The Hunt Routine

I’ve been doing the deal. Bill Mewhort, my hunting buddy and a wealth of hunting lore set the standard. My father used to wake us kids before dawn and we’d be out at the marsh first light.  So no surprise when I began hunting with Bill and he had us up before dawn. We’d eat and wash up and gear up.  

“You’ve got to be in your place before light. You have to be still too. No noise. No movement.”

I followed his advice for years and shot most of my game because of it.  We’d sit in ambush 6 to 10 if we knew the game trails.  I ‘m often new to an area so I’m more likely now to be stalking by 9-10.  Bill didn’t like to move till after 10.  It was okay to drive about only after 11 or 12.

My dad would say, “You see 20 times more game walking.”  He liked to stalk game trails.  

Bill would say “You see 50 times more game sitting still.”

I think the quad spoiled me. I stopped sitting and stalking and took to riding all over  hell’s half acre like a mad man.  I’ve had motorcycles and electric bicycles and side by sides since then. The Hunt became more joy ride. The whole camping and quad ding and hiking experience is just the cake with getting the game the cherry.  

Earlier this year I even rode my Vespa in the back woods bow hunting. Now I’m back to just having the Ford truck.  

I’ve been up at 5:0 to 5:30, made coffee and filled the thermos.  I dress in long johns, jeans, socks, hiking boots, Sturges long sleeve t shirt (luck), flannel plaid shirt, (I need the pocket for my Sat phone and iPhone), red fleece vest and cammo jacket. I don’t wear red because it looks grey like deer at dawn .  I have cammo pants I will wear and prefer the whole cammo ensemble but always have a red shirt or vest I can always show another hunter during the day if I need him to see me when I’m sitting in ambush. 

I’ve got the Ruger 30:06 stainless steel rifle which got nicknamed the Sexcaliber because it was my first stainless steel rifle and it looked so sexy.  I said it reminded me of Excalibur. The girl said, “its so sexy’ .  Bill said, “Sexcaliber!” The name stuck.  

I also have the new single shots Chiappa 20 guage/22 r over under for grouse.  The rifles  ride in the front seat with me.  I have the Nikon 10 -32 binoculars to be able to identify ‘horns’ and to scan the the distance.  My truck is the Ford F-350 Lariat long box.  It’s the best truck I’ve ever had. I have it to haul trailers.  I brought the Adventurer Camper up with it.  I unloaded that at the campsite with water and electricity so Laura has almost all the comforts of home while I’m hunting. 

I’m hunting a half hour to an hour from here.  Sunrise is 630.  So far I’ve been sitting down in ambush by 7 am  Today it was rainy and cold.  Snow had fallen through the night. I was too wet and cold to stay longer than 9 am.  That’s when I began hiking up the mountain, on the logging roads or back along the game trails that run parallel.  It was a terrible slog.  

Hunting is great exercise.  I’m in a boot camp out here. 2 hours straight up, stopping and starting.  Quiet.  Listening. Scanning.  I text Laura my Lat and Long on the Sat phone or cel phone. I get cell coverage when I’m higher.  I love the Iridium feature that sends a location.  I have a Garmin Instinct watch with the GPS.  I like Laura to know where I am. Older I’ve feared waiting for rescue if I break an ankle or drive off a cliff.  

I miss the dog.  He was so enthusiastic.  He’d huddle close in with me in ambush, his little body sometimes shivering with cold , so I’d sneak him inside one of my layers of clothing so we could both be warmer.  When we walked he’d follow on heel. Coming down the mountain I’d let him range out ahead as he sniffed everywhere in search of grouse.

I shot a grouse earlier this weekend. I only got one of five because I didn’t have a dog to find the ones that ran and hid.  Today I saw another grouse but it ran before I could get a shot.  There were three altogether.  Gilbert would have flushed them and I’d have had a shot at one at least in the air. I used to love skeet shooting with my dad. My brother and he used to shoot prairie chickens, our old dog Sonny flushed when I was a child . They were both better than me with shot guns. I’m best with big game long distance shooting today but manage okay with any of the tools for hunting. 

So far this hunt I’ve  done it all, by the book..  Riding around in the truck after 11 hoping to see grouse which come out at that time, between 11 and one or a stray deer. Bear can show up anytime.  I like to explore too since I’m new to this area. 

I loved getting a call from my nephew Andrew and his wife Tanya, and hearing about Finn , now a toddler and explorer. Great to talk to Kevin and Anna and celebrate the new pregnancy and hear about the god kids, a pack my fur baby loved. 

I love the exercise.  I’ve had 2 to 4 hours of hiking each day for three days. Lots of up and down. I’m not a gym kind of guy.  They don’t like me carrying rifles there.  

Even when I don’t get game I’m so happy to find my truck where I left it unharmed. I’ve been lost coming down off mountains and only found my truck the next morning.  That was when I first came to BC ,when I was learning that logging roads were not on the grid pattern so common in the prairies. 

 The coffee was great at noon.  I drove around a couple of hours.  That’s when I saw the grouse.  I’ve only seen deer in the campground and at night coming home. 

With the snow I was exploring where the roads were okay for the morning hunt in mind.  I ‘m afraid of sliding off the road. I’ve had some too exciting adventurers sliding down hills and almost going off cliffs when the snow has made the mountain roads slimy.  I used to have the quad so I could protect the truck.  Now I feel like the old days when all I ever had a was a 4x4 truck. I’m doing a lot more hiking than I did with the quad.  I miss the quad but I only used it a couple of weeks total and storing it was a hassle.  Motorcycles are better but once the snow comes they’re out.  I have chains for my truck tires but I hate lying in the mud putting them on. I also miss my winch. I winced myself back onto the road a few times when I had the HD edition F350.  I hate equipment issues because I’m out here to hunt, not to get my truck out of the ditch.  I’m usually alone and over the years I’ve had to get a wilderness tow truck out to get me in. I tore out a tire and rim on a partially concealed spike and another time sunk into bog that lay under some snow where  the road had been. Now I’m overly cautious. The trouble with an 8 foot box is turning around on a tiny logging road. My Broncho II and the Ranger truck had been better for that.   Sometimes situations just present themselves and it’s that or backing half way down a mountain to find a spot to turn around.

I’ve been getting back around 2 or 3, having lunch and a nap before going out for the evening hunt, watching a hill after hiking a bit then hoping to get grouse driving out before dark.

It’s a routine and a bit monotonous.  It’s exhausting and my whole body hurts.  I’ve taken ibuprofen and Robaxin before bed  Tonight I skipped the evening hunt and barbecued steaks to have a nice meal with Laura.  I’ll be back at it tomorrow. I did get some nice bird pictures today, a Clark’s Nutcracker and a Downy woodpecker.  I put them up on Facebook with whatever I think they are and Rob is nice enough to correct me.  He sure knows his birds. 

It’s a great change from the office.  In my mind I’m running prayers over and over as I sit or walk or drive.  I’m already quieting down. Laura and I feel the relaxation taking over. It’s so peaceful here and so few calls. I have cell but the wifi is only at the office not here which means I’m less likely to work.  I get cell phone connection when I go to town for food or high up in the mountains.  The Sat Phone is really working out well. I’ve not had the Ham radios working out so well - no better than VHS here. Line of sight. I’ve not hooked into a repeater. I’m relearning the tech that I used all the time on the boat.  

It’s all a change.  Exercise is good and I sleep so well. I have wonderful, often heavenly dreams. Lots of people from my past checking in.  Good feelings wakening.  I love the smells out here too, pine and fir.

Hunting is a type of work. The hunter gatherer tribes did about 20 to 30 hours a week hunting.  By the end of the fall I’m hunting full time when I’m out here. My friend in the Yukon said I did pretty good for a city boy. I’ve had good teachers. Older I’m feeling the shift more in the work from desk to outdoors.  

