Day 6, Thursday, Oct. 28th
The plan, I believe, is to take a break some time this afternoon to go up to the very top of the mountain, on the side nearest town, to try to catch a bit of a cell phone signal so that we can all call our others. I just hope the elk don't wait until then to come out of hiding. I'm looking forward to calling Erika if she's available, and if I can get a decent signal.
We're heading out early so we can try to catch the elk while they're still brushing their teeth and putting on their make-up. It's raining, and 40 degree's. Fortunately, I sprayed my jacket with water-proofing twice, so I should be well covered. My dad got this scent blocker spray called autumn forest or something... and it smells exactly like what I was talking about in my facebook status last month when I said, "Jacob Smith wants cologne that smells like the Sana Cruz mountains. Not Santa Cruz. The Santa Cruz mountains." I may just have to steal it, and wear it around town... that is, if I ever go around town.
On our way out to the stock pond, we came upon a clearing and stopped inside the tree line. Papa leaned up against a tree and looked one way, I stood between a couple of trees and looked the other direction. After about a minute of standing still and being quiet (my favorite game), I see some deer coming toward us. I say, "Deer, right behind you.". By this time, they were just a little under 30 feet away, and a few of them stopped when papa turned around... but most of them just kept on like they were going to run right through us. I hesitate for a moment, deciding whether I should reach for my knife on my right hip, or my camera in my left pocket. I decided on my camera, and when I reach for it, the rest of the deer stop and look at us like, "Holy crap! You two were trees a second ago!" The five does bolted off, and were out of sight almost instantly, but the buck stuck around and posed for a few seconds. Long enough for me to get a profile shot of him. He wasn't anything too impressive, just a forked horn, but considering he almost trampled us, I was happy to get a picture. I hope I don't have to be content with that being the only thing I get this week.
We got up to the stock pond, and it seems just a little too late. The water was cloudy, and there were no elk around. We sat out of sight for a while, with the rain dripping down, hoping the trees would do a decent job of sheltering us... but it seems they were all too eager to be rid of the water collecting on them, and all too willing to dump it right on us, so we decided to hike back to camp. Along the way, we saw the tail ends of two more white-tail deer bouncing along through the forest about 50 feet ahead of us. Too bad it's not deer season.
Mark showed up around lunch time. Papa and Grandpa went up to make calls, but there's only room for two in Grandpa's car, so I'll wait around, and hope Pat goes up to call Jeanine this evening, and I'll be able to go and call Erika. I like being out here away from everything... but the one thing I miss more than anything else... more than a soft bed, more than tv, more than all my internets, is being able to contact her whenever I want.
The good thing about rain is that it disguises some of your noise. The bad thing is that my water-proofing didn't work. Second excursion, two more white tails and no elk. Seeing all this sign, and putting forth all of this effort, but not even catching a glimpse of what we're hunting... it's a little hard not to get discouraged. There have been so many near perfect opportunities for us to shoot an elk that only lacked one very important thing.
I nearly threw my phone off of a mountain. "More bars in more places" is great, provided that all those bars don't disappear as soon as you hit send. Standing on the top of a mountain, on top of a rock, in the rain, trying to call, or text... holding the phone up above my head, looking like a crazy person. Nothing. As soon as my jacket sleeves were wet enough to wring out, I decided it was time to give up and go back to the camp fire. I'll have to try again later. As miserable as all of that sounds, I really am enjoying myself. The only thing that sucks is that the one person I would most like here with me probably wouldn't enjoy it us much as I am. Really, after a long wet day like today, I'll take a covered campfire over a heated house.
By the way, since I wasn't able to call you: Happy birthday, Mama, I hope it was a good one.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Into the whiled: Hunt
Day 5: Wednesday, Oct. 27th.
The snow is still covering everything. If this keeps up, the first day of actual hunting should be pretty easy, since we'll be able to see where they've been recently, and where they were going. Also, we'll be able to see where they've peed, since it apparently looks like anti-freeze. Neon colors tend to stand out well against a solid white backdrop. It's 28 degrees, feels more like 30. The sun is shining and the air is still. Ate breakfast and heard the obligatory dad speech, "anybody have to go before we take off?". The day had already started heating up by the time we got all our snacks, emergency supplies, and weapons packed.
We came across some heavy elk tracks just up the road from camp, after crossing the drainage, but it was all muddled up and difficult to make out which way they'd gone, or how recently, so we kept going on the road, instead of following them. Through the barbed wire gate, followed the "leave it like you found it" gate policy, and made our way up to a rock outcropping at the top of a hill nestled between two, more heavily wooded, drainages that we were certain elk would be running through any minute. First wild-life sighting: two little ground squirrels... or maybe chipmunks. I don't know. They stopped their game of tag to look at us for about five minutes and then, presumably, run off and tell all the elk where we were.
Sneaking through the snowy forest like we were, my dad in front (because he had a gun, and didn't want to have to aim around me if an elk suddenly came into view) saying things like "We can stop and wait here, or keep moving. Your call.", and occasionally asking if I saw anything, kept reminding me of those levels in Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare where your character is following his C.O. through a snowy forest, trying to make their way past Russian military. Slightly different though because, in the game, both characters have guns... and they're hunting people (and dogs)... and I was wearing a big blue back-pack. So it was kind of CoD4:MW mixed with Monty Python's Holy Grail, with me playing the roll of Patsy, my dad being Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon, king of the Britons... and those squirrels being the French guards. In fact, I'm pretty sure I heard one of them call me a silly English Kunigit.
We followed a game trail along the creek, through a thicket (I also kept picturing scenes from Bambi all day which, unfortunately, makes me the villain in the scenario), and found more relatively fresh elk signs, but no elk. Why don't they ever just hang out where we can see them easily... and wear blindfolds... and be tied to a tree or something? That would make hunting much more convenient.
