Birdhunting Kansas

It is really easy to get stressed out with school and work, and for me this climaxes in November. This year, I found the answer to my problem. Take a week off and do absolutely nothing.

A while back we got the idea to go on a pheasant hunt in Garden City, Kansas. My dad has some friends out that way with some great farmland for hunting. So about a month ago we put the final touches on making it happen over this Thanksgiving break.

Billy (dad), Ty (brother), Mike (brother-in-law), Jerry, Ryan, and I met up in Garden City at the Drees Farm on Saturday ready for a great week of hunting. We hunted three full days and saw a lot of country.

This was a new experience for us westerners that are accustomed to hunting in the mountains. I now know why they call them flat-landers. You can see for miles, but if it weren't for the curve of the earth, I am pretty sure you could see forever. And not only is it flat but I only counted about a dozen trees in the whole county. Of course those were planted in some guys yard.


We hunted uncut milo fields the first day. This was tricky since a pheasant can run faster then he can fly. You can walk and walk all day, but they only fly when they run out of cover. So when you are walking a section, you walk a mile, but the birds don't fly until you have chased them to the last hundred yards or so.

Needless to say, we walked at least ten miles a day. But who hasn't gone hunting with my dad and not worn out his hunting boots?


Then next day we went out with a friend of the Drees. We hunted a little milo, some corn, and a lot of CRP. CRP stands for Crop Reduction Program. Basically the government pays the farmers to not grow crops on certain parts of their farms to prevent over harvesting of the land. Well, a CRP field is a field of native grass and tumble weeds.


We also learned the technique of jumping pits. Around some of the farms you will find old dirt tanks that are dry and overgrown with grass and weeds. Well the pheasants really like to hang out in these pits. We would surround the pit, and send Ty and boomer in to jump the birds out.

The last day was the best day for hunting. Duane and Daryl were kind enough to leave the last field of milo in forty yard strips for us. This keeps the birds from escaping laterally. That way they all run to the end and fly rather then just run around.

We were able to hunt the same strips of milo a couple of times and still have a lot of birds flushing.

All in all it was a great hunt. We got a lot of birds, saw some huge deer, and had some good times with friends. I hope this can happen again. Maybe I can talk my dad into taking me deer hunting there next year. We'll see.



I want to thank Duane, Daryl, Steve, Wayne, and everyone else that made this trip a success.

By the way, I plan on writing about coyote hunting Kansas-style and how to exit a moving truck. So keep an eye out for more from this trip.

Gila Wilderness Elk Hunt

Man, I wish I were in New Mexico during this time of year. The one thing that I have missed the most the past six years since I got kicked out of the coup is best portrayed in the pictures below. It is rifle elk season right now and my dad and little brother have been right there in the action.




These pictures are of this most recent hunt which was obviously successful. Thanks to Bud Gabriel, this hunt has been well documented with very high quality photos.

American Fork Canyon In HD

I finally got a chance to get out and get some fresh air. Dan the man and myself decided to take a ride up AF Canyon to see the scenery in Fall colors. If you ever find yourself in Utah in the Fall, I recommend you take this drive. I am no photographer, and the lighting isn't great, but here is a sampling of the view.

Alaska '09

Seriously, school is the outdoorsman's worst enemy. I can honestly say that I have not been able to get out one time in the last month. But I just wanted to update a little from my top five list of places I would want to visit. I have recently purchased round trip tickets to Juneau, Alaska. That is right, my number 1 place that I want to visit, will come off the list in May of 2009. I will spare the details of the trip for when I actually go, but here is a quick run down of the plan. We will boat out to an island and stay a few days on a beach cabin. I hope to be able to fish and crab a little bit. Then the second half of the week we will hike up the mountain and stay in a mountain top cabin for the remainder of the trip. I am guaranteeing great pictures and great stories, so stay tuned.

Summer is Done

Well I sit here today at my desk thinking about the last four months. I like to go through my pictures from time to time and remember the good times. But this morning as I was going through my files I realized that my summer is officially over today. I start up with classes tomorrow and my free time will be very limited.

At the same time, just because summer is over doesn't mean that the outdoors season is over. Sure there may not be much more fishing, rock climbing, or hiking, but I will find a way to get outside.


It'll be like last year when we decided to go bouldering at Triassic near Price, UT. We knew there was snow, but still got out our tents and sleeping bags and hiked in near some pretty good bouldering problems. We woke up the next morning to a fresh 8" of snow on top of the foot and a half that was already there. That was probably the most fun I've had on a bouldering trip.



