Staab's 2011 Buck Recovery

Friday morning just before sunrise I was sitting atop a canyon overlooking a winter wheat field with about 7 deer running around on it.  The overcast sky had just lightened up enough for me to see that the one buck was probably a shooter.  I look at my cell phone to check the time and saw I had a new message.  Staab says he "just smoked a decent buck".  I hunted for about another hour or so until the deer out on the wheat headed to bed in the opposite direction.  It's always fun to go help blood trail a deer, so I hopped in the truck to go look.  The trail was pretty spotty, without more than a couple drops at any given spot.  We lost the trail completely and decided to just fan out in the direction the deer was headed.  When that search came up empty, we went back to the last blood and made the assumption that the deer made an unexpected 90 degree turn.  Here's the footage of the seach.

Deer Camp 2011

Another annual Deer Camp is in the books.  Another year when the "new guy" to camp made it happen. The Vanilla Gorilla (Aaron Goodman) missed camp for the first time since we started in 2006.  But the addition of Chandler Lockert picked up the slack.  The long drive was over, and we were all looking forward to the next 4 days with nothing to do but hunt.

A warm front was moving in, and the full moon was rising in the East shortly after the sun set.  Not exactly the ideal forecast, but our hopes were high.  The first morning we dropped everyone off well before the sun was scheduled to rise.  The moonlit pasture made headlamps unnecessary walking in.  I headed up one of my favorite trees anticipating an exciting morning.  Phil had decided to take a high vantage point for the day to get a feel for what was going on in the area.  We sent Chandler down the fenceline to a ground blind near a natural funnel, and Bayes into a tree stand in a cedar tree overlooking a fresh scrape.  The crisp morning air had the deer on the move, and at about 10 am Bayes sent out a text informing us that he'd just stuck a doe.  We hunted a few more minutes before heading over to take up the blood trail.

With four guys to carry out meat, it wasn't long until we were back at camp ready for lunch.

The weather had warmed considerably by the time we headed out again. Everyone saw a few deer, but nothing too exciting.  This would be a trend for almost every evening hunt the rest of the trip.  The next day played out in a similar fashion.  Phil would sit up on a high vantage point and get to see all the action while the rest of us waited it out in a tree or blind with only a few deer in sight.  Chandler had moved the ground blind for the evening hunt because his view was limited to under a hundred yards where it was.  He had the pleasure of watching a shooter buck walk right past where the ground blind WAS.

Friday night we pulled up Google Earth and devised a new game plan.  This time everyone but Chandler was going to sit up high and hopefully spot a nice buck headed in a direction where a quick ambush could be set up.  I watched some pheasant hunters push 8 does and 2 small bucks in my general direction, but they went south when I needed them to go East.   Bayes and Phil spotted a nice 10 and Bayes was able to run downhill and somewhat cut him off.  But he had to settle for a longer shot than planned, and ended up shooting right over the bucks back.

Chandler had decided to stick to the ground blind that morning, but move it once again.  This time he had a good view and the wind in his favor.  He sent me a text mid-morning saying he'd just smoked a buck.  So we rounded up the posse and took up another blood trail!

Bayes and Chandler took it easy Saturday evening while Phil and I sat up on a different hill to the South.  It didn't take long for Phil to spot a nice buck bedded in the shade alongside a doe nearly a mile away.  He was after something a little bigger, but I decided it was my turn to try a stalk.  We worked our way around where we had marked the deer.  The wind was non-existent as I approached the top of the hill the deer were beside.  They must have heard me coming because when I crested the hill they were nowhere in sight.

Sunday morning Bayes had another opportunity to spot and stalk.  He took his time, spending nearly 2 hours getting into position.  He was within 14 yards of the plum thicket the buck was in when he got a better look at the deer.  It wasn't as big as he thought going in, so he decided to pass.

The fun was over.  With a long drive ahead of us, we were already counting the days to next year.

Deer, Farm Dogs, Porcupine

Hunting Season's in Full Swing

The weather finally cooled down a bit, and the calendar's showing that time.  Time for me to be in a tree.  I took a little video from my stand Sunday morning.  It was a great morning to be in the stand and I saw 9 deer I think. I wasn't able to get the greatest video, but enough to justify a post. 

