Whats the toughest hunt you've ever been on?

[H&Hhunter]

I'm talking the most miserable cold/hot, hungry/ thirsty back breaking butt busting, gear destroying stuck truck, sick horse, crashed airplane or other type ordeal you've ever had to deal with the field?

I think my worst was many years ago as a teenager in the Rio Costillo area in NM. We had 8 cow permitts and me and two buddies shot three cows way back up a canyon during a full blown winter time blizzard. The wind was whipping at about 25 gusting to about 40.

In anycase we shot these three elk at about midday after we caught them on a hill side bedded down. Being young and stupid we made mostly bad decisions that day. Even being out where we were was a great risk due to the remotness and the weather.

After we got the elk on the ground we decided to push them into the bottom of the canyon because we thought that there was an accessable road at the mouth of it. So me and one other guy started to clean the elk and sent partner #3 for the truck.

In anycase to make along story shorter. We gutted all three elk then for some reason unkniown to me now we decided to skin them as well. I was soaked in blood and sweat by the time we were done and I started to get cold. We tried to start a fire but couldn't get one going. By this time I was shivering pretty bad.

I think this was about 3 hours into our wait. Turns out the the guy with the truck was stuck in a snow drift and wasn't coming at all. I remember sitting on a log and thinking to myself "if I could just go to sleep everything would be better" I was just getting past the shivering stage of hypothermia. Fortunaley my buddy figured out what was going on and forced me up and we walked out of the canyon about three miles.
I remeber feeling like my legs weighed about 200 lbs each but we made it back to camp eventually we found the truck got it unstuck and got back to camp.

The three day pack out was another story...

 

[Art Eatman]

By and large I've been able to resist such temptations. My worst, I guess, was going up above Gunnison with a couple of Colorado folks to hunt the Mighty Elk. October. S'posed to be mild weather.

Wrong.

Snow. Four degrees. Canned stuff froze. Water jugs froze.

Build fire. Heat generator of Coleman stove to be able to light stove.

Melt snow. "Boil" canned stuff so it could be removed from cans. "Boil" eggs so they could be cracked and cooked.

"Are we having fun yet," I ask? "No," I answer. "The elk went down the mountain. Are we as smart as the elk?"

We decided we might not have been as smart as an elk, but there was no need to continue that condition.

On the way from Gunnison to Alamosa, there were more cars and trucks in the ditches than on the road...Early snow is Not Good for a lot of Colorado folks...

, Art

 

[NRA4LIFE]

2001, opener of the deer season, East of Lovell, WY, camped at 9000 feet. The old timers had said they had never seen more than a couple inches of snow that early. Got 30" or so (up to my butt anyway) the 2 days before the season started, it's 10 degrees and 25 mph winds on opening morning. Hiked up another 1000 feet or so that morning in the dark. Got a nice 3-point though. Lucky it was all down hill to the truck.

 

[Joe Demko]

Opening day of buck season last year was cold and snowy. I became hypothermic, and also got frostbite in my fingers and toes after spending roughly 8 1/2 hours in a treestand. I stopped shivering, and entered the euphoric stage mentioned in another post. I became aware something was wrong when I couldn't remember how to dial a cell phone. The walk back to camp seemed endless. In the future, if I get cold, I'm going back to camp, even if I've only been out for 15 minutes.

 

[Keith]

Southwest Alaska in August, 80 degrees with clouds of black fly's and mosquitos. Five caribou down, 4 miles from camp across muskeg quagmire. Three days of backbreaking labor to get them out.
Pilot four days late picking us up because all the passes in the mountains are closed.
Reduced to eating seared caribou on a stick - and that meat was getting "fragrant". Very little wood around, just a few alder branches and twigs. Did I mention we ran out of fuel two days after our plane was due to arrive?
Water is bad - nasty, muddy and with little "things" swimming around in it. It's so thick it clogs the little filter pumps we had. So, we boiled it until we ran out of fuel, then did without or just "simmered" it as best we could. Everyone had the trots by the time we left.

AND, when the pilot finally arrived he's low on fuel! He'd been diverted to search for a lost party that had failed to show up at their pick-up point (they were never found).

