- Mar 2, 2014
- 83
- 0
This hunt meant a lot to me in so many different ways.
The last few years I’ve been watching Nate Simmons backpack all over the high country of the west hunting elk and early season mule deer with a bow.
I grew up backpacking the hills of Arkansas and Oklahoma so at times I found it relatable but never could connect to the archery hunting piece of it. I grew up hunting whitetail in a tree stand with a rifle. Archery was always a mystery to me and seemed so daunting to tackle. I moved to Arizona when I was 19 and learned about the draw system the state held for big game tags. My first thought was that it was so ludacris. As a kid I could go to Walmart and spend $30 in the sporting goods section to pick up a buck and a doe tag, and an additional doe tag for the special doe hunting during Christmas weekend. As I learned more about the draw I just couldn’t get over how silly it seemed that you had to put your name in a hat to get a chance to hunt. Arizona offers two over the counter archery deer hunts during the late summer and early winter for most of the state. This quickly became attractive for obvious reasons and thus started my dive into archery. This really was the start of my love and respect for western big game and what it takes it tag these animals. My respect for the draw process grew as I learned the value of it.
Fast forward several years, I had tagged two 300+ bulls and a couple of respectable mule deer with my bow. As my archery skills grew and more exciting episodes of the Western Hunter rolled across my DVR I started to crave a new adventure. In the first season of Western Hunter, Nate Simmons hunts high country mule deer in Colorado without success. He talks a lot about his passion for that country. His emotions are on full display as he works so hard only to miss a couple of real trophies in the high country. Watching a grown man show so much emotion in that beautiful country made me suddenly realize, that was going to my next adventure. I couldn’t get Colorado out of my head.
The task seemed so far out of reach I couldn’t help but feel intimidated and wonder what the hell I was getting myself into. I began researching all the things that goes into hunting out of state. I posted several things on hunttalk and Eastmans, searching for some guidance from all the experienced hunters in the west. The responses were few and far between and as I navigated through the regulations, I still felt lost in where I was even going to go. After months of researching and scouring google earth I finally had a unit picked out that was only 8 hours from home. I recruited a buddy to hunt with me we finally put in.
We got our tags in the mail, packed our gear and headed north. The whole drive up I was intimidated. I couldn’t wait just to see the mountains of Colorado let alone hunt them. We finally arrived to the trail head and I couldn’t help but finally be excited. We hiked what felt like straight up the mountain. We struggled with the elevation coming from only 2900 feet. We saw 4 bucks on the trail up and I finally was able to feel good about not only my unit choice but the specific location I chose to hunt. I have read stories about how “there’s a deer behind every tree in Colorado” and couldn’t wait to see what that meant exactly. We finally topped out to the lake I had found on google earth. 12,400 feet felt like 12 million feet. As we pumped water from the lake that I night I was so dizzy from the elevation I almost fell in the lake several times. Off to bed we went in what turned into a sleepless night. We had topped out in the dark and I couldn’t wait to see our area with the sun up.
We woke up to a group of bucks just up the hill from our camp. With each buck we saw that day it was more and more weight off my shoulders as I started feel good about the location I had researched for months before this hunt. Opening morning came and first light we spotted 8 bucks in a basin. One buck was non typical 3x3 that I couldn’t keep my eyes off of. We bedded the bucks and I dove off the mountain down into the basin after the group. Long story short I was able to sneak up to 65 yards of the bedded bucks. I ranged several areas around the group. I stood up hill of the bucks waiting for them to stand. The wind swirled and they stood. They all knew I was there but didn’t know where. I drew on the 3x3 and let it fly. The arrow clipped a bush and disappeared. The buck jumped up the hill towards me and stopped still not aware of where I was. I knocked another arrow and let it fly without ranging. The arrow flew just over his back. At that point he saw me and ran down the hill another 20 yards or so and stopped. I again instinctively knocked an arrow, guessed the yardage and let it fly watching it sail just over his back again. He had seen enough. The buck bounded down the mountain and was gone.
I sat down, with my bow in my lap, and examined in my head what had just happened. I had dreamed of a perfect stalk like that for years. Everything was perfect, I had prepared so hard for that moment and I blew it. I was almost in tears thinking about the 3 shots the buck had offered me. I let myself down. It took everything in me to continue hunting the rest of that trip. I couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect of an opportunity I had earned and blew it. We hiked up and down the mountains for 6 days. At 12k feet it got tiring. We were fighting blistered feet, elevation sickness, hunger, rain and snow. The biggest fight for me though was my own mental strength of the lack there of. That buck I had 3 chances at was haunting me. It was like his ghost was following me around the wilderness teasing me that I had missed. Our hunt had come to an end, we packed up, and headed down the mountain. The drive home was more deflating not being able to look in the rear view and see a set of velvet antlers I had dreamed I might see leading up the hunt. As I cruised home I wondered if I even had it me, if I possessed the skills or abilities to even be successful on a high country archery hunt. I decided right then that I wasn’t going to quit going back until I was successful.
All off season I worked hard. We collected our tags, loaded gear and headed north again, same unit as last year. I thought the whole drive up about my own mental toughness and how much it might get tested again this year. We hiked the mountain and pitched our tents. We had got into the mountain early enough to do some evening scouting. My buddy and I split up to cover more country. I headed for a basin we hadn’t hunted last year, I was ready for a new place, something I hadn’t seen.