Taneycomo Fall Camping Trip

I know it's been awhile since my last post.  A new job in August, combined with the late summer heat, kept me off the water for the end of Summer.  And now with the leaves changing colors, my free time has been spent hanging treestands and trail cameras for the fall hunting season.  But the weekend's warm weather put a weekend camping/fishing trip to Taneycomo on the agenda.  I'd never fished the tailwater before, but the reports I'd been reading sounded promising. 

I guess everyone else was reading the same report, and I think the water level rose each time another angler waded in.  The water itself looked great, in about 3 or 4 different places.  Those were the few places with any kind of current.  The rest of the river opened up into a wide, featureless flat, with frustratingly slow current.  Rachel and I didn't find the thought of fishing within rod's length of strangers very appealing, so we walked downstream about 50 yards past the last fisherman, and gave it a try.  I just didn't have the patience for drifts lasting 15 minutes, but Rachel enjoyed not having to cast as often.  She ended up hooking the first 3 fish of the trip.  We decided to head back to camp to cook breakfast and reevaluate our strategy.

We headed into Branson for a few odds n ends, then hit the fly shop on the way back to the campground.  We thought we could use some help from the trout gods, so we downed a couple "Trout Slayer's" before heading back to the dam.

 

When we returned, the River was up a bit.  The generation was only scheduled to last an hour or two, but I liked the way the water looked.  The fish were a little more cooperative when I found a nice little run I could actually drift a fly through.  With the water falling out and the sun going down, I realized why this short stretch of tailwater keeps people coming back.

 Back to camp for the night.  This time we had firewood.  Some more beers and the K-State game on the radio as we waited on our hobo pies to slow cook in the coals.  Delicious.  The plan was to rise early and beat some of the crowd to a decent looking, less-popular riffle on the opposite side of the River.

We were up on time for once, and even had time to teach Rachel how to tie a dropper on.

The trout were in trouble today.  We made our way over to the riffle we were hoping would be vacant, and it was open.  On one of the first casts into the lower riffles, this twenty incher thrashed onto my sculpin imitation before it could fall into the depths of the pool.  The fish didn't make any long streaking runs downstream, but it did stubbornly avoid being landed for quite awhile.  

It didn't take long and Rachel was in on the action.  I think this tops her personal best trout caught on our trip to Little Piney earlier this summer.  

As the sun cleared the horizon the fishing began to slow.  We managed a few more here and there, but it wasn't long before we had company all around us.  We left the honey-hole and tried to fool a few still-water fish without any luck.  By mid-morning a breeze picked up, and orange and yellow leaves started to dot the drift.  It was time to go break camp and drive home. 

Colorado Roadtrip - Back to Fishing

I was tired and sore as I headed back towards the Conejos.  The day was getting late as I decided to make a slight detour in order to fish the Piedra River the following morning.  Heading North out of Pagosa Springs towards Williams Creek Reservoir the clouds opened up and gave the Pilot a much needed car wash.  Brief breaks in the rain revealed a slightly eerie, serene view of the valley.  I found a nice spot to park the car for the night, excited for what tomorrow had to offer.

The following morning I pulled into the trailhead parking lot along the river.  I wanted to fish the confluence of Williams Creek.  There was a trail that followed the Piedra around the mountain that would have taken me right to where I needed to be, but I tried to cut over. 

 

This birds-eye view of the Piedra is not what I had in mind when I decided to take a short-cut.  I needed to be down there.  Since I left my climbing gear at home, I had to backtrack a mile or so to the trail.  My already beaten-down legs were hating me right now, but the will to fish carried me on. 

Finally where I needed to be!  The water looked perfect, and I was able to forget all about the raw blisters on my toes and heel. 

I put my rod together and debated what bug to try first.  A quick look at the rocks made the decision for me.

  I think I had something close enough.

It wasn't long before a pretty little rainbow agreed with my selection.

Followed in short order by a handful of eager browns.  I was lovin' this place!

