His First Hunt

    We hit another big milestone in my household this year as my oldest son went on his first hunting trip. If you have been following this years journey, you would remember that my oldest managed to hike up to Big Pine lakes this year. Quite a feet for a five year old. So I told him since he showed so much determination and strength, I would take him on a hunting trip this year. With his mothers approval. Of course she approved. Worried, every minute. But approved none the less.

    So I spoke with my cousin and uncle whom had just drawn the California X9A deer tag and planned on heading up on opening day. I told them that I would purchase a bear tag and head up there to meet them. See the intent of the hunt was not to hunt hard and get an animal. Shoot, I was worried if I hunted too hard, he wouldn't want to come back for years. I needed to find a way to ease him into high country hunting in the Eastern Sierras. In my eyes, if we could hike around the woods, teach him some gun safety and my cousin or uncle harvest a buck, that would be the best case scenario. I figured that if they harvested a buck, he would get to help pack it out, skin it and learn about where meat comes from. Because to be honest, I was worried about how he would react if he saw me take down an animal and it didn't die on impact.

   Then, while planning the hunt, I asked a friend of mine and his son to join. See my buddy is an avid outdoors-man. Involved in a lot of backpacking and back country skiing. He had shown some interest in tagging along on a hunting trip just to see how it was. He wanted to see if it was something that he would be interested in. So they both came along and we all headed up to the Sierras to join my family on their deer hunt.

  The plan was simple. I would leave Friday after work. Leaving the house around 5pm. It was going to be a 4 hour drive or so. That would put us into hunting camp at around 9-10pm. We would sleep in hunting camp, allowing our bodies to get acclimated to the elevation. Something that I never used to have to pay attention to. But the older I get, the more I have to plan every trip around it. But the plan seemed to be working good. We got out of the house on time, hit the camp site at around 9:15pm. But there was a part of this plan that wasn't thought out very well. See, we were going to sleep in my cousins trailer and they were leaving a few hours before us. So they would arrive an hour or so before us. They didn't know which camp site they would be in, but gave me three choices and told me to hit all three. I figured it wasn't a big deal. We had done stuff like this all the time. But it turned out pretty bad. See, they couldn't fit into any of the open sites on the mountain, so they ended up back tracking and staying down in town. But there was over 20 camp sites between me and town. Of course there was very little moon light, no cell service and nobody awake to talk to. I drove through every camp site, one by one, looking for my uncle and cousin. Finally finding them at around 2am. To make things worse, the elevation of town is only around 6700 feet. We would be hunting somewhere closer to 9000 feet. Not exactly allowing us to get fully acclimated.

    But we made the best of things. Getting up in the morning and heading out to hunt. Well, at least my cousin and uncle did. Me, my son and my other cousin stayed down in the trailer and got some well needed rest and breakfast. We ended up finding a camp site later that day. It was the last one on the mountain. It was actually a camp host spot that was unoccupied. As the camp host from another near by site was managing both. He was a hoot. A gentlemen from eastern Europe that had been in the United States for a few years. He spoke pretty good english but didn't hunt. He would tell us outlandish stories of monster bucks just over those hills. Then after poking and prodding at his story, we found out they were actually just small bucks he had seen months and months ago on a hike. We soon explained how these deer react and how large a mule deer's range can be. He was baffled, but more than willing to take that knowledge with him. All in all, a real nice guy.

   So that evening, we planned on getting geared up and hitting the mountain for an afternoon hunt. My son was starting to feel the affects of some elevation sickness, but I had nursed him back to health and he wanted to get out and look for some animals. My buddy and his son had shown up by then and were also eager to hit the trail. Then I started to feel sluggish. Then a headache started. As we started to climb the mountain, it kept getting worse. We soon realized that I started to get altitude sickness as well. It took every ounce of strength for me to get back to camp. I sipped as much water as I could hold down and headed towards bed. There was no way that we were going to be able to hit the mountain today. My only hope would be that I could get myself better and hit the mountain hard on Sunday. Which happened to also be our last day and the day that we had to head home.

    So Sunday I woke up feeling like a million bucks and so did my son. We were determined to get up into the saddle and hit a bunch of spots that my family had hunted for over 50 years. And my goal for the day, was to share that with my son, my buddy and his son. So we took off. Its about a 2 mile hike back into the saddle and another mile or two back up to the look out points that we usually hunt. At first, I could see that my son was a little nervous. He didn't exactly know what to expect. He knew of the stories that I told him, but he had never experienced it for himself. The look of joy when we crest the hill and see the saddle for the first time. He had a look of amazement. Almost like he couldn't believe that something like this could be at the end of a 2 mile hike straight up. We ended up sitting by one of the finger lakes and setting up my tripod and glassing. We watched my younger cousin climb to the top of the mountain and end up jumping a large group of does. But no bucks. I took him up to a rock that both my Dad and Uncle have harvested deer from. It was a real special time for me. To see that he enjoys the outdoors means a lot. And that he seems to get even more enjoyment out of the back country makes it even better. I plan on teaching him about how precious our public lands system is and how not every nation has it. I think its something that we need to pass along to the next generation to enjoy.

    As for our hunt, it was unsuccessful in a harvest. But immeasurable success in introducing a few individuals into the joys of hunting. I can still hear the echos of laughter from around the camp fire. And see the boys looking intently at their elders as stories of past harvests carry through the smoke. That is the part they will remember. That is the part that will keep them coming back. And ultimately that is the basis of the hunting tradition. Not every hunt can be a success in bringing meat home. But they are all a success in bringing the hunting party closer together. And for that I am thankful