Day 8

 

Worked things out with my lovely spouse so that I could have a few days in a row to do an extended hunt.  I went to the super-secret spot that everyone else knows about, but ha ha! I had a day off in the middle of the week and it was almost like a wilderness experience.  I live for that feeling of isolation in a world that is wired so differently, with completely different rhythms, than the one I live in the rest of the time.  Parked at the end of a spur that continues on deep into a drainage past a tank trap which discourages most of the ATV's and other off roaders.  I have found elk in here virtually every time I've been here.  It has that dark, lush and steaming feeling of the primeval forest I've described in earlier entries, most of the time.  However, after 7-8 weeks of 80 degree plus temperatures, and no precipitation, it was like walking through a bowl of corn flakes. It was getting late but it had been a long three days at work, and I was restless.  (I shouldn't complain, I shorten my work week during hunting season which is a luxury many don't get to enjoy).  So I grabbed my gear for an evening walk down into the drainage to see what was happening.  Elk in this area, even during early hunting seasons, seem to mostly stay down low in these steep coastal mountain drainages. 

The downside of this is they are hard to get to, hard to sneak up on, and the pack out, if you're lucky, is daunting.  The upside is that they are there, and you're likely to see one of the more majestic looking critters in the North American wilds sooner or later if you spend enough time, plus, you'll get natural scenery like the pictures provided.  This is about as good as it gets on public land, and I am grateful it is still here to see.  Got a serious case of what my wife teasingly calls "the bends" (I gotta see what's around the next one) and ended up farther out than I had planned.  Tired and happy, with some old elk sign for encouragement, I returned to camp.

 

Day 9

 

Up later than usual, and sore.  Did an abbreviated version of my morning routine to shake the rust out of my joints, and traveled a twin track uphill, figuring that by mid-morning elk and deer would be finding a safe ridgeline to bed down on.  Saw 6 deer (all does) and a cow elk on my way up, so I was practically running to get to the spot I'd decided on.  Spent the day hiking ridges, and the evening back in the drainage of the night before.  Despite lots of sign, didn't see anything else for the rest of the day, other than a few vistas that stopped me in my tracks and distracted me from the pursuit.

By this evening (Friday) the local hunters started racing in after work.  Two separate trucks came down the 1/2 mile long dead-end spur I was camped on, looking for a place of their own.  While I can't begrudge others like myself who are looking for space to hunt away from the daily grind, it does underscore how necessary it is to protect such rare and precious
places that are left.  There are only going to be more people who want to have the experience, and with more people comes more pressure.  My secret place is obviously not a secret. 

 

Day 10 

 

Up on time this morning, my last day away from home.  It's a Saturday, so the hunting community is out in full force.  I'd decided to drive to a new area, but on the way found myself following a couple fellows who were driving pretty slow and glassing the slopes from the road.  They obviously didn't see me and I wasn't of a mind to honk (there's no honking in hunting!). Eventually they noticed me and let me by, and I noticed that I was starting to get a bad attitude.  Figuring that the best I could hope for today would be to scout somewhere I'd never been, I picked a heavily overgrown twin track and crashed my truck through the high grass and saplings down a bit in to a drainage I hadn't explored before.  Got out, grabbed my stuff, and walked the rest of the way.  Turns out that was the ticket.  While the SUV's, ATV's, and 4x4 pick-ups buzzed around above like gnats over a fruit bowl, I started a hike down into isolation that eventually led to this....

 

Then this...

 

And finally, this...

 

They were in the bottom browsing calmly, as if they hadn't a care in the world, seemingly unaware of the dangers all around up above.  Maybe confident in their ability to outrun and out-negotiate the terrain in this area, against anything that might threaten.  Certainly it was true in my regard.  Between my self and this small group was the detritus of old logging operations, consisting of a knee deep layer of small branches (what my timber-cruiser uncle would call "dog hair," as in the piles of fuzz that you find in the corners of a room while vacuuming).  Interlaced through this were small briars, equivalent to 4-5 pound test monofilament.  One alone is not much of a barrier, but drag your foot through 3 or 4 and you'll likely end up on your face.  Sprinkle on top a layer of dry leaves, and the futility of attempting to sneak up on them becomes obvious.  I tried anyway, with predictable results, though I did notice that my attitude problem had disappeared all of a sudden.  Off they went with the "crash crash, thadump dump dump!" sound of heavy animals quickly leaving the scene.  I finished scouting the area after they had left, and determined that I will not be driving that twin track any more.  I want the saplings to continue growing so as to discourage frustrated knuckleheads like me from driving down into my new "secret" place.  I'll walk there instead.

Day 7 of Archery Season

 

Dropped by the beaver pond for a quick look see, (nothing there) and remembered to keep the wind at my back.  Improved my hunt quite a bit, as the deer I bumped on the way back let me get within 60 yards rather than 400 like last time. 

 

Went to the west side of the coast mountains.  This really is my favorite area to hunt.  The trees are huge, and the canopy is so tightly woven that light barely makes it through.  On a foggy day (like today) the overall effect is brooding, almost oppressive, like I need to watch my back, despite knowing full well that the apex predators in Oregon have been either wiped out or conditioned to avoid humans like the plague.  "Primeval" is a term that has been over-used to describe the Northwest rainforests, but I can almost imagine it when I find stumps like the one pictured.  5-6 of the "huge" trees I've already described could grow out of it, if their trunks were tightly clustered together.  The picture doesn't do it justice.  (Might be the fat head in the foreground ruining the perspective).  Try to visualize a forest consisting entirely of such behemoths. 