The last few years I’ve been watching Nate Simmons backpack all over the high country of the west hunting elk and early season mule deer with a bow.
I grew up backpacking the hills of Arkansas and Oklahoma so at times I found it relatable but never could connect to the archery hunting piece of it. I grew up hunting whitetail in a tree stand with a rifle. Archery was always a mystery to me and seemed so daunting to tackle. I moved to Arizona when I was 19 and learned about the draw system the state held for big game tags. My first thought was that it was so ludacris. As a kid I could go to Walmart and spend $30 in the sporting goods section to pick up a buck and a doe tag, and an additional doe tag for the special doe hunting during Christmas weekend. As I learned more about the draw I just couldn’t get over how silly it seemed that you had to put your name in a hat to get a chance to hunt. Arizona offers two over the counter archery deer hunts during the late summer and early winter for most of the state. This quickly became attractive for obvious reasons and thus started my dive into archery. This really was the start of my love and respect for western big game and what it takes it tag these animals. My respect for the draw process grew as I learned the value of it.
Fast forward several years, I had tagged two 300+ bulls and a couple of respectable mule deer with my bow. As my archery skills grew and more exciting episodes of the Western Hunter rolled across my DVR I started to crave a new adventure. In the first season of Western Hunter, Nate Simmons hunts high country mule deer in Colorado without success. He talks a lot about his passion for that country. His emotions are on full display as he works so hard only to miss a couple of real trophies in the high country. Watching a grown man show so much emotion in that beautiful country made me suddenly realize, that was going to my next adventure. I couldn’t get Colorado out of my head.
The task seemed so far out of reach I couldn’t help but feel intimidated and wonder what the hell I was getting myself into. I began researching all the things that goes into hunting out of state. I posted several things on hunttalk and Eastmans, searching for some guidance from all the experienced hunters in the west. The responses were few and far between and as I navigated through the regulations, I still felt lost in where I was even going to go. After months of researching and scouring google earth I finally had a unit picked out that was only 8 hours from home. I recruited a buddy to hunt with me we finally put in.
We got our tags in the mail, packed our gear and headed north. The whole drive up I was intimidated. I couldn’t wait just to see the mountains of Colorado let alone hunt them. We finally arrived to the trail head and I couldn’t help but finally be excited. We hiked what felt like straight up the mountain. We struggled with the elevation coming from only 2900 feet. We saw 4 bucks on the trail up and I finally was able to feel good about not only my unit choice but the specific location I chose to hunt. I have read stories about how “there’s a deer behind every tree in Colorado” and couldn’t wait to see what that meant exactly. We finally topped out to the lake I had found on google earth. 12,400 feet felt like 12 million feet. As we pumped water from the lake that I night I was so dizzy from the elevation I almost fell in the lake several times. Off to bed we went in what turned into a sleepless night. We had topped out in the dark and I couldn’t wait to see our area with the sun up.
We woke up to a group of bucks just up the hill from our camp. With each buck we saw that day it was more and more weight off my shoulders as I started feel good about the location I had researched for months before this hunt. Opening morning came and first light we spotted 8 bucks in a basin. One buck was non typical 3x3 that I couldn’t keep my eyes off of. We bedded the bucks and I dove off the mountain down into the basin after the group. Long story short I was able to sneak up to 65 yards of the bedded bucks. I ranged several areas around the group. I stood up hill of the bucks waiting for them to stand. The wind swirled and they stood. They all knew I was there but didn’t know where. I drew on the 3x3 and let it fly. The arrow clipped a bush and disappeared. The buck jumped up the hill towards me and stopped still not aware of where I was. I knocked another arrow and let it fly without ranging. The arrow flew just over his back. At that point he saw me and ran down the hill another 20 yards or so and stopped. I again instinctively knocked an arrow, guessed the yardage and let it fly watching it sail just over his back again. He had seen enough. The buck bounded down the mountain and was gone.
I sat down, with my bow in my lap, and examined in my head what had just happened. I had dreamed of a perfect stalk like that for years. Everything was perfect, I had prepared so hard for that moment and I blew it. I was almost in tears thinking about the 3 shots the buck had offered me. I let myself down. It took everything in me to continue hunting the rest of that trip. I couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect of an opportunity I had earned and blew it. We hiked up and down the mountains for 6 days. At 12k feet it got tiring. We were fighting blistered feet, elevation sickness, hunger, rain and snow. The biggest fight for me though was my own mental strength of the lack there of. That buck I had 3 chances at was haunting me. It was like his ghost was following me around the wilderness teasing me that I had missed. Our hunt had come to an end, we packed up, and headed down the mountain. The drive home was more deflating not being able to look in the rear view and see a set of velvet antlers I had dreamed I might see leading up the hunt. As I cruised home I wondered if I even had it me, if I possessed the skills or abilities to even be successful on a high country archery hunt. I decided right then that I wasn’t going to quit going back until I was successful.
All off season I worked hard. We collected our tags, loaded gear and headed north again, same unit as last year. I thought the whole drive up about my own mental toughness and how much it might get tested again this year. We hiked the mountain and pitched our tents. We had got into the mountain early enough to do some evening scouting. My buddy and I split up to cover more country. I headed for a basin we hadn’t hunted last year, I was ready for a new place, something I hadn’t seen.