Lots of men and women out here this year. I expect it’s Covid and the costs of food in the country.  Gas prices are awful with more people actually making camp in the deep woods. I come across these great base camps and admire the way different guys and girls have set their sites up.  I’d say I’ve got a skookum arrangement especially since I have the best woman.  I’m missing the dog.  Gilbert was such a good boy.  A puppy should be along before long and ready for next year’s hunt.  

35 yo to present: Hunting,

I’d just like to mention that a main reason I lived in BC was the hunting. The outdoors here is magnificent.  I hunted every fall. I began in Vancouver where i first came. I bought a Browning 30:06 rifle from Italian Sporting Stores.  I’d have also buy a Remington 12 guage pump action shot gun. I don’t remember the 22 I first had. I have had a few 22 rifles.

I’d shoot grouse from the beginning. My first hunting trip was Pemberton followed by Whipsaw. I’d shoot grouse but while I saw deer I never shot one. I’d climb a whole lot of mountains. I used to range from dawn to dusk. In Pemberton I’d hunt in the morning and in the afternoon come back for the Hurley River hotsprings that is no longer open since the bridge collapse. I’ve been to a lot of the hotsprings especially those up by Harrison Lake. I’d hunt in the morning and lie in a hot spring in the afternoon. In the evening I’d find some place hoping a deer would come the down the hill. Lots of times I just drove about in my vehicle exploring.  I saw a lot of mighty fine country. 

 First ‘hunting car’ was my VW Rabbit. Then I’d move up to the really great little mountain Ford Broncho II. The Ford Broncho was a famed hunting mobile but the Broncho II was smaller, better for the towns but did amazingly well on the high logging roads. Later I’d get a Vanagon. Then I’d have a Toyota Sport Truck .then an Astro Van, then a Ford Ranger. Then I moved up the the Ford F-350 Harley Edison diesel. Now I have a Ford F-350 Lariat edition 4x4 8 foot box heavy duty truck. I have the last one to haul my camper or RV.

 I’d tented for years , pup tents, 2 man and 4 man tents, mostly North Face or MEC.  I’d often camp high in the mountains and sleep in my sleeping back after cooking over an open fire or with my Coleman stove. I’d take canned stew and bread, sometimes eggs and bacon. I brought a little Weber Portable that I carried in back of the Broncho II. Nothing like barbecuing venison strap muscles or liver and onions right after an animals has been shot. Grouse barbecued well too.  I had a North Face 40 below sleeping bag I’d bought as a fly in doctor for work in the far north. 

Always I had Shinto beside me in the tent. He’d bark and let me know if anything or anyone was about.  I also had  a 12 guage, usually the defender beside me. I liked to load it with a couple of buckshots and a shell in case of bear bothering the camp. On the island it was only black bear but on the mainland I was often camped in Grizzly Bear territory and would come across them when I was hunting. The worst was coming up on a mother and cub when I was bow hunting. I was glad to slink backwards and away from that encounter. Hunting is a grand adventure. Mostly I’d go alone, often with Bill and once every year or two with Bill and a couple of guys on a moose hunt. In later years others like Luke and Sonny came on the moose hunt then even later I’d have the pleasure of coming across Dereck out hunting and continuing the hunt with him. Often I’d meet guys in the back woods. In later years I’d have a 4x4 quad. I ‘d also have Honda CRF 230 then a Honda 250 enduro and buzz all around the back country. I just traded in my Honda Pioneer 500 side by side for the KTM 690 enduro.  Everyone has its merits but I shot the most game when I walked about in the woods or sat in ambush. I got more exercise and lost more weight but I really do enjoy the quadding and motorcycling in the back woods. I shoot a lot of paper and still seem to get grouse whereas I mostly scare off deer.

I always shot grouse. I loved frying the chicken breast in butter with marmalade and haveing a great delicacy on rice.  I loved cooking wild game studying and trying recipes. My crew, also my principle hunting buddy for many years despite eccentricities , a great companion in the woods when he’s not so depressive and hasn’t been alone so long he’d talking like a cabin fever person.  A lot of hunting is driving around in the back woods with a big comfortable truck talking about women, politics and God and hoping the game find you.  The dog loves it.

The first deer I had was in Comox. Bill Mewhort had shot two and I’d helped haul them out for him the day he had a heart attack. I’d hunt with him some trip almost every other year until he died a few years ago.  I butchered up that first Island Deer and began trying very way which way to cook venison. Island deer is a red deer, a little musky, perfect for barbecuing but also great for stew. I love venison stew.

I believe Scottish folk need wild game and salmon to survive to awaken.  

Bill would take me out to hunt my first deer.  He’d already told me.

“I saw you sitting by the lake huntin with my binoculars. Why are you hunting their in the morning. The deer go up to the mountain tops in the morning and come down to the river, lakes and valley in the evening. Thereafter I’d climb mountains like he did before dawn and sit half way up to shoot the deer as they made their way up coming out high first light.”

This day he suggested I stay in the valley. It’s was dawn. 

“They’re walking along the river before they head up.” 

“Don’t smoke. Don’t move. Stay completely silent. Wait in there somewhere and there’s sure to be a deer along the trail.”

He’d hardly pulled away in his 4x4 truck when I saw a deer. He looked straight at me. It’s a spiritual thing like they realize this ‘meeting’ is their last. They also always have a kind of ‘oops’ look ,the island deer did, not the Mule or the Moose. I shot that deer through the heart and was thoroughly ecstatic. I was really like those Scottish guys in the Highlander .I was suffused in energy.  I lifted that deer on my shoulders and carried it back to the road, beaming from ear to ear.  Bill had heard the shot and come back.  

“Well done young fellow. Looks like you’re happy with yourself.”

“I sure am” I said,dropping the deer on the road side.  The blood had dripped all over my face and jacket. I was ecstatic.  It’s an extraorinary feeling that linked me a thousand generations of man. I had in that one shot joined my father ,uncles and grand father’s and countless ancestors before me. We were always a hunting and fishing clan.  

Bill enjoyed my enjoyment as much as me.  He taught me how to field dress the deer and to this day I’m still not good at getting the bladder out in tact.

He’d bore around the anus with his knife with precision and finesse. I chose to cut the pelvis bone with my ax and lift the bladder and large intestine that way.

‘Remind me never to come to you for cosmetic surgery,” Bill said.  

“I’m more a trauma surgeon type.” I told Bill.  The axe work on the pelvis got the job done.  I didn’t have to tie up the bladder with a string either. I’d read up on the whole matter and being surgically trained understood the anatomy. My way “got the job done’.  Barbaric though it appeared.  

More barbecue more stew.

I’ve now shot some 30 or 40 deer in the last 25 years.  I’ve shot them with a bow and arrow as well. I’ve shot grouse with bow too. I’ve shot 8 moose.  Bill was with me when we shot my first moose. It was up in Clinton. It was late fall and cold. Bill had booked a cabin with a wood stove for heat. We were up early hunting each day.  Driving around the back woods, sitting on mountains, sitting down by the streams. Finally the last day I saw a big deer running full out in the distance.  

I pointed it out to Bill.  

It’s a moose he said.  It was running a mile away . Bill had his binoculars on it and exclaimed 

“It’s got horns.”

He then gunned his four by four perpendicular to where we were and down the hill a ways. 

“Run as fast as you can to that tree down there and shoot it when it comes put of the woods.  Don’t stop shooting till it’s down.”

