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The Millennial Generation of Bowhunters

I am part of the Millennial Generation of bowhunters. 

We are that group of hunters who, it seems, have a higher focus on physical prowess than past bow hunting generations. Watching the shift in bowhunting from the stereotypical person driving around in a truck all day with their bow hoping for an opportunity, to that of a person willing to run up a mountain in chase of their dream has been a unique experience. It has also been a motivating one.

I cannot deny that my own love for physical fitness stemmed from a specific hunt my second year afield. It was a day I will never forget, complete with huge sage-covered hills, no water, miles of ground and one black bear. It took the horrifying experience of packing out a 200-pound bear to show me the importance of physical training. Since then, running, lifting and cycling have played a vital role in my hunting style. This same style has been exemplified by hunter-athletes like Cameron Hanes, who is a driving force behind the transition of turning many generations of bowhunters, old and young, into mountain-roaming beasts.

Maintaining a high level of physical activity has been paramount to my success since that sweltering late-summer day in 2002. Even today, 12 years later, I still believe this and look to continually push myself physically. That is why I am always looking for the next fun thing to keep the blood pumping!

So, if you're interested in joining me for an upcoming trail race, be sure to check out this link: Winthrop Rattler Trail Run, April 19, 2014

I believe wholeheartedly that being in the best shape possible does play an important role in bowhunting, and it has been a joy sharing some of my favorite running events through my blog as prepare for the hunt.

Bearing down this Spring

Spring bear season is almost upon us and for fellow archery addict this represents a great opportunity to hit the field early with bow-in-hand. Here in Washington, we have 19 permits to choose from across the state, with 697 total permits available. Permit applications must be submitted online by February 28, 2014.

Drawing a tag of any kind often seems impossible, but when it comes to Spring bear there is a real opportunity of seeing "successful" in the results column. The majority of Washington Spring bear tags can be drawn every three years. I was able to draw the Monroe unit tag my first year applying, and the Copalis unit the very next season. Though unsuccessful both years, I was able to learn a lot about hunting bruins in the early season by speaking with biologists, tree farm managers and other hunters via online forums. Here are a few considerations for Spring bear draw hunts:


Know your unit before you apply:

The actual size of the unit available will vary depending upon the "prescription" for bear removal generated by a timber company manager and local wildlife biologists. This number is estimated by past tree damage assessments on timber company property. When bear come from their deep sleep, they are in search of easy food, often in the form of new grasses and the nutrient-rich cambium layer of younger pine trees.

Though not entirely devoid of its protective bark,
this tree may not survive the scarring created by a hungry bear.
The cambium layer resin can be seen leaking from the trees wound. 

A Department of Natural Resources forestry manager I met while hunting the Monroe unit gave me the rundown on how to discern a bear-damaged tree from a porcupine-damaged tree--which is actually a common mistake bear hunters make in the Spring. Porcupine often scar a tree above head height, choosing to stay higher to avoid predators. Their scarring will be similar in depths to a bear marking, but will fail to wrap around the entire trunk of the tree. Trees often survive a porcupine assault. A bear marking will be 3 to 4 feet off the ground and encircle the entire tree trunk, forcing the cambium layer to leak tasty resin out. The resulting mark will kill the tree very quickly.

Successful draw candidates will receive a packed of information from the State with detailed maps of the hunt area, and information about obtaining gate key access. Gate keys provided by the Department of Natural Resources will cost the hunter a $100 deposit, which will be refunded when the key is returned.


Know who owns the land and associated fees:

My second Spring bear draw was a total disaster. As a poor beggar college student, I could hardly afford the gas to get to my hunting spot, but I was excited to see that I had drawn again in 2012. Trouble was, the land owner for the Copalis unit--the group who asked the WDFW to provide Spring bear permits for the area--required all hunters to pay a $300 access fee for the gate key and right to camp. That was a deal breaker for me, and I did not even attempt to hunt the unit because of the fee. I had a very hard time understanding why I should pay $300 to do the timber company a favor by removing a bear. Lesson: understand who owns the property and what fees are applied.

For more information regarding hunting black bear in Washington State, be sure to check out this document outlining the 2012-2015 bear hunting rules: Washington Bear Hunting Link

Understand bear behavior:

The best way to approach this, especially for first time Spring hunters, is by going online to hunting forums. I have found awesome information from the Eastmans.com forum and hunting-washington.com forum. Hunters love sharing their past success stories, particularly because the units are draw only, so there is no fear of losing their "spot".

Locating bear in the Spring often boils down to covering a lot of ground. Bear, especially toward that later days of the season (which runs until May 31 or June 15 depending on the unit), will spend the majority of their day eating to replenish fat reserves. If there is fresh snow in your hunt area, your chances can be greatly diminished, as bear typically become sedentary when food sources are covered.

Finding food sources will be essential. Focusing efforts on large grass flats and exposed roadsides where grass can grow freely are great options. Stands of timber are another good bet, as bear will focus on trees in the 20-30 year old range due to the large amount of nutrient-rich cambium being produced. This age class of tree is typically in the "stem exclusion phase" when the planted trees block the majority of light to the forest floor, creating a dark, barren understory. Locate dark stands of timber near older logging road systems and take note of tree damage near the edge of the units. Bear will gravitate between open grass logging roads and dark timber patches. Skunk cabbage, the bright yellow-tipped swamp plant, is another good food source for emerging bear. The root of the skunk cabbage plant acts as a laxative, so keep your eyes open for open, swampy alder tree bottom lands.

Getting a Grip

 There was a time in my archery career when I was guilty of choking my bow. I didn't know the act of doing so was a heinous crime to my shooting evolution, but that's how we learn, right?