 

No elk today, despite an enjoyable effort.  On the way home I saw a 6 point buck by the side of the road that a nice family in a minivan hit just a few cars ahead of me.  Also passed a sign with a phone number to call, advertising "gopher control."  It had a ground squirrel sitting on top.  That about says it all for this first week of archery season.

  

 



Archery Season - Day 4

 

Starting to hit a stride.  Going to a well-known place was the ticket.  Followed a twin track up high just a few miles from my house, and had a great day.  Some deer sign, but no elk.  Bear scat in a couple of places.  Broke a couple of hand-made arrows chasing a covey of quail.  Didn't connect, but it was nice to actually draw the string.  Shame about the arrows, but totally worth it.  I'll have 10 months to replace them once the season is over.

 

 

Day 5

 

 

Starting a little late because I need to drop the baby off.  8am and already warming up.  Stopped at a random gated area I'd never visited before (walk-in only) and headed up an old logging road.  Almost immediately started to see signs of deer, tracks, scat and a rub.  A little meadow through the roadside trees drew me in to investigate, and a movement to my left caught my eye.  Had the arrow on the string when something made me hesitate on an easy shot: the ears and head of a deer quartering away, but small.  She jumped up in that peculiar pronging style deer have, white tail flagging, and I recognized a fawn, barely out of spots.  She might have been legal (females are allowed in this area, and anything with primitive equipment is a trophy) but I had to pass.  Very encouraging, however.  Spent a long day walking down likely spur roads.  Saw the first elk sign of the season, tracks and scat.  I'll definitely come back here tomorrow.

 

 

Day 6

 

 

At the gate at dawn this morning.  Headed in and within a mile found some very fresh elk sign.  The tracks disappeared quickly after I found the scat, and I had to choose between two different paths, both grassy and likely to hide any prints.  I figured downhill toward water would be the likely path and chose that direction. 

 

One of the things I like about hunting is that I'm always learning something.  Sometimes I learn the same thing more than once.  Like "keep your nose in the wind."  While it appeared from the tracks I found in a dusty area that I'd chosen the right path, my inattention to the fact that cold air sinks left the wind at my back, which I remembered the hard way when I was scented by a couple of deer from 400 yards away.  Rather than stubbornly continue on and possibly scare the elk out of the area, I turned around and headed upwind, resolved to be more careful. 

 

I eventually came across an old beaver pond that was mostly dry.  It was fun looking at the tracks in the muddy banks, including a bear, whose recent droppings I found near by.  (My sister-in-law is giving me a hard time for taking "pictures of poop?"  She doesn't know a good thing when she sees it).  A tree with claw marks and tracks in the mud (pictured) identified the area as a regular haunt.  I have mixed feelings about hunting bears, as they have kind of been a totem animal for me since a full beard in college earned me the nickname Griz (after Grizzly Adams).  The little black bears here in Oregon are so reclusive it is unlikely that I will see any without significantly changing my hunting style.  I move too much, not liking to sit and glass the clear cuts which is how most people get them now that baiting and dogs have been banned (both of which I am generally okay with seeing go).  Hard to know what I'd do if I crossed paths with one.  Guess I'll see when the time comes.   

The day ended without taking a shot, though I took a lot of photographs to show off to folks back home.  I'm going to give this area a day to rest, then be back and a bit more focused on the promising spots that I have found.

Day 3 of Archery Season

 

Today was a train wreck.  Drove for a couple of hours to find that the timber company land I wanted to explore was closed to the public "due to extreme fire danger."  Hadn't planned on taking that long getting there (I know, MapQuest would have saved me) and it took just as long to find another more accommodating spot.  Saw two bucks in velvet, one chasing a doe, but too close to civilization for me to pursue.  Practiced my calls, walked for a few hours, and came home when it grew insanely hot.  I'll go somewhere I've been before next week.

Day Two

 

Not much to report today.  Went out in the evening, and while heading toward an old favorite hunting area I impulsively stopped at a gate I'd never explored behind.  Some of my best days have been spent on such impulses, though today I didn't see any elk or deer.  Hiked 12-13 miles to find a small, desiccated pile of wapiti dung, likely from a year ago.  No tracks, and one rub, also at least a year old, judging by the colorless and odor free bark laying around the trunk of the victim.  Did see 6-7 small snakes sunning in the road, one of whom was hilariously aggressive (defensive?) despite being only 8 inches long, at best.  He reared back and let the tip of my bow have it when I tried to determine if he was alive or not.  I let him go, unmolested.  Had to admire the fight in the little fellow.
 

Anyway, saw some beautiful, Ferngully like drainages, and a simply BRUTAL clear-cut.  A lot is said about how clear-cuts create browse for deer and elk.   I've passed this one (not pictured) occasionally on the highway for about the past 10 years, and have yet to see anything approaching "browse" show up, (or elk and deer, for that matter).  Just a tangled mass of root balls, stumps, and towering burn piles that have yet to be burned.  Not even those annoying, low-growing berry vines that take about five minutes to completely entangle any brush pile on my place that I dare to leave overnight (I'm exaggerating a bit, of course).  Hide it all by lining the highway of tourists headed to the coast with a thin barrier of cottonwoods, and the illusion is complete, like a Hello Kitty band aid covering the results of a compound fracture.  Really, there is no excuse for it.

 

But, I digress, and will do so again in the morning.  I will go south, to try again.