Amazing things you have seen.......
ABert, Thanks! 
I'm sure Zatarain6 would never do such a thing... 
Lets keep the stories coming, it's a long off season......
ABert, I also have had trouble with the reply timing me out too, when trying to post a long post. What I've learned to do, is copy it and if it doesn't take, I go back and paste it on a new reply.
I'm sure Zatarain6 would never do such a thing... Lets keep the stories coming, it's a long off season......
ABert, I also have had trouble with the reply timing me out too, when trying to post a long post. What I've learned to do, is copy it and if it doesn't take, I go back and paste it on a new reply.
Hiker
Proverbs 3:5-6
Proverbs 3:5-6
Here's a crazy one for ya. It twas the night before the deer hunt and all was so quiet up on top of the ridge. Actually, I couldn't hear a thing because I was huffing and puffing so much. There was only about an hour of light left and it was one of the worst blizzards I had ever hiked in but hey, it was my last day to scout and I still wanted to check out one last spot. I had not been up this canyon that year but had hunted it in the past. Well I had just stopped to rest from bushwacking through the very thick and tall brush. I had kept my head down to keep the snow out of my face but when I looked uphill in front of me. There, about 50 feet away was a small tent covered with branches and well concealed. I could hear people talking but could not understand what they were saying. It was like a different language. I decided they must be hunters that had packed in for the next morning. So I decided to talk with them about where they were going to hunt that next day. The moment that I stepped forward towards the tent. There came a voice as plain as someone right beside me, telling me to leave this place NOW. I knew if I didn't follow the voice, I was surely going to be dead. The hair stood up on the back of my neck and I suddenly felt very, very cold. This is the first time I had truely felt terror run through my body. I slowly backed out of there and circled around this area and found a brand new gas powered pump near a stream, with a 2" line running uphill towards the area where the tent was. As I was leaving I could smell a very strong mildue or musky scent. I lived next door to a C.O. and went and told him my crazy story. I remember saying to him, you have got to believe me on this one. Those guys are up to no good and I think they will hurt someone if approached. Well, to make a long story short. He did go up there with a team of officers and busted them with over 1000 marijuana plants. Most of the plants were cut and drying on racks. So that was what I had smelled. He also said when these drug growers were first approached they had hand guns and knives drawn but then realized they were out maned and gave up or some of them ran off. That day truely felt like I was protected by our lord. 
There's always next year
-
MuleyMadness
- Site Admin
- Posts: 9997
- Joined: Thu Oct 10, 2002 9:34 pm
- Location: St. George, UT
- Contact:
A rather long story. This was the most forgettable, yet unforgettable hunt I have ever been on.
While stationed in California I was offered the opportunity to participate in a Blacktail hunt outside of Yreka CA with a buddy of mine, Joe, and his brother-in-law, Ben. Never one to turn down a hunting trip, I quickly “rogered up” and was soon on the long drive from Monterey to Yreka with Joe.
On the drive north Joe and I had plenty of time to chat about past hunts, what we liked and disliked, etc and I brought up the fact that I have a bit of a phobia about riding on the back of a bike, ATV, or anything else like them. I just don’t like the feeling of not being in control. This particular bit of information may not mean much now but you’ll soon find out why I brought this up.
The morning of the first day found us driving up a lonely back-country road littered with large, jagged chunks of shale, downed trees, and ruts as deep as my waist. About ½ mile from our drop-off point the first of many “incidents” occurred…we blew a tire! Well Ben, Joe, myself, and Ben’s friend “Buff” climbed out of the truck to assess the damage, replace the tire, and get on our way. It became evident rather quickly that because of where we blew the tire coupled with the rocks and ruts that I was the only one small enough to crawl under the truck to release the spare (I am 5’6” and 145 lbs and by FAR the smallest of the four). Always game, I shimmied under the truck and began to remove the spare from its “swing” while making pretty good time at it. However, once the tire released it dropped onto my chest, pinning me under the truck. Because I am not the strongest man in the world and the space under the truck was rather tight I could not get the tire off my chest. After a bit of laughter and good natured chiding, Joe and Ben grabbed my feet and proceeded to drag me out from under the truck. Well, if you’ve never been dragged over broken shale with a large spare tire on your chest then let me tell you….IT HURTS! Needless to say, while the other three replaced the flat tire I sat on the side of the road nursing my wounds.
