Tag Archives: bowhunt

One Step Ahead: My 2023 Deer Hunt Story

The Quest for “Big 5”

I never felt so tired! It was 4:30am on the nineteenth morning of my Utah bow hunt. Whenever I lied down to sleep my mind swirled with strategies to outsmart the giant, velvet-clad buck I called “Big 5.” But he always managed to stay one step ahead of me.

I spotted Big 5 on the fourth day of the deer hunt. He was feeding in a thick, oak brush-covered hillside, and I raced to get ahead of him in the fading evening light. Just as I was closing in, the wind shifted and blew him out of the canyon. I spent the next week searching surrounding canyons and exploring other parts of the unit, but couldn’t turn him up. Although I saw plenty of other bucks, none compared to the amazing Big 5. At that point I decided to devote the rest of the season to hunting this one buck.

First sighting of Big 5 (from video footage).

Just before dark on the twelfth day, Big 5 reappeared in the canyon where I first saw him. There wasn’t enough light for a stalk, but I returned to camp with newfound hope.

My mind buzzed with excitement as I lied in bed anticipating the morning stalk. But wouldn’t you know it, over night a great herd of elk moved in and pushed all the deer out. I spent the next three days searching for him, but to no avail.

The Return of Big 5

During this time I joined forces with two elk hunters—Brian and Mike—who were hunting in the same general area. We had an agreement: I would keep tabs on any big bulls, and they would keep an eye out for Big 5.

Just when I was beginning to lose hope, Mike spotted Big 5 crossing into the canyon at dark on the fourteenth evening. The next morning I sneaked into the deer’s primary feeding area, but ended up busting him out again while still-hunting through the thick and noisy oak brush. This was the lowest point of my hunt.

Bowhunting is a low-odds venture to begin with; things don’t work out most of the time. As a rule, bowhunting success comes from having multiple opportunities, and the fastest way to limit your success is by hunting for one deer exclusively.

The daily glassing game.

To keep hope alive, I wrote a list of positive affirmations in my hunt journal. Of particular note was a reminder that not only do I have 27 years of bowhunting experience under my belt, but I’ve been down this road before: Hunting for just one deer. Only this time was different. I didn’t have three years to get the job done!

The Tank Buck

Hope returned on day 16 when I discovered a new buck—a massive, old, wide-racked 4×4 I called the “Tank”—in an adjacent canyon. He wasn’t as impressive as Big 5, but the longer I watched him the more I fell in love. He was a magnificent deer, and if nothing else he served as a good backup. The season was half-way over after all, so I was relieved to have another target on my very short list.

The “Tank” buck.

So you can imagine my disappointment when, the very next morning, I found that Tank and Big 5 had joined forces! They were now feeding together—along with a few smaller bucks—in the bottom of the canyon where it all started. And just like that, all my eggs were in one basket:  Bust one, bust ‘em all.

Desperate to make a stalk, I threw down my glass, picked up my bow and scrambled to the bottom of the steep, aspen-choked canyon. But just as I was closing in, the wind changed and blew one of the smaller bucks out of his bed. I turned and backed out immediately to avoid further damage.

Stalk through the aspens.

The next morning, in complete darkness, I snuck to the bottom of the canyon hoping to get in front of the bucks before first light. But once again my plans were foiled when I glassed up the bucks feeding at the top of the canyon! As morning dragged on, the bucks side-hilled out of view and disappeared. Once again they stayed one step ahead of me.

Endless Pursuit

By day nineteen I was at wits end. At some point during the restless night I hatched a plan to get ahead of the bucks. I knew from experience that big bucks get big by being unpredictable. So if they fed at the top of the canyon yesterday, perhaps they’d be at the bottom today. Again, in the cover of darkness I dropped down the canyon. And wouldn’t you know it, the bucks stayed high! This time, however, I wasn’t letting them out of my sight.

Immediately I ascended the aspen ridge between us, and then watched as all three deer—Big 5, Tank, and a smaller 3-point—fed along the ridge top and eventually bedded beneath a couple big pine trees. I pulled out my notebook and drew a diagram of the bedding area, noting landmarks that I could use during the stalk. But first I’d have to wait for the thermals to stabilize.