These boots were not made for walking, but that's just what they'll do. I'm in favor of any sport that includes walking through the forest, sitting for a long time, and not talking much. I should have used the bathroom before we left, like all the Dad's said. Will I never learn?
Went back to camp for lunch, and went out on a second excursion. This time we came across a lot of elk tracks and some deer tracks. The elk prints looked like a large bull and a cow. I could tell because my dad told me so. Haven't heard many shots (which is surprising, with it being the first day of the season) so maybe they're still alive and waiting for us somewhere. We followed the tracks to a stock pond that looked pretty well used. Big deep prints in the mud all along the bank, and cloudy water around them makes me think it's been visited recently. There's a good view of the field below from inside the tree line. Even without the binoculars I can see a decent number of beds out there. This will be a good place to start out in the morning. We set it as a way-point on the gps and headed back to camp. Tonight will be another night of sleeping on a mattress of shirts, but it's actually not as bad as it sounds. I don't know what all those homeless people are complaining about all the time.
The snow is still covering everything. If this keeps up, the first day of actual hunting should be pretty easy, since we'll be able to see where they've been recently, and where they were going. Also, we'll be able to see where they've peed, since it apparently looks like anti-freeze. Neon colors tend to stand out well against a solid white backdrop. It's 28 degrees, feels more like 30. The sun is shining and the air is still. Ate breakfast and heard the obligatory dad speech, "anybody have to go before we take off?". The day had already started heating up by the time we got all our snacks, emergency supplies, and weapons packed.
We came across some heavy elk tracks just up the road from camp, after crossing the drainage, but it was all muddled up and difficult to make out which way they'd gone, or how recently, so we kept going on the road, instead of following them. Through the barbed wire gate, followed the "leave it like you found it" gate policy, and made our way up to a rock outcropping at the top of a hill nestled between two, more heavily wooded, drainages that we were certain elk would be running through any minute. First wild-life sighting: two little ground squirrels... or maybe chipmunks. I don't know. They stopped their game of tag to look at us for about five minutes and then, presumably, run off and tell all the elk where we were.
Sneaking through the snowy forest like we were, my dad in front (because he had a gun, and didn't want to have to aim around me if an elk suddenly came into view) saying things like "We can stop and wait here, or keep moving. Your call.", and occasionally asking if I saw anything, kept reminding me of those levels in Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare where your character is following his C.O. through a snowy forest, trying to make their way past Russian military. Slightly different though because, in the game, both characters have guns... and they're hunting people (and dogs)... and I was wearing a big blue back-pack. So it was kind of CoD4:MW mixed with Monty Python's Holy Grail, with me playing the roll of Patsy, my dad being Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon, king of the Britons... and those squirrels being the French guards. In fact, I'm pretty sure I heard one of them call me a silly English Kunigit.
We followed a game trail along the creek, through a thicket (I also kept picturing scenes from Bambi all day which, unfortunately, makes me the villain in the scenario), and found more relatively fresh elk signs, but no elk. Why don't they ever just hang out where we can see them easily... and wear blindfolds... and be tied to a tree or something? That would make hunting much more convenient.
These boots were not made for walking, but that's just what they'll do. I'm in favor of any sport that includes walking through the forest, sitting for a long time, and not talking much. I should have used the bathroom before we left, like all the Dad's said. Will I never learn?
Went back to camp for lunch, and went out on a second excursion. This time we came across a lot of elk tracks and some deer tracks. The elk prints looked like a large bull and a cow. I could tell because my dad told me so. Haven't heard many shots (which is surprising, with it being the first day of the season) so maybe they're still alive and waiting for us somewhere. We followed the tracks to a stock pond that looked pretty well used. Big deep prints in the mud all along the bank, and cloudy water around them makes me think it's been visited recently. There's a good view of the field below from inside the tree line. Even without the binoculars I can see a decent number of beds out there. This will be a good place to start out in the morning. We set it as a way-point on the gps and headed back to camp. Tonight will be another night of sleeping on a mattress of shirts, but it's actually not as bad as it sounds. I don't know what all those homeless people are complaining about all the time.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Into the whiled: Near Catastrophe
Day 4. Tuesday, Oct. 26
There was snow all over the ground when I woke up. It wasn't thick, but it was beautiful. The tarp over the fire pit/seating area was sagging with it, but we got a fire going, and it all melted, and then turned into steam in pretty short order. Left-over beef stew for breakfast.
The desire to stay warm has kept us in pretty constant need of more firewood, so we've taken to cutting limbs off of the large dead trees laying on the hillside behind camp, which is mostly done with the axe and hand saw, but we also noticed that there's a dead stand just on the other side of the bathroom. This will require Gabe's chainsaw. Knowing that I have experience cutting down trees (since I had been talking about having done it for a living), the job was given to me. Cut down the tree, and don't smash the bathroom. Pretty simple. It's slightly more nerve wracking to have people watch you while you're cutting it down... especially when they're all mountain men. You don't want to look like an incompetent kid in this company. Aside from starting to cut a little higher than 18" from ground level (I guess that's the forest service maximum for felled tree stumps) all went well, the tree went where I wanted it, the saw didn't bind up, and nobody got cut in half. This is good dry redwood that we can use to dry out the other wood we have stacked around the fire pit. The thermometer says it's 32 degrees, which means it's already warming up.
While Papa and Uncle Pat make sure their sights are accurate, by shooting bottles, cans, and empty propane tanks they've set up on some logs, I carve the bottom half of the sapling from yesterday (the top half of which became Erika's walking stick) into a cougar spear. I shaved off all of the bark, and carved the shaft down til it was comfortable to get my hand around, and left a rough ridge around the pointed end so that, if any of us should need to use it, it won't just stab in and pull out. If I have to stab a cougar, I don't want to just piss it off and let it go. After I get it all fire hardened, and carve "Cougar" into the shaft, I think I'll leave it over by the bathroom so that no one gets caught with their pants down, so to speak.