I didn’t know then but moose run in straight lines.  We’d seen it a mile away running at an angle downhill towards us. Now Bill had figured the trajectory and sent me to this treed a mile down the slope. I ran like hell despite my gear and got to that tree. It couldn’t have been a minute later but this big bull moose broke from the forest. It had crossed the clearing where we’d seen it first and crashed through these stand of woods to appear 50 yards in front of me exactly where Bill said it would.  I had my 30:06 with a 180 grain bullet up to my shoulder and even though I had a 10 power scope on 5 I didn’t need it but sighted in on the heart and pulled the trigger .The moose had conveniently stopped for just that second surprised to see me. Now it took off at the locomotive speed moose do. I shot another 4 shots at the receding rear when I heard another shot and the moose stopped wobbled and fell .The earth shook. I looked up . Bill must have been a mile away by the car , a tiny dot. He’d taken that shot.  We’d find I’d missed all my shots at it’s receding ass. But there side by side not even an inch apart were two bullet holes.  Both had pierced the heart.  My shot I’d taken at 50 yards .Bill’s was more like 1200 yards if not a mile.  Bill was the most amazing hunter and marksman.

Now we had a ferry to catch. With Bill’s help we gutted the 1400 lb beast when Bill came back.  We took out the the liver and heart. The liver was huge.  Once it was gutted Bill pulled out his chain saw and emptied out the oil to replace it with vegetable oil. Then he just quartered that moose.  Loud chain saw noise then 4 huge slabs of meat. We hitched them on rope with the hide down and pulled them behind the 4 by 4 car.  

Driving back to the cabins along the logging road I saw a   a grouse on the side of the road , asked Bill to stop.  Ishot it in the head with my 22.

Some other hunters pulled up behind as I was getting back in the Jeep.

“That’s a beauty. Where did you shoot it.”

“I know. I said, holding up the grouse.” I shot it in the head with my 22 right there. “

Bill was laughing when I got back in the car leaving the other hunters dumbfounded.

“They were asking about the moose.” 

“I know but the grouse is beautiful It was a perfect head shot.”  I said.

“You’ll always be a grouse hunter.”

I really wood. It always gave me the most joy probably because I love the tasty little nutty flavoured morsels and it reminds me of the joy I had with my brother and father hunting partridge and prairie chicken in the prairies.

Bill would put the horns on the front of the Jeep. The moose was loaded in his trailer under a tarp. The challenge was to get back in time for the last ferry to the island .  

It was a wild wild down through the river gorge.

We just made it.

On the ferry in the car an older woman , more Bill’s age than mine, would object to the bloody horns been slung across the hood and held on by rope.  

“That’s awful.”  

“Shut up you old bitch. The boys shot his first moose and it’s none of your business.”  I loved that he said that. I was ecstatic with my first moose. It was an amazing amount of meat.  We’d each have something lie 500 lbs of incredibleness when he got the boxes of wrapped and butchered meat back from his favourite Gunter Brothers Butchers up the north island. He’d fry up some liver and onions and I thought I’d gone to heaven. The taste is great but the sensation that follows eating that heavenly meat is something indescribable.  Moose meat is one of a kind and a true delicacy. 

I’ve shot 8 moose , that one included the last 25 years. My Yukon friend had shot 30 said  “they walk through my back yard, so you’re doing respectably well for a southern city fellow who has a job to go to.”  I love moose meat. Best barbecue and great stew meat. 

The other most outstanding moose I shot was with Luke and Tom. They did all the hauling and butchering after I shot the moose coming upon it riding on my little 50 cc ruckus.  Great guys to hunt with.  

I show one elk north Vancouver Island with Laura along .This was a good thing because it took me 12 hours to haul out and then I flipped my ATV and hurt my back. A local man found me and helped me load the elk in his truck get it and my ATV back to my truck 30 miles away .Then he followed me back to the cabin where I ate a bottle of Aspirin and thanks to Laura’s mostly emotional support got back down the island onto the ferry dropping off the amazing elk at the butcher. I’d keep the meat in a fridge I bought for Laura’s apartment. The roasts were the best but Laura made up a hash from the ground meat  that was so tasty Iwas addicted. No wonder it’s called Prairie Beef. 

I’ve shot three bear. The first I gave most of to my Indian chief friend. He loved bear. I was concerned about the parasite and didn’t care for the meat much that first time though ate some sausage. I had the coat and head taken in to the taxidermist because I’d shot the bear in the centre of the forehead when it came on a log bridge I was crossing and would’n’t back up.  I backed up to my side and shot it glad it didn’t fall into the fast flowing river in the gorge.  

I’d shoot a deer when I was coming back to Vancouver from up north and the mayor in a town said he’d been asking hunters to shoot bear if they wood since there’d been so many that summer and they’d over run the town. I dutifully went out thinking of the African hunters who shot tiger and came across this bear which waited for me to jump out the truck and shoot.  It went right down.

Then Shinto ran over to it and up it jump turned and raced off into the woods with Shinto after it. I followed with my ‘Sexcaliber’ the stainless steel Ruger 30:06 that I’d buy from Granlund Firearms. I was living on the sailboat at the time and this was the first of the stainless steel rifles.  It got the name of Sexcalibur because the sun caught it as i took it out of the box saying it reminds me of ‘Excalibur’s and my wife at the time said ‘it’s sexy ‘ so Bill said. ‘That’s it ‘it’s Sexcaliber’.  

I’d hardly followed Shinto a couple of dozen yards into the forest when Shinto came barrelling past me with the wounded bear chasing him. His look was as much to say “he’s yours boss’.

I shot the rest of my shells in his back, two in the lungs and another in the shoulder. I was shooting down and running backwards.  He veered up and went up the tree next to the trail. I loaded 4 more shots and fired a couple more times before he fell. I’d put a last one in his head before I was certain he was dead.

When I gutted him and took the meat and rug I’d find that my first shot had taken off the apex of his heart but had not opened the chamber. It was through the lungs as two more shots I’d made running backwards and one in his shoulder. The shots I fired up the tree had severed his spine and the head shot had been delivered when he was likely already dead. It was an object lesson in how far a wounded animal could go and how dangerous they could be.  It served me well as knowledge when I was the expert witness for a policeman who shot a man and folk thought he should have shot to wound and other such nonsense. After that experience with a beast like a bear I’m not likely to shoot to wound.  Animals and man don’t take kindly to being wounded and they have a lot of life in them even after mortal shots.

I’d shoot another black bear and while I was gutting and cleaning it look over to see that my Scotty dog Stuart had decided it was his and was kicking dirt on it’s head an burying it. Stuart thought we were pretty great hunters that day. Scottys’ are little dogs with the biggest egos.  

I’d shoot three a couple of moose one time I was hunting with Bill and a a couple of the guys. I had a cow tag . I came across a couple of bulls and a cow and shot the cow.  It was heavy snow and as I was making my way through the drifts to dress the cow I saw this bull moose bearing down on me from out of my eye. He’d made a circle and come back charging straight at me. He was going full out 30 miles per hour.  

I dropped on one knee and with my bolt action Ruger chambered a shell looking threw the scope. I actually saw the bullet bounce of the skull as I chambered the second shell. That bullet two bounce off the hard horn skull. The moose was almost on me when I shot my final shot into the neck. My previous shot having caused his head to come back. He dropped right at my feet.  It was a pretty exciting and exhilarating moment. I’ve said ever since that I prefer bolt action as fear makes one fast and an automatic rifle would have been too slow. I was certainly the toast of the hunt when the guys gathered round and saw that the trails through the snow confirmed my tail. There was the fallen moose head touching where my toe and knee prints were. Everyone was pretty excited. Bill had a bull tag. 4 guys , 2 moose. Not a bad hunt. No one cares much who shoots since a moose hunt is all about the meat. It’s  harvest time.

The Wild game are managed by the incredible government forestry and wildlife services. Hunters and fishers account for 90% of the Wild life management in the province while urban polluters run their mouths off on CBC about everything but reality. They’re simply not in touch with reality. The game wardens and wild life services count the game and manage the herds which are pretty much like a free range beef only they’re on common ground and not branded. The guides who have licenses to parts of the province are equally committed to the maintenance of this resource.  

