Richard has been mourning the loss of his hunting buddies for over a year now. Finally, I decided to apply for the position. Last weekend he agreed to a trial, since he had no other applicants for the dear hunt in the Steens Mountains in Eastern Oregon (just north of Denio).
It started off great. Friday afternoon we drove the four hours from Klamath then backpacked in four miles, arriving at our destination just in time to set up camp in the dark. It was a lovely evening...unseasonably warm. The wide open spaces perfect for star gazing. I actually wondered aloud why I'd stayed home all these years.
It wasn't hard to rise before dawn since we had both rotated all night long trying to find a comfortable position. There was no time for breakfast...just a granola bar as we headed up the trail in the dark! We must be in position before dawn rises over the east mountains. Our best chance is at first light, I am told. With well placed steps, I followed up the sagebrush covered mount. Each time I stopped to catch my breath, I was told to "glass those hills!" Apparently, that was part of my job description as carrier of the binoculars...the spotter.
First light came and went uneventfully. Now it was time to do some tracking. It went something like this..."Hike up to that stand of aspens, then go across the ridge to that juniper over there." I reply, "Okay, and what are you going to do?" "Wait for you by that juniper." Apparently when your role is to carry the weapon, you get to "wait." My job was to "flush the deer." So up the mountain I trudged to the ever elusive aspen stand in my Elmer Fudd orange cap and flagger vest. Eventually I find the correct juniper and my hunting partner, but no deer.
The new plan is to hike over the next ridge to a spring and follow the creek down into the valley (still farther away from camp), deer need water on a hot day after all. By this time I was starting to get a bit tired of the cross country hiking...through brush, around rocks and over one ridge after another. To add to my weariness, I was sneezing and sniffling...apparently my nasal passages had detected juniper pollen in the air. The hunting partner complained, "If you don't stop sniffling and sneezing we won't see a deer all day!" I didn't, and Richard was right...we didn't!
I don't quite know how it happened. One ridge turned into a dozen. "Let's try over there." "I wonder if there is water down in that valley." "There must be deer with all that nice grass over there." On we trudged...or I should say, I trudged. Richard seemed to have endless energy. Could this be the man who was DNF in the first annual Bailey triathlon? That's when I decided that I'm a hiker who needs a destination...a waterfall, a mountain peak, a glacier fed lake, a finish line. After twelve hours of wandering there was no destination in sight, an no motivation on my part to carry on...until I heard the words, "let's head back to camp." You should have seen me hike..."stay behind me, you'll scare away the deer."
At the end of the day, I had come to the conclusion that there was no such thing as a good hunting partner of the female variety. I had really given it my all, I tried not to complain, though I must admit my enthusiasm wained as the day drug on. But then...I met her on the hike out the next morning. She was a cute young thing all decked out in camo with a hand knit hunter orange scarf around her neck (seriously...where do you buy that color of yarn? Not at
my JoAnn's). Her hair was slicked back in a neat ponytail under her camo cap and her smile wasn't pasted on. She whispered when she spoke like a "real hunter" would...no sniffling or sneezing here. But, most important of all...she carried her own G.U.N. I wanted to pull her partner aside and tell him what a gem he had. I'm sure
they saw deer that day.
So when it's said and done...I've learned a few things. I'm not giving up; I'll be more prepared next time. I won't leave home without:
- Claritin
- My own day pack with food and water
- A handkerchief (you can't bring enough toilet paper)
- A good paperback
- A spork (do you think the eating utensils would be part of packing the food or cooking equipment?...just curious).
I'm hoping my trial period will be extended and I can enjoy many outdoor experiences. I'm just grateful that the hunt was "unsuccessful" and the only hind quarter I had to pack out was my own!
Brian began his email this week with a little proof that he is learning the language. He adds, "The language is going good but it can be so frustrating, sometimes I feel like I am so far behind." When I typed "Hvordan gor det?" into Google, I got "How are you? in Norwegian." Maybe someone should tell Brian he is attending the wrong language classes!