Watching my dad and uncle shoot at cans, bottles, and propane tanks, while my grandpa watches them happily, it became apparent to me that boys never really grow up... they just get better toys. I can't really be sure, but I think it might be kind of the same with girls. Maybe we become more responsible (maybe we don't) or self sufficient (or not), but if you get us out of our usual lives, get us into our element, we're still those kids who pretend we're Davey Crockett surrounded by Injuns, or U.S. Marshall's hunting down the James gang... thank God that imaginative and joyful spirit never really leaves us... I think we'd be truly miserable without it.
We had piled a bunch of thick branches on the fire because they were full of sap and burned hot, and we were just getting ready for dinner. The water kettle relinquished its usual perch on the swinging grill over the fire to make way for the Dutch Oven, king of camp-fire cooking units, and instead took a place balancing on one of the rocks that made up the fire pit. Having filled the oven with what we were all sure would be another delicious meal, my dad had put it onto the grill and began swinging it back over the flames when, without warning....... his knee bumped into the water kettle, dousing the flames entirely. With very little dry wood around, we all were disheartened, and jumped up to try to figure out a solution. All seemed lost when, just as suddenly as it had gone out, fire jumped up from certain parts of the wood where sap had been oozing out. Steadily the steam turned back into smoke, and smoke into flame, and we were back in business.
The snow had melted sometime mid day, but the temperature has dropped again, and flakes are falling again, larger than before, and the wind has certainly picked up.
It's strange, out here where I don't have my cell phone or iPod on me (which I usually use in place of a watch), because I don't go by time of day. I wake up when I'm done sleeping, get up when I have to pee, eat when I'm hungry, go to sleep when I'm tired, and never once consider what time it is. Everything revolves around daylight, hunger, and energy. I assume someone must have a clock, or a watch, but I have no need for such things out here.
There was snow all over the ground when I woke up. It wasn't thick, but it was beautiful. The tarp over the fire pit/seating area was sagging with it, but we got a fire going, and it all melted, and then turned into steam in pretty short order. Left-over beef stew for breakfast.
The desire to stay warm has kept us in pretty constant need of more firewood, so we've taken to cutting limbs off of the large dead trees laying on the hillside behind camp, which is mostly done with the axe and hand saw, but we also noticed that there's a dead stand just on the other side of the bathroom. This will require Gabe's chainsaw. Knowing that I have experience cutting down trees (since I had been talking about having done it for a living), the job was given to me. Cut down the tree, and don't smash the bathroom. Pretty simple. It's slightly more nerve wracking to have people watch you while you're cutting it down... especially when they're all mountain men. You don't want to look like an incompetent kid in this company. Aside from starting to cut a little higher than 18" from ground level (I guess that's the forest service maximum for felled tree stumps) all went well, the tree went where I wanted it, the saw didn't bind up, and nobody got cut in half. This is good dry redwood that we can use to dry out the other wood we have stacked around the fire pit. The thermometer says it's 32 degrees, which means it's already warming up.
While Papa and Uncle Pat make sure their sights are accurate, by shooting bottles, cans, and empty propane tanks they've set up on some logs, I carve the bottom half of the sapling from yesterday (the top half of which became Erika's walking stick) into a cougar spear. I shaved off all of the bark, and carved the shaft down til it was comfortable to get my hand around, and left a rough ridge around the pointed end so that, if any of us should need to use it, it won't just stab in and pull out. If I have to stab a cougar, I don't want to just piss it off and let it go. After I get it all fire hardened, and carve "Cougar" into the shaft, I think I'll leave it over by the bathroom so that no one gets caught with their pants down, so to speak.
Watching my dad and uncle shoot at cans, bottles, and propane tanks, while my grandpa watches them happily, it became apparent to me that boys never really grow up... they just get better toys. I can't really be sure, but I think it might be kind of the same with girls. Maybe we become more responsible (maybe we don't) or self sufficient (or not), but if you get us out of our usual lives, get us into our element, we're still those kids who pretend we're Davey Crockett surrounded by Injuns, or U.S. Marshall's hunting down the James gang... thank God that imaginative and joyful spirit never really leaves us... I think we'd be truly miserable without it.
We had piled a bunch of thick branches on the fire because they were full of sap and burned hot, and we were just getting ready for dinner. The water kettle relinquished its usual perch on the swinging grill over the fire to make way for the Dutch Oven, king of camp-fire cooking units, and instead took a place balancing on one of the rocks that made up the fire pit. Having filled the oven with what we were all sure would be another delicious meal, my dad had put it onto the grill and began swinging it back over the flames when, without warning....... his knee bumped into the water kettle, dousing the flames entirely. With very little dry wood around, we all were disheartened, and jumped up to try to figure out a solution. All seemed lost when, just as suddenly as it had gone out, fire jumped up from certain parts of the wood where sap had been oozing out. Steadily the steam turned back into smoke, and smoke into flame, and we were back in business.
The snow had melted sometime mid day, but the temperature has dropped again, and flakes are falling again, larger than before, and the wind has certainly picked up.
It's strange, out here where I don't have my cell phone or iPod on me (which I usually use in place of a watch), because I don't go by time of day. I wake up when I'm done sleeping, get up when I have to pee, eat when I'm hungry, go to sleep when I'm tired, and never once consider what time it is. Everything revolves around daylight, hunger, and energy. I assume someone must have a clock, or a watch, but I have no need for such things out here.
