Leupold BX-4 Rangefinding Binoculars

My General Tag

Time to figure out a way up there. There's is quite a dizzying array of steep canyons to go down and back up between myself and that bull to eventually gain that ridge. Each canyon descent is pure deadfall timber. As the crow flies he's about 1.2 miles away. Let me think about this a moment.

It looks to me if I can gain the ridge opposite me it should be only one more bad timber whack down, and back up, to be able to work up towards that ridge he just crested. From there i can try some cow calling.

This is when I get mental blocks while solo. From one perspective, and it's true, it's very doable to get up there. From another equally true perspective, it's going to be quite an endeavor to get up there given this terrain and the timber between me and there. It's going to be very roundabout, losing a lot of elevation to gain it back and then have to go up even further. The physicality is not he issue for me, I'm pretty young and still a rather fit guy who spends lots of time in the mountains.

For some reason, while solo, the anxiety starts building whenever I start looking at making the move through vicious terrain - up and up, further from the truck, into the seemingly unknown.

Maybe I lack something, call it mental fortitude, or whatever, but it is my single biggest weakness as a solo hunter. I'm not gonna lie about it or hide that reality form myself or anyone else anymore. When I have a partner, I'm a different person. I seem to always be the one getting us further away and into the bigger tangles that will make getting ourselves and, if we're lucky, meat, back to the truck a truly horrific experience. But when I'm alone, I struggle to start the steps up and away. I don't want to have these anxieties, but I do.

I suspect these feelings are an extension of the same "neurosis" I can even experience packing for a solo trip, the desire, that pops up like a whack-a-mole, to ultimately just stay home. My suspicion is these are a larger part me as a person in relation to overall mental health and having nothing to do inherently with hunting; hunting just flares them up. It's not that it's necessarily a true mental health problem on the order that so many people have truly debilitating life altering struggles with. I feel that if nothing else it's a reminder to look at my larger life and be sure I'm dealing with things well. And might just very well be that I'm not managing underlying anxieties in my life as well as I should.
I am the exact same way to a T dude. Crazy when you write it out like that… You da man Togie. You got this! Man I wish you lived in MT lol
 
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Great thread so far, @TOGIE. Really relate to some of the internal struggles and mind games and occasional creeping feeling of self doubt. It’s weird how something can be so draining and simultaneously fill this cup that positively must be filled. I’m pulling for you, man. Hope to see a happy togie holding a dead elk here soon.
 
Tomorrow certainly brought a new day, but by only so much. There was more bite to the cold of the air this morning, toeing the line on freezing temperatures. There was the faintest dusting of snow on the peaks and, of course, the wind was whipping again. Same direction.

That bull was in a spot that I really didn't have fears of him getting found by others or him wandering off to a totally different location. Both are possible, but were not things I was very worried about. Let's leave him be and see if the wind calms down before evening.

So, I left elk to go back to elk. There were other spots on my mind, but that would be leaving elk to find elk. Back to the last known location of the cow and spike. I was starting to feel more confident that I would likely turn up elk in many of the spots I have listed though. So I am certainly giving further thought to all of the ones that would provide a wind in my face start.

But, last nights cow and spike area provides both a known location of elk and the wind in my face.

I make sure to find service to let my wife and a resident I know who lives in the area know the location and plan this morning has changed and begin the morning coffee chug that creates an excessive amount of urinating for the first 1.5 hours of the day.
 
This mornings hunt would be a timber whack in the same area as last night. Maybe I'd find more elk, maybe I'd find more wallows, or good water sources, little secret meadows with rubs, who knows. But if there were elk in those trees last night, surely there are more, if not the same ones.

I hike back to the area I saw the cow and spike and descend towards the wall of trees and start picking my way in. I immediately find a game trail and a rub.

Promising start. Notice the ever so slight dusting of snow on the ground.

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Go get 'em, TOGIE!

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Past the rub and pressing in. This timber is not bad to pick my way through so far.

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I move slowly.

I can't be the only one that has odd almost confrontational conversations with yourself while picking through timber. It's one thing to still hunt with your rifle on low magnification, but with a bow?

I confront myself and ask why you're even doing this. No way in hell you'd ever be able to get an arrow set, range found, drawn and let it fly before you're busted by an elk in here.

