One Track and I decided to give it the old college try one last weekend. We had another fantastic time. On this trip I invited my fiance', Katie, to come along. She was a real trooper and impressed the hell out of me. Brent, thanks for being a great third wheel and for being so patient and understanding. Anywho...
We arrive at the cabin about 11:00 on Friday night. We decided to day hunt from the cabin this time (rather than packing in again) as it was only going to be few days.
Day One: The Whiffers, Parte Dos
Up at 4:40am and out the door a few minutes after 5. Hike to our first glassing area. Start seeing does but not as many as in weeks past. I spot a spike coming down a cut a few hundred yards in front of us. A few minutes later a fork follows the same cut but I lose sight of him as he drops below the rise. Brent then says that he sees a group of deer way out across the flats, below "Whiffers Garden" (the spot where I missed two bucks 10 days before). I get my spotter on them and it is the same group, The Whiffers, with the big fork still leading the pack. They look to be headed right up to the Garden. They move behind a small rise and I lose sight of them. Brent runs up the hill above me to get a higher vantage point. I stay on the area and respot them a few minutes later as they come out from behind the rise. They picked up three more deer on the way. They turned out to be the same three spikes that I bumped while previously stalking the Whiffers. We think we know right where they are going to bed and right when we start thinking how easy this is going to be, they make an abrupt right turn and feed down a cut. They hit up a big stock tank for a drink. Brent and I are wishing we had a ground blind set up there. Then they make a big circle back below where we initially spotted them and they drop down into a big rocky cut to bed for the day.
We decide to leave them for them evening and hope they come out to feed. We hike up to Heartbreak Ridge and look for Heartbreaker or the rest of the Sunday bucks. Somewhere along the hike, someone lets out the first sneeze. Then it's non-stop sniffles, snot rockets, coughing, you name the respiratory ailment. The damn sage had started to bloom and it completely wrecked all three of us. As if the sneezing was not bad enough, the watering and itching eyes, the incessantly running nose and the resultant chapping was almost too much. We got up to Heartbreak ridge and sat down under our glassing tree. We ate lunch and BS'ed a bit. We had just led Katie on a 3.5-4 mile uphill hike with the dust and the sage pollen kicking our collective butts. She hung in there like a weathered veteran. We didn't see any more than the usual does and fawns up on Heartbreak ridge, our sneezes surely the culprit. Mid-day boredom got the best of us and we all snoozed off to sleep. Several minutes later we are rudely awakened by the rumble of 2 stroke exhaust. What the hell? 4 wheelers? Up here? This pisses me off. This is a roadless area and is clearly indicated on the Nat. Forest map as an area with restricted motorized access. The ever-cheerful Brent goes to talk to them. Good thing too, because I probably would have shot my mouth off. They whip out an old topo that shows the cattle trail as an old two track (which it is, but emphasis is to be placed on the "old" part). They cross country most of their way up there over sage and brush as the trail is not even wide enough for a 4 wheeler. The road is clearly marked way down at the bottom with a locked gate and a "Route Closed" sign, but apparently there was an adjacent road that went around the gate. Anyway, they were up there to fish and not hunt so we didn't let it bother us too much.
With that spot blown out and our allergies killing us, Brent proposes a vote of A) going home, B) hiking the easy way down the trail and back over to find The Whiffers, and C) hiking the hard way up and over Heartbreak Ridge, onto the top bench of the mountain, through new country,and then drop in overlooking The Whiffers. Katie votes A (she's a girl and allowed to wuss out), I vote C and Brent agrees. Majority rules. So we buck up and start the vertical ascent. As we get to the top we start blowing does out of the mahogany. Again, our uncontrollable sneezing was probably pushing the bucks out way in front of us. We hike around and get to see some new country we didn't see on our previous trip. Katie is out of water so I'm not rationing mine to have enough for the both of us. We drop over the rise and take a quick look over the Whiffer's home turf. I immediately spot deer down at the stock tank. We get excited thinking it is The Whiffers. We are too far away to put horns on them with my 10X's so we get set up and get the big glass out. Darn it! Just two spikes. With my naked eyes I look over to my right a couple hundred yards and spot something out of place. Put the glasses up, and yup, it's a deer butt. The butt moves a bit and up comes a head with horns on it. He's a nice 3x2 with a good 20" spread. This was as hansome a deer as they come. He had a sleek, shiny, grey coat and just had an air of confidence about him. He feeds towards us and out of sight under the ridge below us. We move up higher to keep an eye on him. It was still Brent's turn to stalk. He moves around to get the wind right. Katie and I stay up higher on the hill to spot and Brent moves in. We've lost sight of the buck but think he is bedded under a shelf directly below us and out of sight. Katie is set up and glassing out of Brent's tripod mounted 15X's like a pro. She excitedly gives me a "PSSST" and I look over. She has him spotted. That's my girl! I was so stoked! I take a few