Once on the road again it didn’t take long to get to our drop-off point overlooking a long, thickly covered canyon.
Excited to get moving and anticipating a great day of hunting I jumped from the rig, grabbed my pack and rifle, and headed down the canyon with Joe while Ben and Buff continued on to the other side of the ridge to make their approach from the opposite side. Knowing I “forgot” something but figuring it was just that feeling that we all get before we hit the hills Joe and I made our way down through the thick pines, scrub oak, and poison oak. As the day progressed it got HOT, with high temps nearing the 90 degree mark. After hiking for about 3 hours I reached into my pack to grab my water and realized “THAT’S WHAT I FORGOT!”. Of course, Joe was good enough to share his with me but by the time we reached the far end of the canyon 5 hours later we were both severely dehydrated. The plan was for Ben and Buff to hike down their respective side of the canyon until they reached Ben’s truck which we had strategically placed before we headed out that morning and he would drive up another small access road to pick Joe and me up. Joe and I were rather excited to see Ben’s truck coming up the canyon and chatted excitedly about getting some water from Ben when he arrived. When the truck reached us Joe and I made a bee-line to the cooler in the bed, opened it, and discovered that all Ben had in the cooler was BEER! Well, although I do not drink alcohol I made the decision that ANY cool liquid was better than none at all and quickly downed two bottles. Well, when you’re only 145 pounds, severely dehydrated, and haven’t drunk alcohol in 4 years even two bottles HIT YOU HARD! Needless to say, my hunting for the day was done since there was no way I was going to handle a firearm in my condition.
The next day promised to be a bit better with temps a bit lower and plenty of water in my pack.
The next morning Ben informed us that we were heading to his father’s place to hunt some land about ¼ mile away. He also informed us that we would ride quads into the hills to get to our hunting spot (Remember my phobia?!?!). I glanced quickly at Joe and he gave me a re-assuring nod that things were gonna be OK. Arriving at Ben’s dad’s place I quickly realized that there were only two quads which meant we’d be riding tandem and since I was not “family” that I would more than likely be riding shotgun. Again I looked at Joe and he said that I’d ride with him. He also stated that he was very experienced on quads growing up in Idaho and that I would be fine. Trusting my friend, I slung my rifle and climbed on back…still a little apprehensive but willing to give it a shot.
After riding for about a half hour we came to the base of a very steep hill and my heart began to beat about twice as fast as normal. With Ben and Buff already half way up the hill, Joe told me to hang on and began the accent. About half way up the “hill” the quad’s front end began to come up off the ground and Joe made his first mistake…he hit the brakes! Instantly I began to panic as the quad balanced on its two rear tires. I took a quick glance behind me and realized that the hill was much steeper than I thought and also realized that a roll down that hill was not going to be pleasant. I began screaming at Joe to get the front end down while at the same time he was screaming back to me to “bail off”. Heeding Joe’s screams I attempted to roll of the side of the quad but Joe, who was standing on the pegs, sat back and pinned my leg beneath him. As I screamed at Joe to get off my leg Joe made mistake number two…he gunned it! As he did so the quad vaulted skyward allowing me the opportunity to push straight back, freeing myself from the killer quad. Because of the steepness of the hill I flew a good 5 yards before landing squarely on my back, and on my trusty .270 which was slung on my back, in a pile of broken shale. I did about two backwards summersaults before jumping to my feet. Ignoring the pain, I glanced up the hill fully anticipating the quad to roll right over the top of me. I watched in horror as Joe and the quad flipped backwards and began cart wheeling down the hillside. Joe stopped after about two full rolls and the quad rolled over his leg as it tumbled down the hillside. I ran as quickly as I could to Joe thinking for sure that his leg was broken, dodging the quad as it rolled by me into a small ravine to my right. Reaching Joe I quickly realized that although his leg was not broken he would not be able to walk out. I also realized at that time that my back hurt BAD and that I had a few “scratches” that needed to be attended to. About that time Ben and Buff made their way back to us and together we made our way to the now slightly “bent up” quad in the ravine to see if we could get it started. After bending the handlebars back into a manageable position and removing a fender that was no longer serviceable we got the quad started again. Because neither Joe or I had much of a choice, we climbed back on for the trip back to the house.