A decade ago a trend existed amongst bow manufacturers to incorporate high wrist grips into many beginner bows. I cannot say whether or not a high-wrist grip--a large wooden or composite grip resembling a turtle shell--truly affects a bows accuracy, but I can relay the affect moving away from them had on my own shooting.

Shooting form and the grip

Archery is a sport of rigidity. The human musculature allows for the body to nearly lock into a rigid form to support the weight of a bow at full-draw. For example, the top photo is of myself with a well-tuned Limbsaver Proton at the appropriate draw length. The rigid, "locking" effect is visible from where my release hand notches into place behind my jaw bone. Locking also occurs down my nearly-straight left "bow" arm, which supplies ample tension during the shot (hence back-tension shooting!). There is, however, one place you do not want rigidity in your shot: the grip.

Grip evolution

Many new bow manufacturers have switched riser designs to a low-wrist style of grip (see photo of my new PSE DNA's nearly non-existent grip on right).

Low-wrist grip's allow for a larger surface area of the palm, essentially the "life line" running down you hand, to come into contact with the riser. This contact improves stability during the shot process.

Conversely, a high-wrist grip focuses the contact into the dough-like wedge of flesh between you thumb and index finger, minimizing contact and allowing the "squishy" muscle to shift when the draw weight of the bow settles on the hand. It also kinks the wrist into a non-rigid movement upward.

 Your hand pressure on the grip is also important. Notice in each image how my hand is placed: slightly cupped inward, fingers not touching the riser. This minimizes contact with the bow during the shot process, allowing for a clean release of the arrow (no flinch!).

Another trend in bow design is to minimize the arrow shelf on the bow, essentially taking the throat (where my finger is pointing on the right image) higher and closer to the center point of the bow. The design allows for the hand to smother the top end of the grip, and allows for more downward riser area for a proper low-wrist grip.

The take-away from this is, if you have never tried a low-wrist or medium-low-wrist grip, to try it head to head with your current set up. Pay close attention to you shooting form with each shot and see the difference!

One final grip hint: We are approaching the cold late season, and most hunters tend to grab their bow and run to the field with a few more layers on, including gloves. Understand that every layer you add, whether it's an outer shell with thick arms, or a thin pair of gloves, place more distance between you and your bows fit. A difference of 1/4" on the bowhand because of a glove, coupled with another 1/4" of padding the release on the wrist can make a big difference in the field. So, be sure to shoot prior to season with all the layers you intend to hunt with!

The Mid-season Dust-off

Ah, Fall. That magical time of the year when the tree colors change, the weather turns crisp, and a bowhunters dreams are once again rekindled.

I say "once again," because following an enthusiastic early season of chasing bulls, bucks and bear, the inevitable season's end comes all too quickly.

So we hunters wait. We scratch away the time with trail camera outings, forum posts about tips and tactics, and hopefully continue our shooting regiment...Or do we?

It's time to be honest; Do you shoot your bow consistently following the early season rush? I mean, it was dialed-in perfectly, so why change perfect, right? This sentiment is common amongst many bowhunters around the country who hang up their bow during the month or more between seasons, and it can lead to major headaches heading into the late season.

I don't know about your part of the country, but here in the Pacific Northwest the shift from warm September days to the frozen November late season can spell disaster for a fine-tuned archery setup. So how do you avoid what I like to call the "mid-season dust-off"?

The Plan:

1. The easiest plan is a consistent one. Continue your shooting regiment as you have prior to early season (and hopefully year round!) Switch back to field points during the mid-season hiatus to save your arrows from being sliced and diced. Trust me, there's plenty of time to switch back to your broadheads, and it really doesn't take long at all. To make the transition easier, try this:

*Make sure you mark the vanes, by number, of each arrow you plan to hunt with.

*Likewise, when you remove each broadhead from the arrow be sure to mark it with the same number. Simple fix!

Knowing your broadheads is the key to having confidence in your shooting rig.

That way when you assemble them again for a quick broadhead session in mid-November you already know the broadhead in-hand is tailored to the arrow. Most hunters realize the importance of finding the proper broadhead-arrow combination, and that if one head fails to fly perfectly with one arrow, that it is wise to try another from the pack to see if it works better. Yes, broadhead ferrules (the main body of the broadhead) can vary ever so slightly right out of the package. So try the broadhead-switcharoo if one head fails to fly just right.

2. Shoot at least a week prior to your late season hunt! If mid-season dust-off occurs you'll need to understand what your bow is doing. What it's doing, you say? Shouldn't it be the same as earlier? No, that's not always the case. Cold weather, extra clothing layers, even your body adjusting to shooting in adverse conditions, can all play a roll in the shift from early to late season shooting.

Fine-tuned equipment in 90-degree temperatures can change dramatically in freezing conditions. Granted, the newest bows on the market can help curb some hot-to-cold whoa's, but don't count on it. The key is to shoot your bow rig in temperatures
matching (or close to) those you intend to hunt. You might be surprised what occurs during your late season practice trips, so remain calm and you'll be dialed-in in no time.

Good luck this late season, and may your arrows fly true!

One final tip: String wax. Not just for your bow string (a must here in the rainy Pacific Northwest), but for your broadheads as well. Apply a small amount of string wax to the threaded body of your broadhead ferrules to ensure they stay put inside your arrows insert.

Like Acid in my Veins: A Lactic Acid Refresher

It’s that point when your body parts feel like lead. Each step is labored, and your well trained legs seem to be fighting your every move in the right direction. What madness is this? Could it be that dreaded running demon known as lactic acid that is not only causing my race day agony, but my post-race fatigue, too? What role (if any) does it play in post-race blues?

Sometimes the only thing to do when you have pushed
too far is to rest and let the lactic acid settle.