Into the whiled: Hike
Day 3, Monday Oct. 25th
This morning, when I was forced out of my nice warm sleeping bag by my insistent bladder, the ground was not nearly as mushy as it had been before. It wasn't that it had dried out... it had frozen solid. There was snow falling gently, the way it does in movies whenever a Christmas miracle is about to happen. The wind, pushing the soft puffs of frosty beauty around in the air like tiny dancing fairies..... or some analogy much more manly. As if fresh snow wasn't enough, we're having bacon with breakfast today. Oh joy, oh rapture. That wasn't meant to sound sarcastic.
This is the day we decided it was time to get a toilet built. There is a group of pine trees not far from camp (but far enough that we shouldn't be able to smell the toilet while cooking or eating meals) that we've decided will make the perfect support for our ghetto outhouse (and here you thought regular outhouses were ghetto). Uncle Pat is the primary engineer on this job, and it's a good working environment where the rest of us feel free to make suggestions as we see fit. We cut some pine saplings, 2 to 3 inches across generally, to be the beams the toilet seat would sit on, and screwed them at what seemed a comfortable height onto the trunks of the main trees. Don't worry, hippies, we didn't hurt the environment, we only cut small trees that were growing so close to larger trees that they would either die slowly from lack of water and sunlight, or grow taller and become a fire hazard to more established trees. Our crapper was one way in which we were protecting the forest. As one American Hunter magazine recently noted, "hunters make the best conservationists". After we put the beams and seat over the hole, we each did a dressed rehearsal to see if it was sturdy enough. The front beam sagged a little too much for our liking, so we cut a couple of legs out of some scrap we had left over, and screwed them in place. That seemed to work just fine. We wrapped it with tarps, put the shaved pine boughs on the ground at the foot of the throne (which helped mask the scent a bit, and acted as a visual barrier), and put a can full of ashes next to the seat. I also had brought a strawberry scented candle with this in mind, which I set next to the seat to be lit when the outhouse was in use. We're not complete barbarians.
With one of the most important elements of camp all taken care of, we decided to go off on a hike, to get more ideas about where we were hunting. In the fresh snow we saw elk tracks, deer tracks, and cow tracks pretty clearly... some pretty close to camp. We walked down the road a bit (or up, rather... sort of the theme of the day) and hooked off across a field into a heavily wooded area, which is where elk like to hang out. Apparently, animals that are food like to hang out where animals that try to eat them don't like to hang out. The snow is sticking to the ground less now, and the rising sun is dispatching what little had held there in the first place. We've come across a few areas that we can see they've been laying, some game trails, and a scrape (which we've established is much too low to be an elk). If you don't know what a scrape is, watch Bambi... right before we get informed about animals being twitterpated, Bambi makes a scrape on the tree, which rubs the bark off of the tree, and the velvet off of his antlers. It also sharpens them, making them perfect for when he wants to roast a bunch of marshmellows all at once... though that part got cut out of the movie because it took away from the drama of the forest fire scene. We also saw a couple of deer, as they bounced away from the other side of a clearing and into the forest.
After making a decent sized loop away from camp, and up to the top of "the bowl" (the valley we're camping in), we decided it was time for snacks. Fortunately, the top compartment on my backpack is stuffed with them. After some refreshments, uncle Pat hands me his 9mm Taurus pistol, and flips the safety into "you sure as hell better not be pointing this at anything you don't intend to shoot" mode, and I take aim at a knot on a tree about 35 feet in front of me and squeeze the trigger. This thing doesn't kick as much as my 30-06 rifle does. Perhaps distracted by the fact that the gun didn't try to jump out of my hands, I didn't see where (if anywhere on the tree) my bullet hit. I turn the gun a bit to the side, to make sure that the safety is off, but neglect to take my finger off the trigger (rookie mistake). This thing really does not take much pressure to get it to fire. The bullet darts off into the forest to my left, and the rest of the company jumps back a bit, except uncle Pat, who probably didn't even hear the gun go off. Lesson learned: the finger stays off the trigger until you mean to shoot.
Heading back to camp, we decide to take as straight a path as the trees and the barbed wire fences would allow. It worked out well to have a gps that worked off road... unlike mine. The one we used also doesn't have a russian accent, and doesn't tell you "In 500 feet, turn right." 20 seconds after you were supposed to turn. The thick brush on the way back and the lack of desire to go anywhere other than directly ahead meant it was convenient that I had my machete strapped to my back pack. I successfully chopped my way back to safety.
Back at camp, a whole lot of nothing to do.... which is actually fine by me. It gave me time to focus on important things. "What kind of important things?" you ask? The important kind.
I took the top of one of the saplings we had cut down (but turned out not to need), and cut off the smooth green bark from most of it, and carved out what I believe to be a perfectly Erika sized walking stick. Since she's not here to use it, I'll have to bring it back with me and give it to her some time. I also cut a notch on the uphill side of the already cut section of the thick part of the stick and made it look like a deer hoof. After fire hardening the whole thing, and actually burning the deer hoof section for color, it's ready for use.
The rest of the day was spent perfecting Erika's walking stick, changing something about it every time I look at it, dodging the smoke, eating, and dodging more smoke. Now I'm off to bed before any more of my words run together. Good night, Neverland.
This morning, when I was forced out of my nice warm sleeping bag by my insistent bladder, the ground was not nearly as mushy as it had been before. It wasn't that it had dried out... it had frozen solid. There was snow falling gently, the way it does in movies whenever a Christmas miracle is about to happen. The wind, pushing the soft puffs of frosty beauty around in the air like tiny dancing fairies..... or some analogy much more manly. As if fresh snow wasn't enough, we're having bacon with breakfast today. Oh joy, oh rapture. That wasn't meant to sound sarcastic.