steps over to her and find him too. I look down at Brent and he now has the buck located. The buck is 109 yards straight below him. As Brent sits down to take his shoes off, the buck pegs him. This resulted in the longest staring contest I've ever witnessed. I swear that buck did not blink for 10 solid minutes. Brent was frozen in an uncomfortable squat. The buck went back to cautiously feed for a few minutes but he knew something was up. He nervously walked out of sight and into the next cut. I see Brent putting his shoes back on and thinking he's done I take my eyes of him. Katie then asks what the hell Brent is doing. I look back over and the goofball is running full speed, leaping over sage with a full pack, and looking like his clumsy butt is going down face first at any second. We laugh as he races to the top of the cut to try and locate the buck. He loses the buck and, unbeknownst to us, cirlcles back around below us. We are still looking off where we last saw Brent and did not know he was below us. A forky buck jumps up! It follows the same trail as the 3x2 and goes over the rise into the cut exactly where Brent just went over. We're still thinking he's down there and that this buck would walk right in on top of him. We watch for the next hour and the sun is going down. We've got a 4 mile+ walk back to the truck and Katie was freaked out about walking home in the dark. With no idea where Brent is, Katie and I head back hoping to meet him at the truck. I had a gut feeling that Brent had killed one of the bucks and that was why we had not seen him in so long. About a mile later I hear a whistle and I whistle back. Brent is just behind us on the trail several hundred yards. We were relieved to see him but dissapointed to not see any blood on his hands. We continue back to the truck and I can see the concern in Katie's face. It's pretty dark now and we had been on this mountain for the last 15 hours straight. She is clearly out of her element, and passing a huge pile of bear scat did not help. We continually reassured her and she hung in there, but she was obviously relieved once we caught sight of the car.
Back at the cabin we enjoyed a few cold ones, some tunes, a hot shower, some Benadryl and some wild, pulled pork BBQ sandwiches.
Day 2: Man it's bright out!
I wake up and look outside. The sun is way up on the meadow already. Apparently I was not smart enough to work my Mom's 1950's alarm clock. We slept so soundly that it was already 10:00 am. I was a little bummed but we did need the sleep. So we decide to go do some fishing and hit up the mountain later in the afternoon. We head to the creek and eatch catch a handful of small trout. Brent was in heaven. I can't tell if that guy would rather hunt or flyfish. Actually, he's just happy doing whatever in the outdoors.
Back up on the mountian that night we bust! Not one legal buck. We spotted the two spikes from the day before and 30 does but not one buck. This was the first glassing session in a week of hunting and 7 days of scouting that we had not spotted a buck. We were bummed. Back to the cabin.
Day 3: Smarter than the average...
We decide to try a new area up the canyon where our cabin is. The canyon is all private property but you can drive a mile or so to the end of the road and walk another two miles into National Forest. On the way in we are noticing the lack of sign. No tracks and only a few piles of old scat. We get set up and start glassing anyway. 20 minutes later, after not seeing a thing, Brent says excitedly "BEAR!"
He gets me on it and it is the biggest bear I have ever seen in the wild, by far. It looks like a double door refridgerator with legs. He was massive! He sported a beautiful chocolate coat with blond highlights across his back. The gap between his ears was huge and he had no neck at all. He waddled when he walked and his pecker damn near dragged on the ground. He had to of been a B&C black bear.
The wind is wrong from our position so we walk back down the trail and I get set up across canyon to spot and give hand signals. Brent had the bear tag. We spot him one more time standing on his hind legs eating juniper berries off a high limb. He had to be 8 feet tall. Then he worked his way into a thick aspen grove in a cut that led down to a creek below us. We hoped he'd work his way down to water. Brent headed in to get set up. The aspens are like a jungle and you can't see ten yards. Even if he had run into the bruin in would have been in very close quarters. Brent puckered up and gave it hell but we never saw him. He stayed tight somewhere in that big aspen grove and never came out. I would have seen him if he had. He just plain outsmarted us, earning him the name "Yogi" for being smarter than the average bear.
It was just awesome to have seen him. It was the first time either of us had glassed up a bear so it was fun to watch him do his thing. Man what an impressive animal. With a 450 mile drive ahead of us, we headed back to the cabin, had some pancakes, cleaned up and headed home.
The sun has set on our A20 season. We had a hell of a time, learned a ton, found a great area, built our confidence, and throroughly enjoyed ourselves. I can't wait to draw that tag again. With all the fawns we saw, it will only get better.
If I can give any advice to the Eastern Sierra rifle hunters, bring your antihistamine. It will be a lifesaver. It is impossible to hunt effectively when you are constantly sneezing and sniffling. It is miserable to try to glass when your eyes are itching, burning and watering. Other than that, get away from those roads. There are a lot of bucks out there this year for those who earn them. Good Luck!