Stalk landmarks and notes.

I returned to camp and was just about crawling out of my skin waiting for the south winds to prevail. Finally, at noon I set out on a low-odds stalk towards the bucks, knowing that one false move could blow the bucks out forever. Surely they were growing weary of my chase.

Big 5 bedded underneath big pine.

The Final Stalk

The midday sun beat down on my face as I crested the ridge fifty yards above the bedded bucks, but thick oak brush obscured my view. Must get closer.

Hot, south crosswinds carry away my scent and the sound of my footsteps amongst the loose gravel on the hillside that grows steeper with each step. A frightened chipmunk shrieks and scurries away. I freeze for a minute, then take a range from the lower limbs of one of the trees: 45 yards. I slowly load an arrow and continue forward. Everything must be perfect now.

Each footstep is timed with the occasional gust of wind or the raspy sound of flying grasshoppers. I take another range: 35 yards. I wince as the wind continually dips down, then rises again. My heart-beat quickens; sweat beads up across my face. I take another step and look up again. Fuzzy antlers are suddenly bobbing through the oak brush. Big 5 is up and feeding, but only his head is visible.

I slowly raise my bow and scan ahead for a shot window. The situation unfolds in strange contrast: the natural world flows lazily along, but my mind is frantic as I try to manage a myriad of details in a heightened state of awareness. I’ve been here before; I know the odds. “What happens next? How does this end?”

The buck slowly feeds towards a little, two-foot gap in the oak brush. It’s all a blur as I draw my bow and track the buck with my 30-yard pin. He finally steps through and my arrow is off. There’s an audible “thunk,” and then pandemonium as all three bucks explode down the mountain. Seventy yards out, Tank and the smaller buck regroup and look back, but Big 5 continues out of sight.

Twenty minutes later I begin tracking down the mountainside. There’s blood right away, and for the first time in weeks I feel a sense of relief. A little further down the canyon and there he is. In my haste to shoot, the arrow hit forward in the neck, but did the job.

The buck is finally mine!

Like a dream, I reach down and grasp the buck’s sprawling antlers in my hands. I feel strangely numb. Whatever elation I’m supposed to feel has been cancelled out by the rigors of mountain, dampened by loss of sleep, and swamped in disbelief. Sometimes a hunter gets lucky; other times he earns it. In this case, the only luck I had was seeing the buck in the first place. I gave this hunt everything I had; I paid full price for my trophy.

Final Thought

Long ago, in a personal attack fueled by jealousy, an old “friend” once said to me, “I don’t have to shoot the biggest deer on the mountain to prove I’m a man!” I don’t disagree, however it does prove other things:  That you have a special skill set; that you are a provider of meat; and above all, you are the top predator you were meant to be. And that, my friends, puts you one step ahead of the rest.

Ancient petroglyphs in my hunting area.

Utah Archery Turkey Video

My 2023 Turkey Bow Hunt on YouTube

After nine years of chasing turkeys with my bow, I finally got this fine tom on public land in Utah during the general season.

Even better than an early Thanksgiving bird was all the wild places I’d visited and the memories I made over the years.

Watch through to the end for an epic slideshow chronicling my turkey adventures.  Enjoy!

 

A Second Chance: My 2016 Idaho Deer Story

My 2016 Idaho Archery Buck Story

The following is my 2016 Idaho deer story as published in Eastmans’ Bowhunting Journal, Issue 101, May/June 2017:

My 2015 obsession.
The infamous Monsterbuck.

The Monsterbuck

During the 2015 Utah bowhunt I came across a tremendous 200”+ typical mule deer buck which I called the Monsterbuck. At our first meeting, he caught me by surprise. Shaking like a newbie-hunter with buck fever, I promptly sailed an arrow over his back at 50 yards. Later in the season I filmed him at 200 yards on an open hillside. He was in an unstalkable location and surrounded by three other deer, so I let him walk, hoping to get a better opportunity the next day. But he had other plans. Like many big bucks, he disappeared and kept me one step behind him until the season ended.