I’ve shot and cooked up thousands of pounds of the finest meat for myself and friends for decades.  You can’t buy this in the stores and the experience.  If you could a steak would cost $50 to $100 lbs. I consider the meat priceless . It’s cost me in time and effort and equipment hundreds of thousands of dollars.  Most people are ignorant of hunting and take everything for granted . Critics are proliferating in Canada. I miss the days when there were more rural folk who were learned and less of the ignorant offended arrogant city parking lot types ruining their environment with their waste and hot air.  

I’ve a vegan for years. I’m spiritual. I love the game I shoot. I’m more a conservationist and traditional hunter than any of the natives I know especially the urban natives, some of who I admire and have had the pleasure to take hunting and fishing with me to teach them skills they’ve lost with the lust for luxury that appeals to so many.  Hunting is not easy and it’s a very skilled occupation that I’ve become good at thanks to my grandfather, my father, my brother, Bill, hours at the rifle ranges and countless hours reading, wilderness skills galore and as much time as I can out in the woods. 

Now I’m less efficient and enjoy my Camper, the barbecue, reading and writing at night in the warmth. Drinking coffee made on the camper stove, hanging with the lady and the dog. I can’t seem to get up early in the morning and like careening about the back woods on my KTM off-road motorcycle. I shoot grouse still but haven’t shot a deer I skipped a Hillary Trump debate to go out hunting in my truck . A buck was standing in a field .I shot it at dusk. Gilbert ran out to it so I shot it again as Gilbert jumped on it’s face to hold the head down till I got there. I’m afraid two deer I know saw a cockatoo as the last thing they saw before departing to deer heaven.  I imagine they think that’s what killed them Gilbert certainly took credit for bringing down that deer. 

The one I shot brfore was bounding through the air and I shot him in the air in the field at dawn.  Gilbert was off and running and straddled the head of the deer trying to lift his head with his last breath .

