South to Sun, Eureka, Day 4, 6 am

I’m here in Eureka.  The last time I came into Eureka I was driving my Volkswagen Baha Bug, called Pendergast. It has been resurrected from a farmer’s field and used as an ambulance at the Winnipeg Folk Festival. I was fleeing a divorce and yuppie dom.  I had to use up the Thai stick before crossing the border.  I’d sold my Mustang for funds and bought the Bug for $500 and paid $500 for blue paint job and minimum to make it street legal. A trucker had hit a deer right before me at night.  We hit the carcass and were airborne.  I didn’t know at the time the axle was bent.  My young Mennonite artist friend who’d shared the driving to there departed for Eureka California.  His wanting to go there was the first I heard of the town and liked the name. 

I pulled into a coffee shop into this town wth the name Love something. .  I parked Pendergast and both front tires fell off and the car dropped to the pavement, exhausted .. I’d learn later that the lug nuts had been sheared.  The mechanic I met towed me to his shop and regaled me about the love of his life he’d met in a whorehouse. Make the best wives, he said.  Pendergast was reborn that day and I headed onto San Francisco to be with Suzanne. I was playing guitar and singing Dylan’s Don’t think twice, and Cohen’s Suzanne.  It was a hell of a ride.

Since then Ive passed through Eureka several times always meaning to stop and stay. Humboldt County folk are really fine.  My Marin friend, Suzanne’s brother said Humboldt was where they grew the best marijuana.  We’d canoed there with him and his wife when my marriage was shiny and new, a well polished thing before the rust set in.

Now I’m alone with a dog.  I already miss my friends.  These expedition adventures can be lonely. I left the Alder Dune Campground yesterday , pleased I’d used my new Honda 3200i generator. It had been a cosy night in a fine off road campground, no amenities, just the grand outdoors.  It poured all night.  I was glad for the generator and electric heater. I could save on propane.  I was up at 5 am then too.  Just like today.  It was hard finding my way out of the camp in the utter darkness. I had to get out several times with a flashlight to ensure I was on the trail.  Back on the 101 it wasn’t long before I made Florence. I’d just been reading about the Medici and Michelangelo and Da Vinci.  I was glad to fill up a propane tank at a gas station beside a Macdonald’s. Madigan liked his sausage paddi and I liked the refill of coffee the sausage egger and bun and greasy hash browns. Part of the trip is the road food.  

In Coose Bay I went on line and enjoyed a meeting.  Colleagues and friends.  I don’t feel entirely safe but am present.  I’m amazed with one of my mentors.  Like so many he’s more than 5 years older than me, some are 10 years older.  So many are retired or semi retired.  I enjoyed another fellow sharing how he didn’t explode when a teller ignored his crutches and asked him to get another box since she couldn’t read the price.  He said how he’d have exploded years ago.  I shared how I mellowed too being patient while waiting for all the paper work and regulation related to getting a new phone to replace the one I’d dropped.  I expressed appreciation and gratitude for the progress. The topic was integrity.  Outside and inside. I’ve felt I had been well trained in morality and ethics in my Baptist faith and my friends said ‘get off the cross we can use the wood’.  Well it’s’ better I’m still working on Arendt and the Nuremberg scenario and the Serenity Prayer.  My iPad died then.  I had been distracted by the ambivalent invitation to share, “if you want to share’ and a person leaving for another commitment and then this iPad death. I’ve carried a resentment about a fellow who plays it safe and doesn’t share but interrogated me once such that I had to stop him and recognierd he was just relatively new in sobriety and struggling with judgement the issue issue I struggle with  these days. Judgment and comparison,

I’d wanted to say that I’m feeling good and glad to have learned that the resentment I carried and dealt with were more often these days about people who were dead. I had the thought earlier that detectives say it’s likely a crime of passion when they find multiple gunshots or stabs to the body’.  i expected I’d desecrate graves.  Something about the Irish Scottish heritage.  I thought it was funny and progress. But the iPad died and I being paranoid thought no one liked me I’d been cut off. I’d looked an there’d been 10 minutes and I’d only shared a few minutes when that happened.  A better explanation was that I’d used up the cell phone time on the iPad. I couldn’t get it to come back on.  But there I was reflecting on being rather happy and content but not able to conclude on a higher note than Arendt and Nuremberg.

The truth is that’s where I was then. I’ve been away of how poor I am which is silly but with Canadian dollar going for 65Cents to the American dollar I feel like the poor cousin. I’ve also felt that my integrity in my work cost me outrageously as the colleagues at the hospital who were mum about the unnecessary deaths that I spoke to an stopped had gone on to greater wealth and position. I left in disgust and still judge unfairly.  I didn’t have children and I didn’t play it safe.  I was frustrated at myself and concerned about my future running scenarios of past false accusations and the cost of integrity.  I felt like the Count of Monte Christi but had fore gone recvenge for Christian forgiveness.