Anyway, to top it off, we start groaning up this insane pass with sheer mountain a few yards off each wing tip and after a while, the pilot informs us that he doesn't think we're going to make it - a stiff headwind is burning up his fuel... He can't turn around of course, and he doesn't know if he can make the top. Lovely!
We DO make the top, and then he idles the engine and just sort of glides down the far side, crosses Cook Inlet about ten feet off the water (in case of emergency splashdown!) and makes it to the dock on fumes. Perfect!

An almost as bad situation happned one spring here on Kodiak. I had floated the Karluk river to fish for Kings with my wife, and when we reached the end of the river, the weather turned bad. We waited three or four days for pick-up with another party. Eventually, we had a bit of a weather window and their charter arrived, so I made a deal for them to leave enough gear to fit my wife on their plane - I'd get their gear out whenever ours arrived. Great! Except just as they began to take off, our plane arrived and so we quickly unloaded my wife and loaded their gear.

They took off five minutes before us. Shortly after take-off our pilot landed in a village called Larsen Bay because the weather was turning bad again and he didn't want to chance going further. We were highly annoyed...

The plane with our new friends (that my wife had been on!) did go on and splashed into a mountain killing all four people.

Then there was the time I got mauled by the bear...

Keith

 

[rock jock]

I was going to write about a 2 mile hike into alligator-infested swamps in 90 degree weather to hunt ducks, but after reading about Keith's adventures, I'll pass.

 

[Dr.Rob]

No where up there with bear maulings...

Had a hunt that took a little longer than it should have, started ina light snow ended in a blizzard. Knew wher I was... didn't know where anyone else was. Sat tight, tried to make fire. Toilet paper wouldn't burn. map wouldn't burn. Clacium carbine wouldn't stay lit as wind blew ferociously. Started making shelter from old logger's slab pile. Shelter was partially buried before completed. Guy with me was getting nervous ... shaky about our prospects. Finished our condo and was lining it with pine boughs when I heard the rumble of tire chains... 15 more minutes and our shelter would have been COVERED with snow.. maybe would not have heard the truck.

One night in early November look over at the bottle of whiskey near the latern (going full blast) TWO heaters running, gale force wind rocking camper. Whiskey is turning cloudy (that's COLD folks). Turned off lantern to call it a night, as I exhaled it SNOWED on my face. BRrrrrrrrrrrr. Awoke to sleeping bag frozen to camper wall. Hooray from Camp trails bags!

Black powder hunt. 85+ degrees and I'm not in the best shape overcoming a recent bout with flu. Buddy makes a rather stellar shot on doe at 75+ yards. We track all day. I track though a stream I track under bushes I track on hills so steep I can't climb them. We manage to cut the deer off 3-4 times only to lose it in scrub oaks, or the stream. Finally find a place where I might be able to get elevation, look down into the stream bed. Notice splash marks on rocks leading into "tunnel" in the brush.. enter with sidearm to find (finally) bled out deer. Skeeters are thick, deer smells none to pleasent. (but was easy to clean with all the water around) Now. its 85.. its humid.. just spent 2 hrs+ tracking elusive 'viet cong deer" now we have to carry her out. Create african pole carry. Lash bejesus out of deer to keep it from swinging (thanks Boy Scouts of America). Create trail with tanto used as machete.. back up stream carrying packs/rifles/deer. Finally resort to running packs/rifles ahead, going back for deer and "walking to our water". Back breaking sweat soaked unpleasent work, in some of the nicest weather you could want (if it was say a summer day fishing in the shade). Horrible for packing out an animal. Did numerous things wrong: didn't have sling for rifle, didn't have enough water (mis-read my intake vastly). Didn't take a follow up shot while buddy was reloading (but he told me not to.. could have saved us hours) Things done right: tracked that deer like a Kit Carson scout. Impressed myself and my hunting buddy. he thought for sure that deer was gone.

Fell through ice in beaver pond 2 miles from truck. That is perhaps the longest walk I've ever had in the woods.. feet freezing (even though I swapped out for dry socks and wrung out my boot liners) never got to the 'euphoric' stage of hympothermia... but I was feeling giddyish when I saw my jeep. Was up there alone, though my hunting party knew where I had intended to hunt that day. Saw face in mirror, beard full of icecicles, boots frozen solid jeep didn't want to start. Nobody on CB. Hmmm... walk back to main road or try to fire her up again? Smoke cigarette and wait. Jeep fires on first try.. guess I flooded it trying to get it started.