Bow Hunting Stone Creek, BC

Having driven all day Friday night and most of Saturday I pulled off Hwy 97 at the Stone Creek Forest Service Road. I have the BC Backwoods Atlas so saw some campsites in the wilderness to the south east of Prince George.  It was getting to evening and I was concerned not knowing the area (pulling 26 foot Rockwood Mini lite RV trailer it's impossible to turn without sufficiently large clearing) and just wanted to camp. I eventually found a clearing which had been used by hunters for target practice.  Targets on the hill and shells everywhere.  It was good enough.  I wanted to sight in my rifles next day anyway.
When I worried about shooting there scaring away game, I remembered hearing about the deer that walked across the rifle range when every one was target practicing.
That night I fried up some pork chops and boiled frozen peas to eat with chips.  It was a great meal finished off with cherry ice cream and blue berries and cream.  I could have had either dessert alone.  It wasn't like anyone but my waist was watching.
Gilbert was real glad to help me with the pork chops too.
The alarm went off at 5:30 but before that the batteries had died running the propane heater all night. I noted later there was a charging problem but that morning all I noted was the chill. It was all I could do to get myself out of bed, skip washing and  hot coffee, just have  a cold starbucks double shot and get on our way before I changed my mind.  Bed is so seductive.
I loved hiking off at a tai chi pace with the dog on heel and a bow over my shoulder.  The light was just coming up. All was still and quiet.  I was wearing leather canoe shoes to minimize sound.  Gilbert was hyped.  We kung fu'd a mile or so then sat watching the sun come over the trees. Dawn is beautiful especially hunting. No game though. Only a few fresh deer trails and one moose track.  Young bear tracks but no older bear.  Very little in deed.
Slowly but surely I walked to the outer reaches of where I could get along the off road logging road with a truck. If I shot something I had to haul it out so I  wasn't going to go miles cross country backwoods where if I shot something I'd have to haul it out on my back. I'd done that once with a moose and a few times with deer when I was younger but the other 6 moose and elk I'd shot within eye sight of a road. Hauling the 800 lbs of elk over rough terrain 2 years ago had taken all day.  Three of us carried a moose I shot a mile or so from the road and I once shot a deer a couple of miles from the road and had to carry that on my back through rivers.  Great experience when young and inexperienced.  My favourite moose I shot was running towards the road and collapsed literally beside a logging road so I only had to haul the quarters out of the ditch and lift them into the back of the Safari van I had at the time.
No, come to think of it , the very best moose I shot was with Luke and Tom. They hauled the moose  down the hill to the road while I gave them instructions on field dressing. I only had to help them lift it up into the truck.
I didn't see anything till I wandered back to the RV and truck around 10:30 am.  There was a big black bear standing outside the door like it had come to visit and found no one home. It looked at me. I had my bow. It seemed further away than it actually was.  Gilbert didn't bark but stayed right by my side. In retrospect I could have shot it with the bow but I didn't.  I thought it was too far away but it was in fact only about 60 yards. When I was siting in my rifles later I figured the distance but somehow I thought it was further and that I needed to be closer with the bow. The bear slowly ambled off the road while I tried to casually come forward like maybe I was just wanting a hug, you know a bear hug.  It wasn't having any of that and ran into the woods, amazingly fast for it's size.
Despite shooting three bears and enjoying eating bear meat I've never been overly anxious to shoot bear since I was charged by the bear I dropped with heart shot.  My dog, Shinto, ran to the bear and the bear jumped up and ran in the woods. Shinto ran after, I ran after Shinto only to have Shinto pass me as I ran through bush going in the other direction, the bear barrelling along behind him right at me. I began back pedalling frantically while unloading my rifle  into the back of the bear , the barrel nearly touching it.  Thankfully it  veered off after several shots through both lungs running straight up a tree.
I reloaded and  shot it several times more before I severed the spine bringing it crashing down from a height of two story building.
When I dissected the bear I found the first shot, by direction, had passed through both lungs and taken off the tip of the heart but hadn't punctured a ventricle.  Another three shots passed through the lungs from above. Then another couple of shots hit the back coming from below.  A couple more shots were in the muscle of the shoulder and rump.  At least four lethal shots were in the bear with a couple of wounding shots.  I'd shot at least 9 or ten shot and couldn't account for a couple which I may well have shot wide while running back wards. My bolt action stainless steel Ruger 30:06 held 5 shots with one up the barrel. I was using 180 nozzle partition bullets at the time.  I dropped several shells reloading after the charge, before shooting the next four shot while it was up the tree.  It all happened so fast. Literally everything was happening in nano seconds, the whole thing going down in minutes.
Overall I was shocked and impressed by how long the bear carried on with all that lead in it.  It gave me a real appreciation of stories of men carrying on all shot up.  Makes me appreciate the advantage of a head shot though the next bear I shot died with one heart shot at 100 yards.
I've not shot a bear with a bow and arrow yet.  I think it may be I have to get up the nerve.  Obviously my Excalibur bow with the razor blade tipped arrows is truly lethal. I shot deer with my less powerful Browning compound crossbow before getting the Excalibur.  I just think bear are more unpredictable.
With this bear gone I made a fine Starbucks expresso coffee and sat on the steps enjoying the fine  brew.  Starbucks coffee in the woods sure beats Starbucks coffee in the city.
After that I was sore and tired and feeling my age in my back with stalking all that distance with all the gear I carry.  In addition to my bow and arrows, I have Bushnell Binoculars around my neck, 2 knives, my cold steel hunting knife, a folding knife, knife sharpener and leatherman tool and satellite phone on my belt.  I appreciate the back complaints police have carrying the stuff they carry as part of their daily work uniform.
In addition I carry extra arrow heads and some special bird shot razor heads in my fanny pack, along with compass, tin of sardines, and bottle of juice, toilet paper and lighter.  When I have a rifle I carry about 25 rounds of ammo, I know 10 rounds is more than enough but I appreciate the soldiers having the weight of the 100 rounds minimum they usually carried on patrol. 30 rounds of 30:06 is weight enough, 10 rounds on my belt, 10 more in my fanny pack and five in my rifle.  I only have 6 arrows when I'm bow hunting. I used to have an extra quiver which allowed me to carry another 4 or 5 but it wore out with all the razor heads and I've not replaced it yet.  The limitation with the bow is that reloading takes time so I'm lucky if I would get more than 1 or 2 shots. I dud once get 5 shots off with the browning compound.  It was faster to load than the Excalibur.    I've lost several arrows shooting grouse, missing one before hitting the grouse with the reload.  Normally only grouse will wait around. One stunned deer seemed to wonder what were the irritating 'bugs' flying past it as it stood and let me miss repeatedly
That's all just a lead up to my guilt about  climbing in the truck.  I love my truck.  Ford 350 Harley Davidson edition 4x4.  It's got heated seats and a sun roof. I just feel guilty about 'road' hunting before noon.  But at 11 am I justified driving around as I didn't know the territory.  I didn't see any game but had a great adventure just driving all round the territory for the next few hours.  The sun was hot and I ate lunch up on a meadow. Gilbert loved every time I got out of the truck to look around certain there must be a grouse or at least a yellow tennis ball to be found somewhere. He's an eternal optimist!
In the after noon it was really hot.  Back at the RV I stripped to underwear and  set up targets.  As usual I hit a fairly tight pattern a couple of inches just off the bull's eye at a hundred yards.  That's good enough for me.  I could probably adjust my scope and practice more to get all bull's eyes but next time I picked up the rifle I would likely shoot a tight pattern an inch away from the centre. When I shot cans at 100 yards I hit them all dead center. I'm an okay shot with an animal too which for me is better than being exact with targets and off with game.
Unfortunately I found my Mossberg 30:30 misfired after three shots. I think it's the oil I put in the rifle. It had been left out in freezing weather last winter and I think the oil wasn't rated. I was just glad to find this out before going bear hunting with this rifle.  I take my rifles into Reliable Guns in Vancouver and their gunsmiths have been the best over the years.  I once had a rifle fail on a hunt far north but had had the forethought to buy a second in case of that given I'd taken 2 weeks off work and a dead rifle would have ruined the hunt. I don't have a back up bow but I've ever since had two big game rifles.
I had a Ruger 22/10, the finest of 22 rifles along as well.  By law you can't shoot big game with 22 but I did have my new Brazilian Boito 12 gauge with interchangeable 20 gauge over under barrels. Because of the chokes in the barrels I couldn't use slugs but had buck shot for both gauges.  Some of the guys I know have just one rifle but always take along their 12 gauge shot gun with buckshot as back up.  I'm usually overtooled but then hunting birds and big game takes 3 tools at least, a bit like golfing.
In fact a 12 gauge can with different loads cover all bases. If a person could only have one gun that would be it because it can be used for everything. For big game it's lethality is maximal at a 100 yards compared to the 300 to 400 yards shots I've had with my Ruger 30:06.
I only shot off a dozen rounds of 30:06 before I was satisfied but I did shoot off another 50 or so 22 rounds getting excellent groupings on targets at 50 yards and making cans dance like they're supposed to in cowboy movies.  I' ve never tired to shoot coins out of the air. I've shot deer and grouse and rabbits on the run so I'm not that bad with moving targets but I'm still not very good at skeet.
Skeet shooting,  to my mind,  is excellent training in shooting and something I really should do more of, if only for the fun and camaraderie.  I most enjoyed this when I worked in Comox Hospital and shot with other doctors at the Cumberland Club.  I remember going out on occasion with my father who was a far better duck hunter than me but not that much better at skeet shooting.  It's all in knowing where the target will be.  Skeet shooting is the most  comraderie of target practicing.
While driving about I came across a lovely clearing with a meat rack built by other hunters in previous years.  When I returned to the RV I battened down the insides and hitched it up to the truck to pull it around to the new site.  There was a likelier looking hunting spot within walking distance up the road too.
In the evening I went out with my 30:06 on my back  loaded , 10 rounds on my belt, and my Excalibur cross bow over my shoulder cocked and loaded.  Gilbert was an amazing dog staying right on heel beside me though he really wanted to range ahead.  I was ready with the bow for deer and the rifle for bear.
Again I tai chi kung fu stalked my way up the side logging road to the top of the hill. I stopped and glassed everything every few feet. I stood stock still for long periods too. Finally I saw a movement a few hundred yards ahead of me. I couldn't tell what sort of animal it was in my binoculars. It actually looked like a goat at first.  Standing right there on the side of the logging road. Using the 10 power scope on the rifle, I thought it must be a coyote.  As I got closer that's what it turned out to be.  We stared at each other about a hundred yards apart.
