five_point_buck
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This is long.....
A buddy and I have waited over a decade to draw the infamous X-7A tag. I grew up camping and fishing in this unit, and my family hunted it for many years, always with good success. What we found was far from encouraging. Here is a re-cap of the last weekend?.
Saturday greeted us with drop dead perfect conditions. As we arrived at the trailhead, we were greeted with a blinding snow. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to drive out the road and try and cut some tracks for a slow stalk. Well, after two hours, we had cut 4 does tracks.
Plan ?B?. An old logging road with no signs of traffic would offer a good route for a hike. After a few hours we had seen two does, and two tracks, no crap, no sign, nuttin?.
What gives? Historically prime deer country, green from quality summer rains, white from fresh fallen snow, where are the animals? We sit and pick apart the higher country pockets, draws, and slides. Nothin?, nada, nil, zilch.
We pull out and change locations.
Saturday night, we 4x4 up and on top of a monster canyon fed by a few saddles. Excellent cover, good wind direction. We get settled in 125 yards from a saddle that connects two different valleys. Perfect.
Yeah, not really. Our first visitors were two DORKS on their ATV?s. They zoomed up and down a logging road we didn't realize existed across the canyon. You could almost here them yelling ?weeee?. It gets better. They head up to a flat spot in the saddle that is covered in shale and proceed to impress each other by cutting doughnuts. When that gets old, they cruise up to a lookout point on the far side. They posed for some pics of them on their mean machines, they had a rock throwing contest, they had some snacks, heck, they even yelled into the canyons trying to hear their own echoes! For a good part of this display, I fully expected them to do ?other? things to each other, thank goodness they didn't. That's where I draw the line. So, they get bored, cut some more doughnuts, and head off to watch the X-games, or play dungeon and dragons.
About a half hour later a jeep rolls up the same hill. I see the driver and a passenger get out and glass the area 60 yards below us in the saddle. We take cover as the driver starts to work his bolt, trying to feed a shell. Half of me is trying to glass below to see if we are missing a buck below, the other half is intent on watching the driver. We are directly behind and above what they are looking at?.. then KA-BOOOOM! Nothing like the sound of high-powered rifles being discharged in your general direction! What I didn't see was the 2nd passenger who never excited the jeep, but chose to shoot from his seat using the doorjamb as a rest. Stranger yet is that a doe and a fawn casually walk out of the saddle and filter down the opposite side, watching the jeep all the while. These guys then go to the ?spot?, look for blood for exactly 45 seconds in a 10-foot radius, then get back in the jeep and drive off. Nice follow up. It gets dark and we have a helluva a time getting back to the rig.
Sunday morning, we head to another good ?deer? looking canyon ? draw. We spent the first few hours picking our way up the hill, trying to gain elevation on the numerous cuts and pockets that this country hid from the road hunters. The higher we got up the hill, the thicker the manzanita, mahogany, and bitterbrush got. In some places, we were forced to 4x4 through the waist deep scrub. It was getting old in a hurry. Every once in a while, we'd come across a little opening, sometimes a few of these were connected by a small trail. Every opening had a big fat pile of bear crap. We actually saw more bear crap than deer crap. Always makes you feel warm and fuzzy doesn't it? So, at one point, my hunting partner who had the tag says ?enough of this ?expletive? ?expletive? ?expletive? bull ?expletive?. I agreed, this was ?expletive? bull ?expletive?. We had given it a ton of try. We had logged hundreds of miles, countless hours hiking and glassing, we'd poured over maps, we'd done the homework. The white flag was coming out. Problem was, we were over a mile from the truck, waist deep in shrubs, surrounded by bear ?expletive?, tired, broke down, beat up, trying to figure out how much we could sell our gear for so we could buy quads and some riding lessons. Those doughnuts looked like fun.
The plan was made, we'd ?man up? and head straight up to a grassy cut that would steer us around another ridge, and hopefully would allow us a safe way down to the truck. Off we go.
Well, at some point the noise we were making was too much for an old buck to tolerate. As I fell to a knee, my ankle once again locked into another manzanita snag, I caught movement across canyon. A deer was trying to sneak up the opposite knife-edge. I pulled the bino?s expecting to see yet another doe. WRONG.
The next thirty seconds were executed with ?Seal strike team? accuracy and efficiency?. The kind of co-coordinated effort that's the product of hunting with a best friend and knowing their next move before it happens. A concert of actions honed over years and years of hunting successes and failures, based on trust and confidence in one another abilities.
Here is the exact breakdown?.
Me: STOP?DEER
Shooter: WHERE?
Me: CROSS CANYON
Shooter: (He hits his but and is on his sticks in an instant, no questions asked)
Me: HE?S A GOOD BUCK. YOU ON HIM?
Shooter: RANGE
Me: (I trade my Swaro?s for my range finder)
Me: 225
Shooter: GOT HIM (BREATH)
Me: HE?LL STOP.
Shooter: KA-BOOM
Me: I?M ON HIM??.. HE?S DOWN
I Share this because this is the experience that made the hunt for us. Clockwork precision. No wasted energy, movement, or stupid questions. The shooter had total faith that I thought the buck was worth shooting. I had total faith that I wasn?t in the line of fire. I provided information as needed, and didn't confuse the situation by asking questions or making dumb comments. Awesome to be a part of.
So here he is, a good Cali buck that was hard earned. The drag out was another adventure all together, but worth every ounce of energy.
Saturday morning?.. the first snow?..
five_point_buck
C.B.C.S.
