What's your "Happy place"?

[roosiebull]

I couldn’t pick one, it would have to be seasonal, I have several places/scenarios that would be hard pick favorites, from the blue mountains in April hearing that first gobble of the morning, to making my first pass trolling for springers it the dark on a completely silent river knowing I’m about to get bit, to hearing a raspy roosie crack off in chest high ferns and echo through the morning fog, to sitting on a vantage behind my binos on a frosty morning in late October as the sun comes up spotting that white muzzle of a mature blacktail buck

There are others as well, that would be difficult to list them in order of favorite

Basically, a place with no people anywhere around during prime time of the hunt or bite… some of those activities are not fun at the time but the daydreams of it are very fond

 

[actionshooter]

My little Cabin on the edge of Okanogan NF, no neighbors, no lights, very little traffic..... spend lots of time reading and exploring..

 

[Whaledriver]

Man this is rokslide. Your happy place has to be with the best gear. Swarovski glass, crispi boots, 1k backpack and 6 technical layers of the right mix of wool and poly. I kid.

Pretty tough to beat chasing elk somewhere on a mountain side. Breakfast and coffee on a hillside with the sun thawing you out.

I grew up in KS though. Give me a good hedgerow with a covey of quail in it. Give me one good dog and a buddy. Sun going down, trying to find that one last single. I would usually let my guard down and bust it, not being ready.

Happy place for sure!!

 

[mighteywhitehunter]

Ear Plugs in... Chainsaw Revving... If it grows... it goes!

 

[timekiller13]

Just about anywhere in the Appalachian Mountains. They may not be as impressive as the Rockies but man I love them hills.

 

[rodney482]

Mine is the same as yours. Back country with buddies ... nothing better

 

[Ddog]

At my deer shabin or in the shop building wood bows.

 

[Yoder]

 

[IDVortex]

Metolius unit with a late archery tag is pretty special, just takes sooooo long to get the dang tag.

View attachment 720701

I drew the rifle tag about 10 years ago, missed out on a buck a nice buck. Always wanted the late archery tag, but now being a NR I won't do it. The unit isn't worth it anymore. I actually had thought of going there this archery season until I realized it was a draw unit now.

 

[longspeak74]

Whitetail heaven.

 

[left field]

Last fall, I sat with a group of men at a hunting camp and after a meal and drinks, I posed a simple question: if you could reclaim something you’ve lost in life, what would it be?

These were heady men. Serious men. Easy to joke, but able to rise to the moment. And the things they missed in life ran deep. I didn’t like my answer at the time so offer this instead …

I want the smell of my grandfather’s garage back. Oil and cut wood; sweat and turpentine; a dirt floor with the sweet tang of wet leaves after a hard rain. I would spend hours there, watching him clumsily fix things with wire, nails, and a stream of Ukrainian curses. Master of no trade but life, he could cobble together most anything (including actual cobbling on my boots) with the most rudimentary of tools. He showed me how everything could be broken down into a few simple parts and once you understood those you could repair anything. One time, I pointed out a few leftover pieces after he assembled a radio, but he dismissed them with a wave of his hand as they were clearly not needed. The radio worked fine for another 20 years.

He taught me to piss into a jar as the bathroom in the house was too far away and I finally found out what all those yellow bottles on the shelf were.

We wouldn’t talk much, so we developed a quiet language of him holding out his hand and me placing the correct tool in it. I discovered that a hammer is useful in almost every situation as you can always bang something together, so usually it was the old claw hammer that I passed to him. I still have that hammer. Rehung of course.

The garage door was blocked with stacked boxes, so the only light came from the side door and a tiny window up high. There was so much dust in the air that the window was a searchlight illuminating the dark corners as it moved across the room through the day.

After an early dinner, we would sit by the garage door and drink tea as the sun dropped and the room became a warm dark blanket. I would fall asleep in my chair and my grandfather would carry me to the house, pull off my shoes and slide me into my bed where I would dream, comforted under the weight of blankets made heavy with my grandparents’ love.

That’s the lost thing I would want back.

 

[GSPHUNTER]

Whitetail heaven.View attachment 720750

I know those rolling hills well.

 

[CobraChicken]

Often times when I'm stressed or want to imagine a place of solitude, I think on my elk spot, the different draws, timbered hillsides, the magical mornings I've spent creeping up to a herd of bugles, or waking up 2 hours before daylight to the sound of rain hitting my teepee and snuggling back into my sleeping bag, enjoying the fact that I get to sleep in. I love that annual trip, and when I'm out there it feels like nothing else in the world matters.... for 2 weeks my only care and objective is to kill a bull elk. Man, I love day dreaming about that...