"You're an idiot, you should be glassing. You're just going to push elk down to the bottom of this drainage where all those dumbasses with quads have been ripping around. You actually want to just drop elk in their laps? In fact, there probably are elk in here but you'll never know, they'll be long gone before you get anywhere near them. Dumbass."

"Well, but it could work, you never know. You can't find anything at all without looking, you know. And besides, I'm exploring. At least the wind isn't so bad down here"

Me and myself settle down and just focus on quietly moving through the woods. Sometimes a fallen tree that only fell so far as to lean against it's neighboring tree will squeak in the wind and it stops me in tracks, as for a very brief moment in my mind, I thought I just heard a cow call.

Sometimes the dead trees will almost grunt in the wind as if to warn the intruder in their home to leave. The timber is strange place, a totally different world. It has a way of getting in your head.

You think you've just traveled for miles, you've crossed small streams and found more rubs. Lost the game trail to impassable deadfall only to circle around aimlessly and re find it. Finally you look at onX and notice you've traveled somewhere around 750 yards.

You ask yourself if you really want to keep doing this to go as far as you planned. Then you just shrug, stuff the phone back in your pocket, and keep moving. "Well, I'm already here." is the common answer to such a question the hunter commonly asks.

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I can't be the only one that has odd almost confrontational conversations with yourself while picking through timber. It's one thing to still hunt with your rifle on low magnification, but with a bow?

I confront myself and ask why you're even doing this. No way in hell you'd ever be able to get an arrow set, range found, drawn and let it fly before you're busted by an elk in here.

"You're an idiot, you should be glassing. You're just going to push elk down to the bottom of this drainage where all those dumbasses with quads have been ripping around. You actually want to just drop elk in their laps? In fact, there probably are elk in here but you'll never know, they'll be long gone before you get anywhere near them. Dumbass."

"Well, but it could work, you never know. You can't find anything at all without looking, you know. And besides, I'm exploring. At least the wind isn't so bad down here"

Me and myself settle down and just focus on quietly moving through the woods. Sometimes a fallen tree that only fell so far as to lean against it's neighboring tree will squeak in the wind and it stops me in tracks, as for a very brief moment in my mind, I thought I just heard a cow call.

Sometimes the dead trees will almost grunt in the wind as if to warn the intruder in their home to leave. The timber is strange place, a totally different world. It has a way of getting in your head.

You think you've just traveled for miles, you've crossed small streams and found more rubs. Only to look at onX and notice you've traveled somewhere around 750 yards.

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I would guess it's fairly common. I spent most of 1st season walking around looking for elk and sign last year and I definitely have a few arguments with myself over my skill set / ability / lack of seeing elk. It's one of those demons that shows up when you're solo
 
I would guess it's fairly common. I spent most of 1st season walking around looking for elk and sign last year and I definitely have a few arguments with myself over my skill set / ability / lack of seeing elk. It's one of those demons that shows up when you're solo
I have this argument with myself when I haven't seen an elk in like 45 minutes, it's really interesting how quickly the negative thoughts can set in and also how quickly they are entirely pushed back by just seeing elk, even if they are miles away, there's something really comforting about feeling like you have a game plan that is working when you are in a new place...
 
I find myself thinking of how different of an attitude I would have walking through the same woods as a recreational activity rather than hunting. Then I always say that I'm going to go back to some of these places in the summer and just hike through the woods. Then I never do. LOL.
 
I find myself thinking of how different of an attitude I would have walking through the same woods as a recreational activity rather than hunting. Then I always say that I'm going to go back to some of these places in the summer and just hike through the woods. Then I never do. LOL.

There is something real strange about how differently the mind operates in the wilderness when there is a tag in your pocket.

Or maybe it is just that. The places you would never recreationally walk about. The places you never in a million years would go if there wasn't a tag in your pocket.
 
I continued along, actually rather enjoying it. The serenity, quietness, darkness, and slight spookiness of the timber is a unique thing of the woods. It adds a feeling of complete wildness and solitude no matter where you may be. You could be within shouting distance of a road and feel miles from everything in places like this.

I pressed on for another hour or so then started veering right to eventually veer right again and work my way back, emerging on a small meadowed ridge with a game trail traversing it. No animals bumped save a mule deer. Never got good sight of it, buck or doe, never to be known.

I ducked back into the timber to work back towards that wallow to see if it looked like it had seen any visitors.