This is the day we decided it was time to get a toilet built. There is a group of pine trees not far from camp (but far enough that we shouldn't be able to smell the toilet while cooking or eating meals) that we've decided will make the perfect support for our ghetto outhouse (and here you thought regular outhouses were ghetto). Uncle Pat is the primary engineer on this job, and it's a good working environment where the rest of us feel free to make suggestions as we see fit. We cut some pine saplings, 2 to 3 inches across generally, to be the beams the toilet seat would sit on, and screwed them at what seemed a comfortable height onto the trunks of the main trees. Don't worry, hippies, we didn't hurt the environment, we only cut small trees that were growing so close to larger trees that they would either die slowly from lack of water and sunlight, or grow taller and become a fire hazard to more established trees. Our crapper was one way in which we were protecting the forest. As one American Hunter magazine recently noted, "hunters make the best conservationists". After we put the beams and seat over the hole, we each did a dressed rehearsal to see if it was sturdy enough. The front beam sagged a little too much for our liking, so we cut a couple of legs out of some scrap we had left over, and screwed them in place. That seemed to work just fine. We wrapped it with tarps, put the shaved pine boughs on the ground at the foot of the throne (which helped mask the scent a bit, and acted as a visual barrier), and put a can full of ashes next to the seat. I also had brought a strawberry scented candle with this in mind, which I set next to the seat to be lit when the outhouse was in use. We're not complete barbarians.
With one of the most important elements of camp all taken care of, we decided to go off on a hike, to get more ideas about where we were hunting. In the fresh snow we saw elk tracks, deer tracks, and cow tracks pretty clearly... some pretty close to camp. We walked down the road a bit (or up, rather... sort of the theme of the day) and hooked off across a field into a heavily wooded area, which is where elk like to hang out. Apparently, animals that are food like to hang out where animals that try to eat them don't like to hang out. The snow is sticking to the ground less now, and the rising sun is dispatching what little had held there in the first place. We've come across a few areas that we can see they've been laying, some game trails, and a scrape (which we've established is much too low to be an elk). If you don't know what a scrape is, watch Bambi... right before we get informed about animals being twitterpated, Bambi makes a scrape on the tree, which rubs the bark off of the tree, and the velvet off of his antlers. It also sharpens them, making them perfect for when he wants to roast a bunch of marshmellows all at once... though that part got cut out of the movie because it took away from the drama of the forest fire scene. We also saw a couple of deer, as they bounced away from the other side of a clearing and into the forest.
After making a decent sized loop away from camp, and up to the top of "the bowl" (the valley we're camping in), we decided it was time for snacks. Fortunately, the top compartment on my backpack is stuffed with them. After some refreshments, uncle Pat hands me his 9mm Taurus pistol, and flips the safety into "you sure as hell better not be pointing this at anything you don't intend to shoot" mode, and I take aim at a knot on a tree about 35 feet in front of me and squeeze the trigger. This thing doesn't kick as much as my 30-06 rifle does. Perhaps distracted by the fact that the gun didn't try to jump out of my hands, I didn't see where (if anywhere on the tree) my bullet hit. I turn the gun a bit to the side, to make sure that the safety is off, but neglect to take my finger off the trigger (rookie mistake). This thing really does not take much pressure to get it to fire. The bullet darts off into the forest to my left, and the rest of the company jumps back a bit, except uncle Pat, who probably didn't even hear the gun go off. Lesson learned: the finger stays off the trigger until you mean to shoot.
Heading back to camp, we decide to take as straight a path as the trees and the barbed wire fences would allow. It worked out well to have a gps that worked off road... unlike mine. The one we used also doesn't have a russian accent, and doesn't tell you "In 500 feet, turn right." 20 seconds after you were supposed to turn. The thick brush on the way back and the lack of desire to go anywhere other than directly ahead meant it was convenient that I had my machete strapped to my back pack. I successfully chopped my way back to safety.
Back at camp, a whole lot of nothing to do.... which is actually fine by me. It gave me time to focus on important things. "What kind of important things?" you ask? The important kind.
I took the top of one of the saplings we had cut down (but turned out not to need), and cut off the smooth green bark from most of it, and carved out what I believe to be a perfectly Erika sized walking stick. Since she's not here to use it, I'll have to bring it back with me and give it to her some time. I also cut a notch on the uphill side of the already cut section of the thick part of the stick and made it look like a deer hoof. After fire hardening the whole thing, and actually burning the deer hoof section for color, it's ready for use.
The rest of the day was spent perfecting Erika's walking stick, changing something about it every time I look at it, dodging the smoke, eating, and dodging more smoke. Now I'm off to bed before any more of my words run together. Good night, Neverland.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Into the whiled: Scouting
Day 2. Sunday, Oct. 24th.
No such luck. Woke up about half an hour into the night on an entirely deflated mattress. I did manage to go back to sleep pretty quickly. The rain has cleared up, which is good because we're taking off on our first hike today, to get an idea of some good places to find elk. We piled into uncle Pat's truck and drove up a few different logging roads. Walking around on the top of Bone Ridge or something, we found a few different game trails to walk and check for elk signs (hoof prints, droppings, beds) I noticed Grandpa was walking off on his own in a different direction than uncle Pat and my dad, so I figured I'd sort of follow him. Something tucked in among the foliage on the forest floor caught my eye. Appeared to be the lower section of a deer leg. At first I figured it was a scrap that fell off of a mountain lion's table, but a closer look showed the leg to have been cut, not torn, which means that it must be human. What's more, the fact that it's still a few weeks before deer season around here means it's poachers. There are a lot of people who give hunters a bad name, but I think poachers might be the worst of them. They don't care about managing herd sizes, or maintaining healthy ecosystems, or any real sort of hunting ethics. They care about getting their trophy, their meat, or their payment, and not getting caught or having to pay. Uncle pat says a lot of poachers will sell their meat to local restaurants or the Indians.