I figured it could be a young female enamoured by Gilbert but I'd heard how a coyote will call a dog out in the woods playing one on one before the pack comes in to kill and eat it as a group.  I don't shoot dogs or coyotes or wolves since I wouldn't care to eat them though would if hungry enough.  Cougar sure was tasty and I'd not normally consider eating cat.  Just a thing with the dog family though. Gilbert stayed close to me and though he seemed aware of the other dog. This worried me because if it was just another dog he might as easily have bolted to join it but now he stayed with me as if this was his 'pack'. He was with the lead dog and wasn't going to let this 'competitor' get between me and him.   Which was good because if the coyote came closer or Gilbert had gone towards it and not responded to my calls I would have dropped the bow, gone for my gun and dropped it to protect Gilbert.
Personally I had no fear because of the bow and arrow cocked and ready but it was a bit eerie to be followed by this wild animal for the next half hour or so as I stalked across the hillside for a mile or two.   I got a picture with my iPhone but had I had my Canon Powershot camera along I'd have got a really great shot with the 20x zoom.  I love the iPhone though because it's so compact and always with me.
The coyote left us when we came down to walk along the river trail.  I thought it made us more vulnerable for a surprise attack by anything but trust Gilbert's ears and my bow. I was a little spooked by the coyote and prefer the feeling of predator versus prey out hunting. Hunting alone has certainly raised my appreciation for the courage and training of the military who every patrol have to worry about an 'ambush'.
I've been stalked in the woods by cougar and had encounters with packs of wolves. They're predators like the opportunistic coyotes but they're not equally armed with the ability to reach out and touch someone at 500 yards or more.  Whenever I think of war I feel the terror that men must feel with all the traps and snares and possibilities of dying that fill every hour of their times overseas.  I figure it's more than enough to just go hunting and harvest food without having to do it in the days of the natives when one tribal group was competing for food with another and ready to kill any stranger with bow and arrow from ambush.
I 'm just thankful today I can hunt with only the greatest danger being tripping and breaking a limb climbing about on the rocky terrains.  I got off the road a hundred yards or more at times if only to eat handfuls of the incredible blue berries which were everywhere this year.
I couldn't understand no grouse but figure the earlier years dryness and the coyotes might have reduced their population which really cycles against their predators.
On the way back I let Gilbert run free so he could do his cocker spaniel bouncing through the grass with all his circles along the road to flush out game. If there'd been anything there he'd have conjured it. He sure likes his work.
Back at the RV I gave him a' little caesar" wet dog food which he coyoted down before begging my montreal smoked meat which I made sandwiches with, eating while reading Harbingers the Christian thriller I 'd begun.  I didn't last long before sleep took over.
An even better sleep but early waking with cold as the propane heater stopped working again as the batteries were drained.  I remember I'd used the generator  more when I was out in the woods a couple of years back.  I wasn't so gung ho about going out bow hunting that morning so got out the generator to charge the batteries while I made some coffee.  I decided that since I'd made all this noise and that I really had a long trip ahead I should get ready. I had a shower and moseyed about some.  Finally after a couple of hours I was in the truck with Gilbert with the RV packed up.
I decided I didn't have time to hunt more because if I did shoot something I might not have time after cleaning and dressing and hauling to get back to Vancouver .  I had 650 km to drive and wanted to find an RV storage place along the way to store the RV.
I saw one rabbit on the way out.  Indeed before the weekend was over I'd see 4 all together.  No grouse but 4 rabbits. Usually I don't see so many rabbits.  They're quick though.
On the way up north I'd had "A Sensitive New Age Spy" audio book. It had certainly made the trip seem a lot shorter.  On the way back though I only had the radio.
I often criticize the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation CBC for their radical left wing news and all their catering to political correctness and special interest groups. That said I think it's got some of the greatest programs in radio.
Well, this trip south I was thoroughly blessed by CBC and so thankful to be able to listen to some of the most incredible radio available. I'd just ridden through 5 US states on my motorcycle thankful for Steve Bell and Third Day and Steppenwolf CD's because US radio really overall sucked.  Some good music but only once or twice did I get good talk radio.
This trip south CBC was a world of joy.  I so enjoyed the book reviews and discussions on Next Chapter. Brilliant coverage and great interviews.  I found myself so wanting to go out and buy each of the books .  Next I heard a really sensitive interview of singer songwriter John Mayer with cuts from his new Paradise album.  As well, Arthur Shaeffer was interviewed discussing the new Museum of Civil Rights opening in Winnipeg.  Philosopher Grayling and Germaine Greer are coming to their speaker series and will be covered on the CBC Ideas.  There was a superb program with call in s discussing the difficulties with student unemployment, some 15% of graduates compared to the 7% for the country while in spain 50% of young people are unemployed.  I really enjoyed a series of interviews about farming and people renting farm land to do farming for market gardens.  One Pakistan fellow had developed five acres for asian niche market farming the crops that had previously taken days to get to Canada.  I liked learning that our universities were teaching too much academics. In Europe a 'practical' hands on 'farm university' had been developed farm farmers to teach real farming rather than all the erudite material about academic ecology.  Another progressive Canadian program coupled farm 'internships' with their academic programs . This had resulted in 5 students joining together to develop a farm run by these 5 families.
All the while the news was about Syrian chemical warfare and Obama wanting to get the americans to do a limited strike or trying to get opinion on side to show himself politically to be an understanding guy unlike his predecessor who was seen to have 'pushed' a war on the americans. I'm suspicious about politics since it's principal goal is to get votes and stay in power regardless.  The Russians are saying the chemical weapon wasn't set off by Syrians so the conspiracy theorists see it as an American ploy.  Surprisingly CBC news for once just 'reported' and didn't skew the subject far to the left by selecting propagandists to interview. It really wasn't so puke producingly stupid as the marijuana influenced News seems regularly.  Maybe because it's such a big event there wasn't room for the news folk to dwell on the paroguing of parliament ad infinitum or not comment appropriately on Troudeau and Ford going on about their dope smoking.  One can't help but think that if the Conservative Prime Minister said he'd done anything off colour or even flagrantly illegal like Troudeau, CBC would be all over it like flies to shit.  Oddly Mulcair the NDP leader didn't even get coverage that day.  What's that about?
I listened to CBC and had one of the most enjoyable rides with some of the finest listening I have had. I love Bachman's music shows and Vinyl Cafe stories.  I remember growing up glued to CBC and loving Barbara From especially. I didn't like the idea of the music being changed to that show. I loved through all my medical training years listening to CBC.
I don't think I've grown that much more conservative with aging but I know CBC news and some of it's program swung way out there into irrelevance and anti government in a really bizarre way.  It sounded so childish and adolescent at times.
This day it was the greatest of radio stations and something Canadians could be proud of.   I listened to hours of programming and was thoroughly impressed and truly grateful for the ride.  Gilbert was happy to eat milk bones leaving me the bag of fresh vegetable chunks.  Even an interview of Suzuki was interesting though he's such a modern day doomsayer that one can't help but liken him to Tammy Baker for his evangelical 'pitch' and showmanship. He's news and the CBC let him say his piece. I've gagged at their refusal to ask their hero any really tough questions in past interviews but this time they just let him speak and other than his nihilism I didn't even change the channel.  I had CD's and could have listened to music all the way home but CBC really captured me like it did in the old days when it wasn't so left wing city elitist.  It seemed to have found it's broad national base again and be truly a publicly responsible publicly funded federal radio.  I can only hope so.
Last year the programming was so minority focused playing to weird far left slice of whining Canadians that I thought the whole CBC should be scrapped rather than just funding cut. Funding cuts seems to have addressed some of the thoroughly arrogant and hippy dippy dead weight if this trips listening was representative of a new trend. CBC seemed  actually to be trying to speak to all of Canada their Toronto and Montreal audience.
I've always liked the BBC and only wish that CBC could find the depth and breadth of centrist thinking that makes their news coverage so broad.  As for individual programming despite a low budget because too much goes to the weak theoried news CBC programs have been far better than anything Britiain or the States has to offer.  "As it happens" when it came out was the best in the world. Now I've heard interviews of that caliber once again. Next Chapter's book reviews were better than New York times.  Great CBC. Go figure!
I loved the beauty of the country side, hay fields, pine forests. lakes.  British Columbia is spectacular. The towns are each and every one a true joy.  I can't help but think of Margot Bates ' Don't tell your mother' as I drive through them.  I just wished I 'd time to stop in Lac La Heche, have coffee in 100 mile house, enjoy William's Lake more.  There's so much community and culture and uniqueness to interior and northern bc.
I took the Lillouet route back and passed down through Pemberton and Whistler on the Sea to Sky Coastal highway.  More beautiful views. I've travelled this road so many times but really loved the views this time.  Finally I was back home in Vancouver a little after 10. By the time I got things in storage having left my RV up north it was late.  Past midnight before I was wound down enough to sleep.
 Gilbert and I had a great long weekend.  We both enjoyed the MacDonalds Hamburgers we got in Squamish.  Gilbert almost climbed in the window to help the chef prepare his paddy. He actually is 'triggered'  by the golden arches.  The humour is his 'disappointment' with parking lot attendants he sometimes confuses with fast food drive through windows.
I didn't shoot the burger with an arrow and enjoyed it all the same.
A silly city girl once wrote into the newspapers that "hunters should stop killing animals and get their meat from the grocery store where no animals are harmed."  While Gilbert and I would have gladly brought back game, despite the lack of, this was one of my best hunts if only for the wonderful weather, scenery and great time in the wilderness.
I had stripped and dipped in a mountain stream when I was driving around the backwoods but had a lovely swim in Marble Canyon near Lillouet on the way home.  The weather the whole weekend was fabulous.  I've so enjoyed this summer with all the sun shine and blue sky.
I never did get out on the motorcycle. I thought about carrying the bow and Gilbert  and didn't find the time to do that. We've done okay with a rifle and Gilbert, so next hunt we'll do some more off road motorcycling as well.  This time I really enjoyed the quiet stalking even though it was tiring and hard on muscles too used to a sitting at a desk.
A great long weekend.  Dad never worried too much when he came home from hunting or fishing empty handed.  The best hunts are sometimes like that.