Feel the [Acid] Burn

According to WebMD, the ailment-diagnosing source for all of us non-board-certified desk jockeys, the buildup of lactic acid stems from low oxygen levels during exertion, as the body attempts to break down carbs for muscle fuel.

Lactic acid begins to build in the body when glucose (sugar in the bloodstream) is broken down to it minimal form during any hard workout, resulting in the need for the body to clear the lactate from the bloodstream in order to maintain a high rate of exertion. As many runners have noticed, there is a limit to what the body can handle. 

The affect of too much lactic acid is that oh so lovely burning sensation in the muscles that gives the extremities the feeling of being lead-filled.

Often, the increase in lactic acid forces the runner to stop in order to decrease the acid buildup, which, according to the website BrianMac Sports Coach, occurs quite rapidly during exercise—with removal typically happening within one hour after exercise stops.

So what’s the cure? For the runner, taking a few minutes at the aid station mid-race can curb the initial buildup of lactic acid and prolong the physical output. The key word: “prolong”, which means, unfortunately, lactic acid is with you every step of the way on race day, but that doesn’t mean you can’t control its onset to an extent.

Steep inclines, high hills and a fast pace increase lactic acid buildup.
This hill, the Skyline Rim Trail, has an incline of 2,000+ vertical feet
in the first 2 miles, making for a lactic threshold-building run!

The Big Question: Does lactic acid buildup during an event mean more soreness after?

The short answer: No. Based on all of my research about post-race stresses on the body, my aches and pains are not to be attributed to that race day weightiness brought to my limbs by lactic acid. One positive note is that lactic acid levels, I have learned, can be beneficial if managed properly.

                  By pushing your body to high anaerobic levels you can help to increase the amount of oxygen your body can process during a given time period. By pushing your body’s anaerobic threshold you can offset at least some of the short term affects caused by acid buildup. The key is to push your exercise output above your standard, predetermined race pace for a short amount of time—typically 2 to 4 minutes, according to Runner’s World online. Follow this high-output with a “cool-down” running speed of 1 to 2 minute below race pace and boom! You have just helped nudge your lactic threshold in the right direction. Now, just do that several time throughout your run, several day per week, and you can simply avoid being burned by lactic acid…at least for a while. There are several good lactic threshold training plans available online through Runner’s World, so be sure to check them out prior to your next race.

                  As for the initial question: Why am I so sore post-race? It would appear that lactic acid buildup, contrary to common wisdom, does not carry over into my post-race blues. So, what does? In upcoming posts I will dig deeper into what causes the hurt, and (hopefully) figure out ways to avoid it!

Post-race fatigue is in my blood...Literally

The turn-around at the top of the Rainshadow Running Angel's Staircase 35k race

I was bent over, struggling for breath in the middle of the trail with sticky phlegm projecting with each cough, and the only thing I could think was: What the heck is happening? I was only four miles into my usual eight-mile trail run through the hills outside Ephrata, Washington, and my body was putting on the brakes. So, as I stooped over my spittle I thought about what had led me to this lowly point.

Maybe it’s just a coincidence that my current running struggle follows my longest—and toughest—trail race to date, the Angel’s Staircase 35k by Rainshadow Running? Perhaps it was the 21.7 miles of trail-running bliss peppered with 5,926 vertical feet of gain that could have done it? Perhaps not, so I decided to take a deeper look into what affects happen following an all-out race effort.

The Basic Premise: Getting to the root of my fatigue

Gravity sucks. And, when gravity meets altitude and incline, which, in the c

ase of the Angel’s Staircase race which peaks at 8,000 feet, you get an all-out battle for muscle-recruiting oxygen. The battle is most noticeable through the huffing and puffing that occurs as the elevation (and trail grade) increases. But what causes all this deep huffing and puffing when the altitude and distance increases?

An important thing to note before carrying on is that a large part of the struggle (or lack thereof) is dependent on your pre-race physicality, but elevation and altitude cannot be discredited.

The rapid transition to higher altitude—and yes, 8,000 feet is high for someone living at or near sea level—will cause red blood cells to multiply as they attempt to make the most of the dwindling oxygen in the atmosphere. When cells multiply, according to altitude.org, they make the blood thicker, which causes the runner to feel sluggish.

Combine the increase in red blood cells with the change in air pressure (which is roughly 25-percent less at 8,000 feet compared to sea level) with a substantially higher heart rate caused by the need to filter more oxygen, and you get one worn out runner. The speed at which this cell increase occurs is not clear, but the quick transition to higher altitude can cause quite a bit of physical discomfort.

Many runner training groups recommend high altitude training as a safe, legal competitive edge—a roundabout way of blood doping by making you blood thicker prior to sea level competitions. But there are limits. “At these higher altitudes [above 8,000 feet], your exercise capacity decreases to the point that ‘deconditioning’ can take place,” according to the Institute for Altitude Medicine.

So, what is one possible result of my racing venture above tree line? A buildup of red blood cells, which can significantly prolong recovery time and time between future training runs. This, of course, is not the only combination of factors leading to my unsavory mid-run state, so I will be addressing other factors associated with post-race fatigue and hopefully building a plan to counter it.

The Never-ending Countdown

"Well this sucks," is all my good friend and archery hunting partner Scotty could say after his fourth consecutive broadhead-tipped arrow found its way far from its intended mark. For Scotty, an archer who typically places five out of six arrows into a fist-sized target at 40 yards, this was borderline maddening. This feeling, a sense of frustration as archery season looms, seems to plague the working-class archer who often finds little spare time to shoot consistently.

So how can you make the most of your shooting time when time is running low? Here's a simple tip to curb your last-minute archery angst.

Focus on quality, not quantity. 