On the way we decided to stop for a second and check our rifles in case they were damaged in the wreck. We quickly set up a target at 100 yards, I took careful aim, and squeezed off a shot. NOTHING! Although the gun fired fine, the target was clean. I took two more shots and still couldn’t come close to the target. I took a closer look at my .270 and realized that in the fall I had broken the scope mount and that the scope had a good quarter inch “waggle” in it. Yet another problem is an increasingly frustrating hunt.
The morning of the third day found Joe and I waking up extremely sore but still game. After nursing our wounds we met up with Ben and Buff and headed out yet again to try to fill our tags. About an hour after leaving town we arrived in a beautiful rolling valley that looked extremely promising.
Hiking along a western facing ridge I spotted a 3X3 feeding through a small field along with a single doe. Using a 30.06 that Ben had lent me after messing up my .270 I took careful aim on the buck’s chest and squeezed off a shot. The buck fell in his tracks! Needless to say I was very relieved that my hunt was pretty much over at this point. However, as we all know, no matter what you do you NEVER lose sight of what’s around you! After dropping the buck I emptied my rifle, put a fresh dip in, and took two steps toward the trail that would lead me to my buck when I felt something strike the top of my boot. To my horror, I looked down and spotted a rattlesnake that was none too happy that I was there! HE DIDN’T EVEN WARN ME! I instantly leapt what seemed like 10 feet in the air and began screaming like a little girl! I swear, I have never come so close to soiling myself than at that time! I ran about 10 yards up the trail and allowed the snake, who was probably rather amused at my antics, to clear the trail before I continued on the my buck (The guys asked why I didn’t kill it but most of you know me well enough to know that I would never kill any animal just for the sake of killing. After all, the snake was just defending itself and its territory). Thank god I was wearing high topped boots!
After field dressing my buck, Ben called his wife on the cell and arranged for her to meet him on an access road with a quad so that we could haul the deer out and then him and Joe began their hike to the road. As Buff and I relaxed in the shade awaiting Ben and Joe’s arrival we got a call on the radio that they were about 200 yards out. No more than two seconds later we heard two shots and then Ben screaming in the radio “Joe got a buck, Joe got a buck”. They weren’t even hunting at that point but had a nice 3X4 walk right into them and Joe’s aim was true. FINALLY, Joe and I had filled our tags and the hunt from heck was over…or so we thought!
After taking pics and loading both bucks into the trailer on back of the quad we headed for the road with Joe and me WALKING behind the quad where we thought we were safe. About an hour into the trip back we came to an extremely steep hill with no way around it. Ben volunteered to take the quad and the trailer up the hill and we would meet him at the top. Ben prepped the quad and trailer and began his climb to the top. In the meantime Buff had begun to walk up the hill and was about half way up when Ben came roaring by him. Thank god Buff was there too because as Ben sped by him the quad AGAIN began to come up off the ground. The steepness of the hill coupled with the weight of the trailer had caused the quad to begin to tip back and even with Ben leaning WAY OVER the front end, there was no stopping it. At that moment Buff, who himself weighed about 250 lbs, flew through the brush and like Superman himself dove onto the front of the quad, forcing the front end into the dirt and road it that way the rest of the way up the hill! I had never, and have yet to see a man that size move that fast. I swear he has a future in the NFL!
With one more hill to go we assumed we were home free. However, as with the rest of the hunt…never assume ANYTHING! As Ben took the quad up the remaining hill Joe and I stood at the bottom watching the climb. About half way up the trailer broke free of the quad and came screaming back down the hill, right at Joe and I. With eyes wide with fright, Joe and I scrambled for our lives as the trailer came flying by us, smashing into a tree that just two seconds ago was directly behind Joe and me. The trailer hit the tree with such force that both bucks came flying out of the trailer, cart wheeling through the air before landing in the buck brush at the bottom of the hill. In the wreck, both of my buck’s antlers were caught in the mesh of the trailer, snapping them like twigs! Well, after retrieving the deer from the brush we placed them back into the trailer, reattached the trailer to the quad, and made it the rest of the way out without incident.