 

[labgrade]

"Early snow is Not Good for a lot of Colorado folks..."

It's only an early weeding out process for those who aren't reall "Colorado folks." Merely the first test of the season.

 

[AUTIGER04]

Chipmunks in my backyard. They're so tiny and hard to hit with a 22lr. Well atl east it is for me.

 

[sm]

Not up there with you guys...
More stupid than tough.
I decided to go duck hunting by myself. Had a day off, and all my buds had to work. Weather "said" it was gonna reach 28* and be p/c, yeah right. In my white sedan off I go. The snow is crunching and can barely see the ruts, and the big old ditch...well I'll keep in the center. Now the spot where we normally park has a bit of slope, naturally rutted from being used, but I'll be ok. Chest waders, shotgun, Alladin thermos, the dekes we leave set up...ok I'm ready, slam trunk...uh oh, land yacht slides into ditch.

Ok, It'll warm up, somebody else will surely show up...etc.

I wade in and have to break light ice, ok thermos works, get to blind get comfy, sure enough I get a couple of greenheads. Warm coffee, sandwich...snooze... dozed off.

Wake up to sleet/ice/snow, time to go! Temp has dropped, because now I'm denting the thermos, cut waders on ice, brrrrr, tie the thermos to a cord and really having to break ice now with the 870. Finally get to other side and even with wool I'm getting really shaky. Umm where is my white land yacht? so I stumble about till I find my vehicle covered in snow. Great, vehicle has slid into ditch even more. I manage to get one door open and toss the guns, ducks and such. I cut off waders because the sweat I worked up is now making me cold. I can't get to trunk to get dry/warmer clothes. We all know how comfy waders are, try just walking in the bottoms like 10" boots...

Humm, do I build a fire? Nope, nobody knows I'm here, If I get warm, If I get vehicle to start will I poison myself with exhaust blocked. I might since feeling goofy hurt myself trying to dig...better keep moving.

So about 3 miles in this mess feeling really goofy I somehow manage to find the old black familes home I know that works on the farm. You'd thought he'd seen a ghost. I get dry clothes and warm finally. I fall asleep for a bit.

Later after I get fed , we break out the tractor, and get my vehicle...once we find it. He towing as I drive out, Snow is really deep and I'm in a rear wheel drive land shark.I give him give him the ducks and return his clothes. Nope he won't take a dime. Nothing but snow now ,thankfully the sleet and ice had stopped. Still top speed about 30 mph for a 50 mi trip home

I haven't owned a white vehicle since. I may hunt alone, but not duck hunt , or extreme weather. I still have reservations about the weather people.

Like I said, more stupid than tough...but I was plum wore out.

 

[WYO]

Wow, I want to hunt with you folks. . . . . . . Sounds like fun!

My life is very boring, and I don't have a great story to share. Plus, it's elk season, and it's been very hot. It may be 27 before sunrise, and 60 degrees 3 hours later. Yuck.

 

[Dr.Rob]

Often we wish the stories weren't so 'exciting'.

One could also call this thread.. "things I have done wrong in the name of hunting."

 

[dakotasin]

this is the hunt that stopped me from ever doing a severe cold weather hunt again (critters aren't out when it gets to be that cold, anyway - don't know where they are, but they're not here).

it was the closing weekend of deer season, and the forecasted high for the day was supposed to get up to -5. there was already a generous snowpack on the ground, and the wind was supposed to be 25-40.

we jump into the rig (77 f-150 custom, 36" tires, heavily modified 351w, and a beefy rear end - this is the ultimate go anywhere in s.d. truck) and get to where the road gets nasty (and it is flippin' cold out!!!). we jump out, lock the hubs in, and boldly go well beyond where the last jeep would have pulled over (if anybody else would've been out). we think this is great... and we always hunt about 2 miles further in yet (on foot), so we really expect to have a great hunt. until... we stepped out of the truck, and that wind just sucked all the breath and most of the desire right out of me. we grab our gear, and march on.

