I regret that it has taken me a month to post this but, I still find myself laughing over it at my desk so I feel it is necessary to share the last few moments of hunting season with all of you. Enjoy!
As I grumble and tug at my camo and well, almost poke my eyeballs out trying to get my contacts in, my darling Caveman finally gets me out the door and into the truck.
By the time we get to our normal spot it has warmed up a bit and we start our normal hike to where we drop in. Now the previous week I had been mentally preparing myself for this... the early morning, the cold weather, the big climb up that bastard of a mountain so as we hike in, I'm thrilled by the fact that it's actually warm this morning, when all of a sudden my darling wild woodsman veers right. Wait a minute, we always go left! I begin to panic... this isn't good. I thrive on predictability and he just threw me a curve ball, but I continue quietly so as not to disturb the animal that lives within him (and comes out when I unthinkably step on a stick).
Now by this time of year, a majority of the leaves cover the ground and as we start to cut the side of Goliath it starts to drizzle. Between the rain from the night before, the drizzle now and the wet leaves, I find my self slipping and sliding along the deer trail Caveman has (for some reason) chosen to go this morning.
By the time my right calf is cramping up from trying to hold my body perpendicular to the hill (so as not to tumble into the abyss) I finally hiss, "Where are you going?" Of course I get the normal "shhh." I begin to worry... we are getting very far from the truck and I fear this might turn into a whole day affair of hiking up and down the side of Goliath with no Elk in sight (I am not a billy goat for crying out loud.)
It's beginning to rain slightly heavier now and I’m majorly regretting not putting on my rain gear. Eventually though, Caveman decides to head down hill (thank heavens) where we spot fresh tracks. We get our stalk mode on and of course I step on a stick. He then graces me with the usual comment that I need to step quietly and that I sound like an elephant in the woods but, by this point in the season I'm immune and choose instead to ignore him or give him, the "I'll poke your eyes out look if you turn around one more time and tell me to be quiet darling."
Finally, an hour into the hunt, it starts to poor and lets just say it’s not that warm anymore. The rain wouldn't bother me if I had prepared but, since it was warm and not raining when I left the house I didn't grab my ultra plush SHE rain gear. Bad idea. I smother Caveman as I try to stay warm by sucking all his body heat and we wait out the rain.
We eventually start trudging along again. By the way... we haven't seen a thing and my hopes of sluicing a big one are quickly disintegrating.
Finally after a couple hours, no sight of elk and some lunch, we begin the trek up goliath. UGG! I grin and bare it and thankfully I can keep up with Caveman and his 70 pound pack this time (Side Note: He was a sherpa in his other life and possess a 3rd lung). But this is mainly because all I have to carry is my 4 pound bow. J
Now since I know we are headed for the truck, I’m like a horse headed back to the barn but for some reason Chris keeps stopping. Of course when he starts to slow down I push him on from behind, urging him to keep going. Finally he turns around out of breath and suggests I carry the pack for a while. Sure I say, and with a shocked look on his face, I throw it on, synch it up and take off. His smirk doesn’t detour me and a little bit up the hill I turn around and wait for him.
Now to give you a little insight as to how Cavemen hunts, he’s outfitted from head to toe in his camo gear, carry’s a huge heavy pack filled with everything you might ever need for packing out an elk, (including my 4 cliff bars & sandwich I will devour in less then 4 hrs (I have a really good metabolism) my water, his water and his one cliff bar), and of course his bow. He usually always takes the lead and has a wheat strand hanging from his mouth which he chews the whole time. Then he usually turns around every 5 seconds and says one of the following 3 things to me… shhh, walk quietly, or Kelly, you need to be really quiet because they (the elk) are probably right over this hill. In which case they never are. So.. what do I do. As he’s climbing the hill towards me, I stick a strand of wheat in my mouth, turn around as he approaches me and say real serious like, “Now Chris your going to need to be real quite because they are probably right over this hill.” He is laughing so hard that I’m afraid he’s going to fall over dead and scare off all the living creatures in the woods but I can’t help laughing either. He comments on how good my impression is and I turn around to continue up the hill when he grabs the pack on my back and pulls me towards him.
“oh no you don’t give that back.”
“oh no sweetie really its ok, I understand that your tired and that you need a break, so don’t worry I can carry it”
“I’m not tired, hand it over”
“No really I understand you can’t do it, its to strenues, really I’m fine”
Meanwhile an intense tickling match ensues over who will carry the pack and I fall to the ground swearing that I’ll never give it up and that I am more then capable of carrying it for him since he’s sooooo tired. While he swears that I’ll use this against him for the rest of his life and that there is no way I am carrying the pack.
By this time I’m pretty sure the elk are probably laughing at us as we role around in the wet dirty and leaves arguing and laughing over who is going to carry the pack.
So for those of you brave women who choose to go hunting with your oh so serious bowhunter boyfriends, don’t fret. If I can survive hunting with the wild woodsman you can survive too. J