Although I love hunting and will always take the good with the bad, this particular hunt really tested my resolve. I have never liked quads/ATVs while hunting and this particular hunt sure solidified that stance (The biggest reason I don’t like them is that they tear up the land, cause way to much noise, etc but when I’m a guest I don’t really have much say in how we hunt). However, I have been out there every year since and will continue to do so until my body no longer allows me to. With that being said, one more hunt like this one and my body may revolt!
While stationed in California I was offered the opportunity to participate in a Blacktail hunt outside of Yreka CA with a buddy of mine, Joe, and his brother-in-law, Ben. Never one to turn down a hunting trip, I quickly “rogered up” and was soon on the long drive from Monterey to Yreka with Joe.
On the drive north Joe and I had plenty of time to chat about past hunts, what we liked and disliked, etc and I brought up the fact that I have a bit of a phobia about riding on the back of a bike, ATV, or anything else like them. I just don’t like the feeling of not being in control. This particular bit of information may not mean much now but you’ll soon find out why I brought this up.
The morning of the first day found us driving up a lonely back-country road littered with large, jagged chunks of shale, downed trees, and ruts as deep as my waist. About ½ mile from our drop-off point the first of many “incidents” occurred…we blew a tire! Well Ben, Joe, myself, and Ben’s friend “Buff” climbed out of the truck to assess the damage, replace the tire, and get on our way. It became evident rather quickly that because of where we blew the tire coupled with the rocks and ruts that I was the only one small enough to crawl under the truck to release the spare (I am 5’6” and 145 lbs and by FAR the smallest of the four). Always game, I shimmied under the truck and began to remove the spare from its “swing” while making pretty good time at it. However, once the tire released it dropped onto my chest, pinning me under the truck. Because I am not the strongest man in the world and the space under the truck was rather tight I could not get the tire off my chest. After a bit of laughter and good natured chiding, Joe and Ben grabbed my feet and proceeded to drag me out from under the truck. Well, if you’ve never been dragged over broken shale with a large spare tire on your chest then let me tell you….IT HURTS! Needless to say, while the other three replaced the flat tire I sat on the side of the road nursing my wounds.
Once on the road again it didn’t take long to get to our drop-off point overlooking a long, thickly covered canyon.
Excited to get moving and anticipating a great day of hunting I jumped from the rig, grabbed my pack and rifle, and headed down the canyon with Joe while Ben and Buff continued on to the other side of the ridge to make their approach from the opposite side. Knowing I “forgot” something but figuring it was just that feeling that we all get before we hit the hills Joe and I made our way down through the thick pines, scrub oak, and poison oak. As the day progressed it got HOT, with high temps nearing the 90 degree mark. After hiking for about 3 hours I reached into my pack to grab my water and realized “THAT’S WHAT I FORGOT!”. Of course, Joe was good enough to share his with me but by the time we reached the far end of the canyon 5 hours later we were both severely dehydrated. The plan was for Ben and Buff to hike down their respective side of the canyon until they reached Ben’s truck which we had strategically placed before we headed out that morning and he would drive up another small access road to pick Joe and me up. Joe and I were rather excited to see Ben’s truck coming up the canyon and chatted excitedly about getting some water from Ben when he arrived. When the truck reached us Joe and I made a bee-line to the cooler in the bed, opened it, and discovered that all Ben had in the cooler was BEER! Well, although I do not drink alcohol I made the decision that ANY cool liquid was better than none at all and quickly downed two bottles. Well, when you’re only 145 pounds, severely dehydrated, and haven’t drunk alcohol in 4 years even two bottles HIT YOU HARD! Needless to say, my hunting for the day was done since there was no way I was going to handle a firearm in my condition.
The next day promised to be a bit better with temps a bit lower and plenty of water in my pack.