we get to a spot where we think we are going to sit and glass (high ground, completely exposed to the elements), and we are both frozen to our core by then, in spite of being dressed appropriately. we try to glass, but after a couple of minutes we both know that isn't going to work. we decide to work down a draw, and re-evaluate by the time we get to the bottom. by the time we reach the bottom, we are both rather sweaty (from having to bust all the frozen snow w/ every step. recognizing that we were in a bad spot, we decide to get back to the truck to warm up for a bit.

we were about halfway to the truck when numbness started invading my feet and hands. the wind had picked up, and each step became a real effort, and i had to think each part of the process of walking through in order to keep going. somehow (divine intervention, i'm sure) we made it back to the truck, and by some great miracle, the thing even started. we just sat there, not saying a word. i think we each were coming to grips w/ how lucky we were. unfortunately, that was not the end...

on the way out, the wind was picking up even more, causing a ground blizzard, and blowing our ruts in. we kept the hammer down on the truck (2nd gear) to keep the tire rpm's up so that they could keep clean and (hopefully) gain traction. the truck got bounced out of its track, and we began a slide down an embankment that ended in a deep ravine. we had the wheel cranked, and were really leaning into the gas, trying to get back up the hill (if the situation wouldn't have been so dire, i would have really enjoyed the ride - the tires were just throwing snow all over the place, and were really fighting the lateral movement of the truck)... finally, right when things were looking really bad, the tires got a real good bite and rocketed us back to the road.

we get back to the next road and see it has drifted shut. the drift appears to be only about 5' high, and maybe 5' deep... so we get a good run at it and blow on through... then we see another that looks similiar to the one we just busted, so we get a run, and hit it hard... and that's where we stuck. this drift was probably about 15' across... then the truck killed.

after 2 hours of digging, we had got the truck to back out about 2 feet. finally, by some stroke of luck, some guy that was out hunting coyotes happened upon our situation. we broke 3 chains (1 chain was 1/2", the other 2 were 3/8"), and were still stuck. we broke 2 tow straps, and were still stuck. and cold. the guy had some huge tow rope w/ him, so we hooked that up, and his truck lost traction before we broke that... ultimately we got the truck out.

i'll never forget how miserable we were in that cold, and the feeling of utter despair when the truck got stuck and we couldn't get it out... and all that digging, and still couldn't get it out... we were willing to call for help, but, of course, the cell phone wouldn't get a signal...

 

[Art Eatman]

dakotasin, you really know how to make me appreciate my little chunk of desert! For us, winter is the second or third weekend of January, and then we're done with it.

, Art

 

[Keith]

Didn't mean to steal any thunder! I just seem to have terrible luck with air charters - or maybe everybody does, what with the weather up here and all...

I don't think I've ever gotten picked up on schedule. And what makes it so bad is that you're generally limited to about 70 pounds of gear, per person. That sounds like a lot, but when you start weighing guns, fuel, tents, bags, and assorted gear you don't have a lot of leeway. You end up eating a lot of noodles, rice and charred fish/game.
When you get to the last bit of toilet paper, everyone starts eyeing each other like the characters in Treasure of the Sierra Madre...

Keith

 

[H&Hhunter]

The plane with our new friends (that my wife had been on!) did go on and splashed into a mountain killing all four people.

Kieth in my younger days I flew out of Kotzebue, Aniak, Nome, Fairbanks and Deadhorse. In course of 5 years flying charter and scheduled village service in light aircraft and later in the larger turboprop stuff I can tell you one thing.

If your pilot decides to land short for weather it should make you happy euphoric as a matter of fact. He most likely just saved your life. It's alot tougher for a pilot to make the land short decision than the lets go have peek decision and it shows experience discretion and professionalism on the part of your pilot. The huys who take a "little peek into the weather" are going to get killed maybe sooner maybe latter but they are going to die and most likely take someone with them.

I wish I had a dollar for every one who ever told me "well I don't know why we can't get through ole (who ever) just made it". And I've also hauled more than one dead body off the tundra from "ole whoever who didn't make it."