I, like most archers, relish the time spent at the range. In the not too distance past I use to find myself spending the entire day at the range. My time was divided between refining each arrow, chatting with fellow club members, even cooking up a lunch or dinner during marathon stints near the club house. On these days I could loose more than 200 arrows.
Fast-forward three years, a full-time job, college, and a shortening archery season and my range time has become a fraction of its former self.

Today, meaning an average workday, set the simple goal of six arrows.

And even six is a stretch. The goal should actually be just one. The first shot each evening should, in your head, be a play-by-play of your dream hunting situation. Visualize that monster mule deer feeding, or that rutted-up elk walking into your setup, standing a mere 30, 40, or 60 yards away, whatever your chosen distance may be, as you draw and anchor your bow. In archery you only get one shot, so make it count. On midweek days, shooting is all about reaffirming your in-depth weekend practice sessions--a chance to build upon quantity with the visualization of success.

This abbreviated practice can be accomplished with a standard block target or a full size 3-d archery target. The benefit of a 3-d target is the emphasis on shot placement, which can be adjusted to practice quartering shots. Just remember: be deliberate with your shot, because this season may boil down to that one well-placed arrow. Good luck!

Leave Nothing on the Table

Perhaps it was a moment of clarity or I had cracked, either way one thing was for sure: the brutal switchback was winning and my mind was wandering. It's during these moments of extreme exertion--in this case mid-race on a horrible ascent--that I was struck with a motto that has stuck: Leave Nothing on the Table.

Now, two weeks after that memorable moment I once again found myself toeing the starting line, only this time I was at the Mid-Columbia Challenge, a 5k go-for-broke event, which takes the racers over one of the most unique race environments ever, the Wanapum Dam.

Hours of event set-up had finally transpired into 189 racers rushing through the starting gate and up the dam. June 30, is one of the best times to be crossing the Wanapum Dam, as the run-off from snowmelt has swelled the Columbia River to near-record proportions, bringing spray and roaring echos over the dam deck. It also meant that I was weaving back and forth across the dam deck to see the massive amounts of water rushing off the dam only feet below me (think standing on TOP of Niagara Falls; pretty awesome power).

The Columbia River gorge lived up to its reputation and produced a monster headwind, which seemed to change directions just in time for use to double-back at the 1.5 mile turn-around. Regardless, my good friend and co-worker Scotty managed to buck the wind blues and steam ahead, finishing second in 20 minutes 22 sec., while I trudged in at 21 mins. 34 sec., to take third place. 

If you love competition and preparing yourself for the mountains is your goal you should really think about running races. I am a firm believer in choosing a race with a unique venue or one that will challenge you physically and mentally. The end result is one heckva workout where you've left nothing on the table and you'll be one step closer to being in tip-top shape for Washington's archery season!

When a Desk Jockey Flips...tires that is.

By Jameson

I honestly think that the idea of adventure is the thing that most excites the standard desk jockey athlete; that thing that propels you toward doing something far more than your standard day. The end result is fantastic, great water cooler talk to be sure, but it's the build-up that I have now while looking out at the big, stupid-crazy sage-covered hill behind work thinking 'hey, maybe, just maybe I should run that stupid thing tonight!?' that really drives me to find adventure.

Yesterday was a prime example of the adventure bug creeping into the workplace. Fresh off an epic 25k trail race the day before, I thought to myself 'now what?' and quickly found the solution in the parking lot of Anytime Fitness.

Tires. Worn-out, grimy, full of water and perfect for flipping end-over-end in the heat of the day, tires offer a great chance to feel like a beast. Ever tried flipping a 200-pound tire? I hadn't either until two weeks ago when I saw those ugly hulks steaming on the pavement. One flip and I was addicted.

For the archery addict striving to reach the mountain top there can be no better activity than flipping tractor tires. Strenuous? You bet, but you feel like a million bucks afterwards! This is just one of the ridiculous/obscene things I have incorporated into my archery season training, plus it's just fun throwing heavy things around! For more information on tire-flipping check out YouTube and learn proper form first.

Adventure Blog--Post Beacon Rock 25k race entry

By Jameson 

The ringing of the cowbell only furthered the feeling of accomplishment, acting as a shot pushing my worn out body into a newfound reserve to finish strong after 15.6 miles of brutal hills and valleys.

            A combination of the smiling faces of aid station volunteers and the never-ending motivation from fellow runners is the glue that holds you together as miles threaten to break down your body.

            The Beacon Rock 25k trail race offered this desk jockey athlete the perfect venue to discover the breaking point and paved the way for a new mantra: leave nothing on the table.

            This mantra was born on a jagged switchback trail where, calves screaming and heart pumping, the basalt cliffs and rolling Columbia basin views threatened to pull me off the trail with their beauty, I was hit by the simple philosophy.

            For fellow desk jockey athletes there is no greater reward than reaching a hard-earned goal and carrying that feeling home like a trophy. My true trophy 

            So I sit, empty can of salsa con queso still rolling on the floorboard, quad shot Americano's occupying the cup holder and Yellow Ledbetter blaring on the radio, setting the tone for yet another successful adventure.

            Finishing time: 2 hours 54 min., Scotty’s finishing time: 3hours 13minutes. 

The Adventure Journal...desk jockeys guide to aimless wandering

The Beacon Rock Challenge

A mixture of fine deluxe mixed nuts, empty salsa con queso rolling on the floorboard and a milk container-turned-spittoon and a solid left arm tan, mark our travels as rolling hills of golden grass and asphalt lead us to the starting line of the Beacon Rock 25 and 50K trail race. 