We also saw what seemed to be the remains of a turkey, and some elk prints, droppings, and beds. toward the end of our walk I found a big pile of hair, and a hide that looked like a deer had slipped it off and left it on the floor, too lazy to toss it into the laundry bin. Further evidence that poachers just wanted to get in, get some meat to sell, and get out.
As the rest of the men stood around a little stock pond, I decided I wanted to do more exploring, so I climbed up on a rock pile and looked off in the distance with my binoculars. Uncle Pat took a picture of me, which I will probably put as my profile picture when I get back. I must say, I look like quite the adventurer.
Finally got to see the nearly full moon tonight as it crested the tree tops. Hopefully the skies stay clear.
Sitting around the camp fire, with the inconstant wind never making its mind up about where it wants to blow the smoke, is an exercise in patience/not swearing too much in front of your grandpa. It's ridiculous, and I'll probably have lung cancer by the end of the week. Going to try to sleep on a deflated mattress again. Wish me luck.
No such luck. Woke up about half an hour into the night on an entirely deflated mattress. I did manage to go back to sleep pretty quickly. The rain has cleared up, which is good because we're taking off on our first hike today, to get an idea of some good places to find elk. We piled into uncle Pat's truck and drove up a few different logging roads. Walking around on the top of Bone Ridge or something, we found a few different game trails to walk and check for elk signs (hoof prints, droppings, beds) I noticed Grandpa was walking off on his own in a different direction than uncle Pat and my dad, so I figured I'd sort of follow him. Something tucked in among the foliage on the forest floor caught my eye. Appeared to be the lower section of a deer leg. At first I figured it was a scrap that fell off of a mountain lion's table, but a closer look showed the leg to have been cut, not torn, which means that it must be human. What's more, the fact that it's still a few weeks before deer season around here means it's poachers. There are a lot of people who give hunters a bad name, but I think poachers might be the worst of them. They don't care about managing herd sizes, or maintaining healthy ecosystems, or any real sort of hunting ethics. They care about getting their trophy, their meat, or their payment, and not getting caught or having to pay. Uncle pat says a lot of poachers will sell their meat to local restaurants or the Indians.
We also saw what seemed to be the remains of a turkey, and some elk prints, droppings, and beds. toward the end of our walk I found a big pile of hair, and a hide that looked like a deer had slipped it off and left it on the floor, too lazy to toss it into the laundry bin. Further evidence that poachers just wanted to get in, get some meat to sell, and get out.
As the rest of the men stood around a little stock pond, I decided I wanted to do more exploring, so I climbed up on a rock pile and looked off in the distance with my binoculars. Uncle Pat took a picture of me, which I will probably put as my profile picture when I get back. I must say, I look like quite the adventurer.
Finally got to see the nearly full moon tonight as it crested the tree tops. Hopefully the skies stay clear.
Sitting around the camp fire, with the inconstant wind never making its mind up about where it wants to blow the smoke, is an exercise in patience/not swearing too much in front of your grandpa. It's ridiculous, and I'll probably have lung cancer by the end of the week. Going to try to sleep on a deflated mattress again. Wish me luck.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Into the whiled
So, I recently went on a trip with my dad, up to the Ritter unit of the Umatilla national forest, outside of Dale, Oregon, to hunt elk. I'm blogging the trip now from what I wrote in a notepad while I was up there. I figure this is easier than telling everyone about it individually.
Saturday, Oct. 23rd, 2010
Day One. The Drive.
We left the house at around 3 am or something ridiculous like that. We had to get Mama to the San Fransisco airport, and we had a 13 hour drive ahead of us. We headed up 395, I think, and by breakfast time (or rather, the time our stomach's started growling and our eye lids decided we needed caffeine) we were in Williams, California. You know the place. No Starbuck's in sight (I know. Frowning emoticon) so we stopped at a McDonald's. That's fine, even though I know they're not actually food, I still love Bacon Egg and Cheese McGriddle's. There's a middle aged man and a mid 20's girl in there wearing camoflage, which of course means we're going to talk to them. They're on their way to go duck hunting. We're on our way to go Elk hunting. We're from Los Gatos. They're from Sebastopol (Seb-aa-stuh-poll). She didn't seem to remember my friend, Forrest, (who I figure she went to school with) until I mention that he was approximately 100 feet tall and was a poll vaulter, though he could just as easily have been the poll. Bellies full, eyes open, and back on the road. It's a while before we see any sunlight, but that's fine because it was also a while before we got to anywhere that was really beautiful. In case you were ever considering taking a sight seeing tour straight up the middle of California, don't. As the sun rose, so did our elevation, and we were driving up through the pillared halls of the mountain king, and suddenly through huge grassy flat-lands in mountain valleys, and then back into woodlands and up along winding roads. We'd get to look out, over the valleys as we carved our way along the side of the higher hills, at what must (in the winter) really be like a picture print by Courier and Ives. I really wish my camera was faster, and took higher quality pictures some times, because I can't fully explain how beautiful these areas were. Simultaneously quaint and vast, green and gold, antique and timeless. There are trees up here I'm not sure I've ever seen. The cathedral spires of ever-green trees that hem us in on every side are interrupted occasionally by sparkling explosions of yellow from Valley Oak, Aspen, (maybe) Birch, and Tamarack (the only deciduous conifer I know of)
The closer we got to the Oregon border, the more steadily the air grew full of water droplets. The moisture in the air and the angle of the sun gave us the rare opportunity to actually chase a rainbow. Directly to our right at first, and later moving along about 20 feet in front of us was a double rainbow.... all the way across the sky. It was even starting, at one point, to look like a triple rainbow. I couldn't even fully capture it on my camera. It was.... so intense.
