Mule
FNG
"Man, this timber is dense! It can only get worse in the dark.", I thought to myself as we scouted the place where we though we heard the bugle the night before.
Famous last words. There were many landmarks out there by which to navigate. The only problem: Every landmark has two or more that look just like it. The only certainty was that I needed to go uphill and then at some point, hang a right to get back to camp, but even the trails immediately close to camp were really confusing in the dark.
It was a good thing I brought flagging tape with that reflective striping on it. I spent the better part of two hours walking out of that place on the day prior to opening 1st Rifle marking my way from the location I heard the only bull on the mountain that chose to announce himself, back to our camp. He was a mile or so from camp, and about two miles from the bottom of the avalanche chutes that we scouted the day before.
My first evening hunting this bull was nothing short of exciting! roughly 45 minutes from dark, he got up just like the evening prior. He bugled once--in kind of a low key way. He moved closer, and let lose another. I'm not experienced enough to know what he's saying, or even if he has any cows with him. He was very quiet--no snapping of limbs, crunching of crunchy ground like all the articles say to listen for. I was in a decent ambush spot with fair shooting lanes, but alas, even though my wind was perfect, he snuck past me upwind. I only knew this because he gave a light chuckle after he'd crested the ridge I was sitting on and moved to the other side. Darkness finally fell, and I resolved that I'd be back in the morning to try and catch him as he returned.
I found the first flag--even the second, third and fourth. I noted that the reflectivity of my flags was not catching and bouncing the light back toward me in that low ambient light situation. Number 5 was a bit of a challenge to find, but as the dusk turned to total blackness, it became apparent that the small 4" flags that I tied on obvious branches were not going to help me get out of there. I wasn't too alarmed at that point, but pushed onward up the ridge, and thought surely I would hit the "top" of my bench and hang that all important left turn back to camp. I actually found some "nite eyes" that I thought a previous hunter had left. I was pretty sure we were camping in his old camp and were sort of sharing the same trail back. After an hour, I surmised that was not the case. My "left turn" never showed up. I still wasn't alarmed. I just thought that climb was taking a little longer in the dark. Oh, I had a flashlight mind you. To reassure you, I'm no amateur when it comes to the woods. I'm very familiar with survival techniques, and I do respect the mountains and all they can do to ruin a life. In fact the thought of survival hadn't yet crossed my mind, even though my pack always includes all the basic necessities for making fire, employing navigation, water-gathering, and shelter-building.
Just about at the hour and a half mark past dark, I was beginning to wonder just how turned-around I really was. That's when I walked right into the wood pile, otherwise known as the bottom of the avalanche chute! "OMG!", I thought to myself. I felt myself start to panic a little bit. Isn't that the hardest thing to contain, and the thing they tell you NOT to do? We were in this chute the day prior, and there were many of these wood piles strewn all around the base and sides of the chute. I knew where I was regionally, so to speak, but exactly where was a mystery.
Now, it's kind of a long story regarding my GPS situation, but long story short, I had one and took it back. I opted for Gaia GPS (an iphone app) that I really like. I also had a delorme inreach with me to keep my wife stable and happy. But I also broke my iphone charging cable the first nite at camp, and the battery was 20% low now. Texting the wife through the delorme/iphone pairing was really my priority just due to simplicity, so I was really trying to avoid turning that phone on. However, after pulling out my map and compass and orienting myself to north, I quickly realized that especially at night, the map is useless unless one knows EXACTLY where he is on the bloody thing, and he can "mark" line of sight objects to navigate toward. More panic tried to infiltrate my spirit. I admit it here, publicly: I'm a praying man. Take that however you want, but I had to turn off the flashlight and have a few words with my God. The panic subsided pretty quick after that, and I put the map/compass away. Did I mention, useless? I decided to follow the creek down a little bit before I went to my electronics, given my battery was so low. The problem with creeks is, unless you really study them, the water direction can be deceiving if you don't pay attention. I misread the direction--the light reflection just looked as if it was flowing in the direction I thought was downhill. I was on a bench, and misread the flow---I followed it slightly uphill another 50 yards or so before realizing the error. I sat down again, to find even more composure. Apparently I didn't get enough on the first go-round, for the panic was trying to edge itself in on me again.