I worked my way up towards a great looking deep run.  My indicator took a dunk on the first cast, bending the 3 weight right over.  I knew instantly this was a better fish, and in that same instant I saw the fish flash in the depths as the fly came back at me.  Bummer.  I continued fishing the length of the run, battling with a few more fish.  But it wasn't until I was about to move on when I was once again hooked up into a "nice one".  I'm not sure if it was the fish from before or not, but I was thrilled with the fight this guy put up!

 

Figuring this would be a tough one to top this day, I sent him on his way and hiked back to the car.  Successful day.  Check. 

The Road Less Traveled

The view from the road looking down on the town of Silverton before sunrise.  I was on the move.

 


The bite was still hot on the Conejos, but I had a side-trip on the agenda.  It was time to put this scouting trip behind me.  My friends and I have been talking for years about planning a trip to Colorado with bows in our hands and tags in our pockets, and this looks to finally be the year!  A new acquaintance to our usual hunting posse informed us of an area he had hunted in the past.  His stories of elk and bear encounters held our attention, and we were sold on this location.  But there was a catch.  His group had always paid a trespass fee to one of the ranchers whose property bordered the public land.  From the back side of his ranch, they would make day trips into the public areas to hunt.  We didn't want to do that this time.  We want to pack all our gear in, set up a spike camp, and hunt from there for the rest of the week.  Studying Google Earth and other GPS mapping software, we thought we could see a way in without doing any trespassing.  What we didn't know was the condition of the trails (if there were trails), and the difficulty of the hike.  That's what I volunteered to find out. 

By the time I got on the trail, I was already behind schedule.  I wanted to be hiking by sunrise, hopefully making it to our predetermined spike camp area before the temperature rose.  Unfortunately, it was probably closer to 10:00 a.m. before I was making tracks.  I was glad to see the first part of the trail was more defined, and easier to travel than I had imagined.  The first 4 or 5 miles went by easily, until my legs began that dreadful turn to jello.  My place slowed after that.  I stopped often to snap pics of the trail.  The trail was muddy, which made walking more difficult, but allowed for this picture.

Being unaccustomed to hiking alone in bear country, I had already tied a bell into my shoe laces.  But after these tracks started showing up on the trail I began talking out loud to the forest.  It started with the simple "Hey bear........hey bear......" every minute or so.  But before long I had reverted back to my Jellystone roots.  "Ehhhh Boo Boo?"

 

The views on this hike more than made up for work involved in getting to my destination.  After nearly 7 hours of walking, I came upon the meadow below.

My legs told me this was a good place to stop and set-up camp.  I marked the path in on my GPS so we would have no trouble getting back here in September.  I took off my pack and sat down on a fallen tree.  Exhausted.  I'd been resting for less than ten minutes when I heard something over my left shoulder.  I carefully grabbed my camera and snapped this pic before they caught my wind.

That was enough proof for me that we had picked a good location!  After setting up camp, filtering water, and cookin' up some dinner, it was time to dry out my socks and boots from the soggy walk in.

I watched another large group of elk pass through the meadow that evening, but they moved on as the darker clouds began rolling in.  I ended up crawling in the tent early that night and fell asleep to the sounds of a thunderstorm. 

After crawling out of the tent the next morning, the first thing I did was peak out over the meadow.  Sure enough, the elk were there again.  September can't come soon enough!

I wanted to get an early start, as I knew the hike going out would be more difficult than coming in.  I quickly shook off my tent and stuffed it in my pack.  I crunched down a Clif Bar and waited on my coffee. With everything secured in my pack, I headed back towards the meadow to pick up my bear bag before walking out.  I must have missed this interesting Aspen tree the night before.  It seems I wasn't the only one who thought this meadow made for a perfect camp setting. 

I had a long walk ahead of me, but the crisp morning air made miles go by with moderate ease.  I encountered several groups of elk in the smaller creek bottoms as I retraced my path.  My body, like clockwork, hit the wall around mile 5 or 6.  I figure I have less than two months before I'll be doing this again, but with more weight on my back.  I'll be hitting the gym and climbing some stairs before then, but I'm sure it will be just as brutal.  8 miles in, 8 miles out.  That's gonna be a fun time packing an elk out if we are fortunate enough to get one!

With the "work" out of the way, it's time to get back to the trout streams! More on that next time.