Now for one of my more embarrasing tough deals. You know what they say life is tough it's even tougher when your stupid!
i was hunting Brown Bear down on the Mc Arthur River drainage several years ago and got momentarily disoriented for two days. I know, how does a guy get lost on a river? Well add a little fog some rain and a dumb ??? with no compass or anyother directional gear plus some sleep deprivation,dehydration and maybe just a touch of hypothermia and you've got all the making for a first class screw up.

Oh and the other really smart thing Iwas by myself in my own airplane so I had no one to pick me up or look for me. Fortunatley I had plenty of drift wood to burn and plenty of half rotten salmon in the stream to eat plus some soggy granola bars and the stay out wasn't all to bad. I just kinda made it into a hunting/find my camp walk. And the wierd thing is I had landed on a stretch of sand about a half mile from the main river and it was down in a depression . Truns out I'd walked within 300 meters of the plane twice on the first day then went way to far up stream on day two. All of a sudden it was perfectley clear to me what had happened like someone turned the lights on and I walked straight to my camp in the afternoon of the second day no problem.

That damn tundra can all look the same throw some clouds and low vis in and I find myself geting disoriented on the ground real bad. I carry a compass now days. Oh and I've matured to the point that I don't hunt rough remote country with out a buddy. Solo is cool and all but your just really hanging it out there.

 

[Keith]

If your pilot decides to land short for weather it should make you happy euphoric as a matter of fact.

I've learned! I never bitch about a late pick-up or a delay of any kind since that crash. That pilot who landed short in Larsen Bay is named Dave. He works for Alaska Air now out of Anchorage, but we still see him around in town now and again. My wife and I call him "Chicken Dave" and we do so with a lot of affection.
The pilot that crashed had just gotten out of the army after twenty years flying attack helicopters. He lasted two weeks past his break-in period, flying a Beaver in Alaska.

Keith

 

[WYO]

I totally missed the part that H&H quoted above when I first read this thread and commented. I hope I didn't offend anyone, but if I did, I apologize.

 

[Hawkman]

My first deer hunt in Nevada, two friends and I camped at about 10,000 feet on Wheeler Peak. Everything froze, and in the middle of the second night a blizzard hit. We had to move our camp down the mountain to keep from spending a looooooong time up there! Just about the most fun I ever had!

 

[Covey Rise]

this is nothing compared to the cold weather storys

Buddy and I decide to go duck hunting place we have never hunted. It's dark but we think we see a good spot past 100 yards of water about 3 feet deep. Take first few steps sink in about 1 foot each step, look at my buddy and say, this will be rough, he looks at me and says, nah, we can make it easy. So we make it across, now we realize that we need to go back and get our guns, ok lets do it. Get back across, buddy pukes for 10 minutes, I can barely lift my legs, feel like they have been pulled out of socket, and I used to squat over 500 pounds so Im not a weakling.

 

[labgrade]

No plane wrecks or anything too exciting.

Tho', a coupla hunts started out at about -15F from backpacker tents, heavy fog, mist & nasty-stuff. Mile or two of sneak-hunting through crunchy icy-stuff that gives away your position well beyond anything you can see. Sucks, but you do it anyway.

Ate a lunch in Hartzel,CO @ -10F, flat tire & 50mph wind started the rest of the trip (we're just meeting a bud to do some mountain rabbit hunting & general winter camping).

Set up camp & ya had to set your beer aginst the fire ring. Hold it in your hand & the beer froze in about 5 minutes. Nasty stuff.

Hunted elk at 10K'+ in every sort of weather & just cannot come up with something that our prep didn't cover - not to say it didn't suck - it id at times, but by having the suff to cover what could happen, we have yet to rn into something that didn't come out OK.

Lucky perhaps, (we have certainly been in the hardcore ****), but I don't too much believe in the "not making your own luck-thing." Very prepared is a better word. That, & some very close calls that defined what we would consider "making our own luck." if you catch my drift.

'Course, having never ditched an A/C as yet, or .... ? there's a coupla experiences I've yet to plan for "making my own luck."

I'd hope to though .....

