I find myself sitting in the truck just before break of dawn, on what will be my last day. This mornings bitter taste of defeat is strong like the smell of a rutting bull elk. Though, I smell nothing due to the fact that I blew dust all in my face while closing the back glass of camper shell. This “sneezing fit” will surely rid the dust from my nose, soon. Nothing is quite satisfying as a good sneeze or two. Except, maybe, getting home to see my family, hugging my wife, and holding my little girl. Nothing matches the true satisfaction I get from them. Not even these mountains.

Year long, I am sick for the mountain life, chasing the majestic sound of bull elk, for days on end. But, today, I must call it. Just as in most every game played, there is a time limit. I have hit that time.

I gear up, grab my bow to head across and down the open meadow. I reminisce of a time, in this exact location, a bull pushed is heard of cows right to us. Right over the hill they came through the wide open. Hagen, Tyler, and myself were caught by surprise. We quickly find cover in the trees and I called to them a few times to hopefully steer them in for a shot. They didn’t like that non too much. They made a ninety degree turn.

Slowly, I walk the trail that will lead to the flat ridge top. It may be my last day but I intend to hunt with the same intensity as I did on the first. Winds are light and predictable. Nothing at all to the likes of the winds I had been dealing with. It’s peaceful. Perfect morning to keep it slow and soak up every last minute. Wind is moving left to right in the downhill direction. I can work with that. I take the low trail.

This morning’s walk takes me back to when I first started hunting. I would spend hours on a Saturday walking our back 40 and the hills of the timber company, behind us. In the spring, it would be for the sake of a gobbling Tom. For the fall, it would be any legal buck deer. That was the beginning of something passionate. The moments from where failures and successes, of the chase, would only make me crave it more and more. A place and time that created in me a burning desire, like fire, to be outdoors, in the woods, or on a mountain, every chance I could find.

My time here, especially today, are like those Saturdays I once spent roaming the back 40. Simple, easy, without responsibility, unbothered, free. I suppose that’s a description of something we all crave. Although, it has been an elk-less morning. I found exactly what I needed.

I continue the trail down this flat top ridge to the point of intent. A few years back, I called in a bull for Hagen, here. The opportunity was missed. I had high hopes to have a little reconciliation in this spot. I sit for a couple hours, only calling a few times. Not a glimpse or sound of elk.

As I walk the trail back out, my mind gets set on home. As time is on the mountain, life too, is short. The two oldest kids will soon be on their own. My little girl will soon be too big to pick up to hold. I still think of myself, as young. But, the truth is, I am now middle aged. Life is more than half over. My beard is nearly all gray. Not much hair left on my head, yet it grows in places it shouldn’t. Anything up close is blurry without readers. However, I feel great and refuse to accept the idea that it is all downhill after 50. I am to believe, the best is yet to come.

“One day, many years from now, your legs will no longer carry you to places like these. Earn the stories you’ll tell around the fire once that day comes.” -Author Unknown

From the woods of Mississippi to the mountains of the West, I find things of great importance. I find sanctuary. I find peace. I find myself. I find love. I find God.

Discover what you find those in. Make a mark and leave it so that it may be found. Because, in two more generations, they may only know your name.

Time to break down camp and pack it up tight. Over eighteen hundred miles to my family and my compound. Though, I missed some great opportunities, I never leave here empty handed.