I promised myself not to obsess over this buck; it’s just too much pressure to bring into the woods. Apparently obsession is not a decision because that amazing buck crept into my mind every day for an entire year! I carried a picture of Monsterbuck around in my planner and reviewed the 2015 video footage often. Needless to say, I went into this year’s bowhunt with high hopes.

About a month before the season opener, I scouted for the Monsterbuck but couldn’t turn him up. No sweat, I thought, he’s a smart buck and will take a little more time to locate. Opening day was hot and dry, but I was brimming with hope and buzzing with energy. I picked up exactly where I left off last year.

Right away I spotted a few forked-horns, but no Monsterbuck. I spent the rest of the day ghosting through thick timber and side-hilling steep slopes without rest. I never covered so much vertical ground in one day. I scoured the ground everywhere I went, but couldn’t find a single heavy-footed track. The evening hunt had me staring dejectedly at the same hillsides where the Monsterbuck had lived, but now completely devoid of deer.

Continuous boot-burning.
Continuous boot-burning.

And so went the next day, and the next. Eventually I moved camp low and worked upwards. Then north to south, and south to north, but still no Monsterbuck. For two weeks I clambered all over the beautiful and deerless mountains of Northern Utah. Morning, noon, and night I pondered where the Monsterbuck could be hiding, but  he never turned up.

Strangely enough, not only was the Monsterbuck missing, but so were seven other 4×4-or-bigger bucks I’d seen the previous year. At that point I was ready to take any mature buck, but all I could find were little ones. The best opportunity I had was a little 3-point buck that bounced into an opening at 20 yards and stared at me. I shooed him away and continued my fruitless search for something better.

Another beautiful mountain morning in Northern Utah.
Another beautiful mountain morning in Northern Utah.

By the third week I concluded that Monsterbuck had either been killed by a hunter, lion, or poacher,  or had moved to another part of the unit, likely due to increased human pressure in the area. All I knew for sure was that the DWR had issued a bunch more tags for my unit, as evidenced by a notable increase in human traffic in the area. And if there’s one thing big bucks hate more than anything, it’s people.

Another crazy morning in the deerless woods.
Another crazy morning in the deerless woods.

With less than two weeks left in the season, I was beyond dejected; I was mortified! I love bowhunting than anything, and to see it turn south so quickly was sickening. Each night I dreamed I was on the trail of the Monsterbuck, but he always stayed just out of sight.

Every day I sat in the woods wondering if I was stuck in a nightmare; that any second I might wake to a better reality. Or maybe I was just a lousy hunter. Perhaps I’d just been lucky all these years and deluding myself. As more days passed, my hunting journal became a dark place in which to vent my frustrations. Something had to change…

Halfway through the third week, while trudging across the empty landscape, it hit me: I had a valid Idaho hunting license left over from my spring bear hunt. I stormed back to camp, threw everything in the truck, and headed to Idaho. Having never actually hunted deer in Idaho, I went home collected some maps and notes I’d gotten from an Idaho Fish & Game officer at the hunting expo.

Off to Idaho

My first morning in Central Idaho was memorable, not because I saw more deer, but because I woke up to a terrible head cold. For the next three days I stumbled around strange mountains, sore and coughing while my nose drained continuously onto the dry forest floor.

The first unit I visited was a bust—too open and too few deer. The next unit was heavily forested, but full of other hunters and very little game. The third unit was a little more promising, but just as I began to scare up some deer, my truck broke down and I barely made it off the mountain.

Idaho Part I
Idaho Part I

The Utah deer hunt came to an end, and with only four days left in the Idaho season I headed out for one last attempt. In reviewing my first Idaho adventure, I concluded that the biggest threat to success was people! Going in, I had the misconception that Idaho was a vast wilderness full of game and opportunity. This is NOT the case. It’s just like Utah: People everywhere, hunting, hiking, camping, and driving ATVs up and down every dirt road. As long as there’s an open road you won’t find a buck anywhere near it. This is why my Utah hunt failed. In order to avoid getting “peopled” again, I broke out my map and found the one place as far away from any city, road or trail. My hunt wouldn’t begin until I covered two miles of steep mountains early the next morning.

