By mid-afternoon I am feeling the effects of the elevation, the lack of sleep and miles we’ve traveled and because of the wind, John suggested we back out and call it a day. I was relieved and ready for some much needed rest but wasn’t going to say or do anything to suggest I was pussing out. Truth be told, I just wanted to eat and sleep.
As we got nearer to the trailhead we spotted an impressive mulie and since John had a tag, we were still hunting! Motioning for me to hang back, John put a sneak on the buck but apparently he saw us before we saw him and was quick to light out for the next zip code before John could close the 100 yard gap. It’s so nice to be in game all day though.
My left hip is acting up and I have no clue as to why…it’s never bothered me before. I expected problems with my left knee, lower back and right shoulder because all three have been trouble for a month prior to the hunt but this hip discomfort is new. Before leaving the mountain we stopped and drop the quad a couple miles away (at least, as the crow flies…the drive was an hour) so we can hunt down the mountain the next day. The plan was, once down…John will ride the 4X4 back to the truck, put the quad on the trailer and return to pick me up. You cannot use a quad except for game retrieval here and only between the hours of noon & 5pm. You cannot carry a weapon on a quad, it is forbidden. We figure, why haul an elk uphill if ya don’t have to right? Seemed like a good plan to me.
My head hits the pillow at 4:14pm and I awaken many times that night from a seemingly relentless thirst that empties 6 water bottles (and my bladder almost as many times). Hydration is everything, especially when you live at the beach and are hunting between 10,000 & 13,000 feet without any period to acclimate. At 2:30am the alarm goes off and I prepare for day two. At 4:15am we are getting close to the same spot as yesterday…our plan is simple. Hunt the wallows and work our way down into the steep dark timber.
Well we hadn’t been walking long before we once again spot an elk. I only saw the back half and could not say if it was a big cow or an average bull before I lost sight of it. John quickly starts aggressive calling while I position myself for the shot and start ranging trees and open areas. After several minutes I turn and look at John behind me who motions for me to join him. I place my arrow back in the quiver and move to him. It was at this moment John informed that he wasn’t motioning for me to come to him but rather, that the elk was coming in. Doh! Guess we should have clarified a few hand motions beforehand. No problem…we were wasting time anyway, when I moved so did the bull and that’s when John got his first good look at it. It was the same darn spike from yesterday. He was now long gone and we proceeded on to WallowWorld.
There hadn’t been a whisper of wind this morning and the woods were eerie silent, even the incessant racket from woodpeckers was minimal. As we reached the crest of a hill overlooking the wallows, a breeze comes up. We adjust our track to accommodate the wind direction and soon see a bull at 300 yards. He’s a definite shooter according to John, I never saw him before he moved into the timber. We do the same and slowly work towards the bull. After a bit we set up. I drop the backpack and binos again, set up on the edge of a small clearing with a few fallen trees providing cover. I take my second pee of the morning, remove my jacket and motion for John to commence calling. It was then that I actually looked up. I am surrounded by monster trees…most are dead from beetles and they are making some interesting sounds when the wind blows. Hmmmmm. I make a mental note when to jump if one of them comes down…safety under a big fallen tree in front of me oughta work. <g>
After quite a while we give up on this stand and move in the direction of the bull. As we’re walking I see a black head move and quickly instruct John to nock up and take point as he has a bear tag in addition to a buck tag. Was he actually there and blow out from all the noise we made in the dry timber or was I seeing what I wanted to see? We’ll never know. There was no sign of him/her once we traveled the 80 yards to the spot. I still believe I saw a bear but when you cannot find tracks you question yourself. There was obvious sign elsewhere nearby though.
Well the dang wind changed some more and after a lot of discussion we decided to head down to the quad through the dark timber. We had already been told about the route NOT to take by a Forestry/SAR guy who traveled down this face twice, once taking 9 hours to get down and the other taking 14 hours as he crawled over and under fallen trees every 5 feet. The damage to trees from beetle kill is disheartening here and the amount of deadfall in spots is nothing short of ugly. We began our descent unaware I had all but drained my 3 liters of water already. I hadn’t peed but twice in the morning and for me that’s odd. I regulate my water consumption so I am taking a leak at least once an hour because dehydration clouds your judgment and adversely impacts your performance. But I could not work up a piss to save my life and kept hammering the water hose. It certainly didn’t FEEL like I had drank 3 liters, I estimated I had half a bladder left. What’s worse is the water in this locale was tainted from mining operations and I had sought to lighten my pack by removing (among other things) my water filtration system. Would not have been helpful here anyway…unless you like arsenic in your water.
So here we are, seeing elk sign everywhere, the mountain becoming increasingly difficult to navigate, growing steeper and dumb ole me sucking air on my water hose in the much warmer midday sun. Damn Bruce…you know better than this. What’s wrong with you? The voices in my head remind me that hunting is no joke. What follows is less clear to me than it will be to my partner as I was often forced to stop, sit and catch my breath. Dizziness became the new norm and I sometimes struggled to keep up.
You can look at a topo map until you memorize it but what it doesn’t show you will drive ya mad. Like the massive rock face that is unclimbable with no way around it. Or the sand dune in the forest that crumbles like the Sahara and if you lose your footing here you will fall a very long way before bashing into a rocky creek bed that will turn red with the blood from your corpse. What the h*ll is a sand dune doing in the middle of a forest anyway? I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. Was this the result of a mining operation at some point in the past? I have no idea. I just know being on it was sketchy for a big and less graceful guy like me.
