Caribou Gear

What’s your moment?

Man it’s so hard to pick just one! First off with my son on youth day on the first piece of ground I got permission to hunt about 32 years ago. We have pictures of some nice racked bucks and all he wants is to bust one of them. He will be hooked. Second have a backcountry archery bear trip planned with my best friend on public land. Going to be a blast. Then off to CO for my first rifle mule deer hunt. A lot of great memories coming up soon. Man I love this time of year!
 
Middle of the night when everyone else has been sleeping for hours in the pitch black 0 degrees not a breath of wind with my butt planted in a snow bank watching a coyote through the thermal come in on a dead run to my calls. I could give up every other bit of hunting and just do that and be perfectly happy
 
It doesn't happen every time but when things all work out my favorite moment is the last sunset of a hunting trip or climb, with luck that end is because the objective is in the bag, but if I left everything on the field trying and came up short the satisfaction is similar... if I can't have that moment dropping the backpack on the tailgate at the end of the trip can be pretty close.
 
I will forever be able to close my eyes and instantly be bumping up the USFS road before light in my grandpa’s truck. Early 90’s GMC, 454.

Wad of keys jangling against the dash. The smell is instant Folgers with dry International cappuccino mix, and a hint of shop rag.

Ice on the creek crossing says no one has been in that morning yet, we’ll be the first ones up to the point where granddad always builds a little fire. A good spot to ambush a buck headed to his bed or escaping pressure below.

Might see a real big one. Some years back he and I saw 14 solid bucks gather and run into the cliff bands above us. The wind was so strong we could barely stand; no way to steady for a shot, even for grandpa, who never missed.

He’s been gone 10 years, over 20 since we huddled down and watched that bachelor group work up the mountain above us. The country is now void of deer. One day I’ll 4-LO up that road again in the October darkness, just to reel in the intangible one more time. You can bet I’ll have to stop now and again for the tears.


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I will forever be able to close my eyes and instantly be bumping up the USFS road before light in my grandpa’s truck. Early 90’s GMC, 454.

Wad of keys jangling against the dash. The smell is instant Folgers with dry International cappuccino mix, and a hint of shop rag.

Ice on the creek crossing says no one has been in that morning yet, we’ll be the first ones up to the point where granddad always builds a little fire. A good spot to ambush a buck headed to his bed or escaping pressure below.

Might see a real big one. Some years back he and I saw 14 solid bucks gather and run into the cliff bands above us. The wind was so strong we could barely stand; no way to steady for a shot, even for grandpa, who never missed.

He’s been gone 10 years, over 20 since we huddled down and watched that bachelor group work up the mountain above us. The country is now void of deer. One day I’ll 4-LO up that road again in the October darkness, just to reel in the intangible one more time. You can bet I’ll have to stop now and again for the tears.


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The ice on the creek is a good one. Always makes my day!
 
As a kid, I loved how night dissolved into day in the early mornings sitting in a tree stand. Despite my bitching, I enjoyed spending every minute of daylight out in the woods today even if most was spent looking at birds, squirrels, and chipmunks prepare for winter.
 
There isn’t a better place to spend September and October than in Montana. It is hard to balance all the activities that can be done in this state. Fishing is nearly it’s best, yet bird season opens the 1st and archery the 1st Saturday.

A single moment can only be experienced multiple times to get the impact of of that moment. For me it is the subtle take of a dry fly on the bighorn, late afternoon grouse in the mountains and an elk bugling before light.

All this boiled down to a single moment would be impossible, but the moment any one of those happen, I am in it entirely…


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This year should bring 3 tangents of friends together in our 1st season camp. When I turn the key on Jack in the drive and start toward CPOs in Wellington I know it has started. Tons of moments up on the mountain to look forward too. Then a couple of weeks later is the trip to the Midwest. No matter how much I love the mountains and the west there is nothing that strikes my soul like being in the hardwoods on a cold morning....especially if there is snow on the ground.
 
I hear you. All your stories make me smile. It reminds me of how blessed I am. That moment I see that first critter, and have convinced myself I have no idea what they look like. That PBJ that’s been smashed to shiz after a pile of miles that tastes better than prime rib on Xmas. Sitting with my brother around the fire looking up at the stars and pondering life. I could go on and on. Thanks for sharing gentlemen. You motivate me to get this beat up body back in the game!
 
The older I get, the simple quiet peaceful moments stand out more than all the others. A good example would be the time, glassing for bighorns in the Beartooths in mid September. A male mountain bluebird came and hung out with me for 10 to 20 minutes perched in a nearby dead snag on the top of the mountain. I looked at him wondering what he was doing up here this high. He probably wondered the same about me.

Being on you own, in the mountains gives you time and space to ponder the simple things in life, like the circle of life. Something as simple as a dragonfly, or a bluebird. This song might not make sense to many, but it makes a lot of sense to me having spent a lot of time in the mountains. Special time, special moments for sure.

 
I will forever be able to close my eyes and instantly be bumping up the USFS road before light in my grandpa’s truck. Early 90’s GMC, 454.

Wad of keys jangling against the dash. The smell is instant Folgers with dry International cappuccino mix, and a hint of shop rag.

Ice on the creek crossing says no one has been in that morning yet, we’ll be the first ones up to the point where granddad always builds a little fire. A good spot to ambush a buck headed to his bed or escaping pressure below.

Might see a real big one. Some years back he and I saw 14 solid bucks gather and run into the cliff bands above us. The wind was so strong we could barely stand; no way to steady for a shot, even for grandpa, who never missed.

He’s been gone 10 years, over 20 since we huddled down and watched that bachelor group work up the mountain above us. The country is now void of deer. One day I’ll 4-LO up that road again in the October darkness, just to reel in the intangible one more time. You can bet I’ll have to stop now and again for the tears.


View attachment 238830
Nice! What state?
 
Lovely thread.

So many moments, and I think when I am in the right frame of mind, nearly always possible.

But soon:

Driving around with dad, glassing for deer and rehashing conversations we’ve had dozens of times already, as we prowl the land of layered memories we call home.

Walking the valley floor with my dog. Where stubble meets draw, mountains I know on the skyline and the possibility of birds where I can’t see em.

Snow on the ground and thick timber and the feeling that I am alone in the mountains and that they belong to me.

Prayers of gratitude on the last day of the season no matter how it went. I hope for em all.

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Leupold BX-4 Rangefinding Binoculars

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