"Are you nuts?" was how the conversation about the race began, as Scotty, a hardworking desk jockey/casual runner, projected his concerns about yet another overzealous idea by myself. My sole defense was that adventure is the goal for the summer, as I work the desk as an intern with the Grant County PUD. One month of nudging finally broke Scotty’s resolve and he committed to the event, the Beacon Rock 25k near the Bonneville Dam in southern Washington.

"Training" had turned from that thing you did so you could justify the beer you drank afterward, to that thing where sweat was a currency deposited into a bank of preparation. I'm not saying that beer is not a vital aspect of proper training, as the photos show, stopping at an awesome freezing cold swimming hole requires carbo-loading with beer!

Distance has never been a factor for us as runners because distance has never factored into the equation. Maintaining a high standard of healthiness has always offered Scotty and I the ability to hunt in far-off places with relative ease, even as Scotty nursed a long-lasting achilles tendon issue. The prospect of pushing our physical abilities finally presented itself in the Beacon Rock race and, because we aren't too bright, the training mileage ramped-up immediately to near-dangerous levels.

So here we sit, stale coffee sloshing in the cup holders, Bush’s' "Glistering" being blared through the speakers as a leaky cooler threatens the back seats upholstery and a looming question, "did we train enough?" 

The Archery Letdown, By Pete Joers

The Archery Letdown

By Pete Joers

Being a self-proclaimed and very dedicated archery bum, I feel I must share a very peculiar chain over events that happened recently, which may help other archers:

The 2010 target season had just ended and what a blast! I never had so much fun flinging arrows with my family and friends, traveling around shooting many of the big tournaments, all topped off with my home club hosting a state championship. It was very busy, but what a blast!

Several times during that busy spring I had received phone calls from other archery bums inviting me turkey hunting. “Nope I’ve got plans…” I’d say, “Tournament here, tournament there, the archery club needs this done,” and so on and so forth.

Tournament season began winding down and it was time to get ready for August bear hunting as well as deer and elk hunting in September plus, as a bonus, I had drawn a quality deer tag for the Quilomene unit in eastern Washington. Time to switch gears!

My preparation ramped up, hiking, biking, shooting, lifting, culminating with chasing big mulies and two weeks in the alpine after the elusive elk. Now this is why I LOVE archery!

November rolled around and I was skunked so far, of course that just meant more opportunity for deer and elk hunting! Thanksgiving arrived and I was out the door headed for new hunting grounds with a bonus tag in one hand and my bow in the other.

Here’s where it gets interesting. I’ve been training and practicing all year, shooting thousands of arrows and I am now in a new area way up in the mountains, with great friends, hunting very hard, and I manage to harvest a great buck; the highlight of my hunting career…a genuine adventure. Once home, I took the buck to the taxidermist, cleaned the blood off of everything, put gear away, and made a movie (we got the whole hunt on video). The fun never stopped, that is, until indoor Multicolor started.

My target bow, which felt so good in my hands a few months ago, suddenly feels foreign, and after shooting it I can’t stand to look at it! I felt like I was just going through the motions: come home from work, go to the club, shoot a round of multicolor, get angry at myself and the bow.

One night when I got home after one of these self-inflicted indoor torture sessions and I see a big set of very familiar antlers sitting on the kitchen counter. “Taxidermist called and said to come pick up your horns, so I did it for you, thought you might like to see them again,” my wife Elizabeth said. With tears in my eyes I pick up the “horns” and instruct my wonderful wife that, “you can not play these, thus they are not horns, they are antlers!” Hugging them to my chest, and not waiting for my wife’s retort, I run off to my man cave. Sitting, thoughtfully looking at this mass of bone, studying every beam and point, I look up and there, hanging in its rightful place at the top of the bow rack, is my hunting bow.

Remembering back to the times I was too busy with “archery” to go archery hunting, things suddenly became clearer. Maybe this is where I lost my passion for archery, and maybe where I will find it again. I started thinking back to ten years ago when I was happy just to hit a paper plate at 40 yards and then discovering 3D and a whole new group of friends. Now we shoot “dots” at 80, 90, and 100 yards. Had I let my passion for tournament archery consume me to the point where I hated it, or had I just let my priorities get mixed up? I had forgotten that the reason I shoot a dime sized dot at 20 yards over and over, and travel the state listening for that beautiful sound of arrow hitting foam, is for that one chance, if it may happen, that the lord graces me with an encounter with one of his beautiful creations; for that one chance to see the wonderful flight of the arrow in the most chaotic of situations.

Setting the antlers next to my hunting bow, I gathered up my target stuff. Turning back for one last look I think to myself, “This is just the beginning of another hunting season. What a fantastic sport we have!”

Past Highcountry Bear Hunting Adventures

Watching as my good friend and hunting partner Jim Berry sauntered from the trailhead, I couldn’t help thinking to myself, “what am I getting into?” Fully loaded with 80-plus pounds of bear meat and gear, he resembled the walking dead. I was surprised when the first thing he asked was, “have you been glassing the hillside?” I hadn’t of course; because the mosquitoes were so thick I had to seek refuge in my truck. Grabbing my Leopold spotting scope, I quickly glassed up five bear in the fading August evening before heading into my camping destination.

Our chosen area was rugged, seemingly untouched by humans because of the difficulty to reach the remote ridgeline in the distance. Having been one of many alpine areas we had scouted throughout the summer, I knew we made the right choice; tomorrow was going to be a good day.

Fueling up on oatmeal and folgers singles, I rolled out of my tent. The hike in to our hillside was a nasty one, despite being only 2.5 miles as the crow flies, it seems like a walk in the park on a topographical map, until you took into account the 2,100 feet of elevation gain. Side-hilling through avalanche shoots and alpine blueberry fields and, of course, the all too present alder thicket so thick you fear you’ll never get free are the norm. Needless to say, one wrong step anywhere up there and you are in for a long roll down.