What's yours???

On the riverside in the peak of duck season behind the panel blind right before shooting light with the dogs. Calm before the storm.

 

[Justin Byers]

Last fall, I sat with a group of men at a hunting camp and after a meal and drinks, I posed a simple question: if you could reclaim something you’ve lost in life, what would it be?

These were heady men. Serious men. Easy to joke, but able to rise to the moment. And the things they missed in life ran deep. I didn’t like my answer at the time so offer this instead …

I want the smell of my grandfather’s garage back. Oil and cut wood; sweat and turpentine; a dirt floor with the sweet tang of wet leaves after a hard rain. I would spend hours there, watching him clumsily fix things with wire, nails, and a stream of Ukrainian curses. Master of no trade but life, he could cobble together most anything (including actual cobbling on my boots) with the most rudimentary of tools. He showed me how everything could be broken down into a few simple parts and once you understood those you could repair anything. One time, I pointed out a few leftover pieces after he assembled a radio, but he dismissed them with a wave of his hand as they were clearly not needed. The radio worked fine for another 20 years.

He taught me to piss into a jar as the bathroom in the house was too far away and I finally found out what all those yellow bottles on the shelf were.

We wouldn’t talk much, so we developed a quiet language of him holding out his hand and me placing the correct tool in it. I discovered that a hammer is useful in almost every situation as you can always bang something together, so usually it was the old claw hammer that I passed to him. I still have that hammer. Rehung of course.

The garage door was blocked with stacked boxes, so the only light came from the side door and a tiny window up high. There was so much dust in the air that the window was a searchlight illuminating the dark corners as it moved across the room through the day.

After an early dinner, we would sit by the garage door and drink tea as the sun dropped and the room became a warm dark blanket. I would fall asleep in my chair and my grandfather would carry me to the house, pull off my shoes and slide me into my bed where I would dream, comforted under the weight of blankets made heavy with my grandparents’ love.

That’s the lost thing I would want back.

Man, you should write a book. That was really excellent. Felt like I was there.... Thanks for sharing that.

 

[left field]

Man, you should write a book. That was really excellent. Felt like I was there.... Thanks for sharing that.

Thanks for that.

I am a writer. Mostly essays on our relationship with the outdoors.

Finding Heaven with a Five-Pound Axe

By David L. McIlvaney There is a tree at my camp I need to knock down. It has been bugging me for a while. The tree has done nothing wrong except rise up in an inconvenient place—at the edge of a small clearing by one of my bunkhouses—and I’d like to claim back that piece of sky. “Whoever owns...

tombeckbe.com

A book? Soon, I hope.

 

[Boarmaster]

My whitetail shack in Alabama.

 

[Zdub02]

A piece of river front property my grandpa owned/lived on. Lots of great memories fishing and camping there. Hot summer days made cooler sitting under the walnut trees.

 

[Phaseolus]

The bottom of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison

 

[Justin Byers]

This is another one for me... Haven't been in 5 years, but for a while it was our annual summer ritual.

There is a big body of water here in MT with various islands throughout. The islands are pine covered, loaded with huckleberries, and half tame mule deer, and it is a very private camp experience. We would use our boat to shuttle all of our camping gear out to an island and then set up camp. It was always one of the most secluded, serene, and peaceful experiences I have ever been a part of. My kids were still somewhat little and we would pick huckleberries, swim, make campfires, and just have a ball. Morning bacon, eggs, and pancakes with fresh huckleberries, then the kids would get dirty exploring, only to go jump in the lake and clean off. They would play together in the water and on the beach for hours. My wife and I would sit around the smoking logs and talk, with the only background noise being that of the kids playing and laughing in the water together. Our only interruption was when one of them would come back to camp to show us a cool rock, or stick, or critter they had found, or to scavenge some food off us. The sound of their laughs in the lake, and the quality time we spent together was amazing. In the evening you could feel the relief of the atmosphere as the hot sun finally began to relent, and the day began to fade. We would fire up the small grill and cook deer steaks, and at night you could stand on the beach and look up at stars, bright, crystal clear, and covering the pitch black sky....... Hoping to go back soon one of these days.

 

[Justin Byers]

A few more of the same place...