 

[444]

My worst hunt didn't involve any life threatening events or anything. In fact my worst hunt was better than my best day working.
A couple years ago I was cow elk hunting in Arizona. I had hunted the area before and knew where the elk would be; on the North side of the mountain in the nastiest, thickest tangle of blowdowns there is. I hunted around a little bit and eventually worked my way to the north side of the mountain and quickly spotted fresh tracks. It was easy because it was raining buckets and the ground was nothing but mud. Unlike an elk, I had to climb and crawl my way through the blowdowns keeping the tracks in sights (who knows how they get through stuff like this but they don't seem to have any trouble). About half way up I spot the herd, not more than 40-50 yards way. I watch them for a few minutes until they start to get nervous. One by one they start to get out of Dodge. I pick a spot between two trees and tell myself that I am going to shoot the next elk that goes through the opening, which I do. However, the elk doesn't go down. I walk over to where I shot and find no blood at all, but I know there is no possibility that I missed. It never occured to me that I might have a hard time tracking ONE elk out of maybe 30 when there are tracks everywhere. So, I start in the direction I figured they were going and within maybe 50 yards I see two elk standing there. They see me, but don't run. I figure this has got to be them. I decide to move up on them and hopefully I can see which one is hit. They spook and run a short way before one lays down. This is obviously the one that is hit so I shoot it in the back of the head. I really felt bad about the whole thing; I was touched by the fact that the other cow elk was looking after the wounded one and practically wouldn't leave her side. My first shot had been way too far back. Shooting through an opening like that doesn't allow you to correctly lead.
Anyway, the hard part obviously is about to begin. I gutted, skinned and quartered the elk. I then hung a bed sheet up like a flag so I could find the elk again and climbed and crawled back to my truck to get my meat pack. The forest was so thick that my GPS wouldn't work and I only found the elk again through blind luck because it was so thick I couldn't see the bed sheet I hung up as a marker. It took me four trips to get it all. Each trip I was climbing, and crawling with over 100 pounds of meat on my back and in the rain and mud I averaged about two falls per walk in and two per walk back. On one trip someone took a shot at me. I was soaked with rain, soaked with sweat, covered in the mud and the blood and the beer. When I was within 50 yards of the truck on my last load my buddy comes running across the medow with a big grin on his face-he got one also. Where ? At the top of the mountain. Luckily the terrain where he got his was so steep that we could sort of drag it out. I say sort of because we actually had to tie ropes on it and stand behind it to keep it from getting away from us sliding down the hill.
Once we finished cutting them both up, loading everything in the truck and covering it all with a tarp, we cracked open a cold one; just as the game warden pulled up.

 

[Byron Quick]

Most of my hunting has been around the same 100 acre property I've been hunting all my life.

Still managed to have some times. Shot my first duck over a beaver pond. 19 degrees. No dog. No boat. Cane pole won't reach. What to do? I shot it. I can see it. If I wasn't going to retrieve it, I shouldn't have shot it, now should I? I pile up two big piles of wood about six feet apart and tell my buddy to light them when I start back with the duck. I considered stripping to keep my clothes dry but decided not to do that...good thing, too. So here I go into the water of the slough. Wooo, it's cold! There sure are a lot of logs criss crossed under the water. Over my head now, time to swim. Got the duck! Coming back now...it's not so cold. Feeling kinda warm really. OK, time to walk again, I can't lift my legs up over the underwater logs. I have to reach down, grab each leg, and lift it over the logs. I finally get back to shore, strip, and stand between the two bonfires I prepared. That duck was good!

A few years ago, I was down in the hardwood swamp with a friend when it got overcast. The swamp's not but two or three miles wide at that point but in length it snakes around for a few hundred miles hooking up to the Brier Creek Swamp and the Savannah River Swamp. Well, we get to wandering around in the swamp, going in circles...no compass or GPS. Getting tired, ready for the cabin, a meal, and a drink. Then my buddy jumps across a small slough onto a hummock of grass and grabs a dead tree for balance. Then he jumps to the next hummock. He doesn't hear the crack of the six inch diameter tree he just grabbed. The tree is falling directly towards his head. No time to yell, I run and slam him out of the way. I don't quite get me out of the way, though. The tree hits my shoulder and slams me head first into a deep pool. My rifle and me are swimming again.