Bushbeating my way up the ridge to the peak, I was making good time, arriving to the alpine blueberry fields, at around 10:30 a.m., I worked my way toward the summit. Having glassed up two bear on my way through an avalanche shoot, I had high hopes, despite the fact that Jim had tagged not one but two bears in consecutive days with his rifle.

Once on top of the ridge I failed to glass up the bear I had seen on the approach. The west facing edge of the ridge allowed for a chance to glass berry fields for a quarter mile in either direction. The backside of the hill was another story; it was a sheer drop, where the only trails were made by the local mountain goats, and despite being August, the alpine bowls still held plenty of snow.

Being midday I figure the bear were holed up for a quick nap, so I decided to take lunch on a rock outcropping that stuck out from the hillside like a diving board. Halfway through an outstanding alpine lunch of tuna and crackers, my attention was quickly grabbed by a beautiful cinnamon color bear as it emerged 120 yards downhill from my position.

Quickly rolling off the backside of my perch, I put my pack on, preparing for the stalk. The stalk would not be a long one, but with little cover in the shin-high blueberry field and the insane angle of the hill, it promised to prove interesting.

Using the few bushes I had for cover, I slowly began a butt-sliding maneuver downhill toward the bear. At 40 yards, I nocked an arrow, while the bear gorged itself on the prevalent berries, oblivious to my approach from above. As I eased in closer, bringing the bear level with me on the hillside, I prepared for the shot opportunity to come.

Stalking a predator like a bear is an amazing experience; whether it’s your first hunt of the season or in my case the ninth opportunity, your heart races to its maximum. The first thing you realize about a predator is their general lack of worry, as they know that they are biggest, meanest animal in the land.

As the bear entered a car-sized patch of brush, I moved ever closer, and as it emerged I was presented with a quartering away, 22-yard shot.

Coming to draw, I anchored in, relying on the hours and hours of practice to take over. On the release I knew something was horribly wrong, as I watched through my sight housing as the arrow cartwheeled, sailing harmlessly over the bears back by an inch! Startled, it ran downhill, pausing to look back at what had made the strange noise. Nocking another arrow, I determined the bear to be at 30 yards and, as if on autopilot I drew back, releasing a perfect shot.

My PSE X-force propelled the arrow at 302 feet per second, covering the distance in a heartbeat and connecting with the bear, as it let out a deep roar. The bear wheeled around, traveling only 20 yards before expiring, but unfortunately gravity kicked in and sent it rolling downhill another 200 yards, where it came to rest on a small rock bench on the cliff face.

The feeling of approaching an animal you have worked so hard for, in my eyes, has no equal. Sitting on the rock bench, the cinnamon colored bear next to me, I looked out over the crystal clear lake a mile below, and was hit with a feeling of pride that only comes with the realization of a true self-accomplishment.

The pack out was everything I thought I would be, as Jim had warned me to watch for approaching bear as I cleaned my harvest. This rang true as I put the final game bag of meat into my internal frame pack and was surprised by rocks falling from the cliff face above me, signaling me to the approach of another bear to the kill site. Quickly assessing my situation, I shouldered my pack, diving straight down the treacherous shale slope for the “safety” of the alders below, as more rocks rained down on the kill site from above.

The descent was the equivalent of walking down a ladder facing forward, heels digging in every step. Despite adding some distance to the trek, and the 75-plus pounds of bear meat, the descent went off without a hitch and several hours later I was jamming down the miles of dirt road leading from the trailhead, my first high alpine bear safely on its way to the freeze and with a memory that will last a lifetime!

Hunting the Valley of the Gods

There is a certain understanding that comes from a perfect moment: a time when both hunter and animal understand what is truly happening. Regardless of the moment’s perfect simplicity, as I knelt beside the lush alpine meadow, arrow slowly creeping back on my rest, with a lone bull only yards away, I couldn’t help but think of the effort it took to reach that point.

Full moon nights meant the sweet September sound of rut-crazed elk echoed through the meadows and timber. Love struck bulls divided cows, fought one another and dug wallows, all within several hundred yards of our drop camp. This was elk hunting heaven.

Opening day of Washington’s archery elk season found a member of our camp, Rick Owen, knee-deep in elk, as he loosed a perfect shot at 36 yards on his first archery harvest. The shot sealed both the fate of the 6x6 bull and the memory for Rick, as he watched the 300-class bull collapse after only 40 yards. High-fiving, heavy packs and burning legs marked the occasion, as load-after-sweet-load of venison found its way to hang on the meat pole in camp.

Thirteen days of hunting the high country had produced a lifetime of adventure and close calls. Bulls continued their nighttime activity, screaming bugles with one another, but turning off the instant the sun hit the horizon. Seventy-five miles and more than half a dozen bulls worked within range, had tailored a foolproof technique of cow calling into dark, north-facing slopes used for bedding.

One great aspect to spending the entirety of elk season in the field is the chance to pattern particular bulls and two in the area had my full attention.

One bull dubbed “Glunk,” due to his inability to fire off a true bugle, worked his small harem of cows across a familiar drainage like clockwork. His 7x7, 350” frame, made him unmistakable, with 10-inch tines sticking strait out off each of his sword points; he truly was the master of the high country.

He exuded dominance as he stood in the meadow a mere 37 yards from my position, having just demolished several small trees and creating a new hot tub sized wallow, his actions rang louder than his bugle: he was the boss. With no shot opportunity, I was forced to watch as his head, adorned with massive, chocolate colored antlers, looked back and forth for the “cow” that had lured him into the open. Unable to find his female friend, Glunk turned back, walking slowly into the timber, destroying one more sapling as if to prove a point and becoming a campfire legend for the remainder of the trip.

