Wet snow chilled me to the bone. I held back shivers and tried to remain focused. A half hour earlier I had taken my rain gear off for the fist time in days, trying to be quiet. Laying horizontal, alongside a downed tree trunk, I peered toward the elk. A cow had me dead to, Read More
I started running. You would think I became a vegetarian by the looks on my friends faces when I told them the news. Exercise in the form of running, going to the gym, or other organized workouts has never been my cup of tea. Time in the mountains, on the water, and the occasional, Read More
I’ve got a garage full of gear. Enough to outfit a small army for anything from mountaineering to horsepacking, canoeing to big wall climbing, not to mention hunting and fishing. Despite the raw volume of stuff, that at times is overwhelming and probably warrants a garage sale, there are a few pieces of gear, Read More
Over the course of 6 trips, in and out, and nearly 40 miles, I question whether or not it’s worth it.
Glassing up hill I strain my neck to view through dead timber. Like a bunch of intertwined skeletons the trees offered little respite. Out of nowhere an ear and antler fills my view. A double take confirms it’s not an aberration. A third look and a glimpse of a royal tine the size of, Read More
With light beginning to fade our only option was a last ditch effort to circle the bunch and get down wind. We forced our hand.
A thick frost covers still green grass. Clouds are building and a wet snow should be falling in a couple of hours. The wood box is back in the house and the first match of the season is about to be struck. It will be in the 70’s again over the weekend but the, Read More
Summer is in full swing. Runoff is over and water is shaping up in most parts of the country. Early morning tricos, attractor dries and hoppers will be the name of the game for the rest of the season. In short it’s a good time to be fishing. But something else is afoot. I stopped, Read More
Toeing the dirt reality set in. No one else was around. The ranch was deserted. For a thirteen year old with a short attention span that spelled trouble. A whitetail doe tag was burning a hole in my pocket and I had hunting on my mind. Four and a half miles of dirt, and a nonexistent driver’s, Read More