And I am sure that we will repeat Cabin Fever again this winter. Last year we spent a long weekend at a cabin at Panguitch Lake. Snow mobiles, sleds, and a lot of friends make a good combination for fun. We'll be looking to break the record for the longest sled ride ever.



With fall setting in, I just have to pack away my fishing pole and get ready for the hunts. Unfortunately I didn't draw a single tag for New Mexico, but I still get out with friends that have tags. And there is always the Thanksgiving quail hunt that has become somewhat of a tradition in our family. I'll be sure to shoot plenty of clays and maybe be able to out shoot my brother Ty this year.


So just because this is the last day of summer, and I am stuck inside during a thunderstorm, doesn't mean it is a sad day. What are you going to do to get out this fall and winter?

Day Hike

This past Saturday I found myself sitting on the couch watching TV at nine in the morning. I realized that this was the first time in a long time that I had an entire day without a single thing planned to do. Lately I have been running crazy trying to get as much fun crammed into this summer as I can. So what would do with my "free" day? I could have easily sat there and watched SportsCenter all day long. I could have found a good book to read. I could have done the dishes. Instead I decided to go on a hike.

I am lucky enough to be close to some very cool hiking locations. There are a few peaks along the Wasatch front that are popular destinations for the day hiker. Starting in the north you have Mount Timponogos, Squaw Peak, Y Mountain, Spanish Fork Peak, and Mount Nebo. I had only been to the top of Spanish Fork Peak, twice actually, so I decided that I would hike to the top of Y Mountain.

I want to start by saying that I recommend this hike to anyone that likes the outdoors. The trailhead is right here in Provo, as you first must hike to the Y. The trail then heads out from the southern point of the Y and heads around the intimidating bluffs that over-look the town. I had figured on two hours to get to the top and an hour and a half back. If you go on this hike in the middle of the day I suggest taking plenty of water. If I were to do the hike again I would want to leave early in the morning. The sun just beats down on the south slopes in the afternoon.

It took us about three hours to get up to the top. We weren't in any kind of hurry though. I bet at a good steady pace it can easily be done in two to two and a half hours. Most of that time you will be hiking uphill, so be prepared for a workout. All of that work however, is paid off in the end with some very awesome views.

From the top you can see all of Utah County from American Fork to Payson. You can also see the other popular peaks along the front. But the real view is off of the back side of the peak. You get a firsthand look as some of the roughest mountains around. I consider myself an adventurous person, but i would think twice before taking off across some of those ridges.

All in all, the hike was a success. We were back within six hours of leaving, and that was with plenty of resting and sightseeing. No one got hurt and I didn't waste the day away in my apartment.

My Adventures Wish List

It was another hot summer night and I caught myself day dreaming about places that I would like to visit. With my recent romp in the Bronx, I remembered how fun and un-relaxing it is to travel, and I like it that way. I realized that every spot that I thought about visiting is not quite the big city routine of say, New York, or even the popular destinations in Europe. I have included my top five wish list for vacation spots, and also the big draw for me to want to visit them.

5. Montana

I love green, I love the mountains, and I love to fish. Ever since I was about ten and I saw the movie A River Runs Through It, I have been drawn to Montana. I don’t think I even know what the movie was about, but I can’t get the scenes of flowing mountain rivers, the whip of the fly-line, and legitimate trophy trout out of my head. Someday I hope to spend a week in my waders and try my hand at taming that wild.



4. British Columbia

I know what you are thinking; what could Canada possibly have to offer besides a cool picture with a Mountie and discount pharmaceuticals? Well, without doing any research on real statistics, I’d say Canada is about as close as you can get to untouched wilderness in the western hemisphere. With opportunities to hunt in British Columbia, I wouldn’t mind going after a Caribou, Brown Bear, and definitely a once in a lifetime Moose.


3. South Africa

Here is one that is hard. Not only because it is so far from home, no matter where in the US you call home, but because Africa just scares me. It’s not the man-eating lions, overly-aggressive Hippos, or even the stealthy salt-water crocodiles. What scares me most about Africa is political unrest and human disease. I know that not all of Africa is as bad as Hollywood and the news media would have me believe, and that is why it makes it on my list. I really would like to carefully plan a safe trip and have the opportunity to see what the Discovery Channel has been trying to show us for years.


2. South America

I really mean Southern Chile and Argentina when I write South America. For the last few years I have really wanted to go down and see first hand how beautiful the lower third of the continent is. After spending two years in the central part of Chile, I came home with a head full of stories the Chileans would tell me of huge rivers full of salmon and high mountain lakes so clear you can see heaven’s reflection. And while I am down there I might as well get my money's worth and visit Argentina, where I have heard rumors that you will not find better dove hunting in the entire world.