Glunk was not the only object of my affection, as he shared what quickly became known as “the Valley of the Gods,” with another impressive 6x6 bull.

The bull had a system: spend the majority of the day high in the timber, wallowing and shadowing Glunk’s harem for cows coming into cycle, then dropping down to feed in the moon-drenched basins. Formulating a plan to intercept the bull, I found myself directly in his path on the evening of the thirteenth day.

My long, estrus cow calls echoed deep into the timber, quickly being returned by a crisp bugle from several hundred yards distant. The next set of calls were once again interrupted, as the unseen bull closed the distance on a run, crashing through the downed timber and blueberry bushes.

Adjusting my position, I carefully ranged objects along his expected route, making mental notes and visualizing his approach in an attempt to stay calm. No sooner had I finished ranging did he appear a mere 65 yards ahead, closing the distance to the basin opening and my ambush.

Sixty-five, 51, 41, 35 yards; the bull kept coming, entering the opening with reckless abandon not typical of a mature bull. Advancing head-on toward where I knelt motionless, I watched his legs, afraid to look him in the eye or to see the massive rack as he turned broadside at 10 yards.

Quartering slightly, the bull glanced side-to-side in search of the cow that lured in into the opening, turning his head to the right for a moment I took the opportunity to slowly reach full-draw. Anchoring in, my top pin glowing bright behind his shoulder, the bull turned and looked at me, his posture immediately showing a moment of realization, as my arrow released.

Crossing the opening on a full-run, the bull ran headlong into a small tree and expired within sight, having only traveled 90 yards in about 15 seconds.

I lay down in the grass, looking upward. My breath filling the crystal clear September sky as the last of shooting light faded away, I was filled with an appreciation for the time spent with friends, miles of hiking, hours of calling and days of dreaming for this exact moment.

Choosing the right tool for the archery job

For many archers the end of archery season signals a time to reflect on the past seasons hunts, evaluate their preparations, as well as begin to look at changes that can be made in gear.

With so many selections of archery-related gear on the market it is easy for shooters to look past the most vital element to success in the field: the bow they shoot.

The commonly used phrase, “there’s a tool for every job,” fits perfectly in the sport of archery. But how do you determine the right tool?

(Riverside Archery owner Gary Ludwig--right--with a 2012 Mathews Z7 bow).

The first step is to identify your price range and what your intended focus will be, with an emphasis on hunting style and venue. Do you spend most of your time chasing mule deer in open country? What about close-quarter backcountry elk hunting or Blacktail deer hunting in dense alder bottoms?

“As an elk hunter I like a compact bow, whereas guys from eastern Washington that are desert mule deer type hunters like the longer bows,” said Gary Ludwig, owner of Riverside Archery in Mount Vernon.

A compact bow, typically in the 28 to 31 inch range, is easier to maneuver in dense country, while a longer 33 to 35 inch axle-to-axle bow offers a more stable platform where long shots may be necessary, such as in open sage country.

Bow geometry—the limb and riser design—has a significant impact on the how the bow reacts, even more so than a bows brace height, says Matt Schmitz, owner of Bull of the Woods archery in Sequim. Limb geometry, whether the bow has parallel limbs or not, drastically changes the string angle when the archer is at full-draw and varies from bow to bow.

Issues arise when archer switch from longer axle bows to short ones or visa versa. Shorter axle bows change peep height considerably, and require a precise setup process.

Newer past-parallel limb bows continually decrease brace height—the distance from the “throat” of a bows grip to the string—in pursuit of more speed. This, however, is not a major concern, Schmitz said. “Depending on the manufacture, you can go down to 5.5 inches of brace height and not sacrifice any accuracy.”

“The biggest thing I have with brace height is if it gets down too low, they can catch on your clothing in certain situations. That can be an issue in the field,” Ludwig said.

Newer bows have pushed the envelope of arrow speed, typically advertising an IBO speed determined by a 350-grain arrow shot from a 70-pound bow. This speed thrill creates issues as archers, both new and veteran, quickly become “over bowed,” says Ludwig.

Just because an archer can shoot an 80-pound bow once does not mean that it is the right choice, Ludwig said. The key should be comfort; where you can draw the bow in one fluid, smooth motion.

“You got to shoot what’s very comfortable, because bows today have enough energy, even at 50-pounds, to drive them home on an elk even, and get the job done,” Ludwig said.

“There’s a bow to fit any body,” Schmitz said. The key to finding the right bow is to identify your price range, the game you intend to chase and get a bow fitted properly by a knowledgeable dealer.

The start of one amazing adventure

“There’s a buck!” Uncle Scott said, “ I think it’s a shooter!”

What happened next was a mad scramble for bows, releases and rangefinders, as our once well-organized gear became strewn about the ground.

The buck walked a mere 20 yards away from the outskirts of camp, watching us with an amused look on his face, his perfectly symmetrical 2x2 rack sticking out like a billboard saying ‘better luck next year!’

Having been in camp only 15 minutes, we all found this little guy pretty amusing and dubbed him “Leroy,” as he sauntered to the shade of a Sitka spruce only 20 yards from camp. The amused look on his face never left as he bedded and commenced watching us gathering our gear that had been thrown haphazardly around.

This was the start of our 2011 wilderness hunt.

Fresh off the excitement of having a “camp deer” and wanting to get a feel for the area, I quickly unpacked the rest of my gear and dawned my camo. Pete was the first to comment: so you’re going on a Jameson walk? It should be noted that a ‘Jameson walk’ has become synonymous over the years as either being filled with a. close encounters, or b. a successful harvest of an animal. Just the mere utterance means that something odd may happen.