Yet another camp.
Yet another camp.

It was a rough night. Instead of drifting into peaceful slumber, I lay awake staring at the tent ceiling and thinking about the colossal disappointment the season had become. My unhealthy obsession with the absent Monsterbuck had transformed a normally relaxed hunt into a desperate flailing across a dreary landscape. I fell asleep counting the innumerable disappointments of the last several weeks.

Redemption

On September 27th I woke long before the sun and headed up the steep and wooded ridge that separated me from solitude. I trudged like a man possessed, as if fleeing an oppressive regime and longing for new lands. As I approached the ridge top, deer began popping up on the horizon, first some does, then a small band of bucks. I continued on.

The sun finally broke the horizon, splashing light across a blanket of fresh snow splotched with golden aspen leaves. Pines glistened with melting frost as steam rose lazily from dark logs. Birds flitted about. An elk fired up in the canyon below. Deer tracks crisscrossed the forest floor and increased as I went. The woods pulled me forward, upward, effortlessly. I felt like I was coming home after a long hiatus.

Idaho Part II
Idaho Part II

Nearer the top, a group of large buck tracks appeared in the snow. They were fresh and meandering, so I sat on a log and listened. I was ready to take any old buck. I just wanted to hunt for myself, and for food, with no pressure to succeed, no worries about inches and scores.

A short time later there was a clacking of antlers and scuffle in the forest. I crept closer. Two bucks pushed and shoved each other with occasional flashes of fur and legs visible in the trees. I pulled an arrow and moved closer. Morning thermals began to swirl, and just as I was closing in, a breeze hit me in the back. I froze as the bucks bounded away, up and over the mountain. Oh well, I was going that direction anyway. It was still a wonderful opportunity.

The sun had been up for some time when I finally crested the ridge and dropped into the thick pines on the shadowy side of the mountain. I had officially arrived at the farthest point from the human pile and was brimming with hope. There was really only one good path through the thick tangle of brush and pines, and judging by the abundance of game tracks in the area, the deer used this route too.

After traveling a ways, my stomach grumbled. I sat down on a huge deadfall log and snacked on trail mix while pondering these new woods. Eventually I fished out my hunting journal and scribbled a short note about hope and opportunity, the only positive words the book had seen in some time. My contentment was short-lived, however, when a swishing sound erupted in the trees. I whipped my head around to see antler tips poking slowly through the trees. In one motion I snatched up my bow and slid off the backside of the log  and onto my knees. Smoothly and quickly I knocked an arrow and clamped my release to the string. I crouched low and stared fixedly ahead like a lion in ambush.

Ten yards and closing, the buck’s big, blocky, horse-like head appeared with tall, heavy antlers extending upwards into the canopy. Lazily, he angled down the game trail I had just been on. When his head disappeared behind a clump of trees, I drew my bow. He stopped. My heart pounded wildly, my eyes protruded from my skull, glaring through the bowstring. Time slowed down.

The buck remained motionless and hidden behind the trees just a few steps away. Did he hear me draw? A minute passes. My muscles start to fatigue and my arms begin to shake. Another minute passes. He knows something isn’t right. I beg my arms to hold, but the bow finally collapses, yanking my trembling arm forward.

Looking to completely ruin my day, the buck immediately starts walking again. With all my might, I crank the bow back again. His  head appears five yards away, then his shoulder. My eyes, strained and blurry, fight to settle the pin as it dances all over the place. My release triggers and the arrow flies; but it flies clean over the buck’s back and my heart sinks into my stomach.

The buck bounds into another opening just seven yards away and looks back. Crouching lower I pull another arrow and load it as quickly as I can. He’s still there, muscles taut, ready to blast out of my life forever. I can’t watch. My eyes squeeze shut as I draw the bow again and rise up on my knees once more. When the string touches my nose, my eyes flash open. He’s still there and my second arrow is on the way.

Success!

My tall-antlered 2016 Idaho buck.
My tall-antlered 2016 Idaho buck.