Drastic situations call for drastic measures. I guess in hindsight, I should have done this a long time ago. Iphone "on". Booting.... [waiting]...it came on, finally. "Yep, I have 20% of battery to get back two miles." Opened Gaia app. Waited for roughly 5 minutes for that little arrow icon that suggests you have a GPS fix on the satellites. That icon never came. Gaia is a good app, but it failed me on that clear chilly nite with no forest canopy to block the GPS signals. I really don't know why it failed. My delorme inreach also has a GPS feature, but only on the iphone app when the two devices are paired using bluetooth. That app kind of stinks though. My battery fell to 18% just in the time I was sitting there getting my composure. The delorme sensors were jumpy, and not very specific. at least I could see where I was now in relation to the camp: about 2 miles away as I suspected. I followed the creek in the opposite (now corrected) direction, and I had to bushwack through some really thick stuff. The jumpy sensor would change the direction of the icon pointer and it confused me several times. There were several times I had to stop and let it just settle down. I turned my ankle a little on some nasty terrain, even though I wasn't hurrying through it. Those tight 8" boots have saved my ankles from complete destruction on more than one occasion. I came to a large boggy meadow, with which I was somewhat familiar. It was very near my camp. I just couldn't tell where I was on the bog in relation to the camp. I was extremely disoriented, perhaps due to staring at the lighted iphone screen and the flashlighted path immediately in front of me. I mean, everything else was pitch black. Did I mention the beautiful stars overhead?? Yeah, I didn't have time to really enjoy those, either. I really don't know how elk do this walking around at night thing.
My buddy was pretty worried--I mean, not "in the fetal position" worried or anything like that, but he was a little rattled. I suspect that was more due to the notion he didn't want to be the one to tell my Mrs. how he lost me. He has a delorme unit also. We thought we knew how to communicate with each other through the iridium network. This incident proved we didn't. He sent a couple txt to me, but of course I never got them. He surely would't have asked my wife to txt me...he didn't want to alarm her--not yet. It was too early for that. I didn't even think to try and comm with him yet. It was too early in the fiasco for me to admit I screwed up. Plus, I hadn't really tapped out yet
He couldn't find our flags either...and we set them out together the day prior. He was a bit frazzled, but really relieved when he found m....check that: when I found him. I'm the one that put myself in that location so I could hear him screaming for me. He was just wandering aimlessly through an area he was familiar I was in the high-grassed swampy meadow just outside of our camp trying to trudge through the muck, when I heard him randomly call out my name. Man, my name sounds good in the deep dark wilderness at nearly 10pm!! I responded with a loud, manly, "YO!" That's when he came to the edge of that bog and saw my light. I was still so disoriented. I made my way toward him and it took me a few minutes to acclimate to the topology where I had treaded for the previous three days gathering water, moving between hunting areas, picking up firewood, etc. I made it! I really never thought I wouldn't make it, that is until I got back to camp, took my pack off, and layed down my rifle. Ok...yeah, confirmed. I actually never really thought I wouldn't make it.
Although I was relieved to be back, I started thinking about the what-ifs. I could make good fire if I had to. I could build a lean-to shelter and sleep on spruce boughs if I had to. I had every piece of clothing in my day pack to layer up with overnight if needed. I had water, and filtration to fill my gut and ease the hunger pangs. An overnight in dark timber wouldn't have been the worst thing if it came to that. I was pretty much prepared. I guess the worst thing would have been my people not knowing my disposition, but even that would have been alleviated once I settled in my mind that I was "sleeping out" for the night. I would have "delorme texted" my wife and had her relay my situation to my buddy.
I wonder how much of an improved woodsman I would be today, had I allowed myself to just stay out and rough it? I did it years ago as a young Boy Scout on a wilderness survival merit badge overnighter (perhaps not quite the same, but you know). I guess I'll not know for as long as I can help it. I was fairly prepared this year for the "stupid stuff" due to some unforeseen failures I had last year. I suppose my preparedness will grow even more so for next year. I know I'll have a real GPS, and add some tried and trued reflective trail markers!! Perhaps then, my kit will be refined and finally complete.
BTW, the next morning's hunt--I took that one off to rest up, as I was beat, my ankle was sore, and my knee also was banged up. But I went into the evening hunt extra early marking the trail with stacked rock Kearns, and directional stick-lays, and lodgepole sidewalks through the dense stuff. Going back to camp that night was like following the yellow brick road! What a huge difference good trail marks are when you can't tell the forest for the trees
We never did kill that bull. He was tricky--but we never blew him out either, I don't think. That timber was just so dense--could never put eyes on him. (I never cow-called to him though, either. I'm not that experienced to know what to say to a lonely bull in his bedroom after the runt).