This ran through my head as I eased my bow back down from full-draw. I had been working through the clearings near camp in hope that a mule deer or bear would take full advantage of the full moon phase and head for the open meadows. With the light fading quickly I progressed into the final clearing near camp.

Entering the opening I noticed the gray hind end of a deer not 20 yards to my left, half-obscured by berry plants. Quickly nocking an arrow I peered through the brush, looking for the signs of a shooter buck but all my binoculars showed was the perfect 2x2 rack of good old Leroy.

Another flash of gray caught my eye, as a deer fed away from the meadow to my right. Adjusting my Leupold binoculars once more I focused on another buck. He was a small-framed 3x3 with a small sliver of velvet hanging down on one side of his rack. My rangefinder flashed 34 yards, as he quartered away from me, his head lodged in the foliage.

Coming to draw, I settled my glowing sight pins behind the bucks shoulder blade. It was at this point a strange thing happened: I second-guessed myself. Easing my bow back down, still undetected, I thought of the 15 days of hunting yet to come and the realization that I had only been in the backcountry for a mere 5 hours and was about to release an arrow.

“Never pass up a buck on the first day that you would be happy to harvest on the last day,” was what Uncle Scott had told me not two hours before. ‘He’s right’ I thought to myself, as I eased my bow back, once again settling my pins on the buck, easing into my shot sequence.

In a flash my broadhead tipped arrow was in flight, contacting the exact point I had aimed for, connecting with a “CRACK!” The buck immediately sprinted for cover, lunging several times and crashing to the ground a mere 30 yards from the point of contact.

An incredible sense of relief rushed over me, as I replayed what had just transpired, pleased with the fact I had made a clean, ethical shot and would be able to fill my freezer with some amazing venison.

As we hung the buck in camp Uncle Scott, Pete, Rick and I joked about being in camp only five hours and having a 3x3 Mule deer down, and how it was sure to be the start of one amazing adventure. Little did we know what the very next day had in store…

Breaking the archery mold

In the ever-changing world of archery, whether your focus is toward tournament archery, hunting or you just love the 'release' of shooting your bow, it can be easy to find yourself becoming comfortable with a routine.

Since taking up the sport of archery I have found myself suffering from the stagnate feeling of routine. This became painful evident when friends started referring to my opening day hunting plans as "going back to your good ole' stomping grounds." This signaled to me that I need to break from away from the mold, so when my good friend and hunting partner Pete Joers offered the chance to join him on an epic drop-camp wilderness hunt I jumped at the opportunity.

It is a common for hunting stories to involve months of preparation, training and the days to crawl by as the much-anticipated trip nears. This story is no different as running, backpacking, and gear-refining took on an nearly manic approach.

I was not the only one affected by the upcoming event. Pete took this adventure as an opportunity to revitalize his life, shedding over 30 pounds and diving into the wilderness every chance he got. Connecting with each other between our off season excursions and comparing notes on gear while going over and over stories of the past season became commonplace, further fueling the fire.

I would like to present my hunting adventure as the days passed, giving a blow-by-blow account of what transpired as well as telling the road that led to such an amazing start to the 2011 archery season.

Like most hunters I prefer to know the area that I will be spending my time--in this case 15 days--wandering around. This entails bonsai scouting trips throughout the month of August as the late snow finally receded from my areas. This also meant that trips would serve a double purpose: scouting and bear hunting!

Snow has a strange effect on bear. This is attributed to the high country berries either taking up to a month longer to ripen or, as the National Forest ranger stated, not growing at all. This seemed to be a reoccurring theme throughout the state as my three-day weekends turned into a frustrating search for a bear.

Areas that, historically, held up to six bear on one hillside, at one time, were suddenly devoid of life. The lack of bear made my choice to scout my elk area that much easier to stomach, as I trudged up the trail in the hot summer sun. Accessing elk country has never been so crowded, I surmised, as I passed several groups along my route. It was in between swatting trophy-sized mosquitos, wiping sweat from my brow and dodging horseback riders that things started to get interesting.

I had just completely ate shit on my mountain bike--making sure to strategically land face-first to avoid buggering up my bow on my pack--and decided it was in my best interest to proceed from here on foot. Not a quarter mile from the scene of the crash did I come face-to-face with a black bear who was equally surprised to see me.

Rounding a bend in the trial, I had been admiring a rock formation that was dissected by the trail when I glance into a chest high mountain blueberry patch and noticed a 200-pound bear staring right at me. The bears surprise was evident as I--in plain view--proceeded to drop my pack, unhook my bow, strap on my release and open a pocket to get out my rangefinder. These are all points that I have stressed to others in the past: always have your gear on while hunting! So of course one of the few times I disregard my own rules it come back to bite me--not literally.

Ranging the bear at 28 yards but having no shot due to the hard quartering-to angle, we continued our stare down, that is until a man with two horses rounded the bend immediately to my right, sending the bear into a frenzy in the opposite direction.

The gentleman must have seen my adrenaline-riddled look when he asked, "have you seen anything yet?" I smiled and told him about what had just transpired and he apologized over and over which I still don't understand because, hey, crap happens and it was awesome anyways! So it was back on the trail in search of the next random adventure. This time my bow was in hand and my release securely attached.

The rest of my scouting trip was not quite as eventful and can be summarized like this:

*82 (number counted, there were more) mosquito bites

*only minor lacerations and bruises from my bike crash, no damage to my bow either, thank goodness

*1 more bear within 30 yards. It was only about 60 pounds, which got my blood pumping wondering where momma bear might be!

*20 miles covered with 4,000 feet of elevation gain

*No elk spotted or heard

*One mule deer

*One amazing night of camping under a true wilderness sky.

Oh, did I mention the mosquitos? EVERYWHERE!