We arrive at the cabin about 11:00 on Friday night. We decided to day hunt from the cabin this time (rather than packing in again) as it was only going to be few days.
Day One: The Whiffers, Parte Dos
Up at 4:40am and out the door a few minutes after 5. Hike to our first glassing area. Start seeing does but not as many as in weeks past. I spot a spike coming down a cut a few hundred yards in front of us. A few minutes later a fork follows the same cut but I lose sight of him as he drops below the rise. Brent then says that he sees a group of deer way out across the flats, below "Whiffers Garden" (the spot where I missed two bucks 10 days before). I get my spotter on them and it is the same group, The Whiffers, with the big fork still leading the pack. They look to be headed right up to the Garden. They move behind a small rise and I lose sight of them. Brent runs up the hill above me to get a higher vantage point. I stay on the area and respot them a few minutes later as they come out from behind the rise. They picked up three more deer on the way. They turned out to be the same three spikes that I bumped while previously stalking the Whiffers. We think we know right where they are going to bed and right when we start thinking how easy this is going to be, they make an abrupt right turn and feed down a cut. They hit up a big stock tank for a drink. Brent and I are wishing we had a ground blind set up there. Then they make a big circle back below where we initially spotted them and they drop down into a big rocky cut to bed for the day.
We decide to leave them for them evening and hope they come out to feed. We hike up to Heartbreak Ridge and look for Heartbreaker or the rest of the Sunday bucks. Somewhere along the hike, someone lets out the first sneeze. Then it's non-stop sniffles, snot rockets, coughing, you name the respiratory ailment. The damn sage had started to bloom and it completely wrecked all three of us. As if the sneezing was not bad enough, the watering and itching eyes, the incessantly running nose and the resultant chapping was almost too much. We got up to Heartbreak ridge and sat down under our glassing tree. We ate lunch and BS'ed a bit. We had just led Katie on a 3.5-4 mile uphill hike with the dust and the sage pollen kicking our collective butts. She hung in there like a weathered veteran. We didn't see any more than the usual does and fawns up on Heartbreak ridge, our sneezes surely the culprit. Mid-day boredom got the best of us and we all snoozed off to sleep. Several minutes later we are rudely awakened by the rumble of 2 stroke exhaust. What the hell? 4 wheelers? Up here? This pisses me off. This is a roadless area and is clearly indicated on the Nat. Forest map as an area with restricted motorized access. The ever-cheerful Brent goes to talk to them. Good thing too, because I probably would have shot my mouth off. They whip out an old topo that shows the cattle trail as an old two track (which it is, but emphasis is to be placed on the "old" part). They cross country most of their way up there over sage and brush as the trail is not even wide enough for a 4 wheeler. The road is clearly marked way down at the bottom with a locked gate and a "Route Closed" sign, but apparently there was an adjacent road that went around the gate. Anyway, they were up there to fish and not hunt so we didn't let it bother us too much.
With that spot blown out and our allergies killing us, Brent proposes a vote of A) going home, B) hiking the easy way down the trail and back over to find The Whiffers, and C) hiking the hard way up and over Heartbreak Ridge, onto the top bench of the mountain, through new country,and then drop in overlooking The Whiffers. Katie votes A (she's a girl and allowed to wuss out), I vote C and Brent agrees. Majority rules. So we buck up and start the vertical ascent. As we get to the top we start blowing does out of the mahogany. Again, our uncontrollable sneezing was probably pushing the bucks out way in front of us. We hike around and get to see some new country we didn't see on our previous trip. Katie is out of water so I'm not rationing mine to have enough for the both of us. We drop over the rise and take a quick look over the Whiffer's home turf. I immediately spot deer down at the stock tank. We get excited thinking it is The Whiffers. We are too far away to put horns on them with my 10X's so we get set up and get the big glass out. Darn it! Just two spikes. With my naked eyes I look over to my right a couple hundred yards and spot something out of place. Put the glasses up, and yup, it's a deer butt. The butt moves a bit and up comes a head with horns on it. He's a nice 3x2 with a good 20" spread. This was as hansome a deer as they come. He had a sleek, shiny, grey coat and just had an air of confidence about him. He feeds towards us and out of sight under the ridge below us. We move up higher to keep an eye on him. It was still Brent's turn to stalk. He moves around to get the wind right. Katie and I stay up higher on the hill to spot and Brent moves in. We've lost sight of the buck but think he is bedded under a shelf directly below us and out of sight. Katie is set up and glassing out of Brent's tripod mounted 15X's like a pro. She excitedly gives me a "PSSST" and I look over. She has him spotted. That's my girl! I was so stoked! I take a few steps over to her and find him too. I look down at Brent and he now has the buck located. The buck is 109 yards straight below him. As Brent sits down to take