Ultimately we were forced to follow the creek bed, trudging through the water to escape a place that was once loaded with game trails, elk beds, wallows and now suddenly devoid of any and all tracks but ours. Bunny rabbits didn’t even tread here. There was nothin’!
I cannot say how many times the drop into the creek backfired and we were forced to climb up and look for another way through but after a few hours of this routine I was running outta gas…and dying of thirst. Against my wishes I turned to my oh-so-great hunting partner for water. Twenty-one years younger and acclimated to the mountain, he was still packing water. I hated to ask but if you’ve even been thirsty and sweating and dizzy…you know the craving. This was the second time in my life I experienced this and I pray it is the last. The sweet taste of water was indescribable and we pushed on.
As we worked our way down in a constant “S” pattern, I became to feel the mountain taking its toll and at one point we had to hop from a fallen tree to get down. On this hop (okay…fall) my knee decided it had had enough. Pain blazed through the joint and traveled up to my brain…exiting my mouth as I landed. John knew something bad had just happened. Limping replaced hiking and my breathing became visibly laborious as I attempted to La Maze my way through the agony. This is why men do not give birth…you simply cannot breathe through severe pain. You can endure it, pretend deep breathing is helping…maybe in desperation even convince yourself it is helping but it’s not. You’re just screwed.
Shortly after this and much to my horror I saw John posthole in the creek, his foot fell into a hole causing him to roll over it and now we were both limping. Lousy timing too because we gotta climb up and outta the creek bed again and find another way out. I got nothing in the tank but stubbornness now and as I follow John up the creek bank yet again, hear an audible pop in my left knee. The previous pain was nothing like this…I know it’s serious. I have torn the meniscus before and believe I have just repeated that injury just now. (This has since been confirmed by an MD). Putting weight on the leg feels like there’s a sharp pin in the joint and it is not a general ache anymore, now it’s a very focused motherf###er! Thankfully the sweat hides my tears.
So we go…down one side to the creek then up the other to escape the creek…all the while aware our progress is measured in 1/10th mile increments as the sun fades. As I am once again walking through the creek I see John step into a deep hole filling his boots with water. Awww man! That sucks!! My taller Danner Pronghorns are keeping my dawgs from drowning but I remember the feeling of wet feet on a steep slope and it is no bueno. Then it happened, gas pain. Apparently when you are at high elevation, the unaccustomed stomach will shut down believing you are in survival mode and seeks to save energy by suspending digestive functions resulting in the creation of gas…or in my case, a sharp and painful gas bubble under my ribcage. “Good Lord what’s next?” I asked. That was a mistake. Never challenge God.
Up and down we hike, I am belching like Rosie O’Donnell at a chili eating contest when I am dealt yet another blow. In trying to minimize pain on my knee by favoring the left leg I have simultaneously exacerbated the issue with my left hip which selects this moment to fail me. Ever watch The Walking Dead? That’s how I moved the rest of the way down the mountain. Only instead of making stupid growling and moaning sounds like zombies do, I’m emitting four letter words and grunts of swallowed pain with each step. My back aches too. So does the right shoulder from using trees to pull myself up or in one case, prevent me from falling and meeting my maker. Some of these spots are dicey, one slip and you’re done. John keeps positioning himself between me and potentially hazardous obstacles unaware I could slip and get us both killed faster than you can say, “I outweigh you! Get out of there!!” I appreciate his effort but the laws of physics and inertia will not be denied and if I must go down, I prefer to go alone so someone is left to help SAR recover my body. <g>
Just as an aside, John is a SAR guy so it is his natural proclivity to try to help others in such situations and perhaps more valuable, when the fecal matter was seriously striking the rotary oscillator we both managed to keep our sense of humor and laugh out loud at the absurdity that was our now. If you’ve ever been one of these situations (John calls em “Epics”) then you know how important it is to maintain a positive mental attitude. This is of particular importance when your revised escape plan forces you to make a 180 degree retreat from your planned route. Even with his injury John would push ahead to search for a way around whatever was in our way. Scouting 50-100 yards ahead provided me time to stop and rest and at times, not go in the direction intended. For the guy waiting to hear the scouting report that can be 200 yards (up and back) you didn’t have to make. What’s that worth to ya when you’re crippled? It’s priceless!!! Completely FN priceless!!!!!!!! God bless you John. You are one tough SOB. I was happy to be with such a knowledgeable and experienced guy who was younger and fit. Always watchful, trying to help, offering a hand. It was a hand I needed a few times but mostly just barked at him to get outta the way and keep moving. I wanted off the mountain and was starting to feel like an old man who needed a walker and a diaper. I must apologize to John for it was at this point late in the day I became a bit of a prick. He was trying to help me and I didn’t wanna need help. In that regard John’s attitude was stronger than my own. Sorry man! I get grumpy sometimes. This was one of those times. Thanks for being there and watching out for me.
More later…the hot tub and a cold beer be calling my name.
there are some high mountains and low valleys of emotion! Glad you still can look at the positives! Keep at it!