Old Hedley BC and Spring Bear Hunting

I drove my Ford F350 HD edition truck towing the Rockwood Mini lite trailer from Vancouver.  There's no snow in the Frazer Valley but the woods were full of snow in Manning Park.  By the time I got to Princeton I saw dozens and dozens of mule deer. There were no antlered deer because this is the time of the year the deer shed their antlers.
I stayed in a lovely RV park, Riverhaven, just beside the Gold Mountain Road, as the #3 crosses the Similkameen River. The RV camp is a km beyond there where the Stemwinder road to the mountains turns off.  It's a lovely forested site right on the Similkameen River with very friendly helpful owners.
I set out from there with my truck or Honda CRF 250 motorcycle.  I had Gilbert my cockapoo with me and he road either in the passenger seat of the truck or in his dog box on the back of the bike.  I had my Ruger bolt action stainless steel 30:06 in the truck but carried the Mossberg 30:30 lever action while out hiking on in a scabbard on the motorcycle.  I had some fun target practicing.  The bear might have avoided me but I killed some pop cans dead at 100 yards.
We had a great time back country.  A little exciting 4x4 ing in the truck when I had to go up a mountain on John's Creek road, got into snow and ice with no place to turn around. It's times like this I miss my quad.  The motorcycle wouldn't have been any better with the iced road, though when I was riding it the next day and got into a bad stretch of rock slide it was easy as pie to turn around. That's the limitation of the big truck on the logging roads, no turning radius.  When I had the Broncho II it was almost like having a quad because I could turn around anywhere. The same was true with the Ranger truck compared to this monster with the crew cab.  Even in the worst of the high mountain snow and ice I was thankful to have the bike in the back. Barring sliding over the side and plummeting a half mile or so, I figured at least if I got stuck, I might be able to ride out on the motorcycle and get help.
The first day out I forgot my iridium phone. Since getting hurt in the woods a couple of years back I've felt better for the ability to call for help. I'm finding I'm not as confident running over logs and down hillsides, having this nagging worry that I could quite easily break an ankle or such.  Silly thoughts for an old codger but still the phone gives me a measure of comfort.  God's with me wherever.
Gilbert and I had a great hike in the woods for a few hours off Stirling Creek logging road.  He was ecstatic when we scared up a grouse. They're out of season. I watched one big boy doing the cock walk by his female, feathers all fluffed out.  Didn't point him out to Gilbert who upwind didn't know he was there though if we'd stayed he would have heard them with his keen ears.
All manner of deer in the woods. I came across a couple of herds of a dozen or more riding along the Similkameen River trails.  They were out in the meadows and ran back up the mountain when I appeared. Quite the sight each time.  4 actually ran across my path at a cars length away bounding across the meadow to the safety of the woods.  Some even came into the campground only to turn around and find their way out by the way they'd come in. They'd walked up from the river.
I stopped at the town of Old Hedley. There's a museum there celebrating the Gold Mine that was once there.  I liked the little town with people making it pretty and welcoming for tourists.  I took pictures of Magpies on a roof there.
We never saw any sign of bear so figure they're still in hibernation.  Another week or two and this area will likely be crawling with them. I've seen many in the fall when I've been up around Princeton hunting mulies.
I can't say I've been a dedicated bear hunting either. No early morning departures.  I've really enjoyed hanging out at the RV park, one day driving into Princeton on the motorcycle without Gilbert and the other days only hunting a few hours, mostly just driving about in the back woods or out hiking.  Country folk do just this for entertainment.  I have a rifle, binoculars, a knife and hatchet but otherwise I could be going out for a Sunday drive.  Gilbert sure is excited when I get the rifle out.  I think he always thinks we're hunting partridge, his favourite, and doesn't have a clue why I pass up going where he thinks the most likelihood of finding birds is.  The last time I had him on a bear hunt, we came around the corner and there was the big black bear. This startled Gilbert and he began to bark ferociously nervously scaring the bear away looking back at me to make sure I was backing 'big dog' up.  I've got  him trained not to bark at animals in the woods, I think, but it's a learning process.  It's not the same hunting without him though. He's sheer entertainment with all his enthusiasm and interest , sniffing and pissing, running circles and generally so much happiness. Alone I'm just on task.  He's probably not contributing to the hunt but the hunt isn't all about getting a bear. It's mostly about being out in the woods and enjoying nature.  Getting off the grid for an hour or two too.  It's so peaceful and quiet in the backwoods.  This time of year I didn't even encounter loggers or other folks out in the wilderness.
This RV site is so peaceful too. Right now I'm looking down at the river.  Later today I'll head back to Vancouver.  Gilbert's had a great time with a variety of country dogs playing and showing them his city dog moves.