The next morning Ben informed us that we were heading to his father’s place to hunt some land about ¼ mile away. He also informed us that we would ride quads into the hills to get to our hunting spot (Remember my phobia?!?!). I glanced quickly at Joe and he gave me a re-assuring nod that things were gonna be OK. Arriving at Ben’s dad’s place I quickly realized that there were only two quads which meant we’d be riding tandem and since I was not “family” that I would more than likely be riding shotgun. Again I looked at Joe and he said that I’d ride with him. He also stated that he was very experienced on quads growing up in Idaho and that I would be fine. Trusting my friend, I slung my rifle and climbed on back…still a little apprehensive but willing to give it a shot.
After riding for about a half hour we came to the base of a very steep hill and my heart began to beat about twice as fast as normal. With Ben and Buff already half way up the hill, Joe told me to hang on and began the accent. About half way up the “hill” the quad’s front end began to come up off the ground and Joe made his first mistake…he hit the brakes! Instantly I began to panic as the quad balanced on its two rear tires. I took a quick glance behind me and realized that the hill was much steeper than I thought and also realized that a roll down that hill was not going to be pleasant. I began screaming at Joe to get the front end down while at the same time he was screaming back to me to “bail off”. Heeding Joe’s screams I attempted to roll of the side of the quad but Joe, who was standing on the pegs, sat back and pinned my leg beneath him. As I screamed at Joe to get off my leg Joe made mistake number two…he gunned it! As he did so the quad vaulted skyward allowing me the opportunity to push straight back, freeing myself from the killer quad. Because of the steepness of the hill I flew a good 5 yards before landing squarely on my back, and on my trusty .270 which was slung on my back, in a pile of broken shale. I did about two backwards summersaults before jumping to my feet. Ignoring the pain, I glanced up the hill fully anticipating the quad to roll right over the top of me. I watched in horror as Joe and the quad flipped backwards and began cart wheeling down the hillside. Joe stopped after about two full rolls and the quad rolled over his leg as it tumbled down the hillside. I ran as quickly as I could to Joe thinking for sure that his leg was broken, dodging the quad as it rolled by me into a small ravine to my right. Reaching Joe I quickly realized that although his leg was not broken he would not be able to walk out. I also realized at that time that my back hurt BAD and that I had a few “scratches” that needed to be attended to. About that time Ben and Buff made their way back to us and together we made our way to the now slightly “bent up” quad in the ravine to see if we could get it started. After bending the handlebars back into a manageable position and removing a fender that was no longer serviceable we got the quad started again. Because neither Joe or I had much of a choice, we climbed back on for the trip back to the house.
On the way we decided to stop for a second and check our rifles in case they were damaged in the wreck. We quickly set up a target at 100 yards, I took careful aim, and squeezed off a shot. NOTHING! Although the gun fired fine, the target was clean. I took two more shots and still couldn’t come close to the target. I took a closer look at my .270 and realized that in the fall I had broken the scope mount and that the scope had a good quarter inch “waggle” in it. Yet another problem is an increasingly frustrating hunt.
The morning of the third day found Joe and I waking up extremely sore but still game. After nursing our wounds we met up with Ben and Buff and headed out yet again to try to fill our tags. About an hour after leaving town we arrived in a beautiful rolling valley that looked extremely promising.
Hiking along a western facing ridge I spotted a 3X3 feeding through a small field along with a single doe. Using a 30.06 that Ben had lent me after messing up my .270 I took careful aim on the buck’s chest and squeezed off a shot. The buck fell in his tracks! Needless to say I was very relieved that my hunt was pretty much over at this point. However, as we all know, no matter what you do you NEVER lose sight of what’s around you! After dropping the buck I emptied my rifle, put a fresh dip in, and took two steps toward the trail that would lead me to my buck when I felt something strike the top of my boot. To my horror, I looked down and spotted a rattlesnake that was none too happy that I was there! HE DIDN’T EVEN WARN ME! I instantly leapt what seemed like 10 feet in the air and began screaming like a little girl! I swear, I have never come so close to soiling myself than at that time! I ran about 10 yards up the trail and allowed the snake, who was probably rather amused at my antics, to clear the trail before I continued on the my buck (The guys asked why I didn’t kill it but most of you know me well enough to know that I would never kill any animal just for the sake of killing. After all, the snake was just defending itself and its territory). Thank god I was wearing high topped boots!