Final Thoughts

Success has taken on a new meaning for me now. Many nights of delicious venison backstraps have passed while trying to figure out how to tell the story of my tall-antlered Idaho buck. Is it a story of a failed Monsterbuck hunt, or is the miraculous success of an incredibly short hunt in new lands? Perhaps neither. I think it’s really a story of self-examination, of finding my true passion again.

As a hunter I’ve come full circle. Long ago I just wanted a deer—any deer—with my bow. It seemed like such an impossible task back then. These days are spent tirelessly chasing 200-inch monsters around the hills. But “trophy hunting” has lost some of its magic. In trying to prove myself, I’ve gradually reduced my greatest passion down to inches and strategy. My once insatiable love for the woods feels more like work now. Perhaps it’s time to hunt for the love of hunting again… We’ll see.

All I know for sure is that I keep relearning the same lessons I’ve been learning all along: That success is so much more than just killing a deer. Success really lies in the journey. Success comes from pushing yourself to your physical and spiritual limits, and then letting nature take over from there.

This story, then, is a simple one to tell: One man, one mountain, one morning, and a second chance.

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Bowhunting: A Healthy Obsession

A Healthy Hunting Obsession

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The deer hunt is less than a week away, and not an hour passes  that I don’t think about giant bucks. Bowhunting is the only reason I get out of the bed in the morning. It’s all I care about; everything else in the world is secondary. I’m hopelessly obsessed!

Fortunately it’s a healthy obsession. You see, at this point in my life I’ve come to realize that although I’m good at several things, I’m really only GREAT at one thing: chasing down giant bucks with my bow. Don’t be mad; I didn’t choose it; it chose me.

Now that I’ve come to grips with this curse, I have only three goals this year. They are:

  1. To shoot a monster buck over 200″.
  2. Live a healthy and fit lifestyle so I can physically go about chasing 200″ bucks.
  3. Work my butt off during the off-season so I can afford the time to chase a 200″ buck.

Pretty simple, right!?

Whatever you’re doing in life, I urge you to find your healthy obsession. Most people aren’t born with magical gifts, rather we must search our passions and then fight relentlessly to achieve the seemingly impossible prize. Do or die doing!

2014 Bowhunt Part 2 of 3

2014 Bow Hunt Notes: Part 2 of 3

Yesterday I got back from my second of three bowhunting trips to Southern Utah. I hiked in Monday morning and began hunting that evening through Thursday morning. Now that I’ve been EVERYWHERE, the area is no longer new to me. Here are the lessons I’ve learned so far:

  1. After spending seven full days in the Wilderness alone, it has been affirmed that all mysteries of the Universe, all questions about God and the nature of man, and every other question that could possibly arise in modern life can be answered by sitting alone with Nature.
  2. After spending seven full days hiking and exploring concentrically from the epicenter of my chosen area, I can now say that there are no great bucks worth pursuing, or at least not enough concentrations to make future efforts justifiable. Therefore, I will spend the last week of my hunt exploring vast, new areas of my unit.
  3. This week was hot and windy causing the deer to move much less, bed earlier, and unbed later.
  4. The only decent four-point buck I encountered busted me at ten yards when a psycho-squirrel went ballistic behind me and the buck caught my movement. If my arrow/broadhead combination wasn’t $20.00, I would have shot the squirrel.
  5. On the morning of September 2nd I saw a three-point and two-point in velvet. In the evening I saw the same two deer, but both had shed their velvet.

Yesterday morning I busted the biggest 2×3 I’ve ever seen out of a bed around 10:00 a.m. He had a very tall, 25-inch wide rack, and should have been a four-point. Just for fun, and to get a better look at him, I circled down the mountain where he passed by me at only ten yards. Not the caliber of deer I’m after, but fun to watch. Makes me wish I wasn’t a trophy hunter!

