The conclusion. Especially to clear my name of WhiteClawGate (I hope).
We continue onwards with heavy packs in the dark. It becomes apparent with a heavy packs that you haven't had water in a while. We crest a high point and find service, call our wives for the update and give a possible ETA for once we're done with the morning hunt.
We continue and drop into a low flat valley on the outskirts of our available public land where the temperature is much colder, a welcome relief when trudging with meat. We shortly crest the next hill and can see the lights of the large camper trailer set up across from us. Next to the large camper is a gentleman with 2 horses and a wall tent whom we haven't yet talked to.
We had still been discussing the potential state of our tent on this hike - again, a family tent not well suited for wind storms - my buddy announces as we near the gate "phew i see the tent."
We pass through the gate and we both simultaneously say "oh wait.... shit."
The tent is still there... technically. The tarp that was underneath it is at our feet near the gate, pressed between a large boulder and the fence.
The tent is on it's side, half crumpled. There was a cot, two sleeping bags, pads, some tubs with clothes in them; these things may have prevented a night time search for the tent. Two stakes held up which was really the anchor that saved us. Interestingly, the other two stakes were not pulled out of the ground. It seems the shaking of the tent and intensity of the wind managed to worm the tent from it's stranglehold with the stakes from the top of them (something to think about with the types of stake you buy). We began to set the tent right side up.
The fella with the horses pulled into the parking lot with his diesel just before this as we were approaching. He see's us starting to deal with our mess and turns his truck's headlights onto our camp to ease the difficulty of picking up a broken camp in the dark. He gets out of his truck and approaches.
"I wondered what happened to you guys. When I got up your tent was like this."
Which means this happened to the tent potentially within 30 minutes of us setting out in the morning. That certainly was when the wind had some of it's strongest gusts.
This guy had been hunting this unit for decades he claimed. Didn't admit to where he was from, just admitted to not entirely being from around here. The twang in his voice made me wonder. I don't blame nonresidents these days for not wanting to openly admit being nonresidents. Didn't matter to me either way. Friendly guy. We talked about the deer hunting a little, he congratulated me on my deer, and he said he'll keep his headlights on for us for a while. We thanked him and got back to picking up our mess.
The tent was a loss for this trip. Multiple broken poles, but luckily no rips as far as we could see. I offered to set up my Seek Outside for to salvage the night and be able to hunt in the morning. My buddy looked at his tent, looked at me, and looked back the tent shaking his head. He finally said, "no, let's just pack this crap up and get home tonight." I said, "are you sure? We got weather coming, tomorrow could be good."
The forecast called for dropping temperatures and a little snow. Almost why I wished my tag remained unfilled, which isn't actually how I felt, but the thought kept crossing my mind.
He just was never fired up about shooting a buck as much as I was, hunting is about comradery for him. That's an attitude I greatly appreciate and is an attitude I need to be around more. I always struggle with not making hunting about filling tags. Frankly, hunting is largely about filling tags for me, it's why I do it, I want meat in my freezer and I want the memories and experience of putting animals on the ground, with or without friends at my side. I need to work on this, it's not entirely the best attitude to have about hunting.
To him, the trip was accomplished, a buck was shot and we did it together while enjoying each other's company at every step of the way. Talk about success, you couldn't ask for it better... I mean except for maybe two bucks - but again, that's not the point. He insists. I know he wants to be home with his two year old and pregnant wife. We had talked about how being stuck at home since March, working every day with our spouses not ten feet from us has created an environment where home sickness and missing that comfort sets in easily and quickly when you leave.
He was ready to throw it in, not in failure though.
We packed up, got the meat in the cooler, shooed the cheeky little bastard mouse out of the bed of my truck that had been chewing on things the whole weekend and hit the road.
We stopped and got our victory meal, Big Macs and Hot & Spicy McChickens with fries. Swapped vehicles and made our way home.
Overall, an excellent weekend, an excellent hunt, and excellent memories with excellent friends.