A buddy and I have waited over a decade to draw the infamous X-7A tag. I grew up camping and fishing in this unit, and my family hunted it for many years, always with good success. What we found was far from encouraging. Here is a re-cap of the last weekend?.
Saturday greeted us with drop dead perfect conditions. As we arrived at the trailhead, we were greeted with a blinding snow. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to drive out the road and try and cut some tracks for a slow stalk. Well, after two hours, we had cut 4 does tracks.
Plan ?B?. An old logging road with no signs of traffic would offer a good route for a hike. After a few hours we had seen two does, and two tracks, no crap, no sign, nuttin?.
What gives? Historically prime deer country, green from quality summer rains, white from fresh fallen snow, where are the animals? We sit and pick apart the higher country pockets, draws, and slides. Nothin?, nada, nil, zilch.
We pull out and change locations.
Saturday night, we 4x4 up and on top of a monster canyon fed by a few saddles. Excellent cover, good wind direction. We get settled in 125 yards from a saddle that connects two different valleys. Perfect.
Yeah, not really. Our first visitors were two DORKS on their ATV?s. They zoomed up and down a logging road we didn't realize existed across the canyon. You could almost here them yelling ?weeee?. It gets better. They head up to a flat spot in the saddle that is covered in shale and proceed to impress each other by cutting doughnuts. When that gets old, they cruise up to a lookout point on the far side. They posed for some pics of them on their mean machines, they had a rock throwing contest, they had some snacks, heck, they even yelled into the canyons trying to hear their own echoes! For a good part of this display, I fully expected them to do ?other? things to each other, thank goodness they didn't. That's where I draw the line. So, they get bored, cut some more doughnuts, and head off to watch the X-games, or play dungeon and dragons.
About a half hour later a jeep rolls up the same hill. I see the driver and a passenger get out and glass the area 60 yards below us in the saddle. We take cover as the driver starts to work his bolt, trying to feed a shell. Half of me is trying to glass below to see if we are missing a buck below, the other half is intent on watching the driver. We are directly behind and above what they are looking at?.. then KA-BOOOOM! Nothing like the sound of high-powered rifles being discharged in your general direction! What I didn't see was the 2nd passenger who never excited the jeep, but chose to shoot from his seat using the doorjamb as a rest. Stranger yet is that a doe and a fawn casually walk out of the saddle and filter down the opposite side, watching the jeep all the while. These guys then go to the ?spot?, look for blood for exactly 45 seconds in a 10-foot radius, then get back in the jeep and drive off. Nice follow up. It gets dark and we have a helluva a time getting back to the rig.
Sunday morning, we head to another good ?deer? looking canyon ? draw. We spent the first few hours picking our way up the hill, trying to gain elevation on the numerous cuts and pockets that this country hid from the road hunters. The higher we got up the hill, the thicker the manzanita, mahogany, and bitterbrush got. In some places, we were forced to 4x4 through the waist deep scrub. It was getting old in a hurry. Every once in a while, we'd come across a little opening, sometimes a few of these were connected by a small trail. Every opening had a big fat pile of bear crap. We actually saw more bear crap than deer crap. Always makes you feel warm and fuzzy doesn't it? So, at one point, my hunting partner who had the tag says ?enough of this ?expletive? ?expletive? ?expletive? bull ?expletive?. I agreed, this was ?expletive? bull ?expletive?. We had given it a ton of try. We had logged hundreds of miles, countless hours hiking and glassing, we'd poured over maps, we'd done the homework. The white flag was coming out. Problem was, we were over a mile from the truck, waist deep in shrubs, surrounded by bear ?expletive?, tired, broke down, beat up, trying to figure out how much we could sell our gear for so we could buy quads and some riding lessons. Those doughnuts looked like fun.
The plan was made, we'd ?man up? and head straight up to a grassy cut that would steer us around another ridge, and hopefully would allow us a safe way down to the truck. Off we go.
Well, at some point the noise we were making was too much for an old buck to tolerate. As I fell to a knee, my ankle once again locked into another manzanita snag, I caught movement across canyon. A deer was trying to sneak up the opposite knife-edge. I pulled the bino?s expecting to see yet another doe. WRONG.
The next thirty seconds were executed with ?Seal strike team? accuracy and efficiency?. The kind of co-coordinated effort that's the product of hunting with a best friend and knowing their next move before it happens. A concert of actions honed over years and years of hunting successes and failures, based on trust and confidence in one another abilities.
Here is the exact breakdown?.
Me: STOP?DEER
Shooter: WHERE?
Me: CROSS CANYON
Shooter: (He hits his but and is on his sticks in an instant, no questions asked)
Me: HE?S A GOOD BUCK. YOU ON HIM?
Shooter: RANGE
Me: (I trade my Swaro?s for my range finder)
Me: 225
Shooter: GOT HIM (BREATH)
Me: HE?LL STOP.
Shooter: KA-BOOM
Me: I?M ON HIM??.. HE?S DOWN
I Share this because this is the experience that made the hunt for us. Clockwork precision. No wasted energy, movement, or stupid questions. The shooter had total faith that I thought the buck was worth shooting. I had total faith that I wasn?t in the line of fire. I provided information as needed, and didn't confuse the situation by asking questions or making dumb comments. Awesome to be a part of.
So here he is, a good Cali buck that was hard earned. The drag out was another adventure all together, but worth every ounce of energy.
Saturday morning?.. the first snow?..
five_point_buck
C.B.C.S.