I kept asking myself how to determine if a wallow has been recently used. The tracks remain muddy and fresh looking no matter the time passed since it was last used due to the soggy ground around it. I settled that the only clue to look for was if the small logs and branches crisscrossing the top of the water had any signs of getting wet on the top or whether there were fresh splashes and mud found around the dry ground surrounding.

Bone dry.

Nonetheless, I sat down for about an hour here again and called a few times. Again enjoying the serenity of the woods.

I sat thinking about some other places I have explored but not were not in my original plans for places to visit on this trip looking for elk. There was a particular area I shot another doe antelope some years ago. It was up high on some sage steppes and just above these steppes, another few hundred feet in elevation, were expanses of aspens interspersed with timber and water. I just couldn't get it out of my mind. I decided I had to go check it out this evening.

I decided to work my way back to the truck. I would go back, eat some lunch, then work towards making my way over to this spot. What wasn't part of my plan was falling asleep for about an hour and a half. I'm not usually much of a napper, even while hunting.

One full year of being a dad has definitely had some effects.
 
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Shaking off the grogginess of a nap is hard. I hate it. But once it's gone you definitely do feel perkier.

It took me longer than I remember to drive the vast BLM sage flats to work up to this area and my nap did me no favors on time. I've been through this area a lot. I've hunted a lot of pronghorn through here, either while holding a tag or while my friends held a tag. It heartened me to see herds still out and about on public land after the winter this area had. Just cruising through on the truck I counted around 30. Maybe a half dozen bucks.

I reached the starting point. As far as I could tell and remember there was no real easy way to drive up into this area. Maps showed some old two tracks, but some of the ones I was aware of didn't really seem to exist and the ones that sort of did, crossed a creek at the bottom of a ravine where they were stopped by beaver ponds and impassable willow thickets.

I felt this was the ticket to fewer folks.

I started climbing up the hillside on the exact route I took those years ago in pursuit of a herd of pronghorn. It was really enjoyable looking around at the sights and views reminiscing of that hunt with a good friend. I gained the top, near where I had settled in for a shot on the pronghorn doe and looked out across the open flat in front of me where I eventually watched the doe run and tip over.

I couldn't help it, I walked over to where we sat and processed that doe and looked around. There were still just a couple remnants of her, even after all these years.

IMG-4043.jpg

We had fun that trip. That weekend would bring two more friends up with tags and we shot multiple antelope all while enjoying the nights with beer, whiskey, fat lips full of Copenhagen, and laughing the night away the way good buddies do.

I smiled thinking about it. Then turned my attention uphill and started working my way up there to check things out.
 
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Shaking off the grogginess of a nap is hard. I hate it. But once it's gone you definitely do feel perkier.

It took me longer than I remember to drive the vast BLM sage flats to work up to this area and my nap did me no favors on time. I've been through this area a lot. I've hunted a lot of pronghorn through here, either while holding a tag or while my friends held a tag. It heartened me to see herds still out and about on public land after the winter this area had. Just cruising through on the truck I counted around 30. Maybe a half dozen bucks.

I reached the starting point. As far as I could tell and remember there was no real easy way to drive up into this area. Maps showed some old two tracks, but some of the ones I was aware of didn't really seem to exist and the ones that sort of did, crossed a creek at the bottom of a ravine where they were stopped by beaver ponds and impassable willow thickets.

I felt this was the ticket to fewer folks.

I started climbing up the hillside on the exact route I took those years ago in pursuit of a herd of pronghorn. It was really enjoyable looking around at the sights and views reminiscing of that hunt with a good friend. I gained the top, near where I had settled in for a shot on the pronghorn doe and looked out across the open flat in front of me where I eventually watched the doe run and tip over.

I couldn't help it, I walked over to where we sat and processed that doe and looked around. There were still just a couple remnants of her, even after all these years.

View attachment 293982

We had fun that trip. That weekend would bring two more friends up with tags and we shot multiple antelope all while enjoying the nights with beer, whiskey, fat lips full of Copenhagen, and laughing the night away the way good buddies do.

I smiled thinking about it. Then turned my attention uphill and started working my way up there to check things out.
Enjoyed the story so far. Amazing how father hood changes things. I have 2 boys 2&4 I know it will change someday but the looks of excitement and hugs when I get home every day is something unexplainable and only a dad gets to know.
 