I Shot My First Elk and Rolled My ATV

In the spring I put in for British Columbia Limited Entry Hunting draw. I was lucky to win a female elk draw for North Vancouver Island by Sayward.  I'm a meat hunter so I'm not particularly interested in horns.  They make a thin soup.
Laura, Gilbert and I headed out from Vancouver on Thursday night, catching the ferry from Horseshoe Bay  to Nanaimo.  We spent the first night in Campbell River before going on to Sayward Junction  to stay at the Fisherboy Cabins and RV Park.  The Fisherboy was terrific.  Laura and I loved the cabins The owners bent over backwards to be helpful and make our stay all we wished for.
Friday I got out to Elk Creek logging road but didn't see anything. I was glad to do the drill, a little slow driving in and watching in the Ford F350 diesel truck, unloading the Polaris 500 Sportsman ATV, a bit of driving about. Then stalking quietly along a mountain trail with Gilbert at heel behind me.  Didn't see anything but shot a can with the rifle confirming all was well.
Back in Sayward we had a great pub meal at Cypress Tree, grandma's home cooking,  before early to bed so I could be up before dawn.
Filling the truck at the Sayward Junction I heard from another hunter out for the last day of deer season that he'd seen the Elk herds around Eve River. At Fisherboy they'd told me the same.  Can't argue with local knowledge.  It was snowing when I headed up the highway and found the turn off.  A logging truck pull out turned out to have a perfect split level to unload the ATV. I put the Ruger Stainless Steel 30:06 we'd named 'sexcaliber' years ago when it came shining out of the box like a great modern sword, onto the front rack.  I put my Mossberg lever action 30:30 as a back up in the Polaris Rifle holder at the back.  Gilbert was in his sweater and harness strapped in behind me.  The snow was falling great flakes and the roads were slippery. I was glad to be on the ATV with the truck parked safely.
I took the East Main and found I was riding alongside a river, maybe the Eve. The wind and flurries of snow were coming into my face muffling sound and ensuring my scent wasn't going to give us away to upwind game.  I was headed for the Adam when I found tracks and droppings. I parked the ATV at that. An exciting moment.  Gilbert was really excited to be out of the harness and beside me as we stalked along the road. I just stepped into the bush to look through to the clearing when I saw a great elk head.  I was looking at the face 50 yards away and then just as quickly it was gone.  With Gilbert at my heels I ran a ways backwards to where there was a pile of slash which I climbed to the top of trying to get elevation to see the elk.  I waited and used my binoculars to look the whole valley over  Then I back moved up the road a bit and climbed an even big pile of slash and wood to binocular the area further on.  I wouldn't have seen them without the binoculars.
But there on the other side of valley I saw the female with another one, whose gender I couldn't tell as it was standing more in the woods.  I lifted my rifle to get the female in my sights.  She was looking at me from what I figured was 300 yards away. (Later with the Bushnell RAngefinder I found it was only 200 yards)  I didn't lift the shot but aimed at the chest just below the neck. BANG. I don't know if I hit her with that shot. But she turned to follow the other into the bush.  I had a broadside shot then, bolted home another shell,  sited on the heart  and BANG.  That definitely hit. She shuddered and stood still. I remembered Bill Mewhort telling me moose hunting that they're big game so keep shooting till they're down.  I bolted home another shell. BANG.  I was shooting freehand without a rest almost tippy toe on top of the slippery mound of slash and wood.  She was staggering when I got another shot off. BANG. That one hit for sure too because she sat right down and rolled over. Down and dead.  I gave thanks in prayers.
But now the work began. I got my hatchet and rope from the ATV and had trouble just climbing down the hillside into the valley. Crossing the valley where there'd been logging and the ground was all strewn with stumps and couple of year old growth was a struggle in itself. I knew I was in for a hard day of work.
Gilbert found her before I did He was running a few yards ahead and just stopped when he saw that big body lying there in the bog.  I gave thanks then.  I'd shot an elk, my first one and it was big.  I took a picture or two before settling into field dressing. It was like doing a moose. Once I had the field dressing done I began quartering.  I was really glad for the hatchet.  I was a couple of hours  do this,  The adrenaline was gone and I was exhausted with all the cutting ahd cleaving.  I was thankful for my Bowen Island hand made knife that kept a mean edge.  Gilbert began keeping an eye on the bushes when I was almost done the quartering.  He began grunting like he was smelling something he didn't like.
I always keep my rifle handy when field dressing.  But here there are cougar and Gilbert's barks hurried me along.   It's an awkward thing to wear a rifle and haul quarters up a hill but we've all heard the stories of guys getting mauled by bear while hauling meat out.   I got meat the first hundred yards up the hill figuring if I left the offall whatever was bothering Gilbert would be less likely to bother us. The shoulders were an easy pull but the hind quarters were murder.  I missed a back board.  I'd carried a moose out a mile or so with quarters on the back board, 20 years younger,  and that was a whole lot easier than pulling these dead weights over the countless logs strewn all over.  I had to get the elk up to one ridge down through a valley then up the hill to the road. It was a bout a half mile or more but it seemed like forever.
I'm a desk jockey and I think a cowboy or logger wouldn't be so fagged by all the pulling and hauling.  I began getttin charley horses in my thighs. I had chocolate bars and a red bull but I really needed an airlift.
I finally had all the elk, my rifle, hatchet and clothes a hundred yards down from the steep incline to  road.  That's when I figured I could use the winch on the Polaris.  I figured I'd just drive it down the incline as far as I could then run the winch down to haul each quarter up.  I'd left half the ribs because I'm not a big fan of ribs in general and just half the ribs were almost as heavy as a hind quarter.  So 4 quarters and ribs to hauld.  I tied the rope together and ran the rope on the winch out.
That's when the winch didn't work. I tried to get it to come in on 'in' but it wouldn't. Instead it hauled in on "out".  Once it was in then it simply wouldn't go out and I couldn't find a release lever and promised myself for the umpteenth time that in future I'd read all the instructions.   I'd counted on using the winch to get the atv back up the slippery slope over the logs if need be.  In the mean time I hauled the rest of the meat up to the atv stopping and working out charley horses.  Then I turned the atv without any meat on it and tried to head up the slope.  I knew I was back heavy.  I just didn't know I'd catch on a log and with the trapped back wheel and that initial burst of low power speed I'd literally lift up and flip  back over , ass over tea kettle.
It all happened so fast. I just remember the ATV lifting, and me going back with the beast coming down on top of me. I was glad I had a helmut on because it hit a log and then I was just lying there trapped under the ATV.  As I'd gone over I'd felt my lower back stretching impossibly as my body was pushed forward into the saddle.  The back seat and windshield additions helped me. First thing I did was wiggle my toes.  All's well when you can feel your feet.
Gilbert was right beside me licking my face and obviously distressed.  I was so weak and in shock I couldn't get the ATV up but I could release the extra gas tank and with that off I could shimmy my body out from under the TV.  I thanked God to be free.  Then I turned off the ATV.
I didn't think to take a picture. I wish I had. It was like a sick upsight down turtle.  A sad sight.  My back was aching something fierce and my legs were cramping. It was all I could do to get myself up to the road.  Carrying my rifle I headed back towards the truck.  It was going to be a long painful walk.  Gilbert was a great companion.
I had a radio and tried calling for help on different frequencies but it's not like a phone. Someone has to be listening.
With a charley horse in my thigh, my low back killing me and miles to go I put the radio away and began praying seriously  Jesus help me.
I believe in miracles and I believe in the power of prayer.
Steve Mitchell came around the corner in his superduty truck.  I told him I'd rolled my ATV.  I think I looked a sight.  He said, "hop in" and we drove the couple of miles back to the wreck.  We walked down the hill.
"First thing we have to do is right this thing " he said. I'm used to being  around crazy people so just went right along with him.  Together we pushed. Sure enough it turned over. Steve is a strong man and I figure his pushing accounted for 90% with me adding maybe 10% to the equation.  But there was the Polaris upright.  Next thing Steve did was get the keys from me and started it up.
"Do you want me to drive this out of here for you," he asked.
"Sure," I said. "I'm a doctor so if you don't make it I can help you. It's just that I can't help myself."  He laughed and with a fair amount of cursong and wheeling about in the logs and moss he had it on track and drove it up the incline over the lip and onto the road.  Amazing.
Then we were doing more of  the 90%/ 10% thing Steve and me hauling the quarters together up to the road.  I couldn't lift them at all there but he lifted them like they were half the weight into the back of big truck. Steve is a big and strong man.
"I'll follow you back to ensure the ATV doesn't break down."  he said.
"Mind if Gilbert goes with you," I asked.  Gilbert was cold and wet and I didn't know where his harness had got to.
"Not at all."  You could tell Gilbert thought the warm truck cab was a great idea.
Off we went. Me doing 30 km for the next half hour wondering how I'd ever have walked that distance in the pain and cold. I realized alone I'd not have made my truck till sometime in the middle of the night. It was already dusk.
At the truck, I got the ramp out and Steve drove the ATV on.. Then he carried the quarters over.
I asked him what I could give him
"I just know what it is to be broken down out in the woods. I couldn't take anything."
"What about ahind quarter."
"Too much explaining if I was caught with it." he said throwing the final hind into my truck.
"It would have cost me hundreds to get a tow truck out here. That was my plan. Could I give you a few hundred for your time, at least"
"I couldn't take it," he said.  "But I'll follow you to Sayward to make sure you make it back safely."
"Then take this, " I said handing him a knife. "It's my favourite folding knife. Keep it to remember the day you saved my life."
He liked that and smiling got back in his truck to follow me back to Sayward.
I was glad for the company. I could mostly only go at 80, my back killing me and concentration hard in the snow and wet slippery road.
At Sayward he pulled along side to say "You should be okay now" before driving ahead to the restaurant.  I drove onto Fisherboy where Laura met me at the cabin.  I was seized up by then and had trouble getting out of the truck .
" I flipped the ATV and hurt my back a tad." I said hobbling into the cabin.  Gilbert was beside himself to see her, telling her all about his adventures in ecstatic barks.
She was all for taking me to hospital whereas I was intent on getting into the hot shower and then the hot tub.
"I got an elk, " I told her. "It's quartered in the truck.  Steve Mitchell, is an saint. Remember that name. I'd spent three or four hours pulling those quarters through hell when I got to the 50 yards from the road and tried to get the ATV down a bit where I could winch them up the steep incline. The winch jammed and trying to drive out I flipped the ATV. I hurt my back coming down. Nothing broken just ligaments stretched.  I was caught underneath which upset Gilbert but I got free and walking out til Steve came. He got the ATV upright. Drove it up the incline then we hauled the quarters up to take them back to my truck in his truck.  He just drove behind me all the way back here to make sure I was safe. We were 30 or 40 km up the road and some 15 km back in the bush."
"Steve Mitchell," she said.  "I wish there was some way I could thank him for getting you two back here."
"I got an elk." I said between groans.
"I think you should go to the hospital."
"They'd not do anything."
"You're in pain. I"ve never seen you in such pain"
"It will make the elk tastier for all the effort."
Much to both our surprises we didn't even have an aspirin or tylenol between us.
"I'll see if they have some ibuprofen or tylenol at the store"
I stayed in the tub trying not to move until she returned with meds.  I took three or four times the recommended dose then lay in bed watching funny Christmas movies.  Humor helps.
"Did I tell you I shot an elk," I asked Laura again.
She'd given Gilbert a bath because he was covered in mud and blood and so wanted to cuddle.
It's morning now.  I slept quite a bit.  Gilbert had me up a few times in the night growling and together we checked the elk in the truck. He's pretty proprietary when I've shot game.  Now it's time to get going.  It was a really cold night but it's going to warm up as we head south and I want to get the meat to the butcher without delay.
"Laura, did I tell you I shot an elk?"