1. Kodiak Island

This should come as no surprise. Remember what I said about Canada being the most untouched wilderness in the western hemisphere? Well, Alaska might be the only place on earth that trumps that statement. And on Kodiak Island there is a higher concentration of Brown Bear then anywhere else. I don’t want to go all Timothy Treadwell and become one with the bear community, but honestly I can’t imagine anything cooler then watching a feeding frenzy during the salmon run. I doubt I will ever see that, but at least I would like to go on a guided bear hunt. While I am at it there is so much more that Alaska has to offer. I wonder how long I would have to go for to soak it all in?

Feel free to comment and tell me about your outdoor adventure dreams.

One more thing: Chris LeDoux say’s you haven’t lived until you see the Northern Lights. Add that to the list of why to visit Alaska.

Nueva York: It's a jungle out there

So I may have to wander a little from the main idea of this site during this post, but trust me this was as great an "outdoor" adventure as I have ever had.

First let me start by saying that we went for a hike. We flew across the country for a hike. This was the kind of hike that leaves the quads burning, the lungs wheezing and the mouth so dry you can't spit. Yet at the same time the view is so breath taking that you forget about the pain and price you paid to get to where you are, you just savor in the moment. That is how I felt when I finally made it to tier reserved section 6, row X, seat 1. That is how I felt when I saw with my own eyes "The House the Ruth Built" being played in by living legends. What a moment that was.

This isn't a blog about baseball. We did, however, manage to see two games between the Yankees and the Twins as well as a game between the Mets and the Phillies. But this isn't about that. This is about two young men, kids really, striking out into the unknown trying to find something. I think we found it.

What we found in the end may not be what we were looking for. I knew from the moment that the trip to New York was planned that we would see things that we had never experienced before. I knew that there would be a little culture shock involved. I even knew that there might be a little danger in the living and traveling arraignments that we had made. What I didn't know was that our adventure, in the end, would make me appreciate my roots even more. I began to appreciate the west and it's wide openness. I began to realize that not everyone was as lucky as I was in having a loving family that cared about where I was and what I was doing. I definitely found gratitude for my education and endless potential ahead of me upon graduation. I began to savor the experiences that I have had in the out of doors that many people I encountered may never have the chance to experience.

All of this did not come at once though, and some of it I am just realizing now as I thumb through the 300+ pictures that we took (mostly Dan took the pictures). You see, at first I was in awe, then astonishment at the sheer density and massiveness of the city itself. Sure we have all seen pictures, and who hasn't caught one of the episodes of Law and Order on TNT played 24/7? But when you make it up to the first train platform and look out over the city you realize that it is not just Hollywood exaggerating the truth. It is for real.

Here is a list of a few things that we did in New York that just added to my experience:

• Rode the transit system, a lot
• Visited all five Boroughs of New York
  
• Bought and ate a hotdog from a street vendor
• Enjoyed the music of a homeless person trying to work for thier money
• Went to the top of the Empire State Building
• Walked down Broadway
• Explored Central Park
• Rode the Staten Island Ferry past the Statue of Liberty
• Visited numerous cathedrals around the city
• Visited cemeteries older then this country
• Stood where Washington stood when he gave the first inaugral adress
• Saw the Manhattan Temple
  
• Wandered through the American Museum of Natural History
• Walked by the New York Stock Exchange
• Moseyed through China town and Little Italy
• Heard at least 15 different languages
• Saw games at Yankee and Shea Stadiums before they are torn down
• Saw Ground zero for myself and took in the magnitude of what happened there
• Payed some Asian man $20 for a poor charcoal rendition of myself
• Almost witnessed a mutiny on a city bus
• Had a conversation with a drunk man on the subway, who in the end offered me a beer
• Viewed some of the coolest and worst graffiti ever sprayed on a brick wall
• At at the "Coffee Shop" from Seinfeld
• Ate real New York Pizza
• Got lost, found our way, got lost some more

I wish I had the words to really express what we experienced in New York, but I don't I think you should go there and see it for yourself. But especially you should see Yankee Stadium. There is no place on earth like it. Here are a few of the pictures that we took. Click on the slide show to view the web album.



If you want to know more about this trip you can email your question to casualoutdoorsman@gmail.com or simply comment below.

A Short Story

I don't consider myself a writer, but I have always thought that it would be cool to put together a series of short stories. Here is a little something that I wrote. It is fiction with little bits of reality peppered in.

“Keep is down back there,” Billy told Jake as they approached a huge ponderosa pine.