I made way up there and found a high rock pile that provides a solid view of a very large area at the base of these mountains. I can see things a lot farther away than what I'm currently interested in. After setting up the glass it takes some effort to keep myself focused on the things in front of me instead of all the many hillsides I can see many miles away.

It's beautiful up here. I sit here for a while and start hearing some bugles. Now, I know I'm no archery hunter and certainly no bugling expert. But I've heard enough to be certain when I'm hearing someone doing some calling.

Looking up the hills in front of me, callers off to my left, callers off to my right. The callers to my right are working a very steep sided canyon with water at the bottom that makes it's way up into the hills, eventually turning from canyon to timbered mountains with a simple creek running through it.

I had been interested in that canyon. It's both good and bad to learn that others are interested in it too. If other folks think this is a spot that likely holds elk, it stands to reason that there is a good chance it does.

I glance off a little right and behind me and notice an ATV and a SxS 500 or so yards away. Damn, there is a two track to get up here. These are the folks working that canyon. I looked at onX more closely and realized you can take a two track much lower than I parked on a way roundabout down and back up run to bring you right up into this area.

Gosh dangit. Oh well. It's still beautiful and just because other people want to hunt here doesn't mean there are not elk here.

Let's go investigate those expanses of aspen and timber.
 
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I hop off my rock pile to start picking may over towards the aspens and timber, there looked to be some ponds in there on the maps to go check out.

I start walking along the edge of the trees making my way to my planned entrance point.

It was quiet, still, and in such simple ways the light hitting the tops of the trees and the now calm air made for such a pretty moment to me.

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I get to the pond eventually and it was a quintessential beaver pond. The area has been pounded hard by cattle.

Again, calm and beautiful lighting. I decided to sit a while and enjoy it. I didn't even do any calling. I mostly wanted to see if a beaver would poke their head up anywhere.

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I thought about maybe sitting and calling here for a good while and started having another argument with myself. I just want to glass, I don't know how else to hunt.

If I can't see all the things I want to see and be able to then, from information determined from glassing, figure where I should be going it just doesn't feel right. I hike back to my pile of rocks.
 
After getting set up on my pile again feelings of anxiety start to creep back. They come from nowhere and seem to be attributed to nothing. I really don't understand them. I have no big hike ahead of me, no god-awful terrain to consider picking my way through, nothing to be stressed about. Yet here I am, in one of the most beautiful places on earth, seemingly stressed about nothing at all.

It just makes it hard to feel excited about what you're doing and to want to keep doing it.

It sure is pretty though. I get distracted by some mule deer does that start feeding out of a sparse thicket of trees and shrubs around 120 yards in front of me to my right. The calling continues every 15-20 minutes around me.

I watch the mule deer wander off and eventually out of sight as the sun starts to fall behind the hills up above me.

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With sunset nearing I start my scanning routine. Hoping to maybe catch sight of that good 'ol light brown body poking out into one of the many sage parks in front me.

It never happens. The anxiety has me feeling extra discouraged. While watching along the edges of the trees on a long expanse of open sage in front of me I see a dude stand up and start putting on his backpack. He bends down and grabs his bow and starts stepping out into the sage a little. I guess he's calling it quits. Then I catch another head pop up and waddle out after him, about 1/3 his height.

Must be his little boy, certainly not old enough hunt. 8-9 years old who knows.

While in the midst of irrational anxiety this just made me sad. If my boy isn't old enough to be out here with me than I shouldn't be out here either. I wanted to pack up and go home immediately in this moment.

It's all irrational and untrue, there's still enough rationality in my brain to know that, but not enough to squash it. It's where the mind goes when you are sitting in the midst of anxieties rooted in nothing but themselves - an awful bitter cycle.
 
Keep after it, bud. I've said it before, here and in private conversations. If you're gonna Solo Hunt, you better be okay with yourself as a human. Way too much time and solitude with your own thoughts, failures (perceived or actual), and with kids at home, the fear of missing out or not being there for them, gets very loud between the ears.

I have a few reasons that I leave and hunt w/out family:
1) I get to spend time w/ my dad (he's been gone a while, but he's w/ me in the woods)
2) I get to provide meat for my boys (this is, of course, bullshit. Don't ever figure out the $/pound)
3) It's cheaper than therapy

Embrace the moment
 

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