We saw a pretty large herd of prong horned antelope (which I'd never seen in the wild) laying down in a field. I wanted to throw a rock at them so I could see the fastest land animal on the continent in action, but I didn't have a rock, and they seemed content to just be lazy bastards.
We had lunch at a diner in "The tallest town in Oregon", got our elk tag at a little sporting goods store, and made it up to Dale by late afternoon and met Uncle Pat at the turn off for the dirt road into camp. Fortunately, we got there with plenty of light left in the day, and got the tent set up and air mattresses inflated. Mine doesn't seem to be holding air too well, so we'll see how the night goes. It's a good thing everybody brought so much rope, and so many tarps, because we now have a covered kitchen area, and a covered sitting area around the fire in case it rains or snows like the weather report says it will. Speaking of which, tonight is the Hunter's Moon (second full moon of fall), not that we'd be able to tell, what with the clouds being so thick. The temperature's dropping, and all the caffeine's wearing off, so I'm going to crawl into my sleeping bag, put in my ear plugs, and hope I'm not sleeping on the hard ground by morning.
Saturday, Oct. 23rd, 2010
Day One. The Drive.
We left the house at around 3 am or something ridiculous like that. We had to get Mama to the San Fransisco airport, and we had a 13 hour drive ahead of us. We headed up 395, I think, and by breakfast time (or rather, the time our stomach's started growling and our eye lids decided we needed caffeine) we were in Williams, California. You know the place. No Starbuck's in sight (I know. Frowning emoticon) so we stopped at a McDonald's. That's fine, even though I know they're not actually food, I still love Bacon Egg and Cheese McGriddle's. There's a middle aged man and a mid 20's girl in there wearing camoflage, which of course means we're going to talk to them. They're on their way to go duck hunting. We're on our way to go Elk hunting. We're from Los Gatos. They're from Sebastopol (Seb-aa-stuh-poll). She didn't seem to remember my friend, Forrest, (who I figure she went to school with) until I mention that he was approximately 100 feet tall and was a poll vaulter, though he could just as easily have been the poll. Bellies full, eyes open, and back on the road. It's a while before we see any sunlight, but that's fine because it was also a while before we got to anywhere that was really beautiful. In case you were ever considering taking a sight seeing tour straight up the middle of California, don't. As the sun rose, so did our elevation, and we were driving up through the pillared halls of the mountain king, and suddenly through huge grassy flat-lands in mountain valleys, and then back into woodlands and up along winding roads. We'd get to look out, over the valleys as we carved our way along the side of the higher hills, at what must (in the winter) really be like a picture print by Courier and Ives. I really wish my camera was faster, and took higher quality pictures some times, because I can't fully explain how beautiful these areas were. Simultaneously quaint and vast, green and gold, antique and timeless. There are trees up here I'm not sure I've ever seen. The cathedral spires of ever-green trees that hem us in on every side are interrupted occasionally by sparkling explosions of yellow from Valley Oak, Aspen, (maybe) Birch, and Tamarack (the only deciduous conifer I know of)
The closer we got to the Oregon border, the more steadily the air grew full of water droplets. The moisture in the air and the angle of the sun gave us the rare opportunity to actually chase a rainbow. Directly to our right at first, and later moving along about 20 feet in front of us was a double rainbow.... all the way across the sky. It was even starting, at one point, to look like a triple rainbow. I couldn't even fully capture it on my camera. It was.... so intense.
We saw a pretty large herd of prong horned antelope (which I'd never seen in the wild) laying down in a field. I wanted to throw a rock at them so I could see the fastest land animal on the continent in action, but I didn't have a rock, and they seemed content to just be lazy bastards.
We had lunch at a diner in "The tallest town in Oregon", got our elk tag at a little sporting goods store, and made it up to Dale by late afternoon and met Uncle Pat at the turn off for the dirt road into camp. Fortunately, we got there with plenty of light left in the day, and got the tent set up and air mattresses inflated. Mine doesn't seem to be holding air too well, so we'll see how the night goes. It's a good thing everybody brought so much rope, and so many tarps, because we now have a covered kitchen area, and a covered sitting area around the fire in case it rains or snows like the weather report says it will. Speaking of which, tonight is the Hunter's Moon (second full moon of fall), not that we'd be able to tell, what with the clouds being so thick. The temperature's dropping, and all the caffeine's wearing off, so I'm going to crawl into my sleeping bag, put in my ear plugs, and hope I'm not sleeping on the hard ground by morning.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Walk Softly and Carry a Big Stick
Every time I go to Home Depot, two things happen. 1) the garden center makes me wish I had my own house, and enough money to buy and plant whichever plants I chose. 2) the tool section makes me wish the Zombie Apocalypse would just hurry up and happen so the world would descend into anarchy and I could go steal the things they have there which would be useful in my attempts to survive and fight off my undead attackers. Here, for your reading and daydreaming pleasure, is a list of things which would be useful and/or necessary for a life on the run from undead predators. Not all of these things can be found at Home Depot, so you might also want to check places like sporting goods stores.
For surviving the undead:
* metal frame back pack... nothing too cumbersome... to carry your gear while leaving your hands free to fight and protect yourself. http://www.backcountry.com/outdoorgear/JAN0312/JanSport-Scout-Backpack-3850cu-in.html
* sturdy, breathable safety gloves to protect your hands from cuts and scratches. http://www.atbshop.co.uk/images/dakine/dakine_crossx_glove_i.jpg
* safety glasses for uv protection, and to keep blood out of your eyes.(sunglasses and vision enhancing yellow lenses if possible) http://www.eyesafety.4ursafety.com/kazbek-sk112.jpg yeah, sorry, they're going to make you look like a douche.