I was driving south with my mind no longer at peace. I also couldn’t phone anyone because I didn’t have my contact list.  I was also emotionally disturbed and had a couple of near misses driving. Jesus definitely took the wheel when I almost drove into a cliff the sun in my eyes and my not seeing the road had a sharp turn.  Forgiveness is for my sake. it’s to give me peace of mind.  Before the meeting I had relative peace of mind. I wrote yesterday a fine piece on spirituality and was resting on my laurels when I felt this judgment and rejection.  

it’s also that I’m alone.  My mind is a bad neighbourhood and I shouldn’t go there alone. I’m experiencing envy .  There are these character flaws and I have hear that while I have pain others have shared their surgeries and pain and I’ve felt apart of as they’ve shared their experience, strength and hope. But I found it interesting that I didn’t know about the pain and struggle till now thought we ‘ve shared together several times in the year. I’;ve listened too.  I’ ve shared honestly about my struggles I’ve even shared my issues with gender and felt the velvet shame associated.  I shared to about the proxy wars that women have waged using authorities to punish men .  Today they have their children and it’s a challenge as I see with my effect of my dog on my life. But the single women collectively ride on the shirt tails of chivalry. I tend to self pity.  

I’ve struggled with those who say I’m number one or compete and yet I’ve been content to be number two as God is one.  I’ve spiritually struggled with thy will. Thy will be done not my will yet I’ve so often been challenged by those who seek superiority to deal with their inferiority. I shot Billy the Kid.  Today the young men kick dirt in the faces of the old men.  I wonder how long before they throw dirt on us. Jesus died in his 30’s. I was pretty good then physically but today I am struggling with integrity. In the 12 step program the least done and hardest part is the Step 4 recommendation to address resentment to people, institutions and principles.  Ive pretty much done my step 4 regarding people several times I’ve also addressed institutions such as the school, legal system, bank, college and even marriage. But principles such as integrity still come up to bite me.  I note that so many people now are becoming ‘spiritual’ after they have pensions and wealth made sometimes not so licitly .  I don’t hear of amends being made either.  I am not a beaming example. But its apparent that the Peter Principle was at play in the hierarchy.  I struggle with regrets of leaving the university and see life as that of thee ‘regular’ army and the ‘scouts’ and I’ve remained a scout.  The ‘regular armies’ are principles that I struggle with the ancient history of the Celts and Romans and later the Crusaders and Islam.  Then today there’s the identification with the aggressor that pays.

Well all this insanity was playing in my mind while the most extraordinary creations of God were flying by on either side of me. I loved the beaches of Oregon and Northern California. I loved driving by Gold Beach when I spent a week last year and loved walking each day on the beach.  I loved being on the beach where my dog Madigan who’d had his eyes removed for hereditary glaucoma had memories of our beaches and sailing. For the first time since his surgery all the while he’d been timid and afraid, here he came with me and we ran together on the beach. It was the first he’d run free in months. I’d try to get him to run with me in the park but he so feared slamming into something, Yet here I ran with glee and I was so uplifted to see that and feel his joy and be thankful.  Madigan also loved running to me and sniffing all around.  It was different. He’s been a cuddle bug the whole way down, leaning up against me and rssting his head on my leg as we drive  away the miles. 

We came upon the herd of Elk and I loved getting pictures I can be proud of. I was thankful I had my big Nikon and if I hadn’t broken my phone I might not have had it out.  Using it has taken me back to all the joys I’ve had from photography.  I’m engaging in my world.  I’m living in thee present.  I’m praying and yet I’ve had my mind awaken in funny ways. I sang Jesus Loves me and then Suzanne and other songs. I’ve listened to the radio a bit enjoying Christian music.  Since my phone had all my audiobooks I’ve not been able to listen to books on the way down.  Coming back last year I loved Louise Penny. I’ve downloaded some to audible and last night got them ready to play on the ipad.  I’m muddling along. I was pleased to pass into California.  The light seemed just a bit brighter.  The rain had stopped and the sun came out a bit

I was pleased to make Eureka and find this 4 star RV park. The campground cost $31 us , more like $45 Canadian while this place with all the amenities costs $65 American which is more like $90.  A buck is a buck . I’m grateful Thank you Jesus.

Thank you Godl

Thank you for a new day,  Guide me in my thoughts and action,  Show me the way.  Protect family and friends and be with Madigan and I as we travel south.  Today’s destination is to get through SAN Francisco.  Thank you God. 

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 .

Wildlife I saw motorcycycling Washington, Idaho, Wyoming, Montana, Colorado, and South Dakota

Part of the joy of motorcycling is seeing all the game alongside the road. It's easier to stop on a motorcycle and get pictures too. The only concern though is at dusk and dawn, the wildlife may choose to cross the road. This could be a castastrophe for us both so I slowed down and was especially vigilante at those times.

Yellowstone Park

I entered Yellowstone Park through the West Entrance.  I have been at least two other times. I've a spectacular picture of a moose which I got by chasing it down a stream and confronting it head on. I was younger then. There were elk wandering around but not the herds I'd seen on other trips.  I didn't see the herds of bison either.  But what I'd come for was the geysers. I really wanted to see Old Faithful.  I stopped at the first set of active geysers I saw from the road.  There was a walk way and I took pictures along with the other tourists. It's truly amazing having this water bubbling up and spurting out of the soil from some great depth below.  At the Lodge I learned that Old Faithful was to go off at 5:45 pm so I had about a half hour to get a salad and coffee. Then it was this incredible age old event with all these spectators and it was the same as when I was there in the 80's and 90's .  Amazing.
I drove on to the south entrance through the Teton forest. On the way I saw the Keppler Cascades, another falls  and these great lakes. Then it was mountain riding and as all places were taken I drove through till midnight when I found the Super8 in Dubois.

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?"