That's my story. would love to hear similar stories from the Rokslide community if you have them and care to share...
Mule
Famous last words. There were many landmarks out there by which to navigate. The only problem: Every landmark has two or more that look just like it. The only certainty was that I needed to go uphill and then at some point, hang a right to get back to camp, but even the trails immediately close to camp were really confusing in the dark.
It was a good thing I brought flagging tape with that reflective striping on it. I spent the better part of two hours walking out of that place on the day prior to opening 1st Rifle marking my way from the location I heard the only bull on the mountain that chose to announce himself, back to our camp. He was a mile or so from camp, and about two miles from the bottom of the avalanche chutes that we scouted the day before.
My first evening hunting this bull was nothing short of exciting! roughly 45 minutes from dark, he got up just like the evening prior. He bugled once--in kind of a low key way. He moved closer, and let lose another. I'm not experienced enough to know what he's saying, or even if he has any cows with him. He was very quiet--no snapping of limbs, crunching of crunchy ground like all the articles say to listen for. I was in a decent ambush spot with fair shooting lanes, but alas, even though my wind was perfect, he snuck past me upwind. I only knew this because he gave a light chuckle after he'd crested the ridge I was sitting on and moved to the other side. Darkness finally fell, and I resolved that I'd be back in the morning to try and catch him as he returned.
I found the first flag--even the second, third and fourth. I noted that the reflectivity of my flags was not catching and bouncing the light back toward me in that low ambient light situation. Number 5 was a bit of a challenge to find, but as the dusk turned to total blackness, it became apparent that the small 4" flags that I tied on obvious branches were not going to help me get out of there. I wasn't too alarmed at that point, but pushed onward up the ridge, and thought surely I would hit the "top" of my bench and hang that all important left turn back to camp. I actually found some "nite eyes" that I thought a previous hunter had left. I was pretty sure we were camping in his old camp and were sort of sharing the same trail back. After an hour, I surmised that was not the case. My "left turn" never showed up. I still wasn't alarmed. I just thought that climb was taking a little longer in the dark. Oh, I had a flashlight mind you. To reassure you, I'm no amateur when it comes to the woods. I'm very familiar with survival techniques, and I do respect the mountains and all they can do to ruin a life. In fact the thought of survival hadn't yet crossed my mind, even though my pack always includes all the basic necessities for making fire, employing navigation, water-gathering, and shelter-building.
Just about at the hour and a half mark past dark, I was beginning to wonder just how turned-around I really was. That's when I walked right into the wood pile, otherwise known as the bottom of the avalanche chute! "OMG!", I thought to myself. I felt myself start to panic a little bit. Isn't that the hardest thing to contain, and the thing they tell you NOT to do? We were in this chute the day prior, and there were many of these wood piles strewn all around the base and sides of the chute. I knew where I was regionally, so to speak, but exactly where was a mystery.
Now, it's kind of a long story regarding my GPS situation, but long story short, I had one and took it back. I opted for Gaia GPS (an iphone app) that I really like. I also had a delorme inreach with me to keep my wife stable and happy. But I also broke my iphone charging cable the first nite at camp, and the battery was 20% low now. Texting the wife through the delorme/iphone pairing was really my priority just due to simplicity, so I was really trying to avoid turning that phone on. However, after pulling out my map and compass and orienting myself to north, I quickly realized that especially at night, the map is useless unless one knows EXACTLY where he is on the bloody thing, and he can "mark" line of sight objects to navigate toward. More panic tried to infiltrate my spirit. I admit it here, publicly: I'm a praying man. Take that however you want, but I had to turn off the flashlight and have a few words with my God. The panic subsided pretty quick after that, and I put the map/compass away. Did I mention, useless? I decided to follow the creek down a little bit before I went to my electronics, given my battery was so low. The problem with creeks is, unless you really study them, the water direction can be deceiving if you don't pay attention. I misread the direction--the light reflection just looked as if it was flowing in the direction I thought was downhill. I was on a bench, and misread the flow---I followed it slightly uphill another 50 yards or so before realizing the error. I sat down again, to find even more composure. Apparently I didn't get enough on the first go-round, for the panic was trying to edge itself in on me again.
