There are very few hunts that I don't remember. They are all special in their own ways, engraved in my memory forever.
This hunt in particular in the high country, with one of my best friends Bill, holds a special place in my beating heart. Bill works as a boat captain on a fishing boat in Alaska during the summer months, and is a hunting guide in the fall, and truth be told, he is one of the best guides/hunters I know. Bill, actually introduced me to guiding and it's been an adventure working and hunting side by side. I have learned so much from this man, and continue to do so. These are the type of hunters (and friends) I want to hunt deep in the back country with.
Organizing, packing, and chuckling as we realize how heavy and stuffed our packs are!
There was a storm brewing to the west and south as we climbed into the truck and headed towards the trail head. Suspense flowed though our hair as I rolled down my window, sticking my hand out, feeling the few rain drops fall down.
The timing couldn't had been any more perfect. Upon arriving to the trail head, the clouds cleared and blue skies brought hope of a dryer day tomorrow.
The excitement of starting out on an adventure of a lifetime sure makes the pack feel lighter.
My feet were already soaking wet, along with my legs, as the sun was starting to dip behind the jagged mountains. "Next year, is the year I invest in a good pair of boots, for real" I tell myself, as I walk the soppy muddy trail. Despite the sloshy feet I was so consumed by the beauty around me that "having wet feet" was just part of the adventure.
The river flowed red as the rainstorm had just finished unleashing its wrath on Mother Earth.
As the light faded we found a spot in a meadow to pitch our tents and get some rest, for tomorrow we had the final 4.5 miles of incline to reach our camp, 10 miles in at 11,000 ft.
As soon as I stepped out from the timberline I felt as though I was in the scene of, The Sound of Music. I was taken away, as if I fell asleep and when I woke, I was in a new country. Paradise. A, wild, paradise. "Camp is just right there, it's so close we can see it" Bill assures me as we start on the final climb.
That final 600 yards up that mountain side was one of the hardest, most liberating things I've ever done. My lungs fought for air, as I nearly crawled on all fours, up the seemingly endless mountain. The conversations in my mind were those of encouragement, as I brought myself back to being that young, scared girl who constantly lived in, fight or flight mode. And the tears came, and they mixed with the sweat, as it ran down my face, to the crevasse of my mouth. Bringing a taste of bitter sweet relief, that I am no longer that scared girl.
Thunder boomed, not to far off in the dark skies and fear of being stuck by lightning gave my legs a turbo boost, as I only allowed myself 10 seconds of rest before continuing on towards the top.
Upon reaching the top I felt as though I suddenly grew wings and as I looked out at the vast unknown, I could see every mountain top, and feel the cool breeze on my face as if those wings took flight and I was soaring high above.
There's no feeling quite like it...
We set up camp and headed up to where we wanted to glass, eager to see what we'd find.
It didn't take long and Bill spotted three small bucks on the far hillside feeding. Stoked on the early finds we headed back down to camp to cook a delicious dinner of mountain house.
Waking to snow, I felt like a child as I ignored the fact my boots were still wet, and cold. Throwing on my pack I headed up the ridge, certain I'd see deer moving around in this cold weather.
Spotting the small three bucks once again, we came up with or game plan for tomorrow which was opening day. These bucks had been following the same pattern for a couple days now, so we were confident they would be back in the same spot tomorrow.
Opening morning came and went and the three bucks we'd previously been watching had disappeared. My dad use to tell us as kids "the deer, they have calendars too, and they know when hunting season starts." With so much country to explore and bigger bucks to find, we decide to pack up camp, and head up and over to camp 2.
Re-arranging our packs and checking out OnX before we head out for an evening hunt. Hoping this basin has a few more deer than the last.
Two bedded bucks spotted, so we head in for a spot and stalk.. It's go time!
With the sun in Bills face and a disadvantage due to the slight hill between him and the bedded bucks, he was unable to get a shot as they see him and bolt before he even has a chance to shoot.
We eat our slice of humble pie as the sun sets on what feels like a different planet. Smiles fill our faces despite the failed attempt to get a shot on a buck, as time is on our side, and the company is good.
The following morning I find three bucks feeding in the next basin over, one in particular being the biggest we've seen yet. We cook up some mountain house breakfast, watch and wait for the bucks to bed down. We come up with a system of communication in case the bucks move from their beds as Bill is sneaking in, using an orange vest, and a green and blue shirt. Green to me, blue meaning they (the bucks) are headed towards the next basin, orange means we are golden, and by waving the orange vest means the mission is over. Bill starts his stalk when I hear voices from below. The hunters that are camped below us return back to camp and are nothing close to being quiet. I could hear their conversations from 500 yards away. It doesn't take long and the bucks have had enough and make their way up and over into the next basin. Yay for public land.
The cleanest water you'll ever find, and it taste so good!
The following morning we head back to where we seen the bucks the previous day. "Got em" I tell Bill, as these bucks were feeding in the same spot as yesterday. Once again we wait for them to bed down and Bill takes off to start his stalk. Hiking up the hill, I see two men in bright red and blue jackets yell back and forth to each other, with trekking poles and knee high socks, they have no idea a hunter is attempting a stalk on a mule deer, right in front of them, and I wonder if they even know it's hunting season? The deer run, but this time, right towards us. With giant boulders and pine there is no shortage of hiding spots for these bucks. Bill works his way to where he thinks they may be hiding. As I watch through my binoculars, I see Bill look up at me, hands in the air asking me, "where'd they go?" I make some sort of hand motion, letting him know, they are just below him, in the thick of it. Bill disappears over the ridge and suspense begins. As I wait, I keep hoping I'll see two bucks run out, because that means Bill got a shot at the 3rd. Turns out Bill got within 50 yards and the buck saw him before Bill knew he was there. Killing a high country mule deer with you bow, is no easy task and that was becoming very apparent with every stalk attempt.
As Bill and I rejoin we see 4 more hunters hiking up through the basin, towards the summit. Time to move on and explore new country.
As we headed down the dry, dusty rocky ridge back to camp one, below me in a small clearing in the dark timber I spot two elk running through. Knowing the elk are below us and a elk tag in Bills pocket, we switch up or plans to try and pursue a bull. As we dropped down into the lower elevation towards a water hole, there were elk rubs on every other tree, but all the other sign seemed old, perhaps from a month back. We sit and wait about 40 yards from the water hole, hopeful something will come in.
As darkness nears us we make our way back up, to camp. Feeling dehydrated and hungry the hike back up the basin feels like it has no summit.
There's no doubt I learned a lot on this hunt. For one, I learned that I need to invest in more gear, better gear. But don't we always? I learned that being in these wild places I feel the most alive. I learned that I am more capable of what I thought. I definitely felt some nerves as I went into this hunt, knowing I would be challenged in many aspects. I learned that you can hear a giant rock slide from miles away. I learned that sleeping in a one man tent on the side of the mountain is my version of a good time and more importantly that I need it more in my life.
I think about those nights camping at 11,000 feet and the emotion I felt as sleep overcame my tired body. Bill never was successful but once again with time on our side and in good company, we packed up camp and headed back to the truck.
It was my time. Time to go and focus on my elk tag in a different unit.
Below are some more photos that highlight our hunt.
And as always, thank you for reading and tagging along.
BTW.... WHAT'S YOUR WILD?????
Andraya Grangroth
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