2014 Bow Hunt Part 3

2014 Bow Hunt Part 1

2014 Hunt Photos: 2 of 3

2014 Hunt Photos: 2 of 3

When you can’t shoot a buck, you can still shoot photos! Here are some photos from my second bowhunt of 2014:

September 04, 2014, 6:15 a.m.
September 04, 2014, 6:15 a.m.
My main watering spring...ahhhh...fresh mountain water with no man-made toxins.
My main watering spring…ahhhh…fresh mountain water with no man-made toxins.
Moon, conifers, and fall oak-brush.
Moon, conifers, and fall oak-brush.
Moss on the rocks. I love the texture.
Moss on the rocks. I love the texture.
Old-life; new-life.
Old-life; new-life.
Diverse habitat in my hunt area.
Diverse habitat in my hunt area.
3.5" buck track. This is the biggest track I found this year...but where's the deer?
3.5″ buck track. This is the biggest track I found this year…but where’s the deer?
I watched fall colors appear this week.
I watched fall colors appear this week.

 

2014 Hunt Photos: 3 of 3

2014 Hunt Photos: 1 of 3

Secret Bowhunting Tip #4: Hunt Alone

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Secret Bowhunting Tip #4: Hunt Alone

As a young hunter I frequently hunted with a buddy, whether it was out of fear of being alone or just to have some company. But in most cases we both failed to get a deer. Consequently I quickly learned to hunt alone.

The main reason why you shouldn’t hunt with a partner is because it doubles your scent, noise, and visibility to the deer. And since a partner will probably be chatting about something, it actually triples the noise you’d normally make.

An equally important reason to hunt alone is because another person is prone to challenge crucial decisions you might make when relying on your hunting instincts. Oftentimes, and for no logical reason, I’m suddenly compelled to go left instead of right. But my hunting partner is simultaneously compelled to go right! Or maybe I feel strongly about traveling uphill, but he thinks we should go down. So instead of making a simple, subconscious, instinctual decision to  do anything, you stand in the woods arguing your case. Finally you reach a compromise, and instead of going left or right, you go straight ahead into failure.

The problem with compromising—or splitting the decisions equally—you shoot each other in the foot. Your God-given instincts are rendered useless. You cease to be a predator and become a lemming. That’s the main real reason I hunt alone. Other than elk hunting where you might need a caller, or if you happen to be mentoring a youth or novice hunter, I can’t think of a single situation where it would be beneficial to hunt with another person.

That being said, each year I participate in other people’s hunts, whether it’s my son, my wife, a friend, or a family member. It’s important to pass along bits of the wisdom or woodcraft to the next generation. But these are special cases, and I’m usually not the one hunting anyway.

Sometimes, out of pity or just for fun, I’ll let someone tag along with me on a bowhunt. Some people just haven’t learned to hunt alone, or maybe I’m bringing someone to a new area and want to show them around. What I’ve noticed with most “buddy-hunters” is that they’re usually stubborn know-it-alls. The reason they don’t hunt alone is because they haven’t learned that they should. These people sometimes heed my advice, but for the most part they go right back to doing their own thing, but rarely having success. When I hunt with these people, I have little expectation for success. Sometimes I don’t even take my bow out of the sling.

One of the greatest lessons I’ve learned in life is that you can’t help people who aren’t willing to help themselves. You can lead them to the best areas, but they’re gonna make the same mistakes they always made: underestimating deer, making too much noise, moving with the wind instead of against it, over-packing, resting when they should be moving or moving when they should be sitting.

When hunting alone, safety is a much greater concern. Some areas—such as the High Uinta Mountains—are just too big and rugged to venture into alone. One false step and no one will ever find your body. But that doesn’t necessarily mean I should hunt with another person. I’m really camping with them. In the morning when the hunt begins, I’m going out  on my own. In dangerous areas it’s good to have someone else in the general area—just not right next to you.

In two decades of bowhunting, I haven’t arrowed a single animal with someone standing next to me. Bowhunting is not a team sport. If you have a regular hunting partner, that’s great. Just make sure you set out in opposite directions when your hunt begins.

Click here for the next tip:  Secret Bowhunting Tip #5: Enlarge Your Consciousness

Secret Bowhunting Tip #1: Weight is Everything

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Bowhunting Tip: Weight is Everything

Be prepared. – Boy Scout Motto

Be prepared, not OVER-prepared. – My Motto

In this article I’m going to address weight issues. No, I’m not talking  about your waiste line. I’m talking about unnecessary items we carry into the field that may be hampering our success.