his shoes off, the buck pegs him. This resulted in the longest staring contest I've ever witnessed. I swear that buck did not blink for 10 solid minutes. Brent was frozen in an uncomfortable squat. The buck went back to cautiously feed for a few minutes but he knew something was up. He nervously walked out of sight and into the next cut. I see Brent putting his shoes back on and thinking he's done I take my eyes of him. Katie then asks what the hell Brent is doing. I look back over and the goofball is running full speed, leaping over sage with a full pack, and looking like his clumsy butt is going down face first at any second. We laugh as he races to the top of the cut to try and locate the buck. He loses the buck and, unbeknownst to us, cirlcles back around below us. We are still looking off where we last saw Brent and did not know he was below us. A forky buck jumps up! It follows the same trail as the 3x2 and goes over the rise into the cut exactly where Brent just went over. We're still thinking he's down there and that this buck would walk right in on top of him. We watch for the next hour and the sun is going down. We've got a 4 mile+ walk back to the truck and Katie was freaked out about walking home in the dark. With no idea where Brent is, Katie and I head back hoping to meet him at the truck. I had a gut feeling that Brent had killed one of the bucks and that was why we had not seen him in so long. About a mile later I hear a whistle and I whistle back. Brent is just behind us on the trail several hundred yards. We were relieved to see him but dissapointed to not see any blood on his hands. We continue back to the truck and I can see the concern in Katie's face. It's pretty dark now and we had been on this mountain for the last 15 hours straight. She is clearly out of her element, and passing a huge pile of bear scat did not help. We continually reassured her and she hung in there, but she was obviously relieved once we caught sight of the car.
Back at the cabin we enjoyed a few cold ones, some tunes, a hot shower, some Benadryl and some wild, pulled pork BBQ sandwiches.
Day 2: Man it's bright out!
I wake up and look outside. The sun is way up on the meadow already. Apparently I was not smart enough to work my Mom's 1950's alarm clock. We slept so soundly that it was already 10:00 am. I was a little bummed but we did need the sleep. So we decide to go do some fishing and hit up the mountain later in the afternoon. We head to the creek and eatch catch a handful of small trout. Brent was in heaven. I can't tell if that guy would rather hunt or flyfish. Actually, he's just happy doing whatever in the outdoors.
Back up on the mountian that night we bust! Not one legal buck. We spotted the two spikes from the day before and 30 does but not one buck. This was the first glassing session in a week of hunting and 7 days of scouting that we had not spotted a buck. We were bummed. Back to the cabin.
Day 3: Smarter than the average...
We decide to try a new area up the canyon where our cabin is. The canyon is all private property but you can drive a mile or so to the end of the road and walk another two miles into National Forest. On the way in we are noticing the lack of sign. No tracks and only a few piles of old scat. We get set up and start glassing anyway. 20 minutes later, after not seeing a thing, Brent says excitedly "BEAR!"
He gets me on it and it is the biggest bear I have ever seen in the wild, by far. It looks like a double door refridgerator with legs. He was massive! He sported a beautiful chocolate coat with blond highlights across his back. The gap between his ears was huge and he had no neck at all. He waddled when he walked and his pecker damn near dragged on the ground. He had to of been a B&C black bear.
The wind is wrong from our position so we walk back down the trail and I get set up across canyon to spot and give hand signals. Brent had the bear tag. We spot him one more time standing on his hind legs eating juniper berries off a high limb. He had to be 8 feet tall. Then he worked his way into a thick aspen grove in a cut that led down to a creek below us. We hoped he'd work his way down to water. Brent headed in to get set up. The aspens are like a jungle and you can't see ten yards. Even if he had run into the bruin in would have been in very close quarters. Brent puckered up and gave it hell but we never saw him. He stayed tight somewhere in that big aspen grove and never came out. I would have seen him if he had. He just plain outsmarted us, earning him the name "Yogi" for being smarter than the average bear.
It was just awesome to have seen him. It was the first time either of us had glassed up a bear so it was fun to watch him do his thing. Man what an impressive animal. With a 450 mile drive ahead of us, we headed back to the cabin, had some pancakes, cleaned up and headed home.
The sun has set on our A20 season. We had a hell of a time, learned a ton, found a great area, built our confidence, and throroughly enjoyed ourselves. I can't wait to draw that tag again. With all the fawns we saw, it will only get better.
If I can give any advice to the Eastern Sierra rifle hunters, bring your antihistamine. It will be a lifesaver. It is impossible to hunt effectively when you are constantly sneezing and sniffling. It is miserable to try to glass when your eyes are itching, burning and watering. Other than that, get away from those roads. There are a lot of bucks out there this year for those who earn them. Good Luck!
