Had a great hunt in SW New Mexico. Bulls were bugling here and there, got close to a couple of large bulls before the changing canyon winds ruined us, and then jumped this raghorn on my usual afternoon walkabout, called him back with a cow call and got him circling downwind. I knew I was only about 1 mile from a real rough road, so I thought it would be an easy pack out. Quartered it and didn't hit the four mile trail back to the car until sunset, so a late night.
The next day is when things go awry due to bad decision making. First, I sleep in and hang around camp way too long. Second, feeling cocky about it just being 1 mile to the car, I pack way less food and water then I should have, even less than I would for a day of hunting. Third mistake, I didn't change the batteries on a headlamp that I just used for hiking out the previous night as well as around camp. It crossed my mind, and I forgot.
It took an hour to drive 6 miles up this extremely rough road to the closest spot, and after cresting the first ridge between my car and my bull I knew I was in for more than I bargained for, three steep drainages where I expected just one. It took me three miles with way too much up and down and deadfall and scree to get to the bull, and my fourth mistake was not changing plans. I had shot a bull about 1/2 mile from here previously, and had an easy pack out, taking it one mile down a drainage to a trail with another mile to the trailhead. I could have made roughly this same trip, it might have been three miles of downhill, two of them on a trail. But I was committed to my plan and so humped it out in three loads up and down, up and down... I shouldered the last pack at sunset, stumbled around in the dark trying to save batteries, then when I had to, had an extremely weak beam for a half hour, then used my cellphone light watching the battery die on it too. Finally got everything out at about 10.
Because I was trying to get out so fast, I had been breathing really hard now for a couple of hours. Just intentionally pumping the air as much as I could while on this sprint. When I got settled into the rig for the drive back to camp I noticed I was still breathing fast and hard, I couldn't stop, weird. I drove two miles down and pulled over. I was extremely light headed, my arms and legs were tingling and I was starting to lose feeling in them, I thought I was going to stroke-out right there. I put the car in park, put the heater on low, and hoped my freind would come looking for me soon as I slumped over on the console. Then I had a thought "Am I just hyperventilating?" I held my breath for at least thirty seconds while the tingling and light headedness started to wain, then kept doing that for a couple of minutes. Woohoo, I'm not dead. I got myself back in driving shape, still very nauseated, and continued driving down to camp with the windows down. A mile from camp, as I slow down for a turn, I get blasted by a skunk. I gag, I hold my breath, I drive another hundred yards to get out of the blast zone before I jump out of the car and lose what little cookies I had on the side of the road.
I made it back to camp, managed some watered down orange juice, and an hour later I was good. The skunk hit the car, not me directly, which was good, real good. Here are the important take-aways.
Pack for your pack-out like you mean it. It will always be harder than the actual hunting, even if you beleive otherwise going in.
Go downhill when you can. I'd rather go 5 miles down a trail than one mile of real rough terrain with scree and deadfall.
Obviously, be cautious about having a good light even if you think you'll be out by daylight.
And the skunk? I don't think that was a lesson so much as the mountain's final revenge...
The next day is when things go awry due to bad decision making. First, I sleep in and hang around camp way too long. Second, feeling cocky about it just being 1 mile to the car, I pack way less food and water then I should have, even less than I would for a day of hunting. Third mistake, I didn't change the batteries on a headlamp that I just used for hiking out the previous night as well as around camp. It crossed my mind, and I forgot.
It took an hour to drive 6 miles up this extremely rough road to the closest spot, and after cresting the first ridge between my car and my bull I knew I was in for more than I bargained for, three steep drainages where I expected just one. It took me three miles with way too much up and down and deadfall and scree to get to the bull, and my fourth mistake was not changing plans. I had shot a bull about 1/2 mile from here previously, and had an easy pack out, taking it one mile down a drainage to a trail with another mile to the trailhead. I could have made roughly this same trip, it might have been three miles of downhill, two of them on a trail. But I was committed to my plan and so humped it out in three loads up and down, up and down... I shouldered the last pack at sunset, stumbled around in the dark trying to save batteries, then when I had to, had an extremely weak beam for a half hour, then used my cellphone light watching the battery die on it too. Finally got everything out at about 10.
Because I was trying to get out so fast, I had been breathing really hard now for a couple of hours. Just intentionally pumping the air as much as I could while on this sprint. When I got settled into the rig for the drive back to camp I noticed I was still breathing fast and hard, I couldn't stop, weird. I drove two miles down and pulled over. I was extremely light headed, my arms and legs were tingling and I was starting to lose feeling in them, I thought I was going to stroke-out right there. I put the car in park, put the heater on low, and hoped my freind would come looking for me soon as I slumped over on the console. Then I had a thought "Am I just hyperventilating?" I held my breath for at least thirty seconds while the tingling and light headedness started to wain, then kept doing that for a couple of minutes. Woohoo, I'm not dead. I got myself back in driving shape, still very nauseated, and continued driving down to camp with the windows down. A mile from camp, as I slow down for a turn, I get blasted by a skunk. I gag, I hold my breath, I drive another hundred yards to get out of the blast zone before I jump out of the car and lose what little cookies I had on the side of the road.
I made it back to camp, managed some watered down orange juice, and an hour later I was good. The skunk hit the car, not me directly, which was good, real good. Here are the important take-aways.
Pack for your pack-out like you mean it. It will always be harder than the actual hunting, even if you beleive otherwise going in.
Go downhill when you can. I'd rather go 5 miles down a trail than one mile of real rough terrain with scree and deadfall.
Obviously, be cautious about having a good light even if you think you'll be out by daylight.
And the skunk? I don't think that was a lesson so much as the mountain's final revenge...
