat #meateater #solohntr #wildernessathlete #blacktail #muledeer #elk #wild pigs #firstlitehunting #solostories
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