Utah offers a great opportunity for bowhunters who still have unused archery tags at the end of the general elk and deer seasons. It’s called the Wasatch Extended Archery Hunt. The “extended hunt” runs from the middle of September through the end of December, and encompasses the entire Wasatch Front and the deer rut. I usually see more giant bucks during the extended hunt than the whole general season. The biggest downside to the extended hunt—particularly in November and December—is the steepness of terrain coupled with deep snow and cold weather.

In November of 2012, I hunted the extended hunt for a few days alone. There’s always a little apprehension about venturing into those freezing mountains alone; I really never know where I’ll end up exactly either. To feel more secure on that trip, I brought tons of extra gear, including extra clothing, food, water, hand warmers, boots, and even some reading materials. In other words I over-packed, and that was a big mistake. Instead of taking three hours to drag my sled to camp, it took five hours and I didn’t get to bed until 1:00 am.

For the duration of the trip, my legs cramped, I blew through my water, ate more food than usual, and was forced to rest more frequently. Although it was warmer than previous years, I was more tired and miserable. Miraculously I arrowed a decent buck two days in, but with so much camp weight on top of my deer, I had to leave half my gear on the mountain and return the next day to retrieve it. Not fun!

Extended Hunt Redo

In 2013 I returned to the same spot, only this time I brought my brain. Before the trip I went over the list of junk I hauled up the mountain last year and then crossed out almost half of it. Most of that extra stuff served only to make me feel safer and had no real use for hunting. Some of the items included extra food, water (I could just filter water as I went and /or eat snow), extra boots, a pillow, books, propane, extra knives, hand warmers, utensils, batteries, archery tools, a handgun, extra flashlights, lighters, etc.

I also noticed that my big, leather hunting belt weighed twice as much as my skinny “church belt,” so I wore that one instead.  I even cut the tags off my clothes and the handle off my toothbrush. All in all, I probably removed 30% of my original pack weight, and man did it pay off. I got up the mountain in record time, ate less food, and covered more ground. You might be surprised at how difficult it is to be quiet while wearing a heavy day pack. In the end, I didn’t miss any of the junk I left home. Well, I did miss my handgun when I learned there was an active cougar den with kittens only 300 yards of my tent!

It’s hard to believe that such small items matter so much. It’s the result of the compounding effect. You never know which erroneous item will be the straw that breaks your back.

Weight and Snow Hunting

Weight is especially  a negative factor when hunting in snow. More than anything else, a pair of heavy boots will fatigue you out in the snow. For years I had two boot options: First, a heavy, high-top, insulated cold-weather boot, and second, a lightweight, breathable, un-insulated stalker-style boot. In 20I3 I stopped using heavy boots altogether. What I found was the heavy boots always got too hot due to the extreme terrain. They were also noisy and very heavy compared to my stalker boots.

Now, the stalker boots weigh half as much (similar to tennis shoes),  but there are two minor drawbacks. First, my feet always got cold when I wasn’t moving, and second, they had minimal traction, or tread. To counter the cold, I simply wore two layers of wool socks. As for traction, I simply strapped on a pair of lightweight ice cleats which worked wonders in the snow.

Conclusion

The next time you return from a grueling backcountry bowhunt, I suggest you empty everything in your backpack onto the living room floor and make a list of whatever you didn’t use. Is there still a tag on your tent? Why did you pack it into the woods? Were you going to eat it? Is there half a tube of toothpaste left in your toiletries pocket?  Extra paste is a waste of space.

Weight is everything. That was the lesson I learned in 2013. And surprise, surprise, fear is your worst enemy. Fear is why we over-pack. The more afraid of the mountain we are, the more extra stuff we cram in our packs. And then there’s the great gear paradox:  the more we fear failure, the more hunting gear we tend to carry around in our daypacks.

Bowhunters need to realize that they are the predator, not the gear on your back. You are too be feared, not the mountain. All that extra weight is an anchor keeping you from your goal. Pack light. Don’t be your own worst enemy. Be prepared, not over-prepared.

Click here for my Secret Bowhunting Tip #2:  Success is a Decision