Drastic situations call for drastic measures. I guess in hindsight, I should have done this a long time ago. Iphone "on". Booting.... [waiting]...it came on, finally. "Yep, I have 20% of battery to get back two miles." Opened Gaia app. Waited for roughly 5 minutes for that little arrow icon that suggests you have a GPS fix on the satellites. That icon never came. Gaia is a good app, but it failed me on that clear chilly nite with no forest canopy to block the GPS signals. I really don't know why it failed. My delorme inreach also has a GPS feature, but only on the iphone app when the two devices are paired using bluetooth. That app kind of stinks though. My battery fell to 18% just in the time I was sitting there getting my composure. The delorme sensors were jumpy, and not very specific. at least I could see where I was now in relation to the camp: about 2 miles away as I suspected. I followed the creek in the opposite (now corrected) direction, and I had to bushwack through some really thick stuff. The jumpy sensor would change the direction of the icon pointer and it confused me several times. There were several times I had to stop and let it just settle down. I turned my ankle a little on some nasty terrain, even though I wasn't hurrying through it. Those tight 8" boots have saved my ankles from complete destruction on more than one occasion. I came to a large boggy meadow, with which I was somewhat familiar. It was very near my camp. I just couldn't tell where I was on the bog in relation to the camp. I was extremely disoriented, perhaps due to staring at the lighted iphone screen and the flashlighted path immediately in front of me. I mean, everything else was pitch black. Did I mention the beautiful stars overhead?? Yeah, I didn't have time to really enjoy those, either. I really don't know how elk do this walking around at night thing.
My buddy was pretty worried--I mean, not "in the fetal position" worried or anything like that, but he was a little rattled. I suspect that was more due to the notion he didn't want to be the one to tell my Mrs. how he lost me. He has a delorme unit also. We thought we knew how to communicate with each other through the iridium network. This incident proved we didn't. He sent a couple txt to me, but of course I never got them. He surely would't have asked my wife to txt me...he didn't want to alarm her--not yet. It was too early for that. I didn't even think to try and comm with him yet. It was too early in the fiasco for me to admit I screwed up. Plus, I hadn't really tapped out yet
He couldn't find our flags either...and we set them out together the day prior. He was a bit frazzled, but really relieved when he found m....check that: when I found him. I'm the one that put myself in that location so I could hear him screaming for me. He was just wandering aimlessly through an area he was familiar
I was in the high-grassed swampy meadow just outside of our camp trying to trudge through the muck, when I heard him randomly call out my name. Man, my name sounds good in the deep dark wilderness at nearly 10pm!! I responded with a loud, manly, "YO!" That's when he came to the edge of that bog and saw my light. I was still so disoriented. I made my way toward him and it took me a few minutes to acclimate to the topology where I had treaded for the previous three days gathering water, moving between hunting areas, picking up firewood, etc. I made it! I really never thought I wouldn't make it, that is until I got back to camp, took my pack off, and layed down my rifle. Ok...yeah, confirmed. I actually never really thought I wouldn't make it.Although I was relieved to be back, I started thinking about the what-ifs. I could make good fire if I had to. I could build a lean-to shelter and sleep on spruce boughs if I had to. I had every piece of clothing in my day pack to layer up with overnight if needed. I had water, and filtration to fill my gut and ease the hunger pangs. An overnight in dark timber wouldn't have been the worst thing if it came to that. I was pretty much prepared. I guess the worst thing would have been my people not knowing my disposition, but even that would have been alleviated once I settled in my mind that I was "sleeping out" for the night. I would have "delorme texted" my wife and had her relay my situation to my buddy.
I wonder how much of an improved woodsman I would be today, had I allowed myself to just stay out and rough it? I did it years ago as a young Boy Scout on a wilderness survival merit badge overnighter (perhaps not quite the same, but you know). I guess I'll not know for as long as I can help it. I was fairly prepared this year for the "stupid stuff" due to some unforeseen failures I had last year. I suppose my preparedness will grow even more so for next year. I know I'll have a real GPS, and add some tried and trued reflective trail markers!! Perhaps then, my kit will be refined and finally complete.
BTW, the next morning's hunt--I took that one off to rest up, as I was beat, my ankle was sore, and my knee also was banged up. But I went into the evening hunt extra early marking the trail with stacked rock Kearns, and directional stick-lays, and lodgepole sidewalks through the dense stuff. Going back to camp that night was like following the yellow brick road! What a huge difference good trail marks are when you can't tell the forest for the trees
We never did kill that bull. He was tricky--but we never blew him out either, I don't think. That timber was just so dense--could never put eyes on him. (I never cow-called to him though, either. I'm not that experienced to know what to say to a lonely bull in his bedroom after the runt).
That's my story. would love to hear similar stories from the Rokslide community if you have them and care to share...
Mule