After field dressing my buck, Ben called his wife on the cell and arranged for her to meet him on an access road with a quad so that we could haul the deer out and then him and Joe began their hike to the road. As Buff and I relaxed in the shade awaiting Ben and Joe’s arrival we got a call on the radio that they were about 200 yards out. No more than two seconds later we heard two shots and then Ben screaming in the radio “Joe got a buck, Joe got a buck”. They weren’t even hunting at that point but had a nice 3X4 walk right into them and Joe’s aim was true. FINALLY, Joe and I had filled our tags and the hunt from heck was over…or so we thought!
After taking pics and loading both bucks into the trailer on back of the quad we headed for the road with Joe and me WALKING behind the quad where we thought we were safe. About an hour into the trip back we came to an extremely steep hill with no way around it. Ben volunteered to take the quad and the trailer up the hill and we would meet him at the top. Ben prepped the quad and trailer and began his climb to the top. In the meantime Buff had begun to walk up the hill and was about half way up when Ben came roaring by him. Thank god Buff was there too because as Ben sped by him the quad AGAIN began to come up off the ground. The steepness of the hill coupled with the weight of the trailer had caused the quad to begin to tip back and even with Ben leaning WAY OVER the front end, there was no stopping it. At that moment Buff, who himself weighed about 250 lbs, flew through the brush and like Superman himself dove onto the front of the quad, forcing the front end into the dirt and road it that way the rest of the way up the hill! I had never, and have yet to see a man that size move that fast. I swear he has a future in the NFL!
With one more hill to go we assumed we were home free. However, as with the rest of the hunt…never assume ANYTHING! As Ben took the quad up the remaining hill Joe and I stood at the bottom watching the climb. About half way up the trailer broke free of the quad and came screaming back down the hill, right at Joe and I. With eyes wide with fright, Joe and I scrambled for our lives as the trailer came flying by us, smashing into a tree that just two seconds ago was directly behind Joe and me. The trailer hit the tree with such force that both bucks came flying out of the trailer, cart wheeling through the air before landing in the buck brush at the bottom of the hill. In the wreck, both of my buck’s antlers were caught in the mesh of the trailer, snapping them like twigs! Well, after retrieving the deer from the brush we placed them back into the trailer, reattached the trailer to the quad, and made it the rest of the way out without incident.
Although I love hunting and will always take the good with the bad, this particular hunt really tested my resolve. I have never liked quads/ATVs while hunting and this particular hunt sure solidified that stance (The biggest reason I don’t like them is that they tear up the land, cause way to much noise, etc but when I’m a guest I don’t really have much say in how we hunt). However, I have been out there every year since and will continue to do so until my body no longer allows me to. With that being said, one more hunt like this one and my body may revolt!
sounds pretty fun.
. except for the demonic 4 wheeler, grumpy rattler, landing in a big pile of shale 5 yards down, getting squished by a spare tire, having a fourwheeler trailer chase ya down. but besides that it sounds pretty fun. did i miss anything.
. except for the demonic 4 wheeler, grumpy rattler, landing in a big pile of shale 5 yards down, getting squished by a spare tire, having a fourwheeler trailer chase ya down. but besides that it sounds pretty fun. did i miss anything.
Cody
Old hunters NEVER die,they just have better camo.
AGCHAWK, Great story! 
That sounded like the hunting trip from hades. I'm glad you and Joe got your bucks, Congrats.
You know what gets me? Is we have hunting trips like this and we still are so excited about opening day, we have trouble sleeping. I think we need psychological help.
Disney needs to tell the whole story about hunting.
That sounded like the hunting trip from hades. I'm glad you and Joe got your bucks, Congrats. You know what gets me? Is we have hunting trips like this and we still are so excited about opening day, we have trouble sleeping. I think we need psychological help.
Disney needs to tell the whole story about hunting.
Hiker
Proverbs 3:5-6
Proverbs 3:5-6