We continue onwards with heavy packs in the dark. It becomes apparent with a heavy packs that you haven't had water in a while. We crest a high point and find service, call our wives for the update and give a possible ETA for once we're done with the morning hunt.
We continue and drop into a low flat valley on the outskirts of our available public land where the temperature is much colder, a welcome relief when trudging with meat. We shortly crest the next hill and can see the lights of the large camper trailer set up across from us. Next to the large camper is a gentleman with 2 horses and a wall tent whom we haven't yet talked to.
We had still been discussing the potential state of our tent on this hike - again, a family tent not well suited for wind storms - my buddy announces as we near the gate "phew i see the tent."
We pass through the gate and we both simultaneously say "oh wait.... shit."
The tent is still there... technically. The tarp that was underneath it is at our feet near the gate, pressed between a large boulder and the fence.
The tent is on it's side, half crumpled. There was a cot, two sleeping bags, pads, some tubs with clothes in them; these things may have prevented a night time search for the tent. Two stakes held up which was really the anchor that saved us. Interestingly, the other two stakes were not pulled out of the ground. It seems the shaking of the tent and intensity of the wind managed to worm the tent from it's stranglehold with the stakes from the top of them (something to think about with the types of stake you buy). We began to set the tent right side up.
The fella with the horses pulled into the parking lot with his diesel just before this as we were approaching. He see's us starting to deal with our mess and turns his truck's headlights onto our camp to ease the difficulty of picking up a broken camp in the dark. He gets out of his truck and approaches.
"I wondered what happened to you guys. When I got up your tent was like this."
Which means this happened to the tent potentially within 30 minutes of us setting out in the morning. That certainly was when the wind had some of it's strongest gusts.
This guy had been hunting this unit for decades he claimed. Didn't admit to where he was from, just admitted to not entirely being from around here. The twang in his voice made me wonder. I don't blame nonresidents these days for not wanting to openly admit being nonresidents. Didn't matter to me either way. Friendly guy. We talked about the deer hunting a little, he congratulated me on my deer, and he said he'll keep his headlights on for us for a while. We thanked him and got back to picking up our mess.
The tent was a loss for this trip. Multiple broken poles, but luckily no rips as far as we could see. I offered to set up my Seek Outside for to salvage the night and be able to hunt in the morning. My buddy looked at his tent, looked at me, and looked back the tent shaking his head. He finally said, "no, let's just pack this crap up and get home tonight." I said, "are you sure? We got weather coming, tomorrow could be good."
The forecast called for dropping temperatures and a little snow. Almost why I wished my tag remained unfilled, which isn't actually how I felt, but the thought kept crossing my mind.
He just was never fired up about shooting a buck as much as I was, hunting is about comradery for him. That's an attitude I greatly appreciate and is an attitude I need to be around more. I always struggle with not making hunting about filling tags. Frankly, hunting is largely about filling tags for me, it's why I do it, I want meat in my freezer and I want the memories and experience of putting animals on the ground, with or without friends at my side. I need to work on this, it's not entirely the best attitude to have about hunting.
To him, the trip was accomplished, a buck was shot and we did it together while enjoying each other's company at every step of the way. Talk about success, you couldn't ask for it better... I mean except for maybe two bucks - but again, that's not the point. He insists. I know he wants to be home with his two year old and pregnant wife. We had talked about how being stuck at home since March, working every day with our spouses not ten feet from us has created an environment where home sickness and missing that comfort sets in easily and quickly when you leave.
He was ready to throw it in, not in failure though.
We packed up, got the meat in the cooler, shooed the cheeky little bastard mouse out of the bed of my truck that had been chewing on things the whole weekend and hit the road.
We stopped and got our victory meal, Big Macs and Hot & Spicy McChickens with fries. Swapped vehicles and made our way home.
Overall, an excellent weekend, an excellent hunt, and excellent memories with excellent friends.
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