Did someone beat me? Am I hungover? Why am I so hot? What time is it? This was a rough morning. It was late morning, and the sun had my tent feeling like a tanning bed. I rolled out, got to moving, then started to feel much better. Except for the hunger. Nothing to eat the night before, and my body was craving calories. Coffee and a freeze-dried breakfast skillet had me feeling whole again. It turned out to be a lazy day. I hit the road to gander around to see what we could conjure up. I found one bar of phone signal, and I was sure to get a point forecast before it was lost. Big chance of snow with accumulation for the evening, overnight, and next day. The day was unproductive other than relaxing at camp around the fire that evening. 

Overnight, I woke several times. Each time, I could hear the sprinkling of snow on my tent. There was no doubt what daybreak would hold. Although, it never seemed to get light when my internal clock said it should. Hagen eventually rolled out, and I could hear the crunch as he moved about. I was in hopes that it wasn’t a foot deep. It was only around an inch, but we were in the clouds. I couldn’t see out to 100 yards. It was a whiteout. It was still and ultra-quiet. Peaceful. Now we simply need a fire, and that we did to stay warm. 

After a few hours, we rolled up camp and hit the road to explore and decide what needed to be the next step. The forecast was about the same for the next day. We drove the rough mountain road, and I talked to everyone I saw. Some elk hunters. Some deer hunters. All had the same conclusion on elk as we had. A group from Alabama took a 5×5 muley. One resident took a female wolf. The same guy also informed us of the abandoned trails. (If only we had met him on the way in.) Guys from Texas got the heck off the mountain. They were first-timers. The guy from California had his pack goats and meant business. A local tried to convince us into another hell hole that he said held elk way back when he hunted them. Have to watch the locals when they find out you are from MS. They like to send nonresidents on goose chases. I thanked him anyway but saw his smirk in my side view mirror as I drove away. Been there, done that, buddy. 

I didn’t want to leave. I never do. Time in the mountains is always short. Never enough to satisfy this aching urge I have the other 51 weeks a year. This year marked 20 years since my first trip out west. I haven’t been every year, but I do not plan to miss another. Some guys are true warriors when it comes to elk hunting. I am grateful for the few I have taken, but honestly, I strive to be a warrior of the mountains. I love the chase of elk, but if they still only roamed the plains, I wouldn’t be all that interested. It’s not me against you. Politics doesn’t mean squat. Money isn’t important. It’s simply the mountains. It’s peaceful, spiritual, renewing, rewarding. I need to decide where I am going next year. 

“The mountains are calling, and I must go”

-John Muir