* machete (many great uses) http://4gwar.files.wordpress.com/2010/04/machete1.jpg
* dust masks so blood doesn't get in your mouth on accident. http://talasonline.com/photos/safety/3m_dust_mask.jpg
* small bolt cutters because you never know when or where you're going to need to hide. http://laudeman.com/bugimages/tool08.jpg
* Estwing 26" vinyl grip campers axe, perfect size, weight, and shape for clubbing and chopping from enough distance to keep you out of reach, as well as being useful for more typical purposes. Has soft grip with shock reduction and ergonomic shape. comes with sheath for easy carry. http://www.campmor.com/estwing-long-handle-campers-axe.shtml
* Stanley FatMax Xtreme FUBar Functional Utility Bar. Hammer, pry bar, pipe wrench. Comfortable grip. Multi-tools are great because they save space and increase your ability to maintain safety. http://www.amazon.com/Stanley-55-099-FatMax-Functional-Utility/dp/B000FCGS0Y
* Leatherman (or similar multitool) because... well really, what CAN'T you use one of these for? They're like Swiss Army knives only better. It's a good idea to get it with a belt clip. http://www.laserforums.com/forum/attachment.php?attachmentid=664&d=1262435435
* Camelbak. Handsfree hydration. When you use water purification tablets or can boil the water without the zombies seeing your fire, this can be one of your greatest allies. https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhik4FL-vmtLwr7LVpQa3LZUb1E3ga1NKD6HSRNG_ejUhDpZO4QHwYFREYNWNddZ5k0uEZlgoqISPbzz3O4e8tKPDyQF67jRhN0mbYnXwprYu563Lgda_BDYylfQgBu0YGK7o9PuGCIuNfM/s320/camelbak.jpg
* http://slowrollingforfunandprofit.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/zombie-survival-guide.jpg
* The most up to date survival guide you can get your hands on. This should include a list of general survival tools you will need, which should include but not be limited to
* waterproof matches.
* magnifying glass.
* light weight rope.
* metal canteen (can hold water as well as be used for boiling).
* comfortable, well broken in, running shoes.
* Knife sharpener
* etc.
You may have noticed, I did not include any guns or explosives. While I am a fan of things that go boom in the night, light and noise are likely to attract more zombies. Guns need ammunition, and the idea is to only use those things when absolutely necessary. Be a zombie fighting ninja. Walk softly, and carry a big stick.
any specific awesome tools of undead destruction and human survival you think should be added to the list? Leave its name, and a link, in a comment.
Edit: Sorry the links didn't post as links. Copy/paste into a different tab to get a better idea of what I'm talking about.
For surviving the undead:
* metal frame back pack... nothing too cumbersome... to carry your gear while leaving your hands free to fight and protect yourself. http://www.backcountry.com/outdoorgear/JAN0312/JanSport-Scout-Backpack-3850cu-in.html
* sturdy, breathable safety gloves to protect your hands from cuts and scratches. http://www.atbshop.co.uk/images/dakine/dakine_crossx_glove_i.jpg
* safety glasses for uv protection, and to keep blood out of your eyes.(sunglasses and vision enhancing yellow lenses if possible) http://www.eyesafety.4ursafety.com/kazbek-sk112.jpg yeah, sorry, they're going to make you look like a douche.
* machete (many great uses) http://4gwar.files.wordpress.com/2010/04/machete1.jpg
* dust masks so blood doesn't get in your mouth on accident. http://talasonline.com/photos/safety/3m_dust_mask.jpg
* small bolt cutters because you never know when or where you're going to need to hide. http://laudeman.com/bugimages/tool08.jpg
* Estwing 26" vinyl grip campers axe, perfect size, weight, and shape for clubbing and chopping from enough distance to keep you out of reach, as well as being useful for more typical purposes. Has soft grip with shock reduction and ergonomic shape. comes with sheath for easy carry. http://www.campmor.com/estwing-long-handle-campers-axe.shtml
* Stanley FatMax Xtreme FUBar Functional Utility Bar. Hammer, pry bar, pipe wrench. Comfortable grip. Multi-tools are great because they save space and increase your ability to maintain safety. http://www.amazon.com/Stanley-55-099-FatMax-Functional-Utility/dp/B000FCGS0Y
* Leatherman (or similar multitool) because... well really, what CAN'T you use one of these for? They're like Swiss Army knives only better. It's a good idea to get it with a belt clip. http://www.laserforums.com/forum/attachment.php?attachmentid=664&d=1262435435
* Camelbak. Handsfree hydration. When you use water purification tablets or can boil the water without the zombies seeing your fire, this can be one of your greatest allies. https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhik4FL-vmtLwr7LVpQa3LZUb1E3ga1NKD6HSRNG_ejUhDpZO4QHwYFREYNWNddZ5k0uEZlgoqISPbzz3O4e8tKPDyQF67jRhN0mbYnXwprYu563Lgda_BDYylfQgBu0YGK7o9PuGCIuNfM/s320/camelbak.jpg
* http://slowrollingforfunandprofit.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/zombie-survival-guide.jpg
* The most up to date survival guide you can get your hands on. This should include a list of general survival tools you will need, which should include but not be limited to
* waterproof matches.
* magnifying glass.
* light weight rope.
* metal canteen (can hold water as well as be used for boiling).
* comfortable, well broken in, running shoes.
* Knife sharpener
* etc.
You may have noticed, I did not include any guns or explosives. While I am a fan of things that go boom in the night, light and noise are likely to attract more zombies. Guns need ammunition, and the idea is to only use those things when absolutely necessary. Be a zombie fighting ninja. Walk softly, and carry a big stick.
any specific awesome tools of undead destruction and human survival you think should be added to the list? Leave its name, and a link, in a comment.
Edit: Sorry the links didn't post as links. Copy/paste into a different tab to get a better idea of what I'm talking about.
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