It was close to 6 am and the two had just come two and a half miles from camp to what Jake could only hope would be a successful tree stand. He tried to catch his breath, and obey the command of the guide, but keeping up with a man that spends the better part of the year out in the wilderness isn’t easy.

The fall in New Mexico is different for Jake then back home in New Jersey. One day it is 80 degrees outside and you can’t keep from sweating and the next you wake up to a flurry of snow on the ground. This morning, however, was calm. Almost eerily silent. The trek to this water hole was at a mind numbing pace through the high grass. The fog was so thick that Jake wouldn’t have been able to see much even if even if there was light. Just more motivation for to keep up with Billy. You wouldn’t want to get lost in these parts. No one deserves that kind of end.

He finally caught up feeling like he could breathe without wheezing and got next to the tree that Billy knelt by.

“I want you to climb up in this stand and be really still. Be patient and you will see a real Gila Wilderness giant,” he told me as I crouched down next to him. “I’ll be up on that knob over there glassing for a bit,” he said pointing into the grayish hue of the morning fog. Jake nodded his head having no idea where he was talking about. Finally before leaving he said, “If nothing comes in by 11, I’ll be back and we’ll try finding somethin’ over in hell’s canyon.” With that he was gone.

The sound of hell’s canyon wasn’t appealing to Jake. They had already covered some pretty rough country which would seem like hell to anyone not born with the mountain goat stature that his guide had. Jake was determined to listen to his instructions, being very still in wait for his trophy.

Jake had the opportunity to hunt out of a tree stand once before. He hoped his experience would help him this time around. He lashed his bow to the rope that was hanging over the edge of the seat twenty feet above his head, and started his climb on up.

The first light touched the dew saturated pine needles about a half hour later. This was going to be an exciting morning. The toughest part of hunting in a tree stand is boredom. The human mind can put up with the cold and sitting still usually isn’t all that tough, but keeping your mind active enough to not fall asleep can be a challenge. In the last little bit Jakes mind had gone through all the steps to drawing his bow silently, holding his 30 yard pin two inches high on the vitals, and squeezing the release. But his mind also thought about how the Yankees would pull through and win the divisional series with the Twins. Anything to keep his mind occupied. But now it would be a short bit and the sun would be up burning off the fog and he would be able to enjoy another beautiful New Mexico morning.

He glanced at his watch and it said 7:08. The sun now had burned through and was shining off the muddy water of the tank below his stand. He pulled out his rangefinder to take a couple of readings. Twenty-two yards to that bush. Sixty-eight yards to the far side of the tank. Seventeen to the near side. Now all that is left is the wait. After all, no one had ever accused Billy of being a liar.

It seriously couldn’t have been fifteen minutes, six squirrels, a covey of fool’s quail, and one pesky porcupine later when the silence was broken and Jake heard the first crack of a branch. Through the cut in the bush a hundred yards east of the tank something big was about to make an appearance. Jake couldn’t have known what it was; only that it was bigger and noisier than a Volkswagen beetle. Then appeared the dirty blonde rump, seven actually to be exact, of a of cow elk. Not quite what he was hoping for, but this couldn’t be a bad sign. He sat very still.

As the last cow took a drink and headed straight away from the stand, something caught Jake’s eye. Standing halfway between the cut in the brush and the tank was the majestic monster he had waited his whole life to see.

The behemoth watched the last of the cows disappear down into the draw to the south and he took his turn at the water hole. Only, he wasn’t there for a drink. It resembled more a French mud bath, only without the scented oils. He was in full rut just getting ready to take over that heard of cows. This bull was so rank that Jake could smell him up in the tree. He then moved to the edge of the water, almost as if he was listening to the commands Jake was giving in his head, to stand a mere twenty-four yards away.

Jake drew back his bow without the slightest tweak of a muscle, and held the twenty yard pin right on the kill zone. Hours of practice in the back yard were about to pay off. Endless nights imagining this very moment were about to come to fruition.

Little Sahara

It is not big news to anyone in the intermountain west that Utah is home to some great outdoor sites. From overnight camping sites to week long back country excursions, you can find it all over the state. I have been in the area for nearly four years and I am still discovering for myself the truth of that statement.

My most recent self discovery was Little Sahara Recreation Area in central Utah. What was once the sandy bottom of Lake Bonneville now is a favorite site for thrill seekers on two or four wheels. Hold on though, these dunes are not only for the well invested in all terrain vehicles. With developed camp sites including picnic tables, fire rings, and modern plumbing (yes, running water) it is a great place for that over night camp.

I made my trip down with a group of friends from school and unfortunately we didn't have the motored beast that we could hear all around us. We were still able to find fun in running in the silky-soft sand bare-foot while throwing a football or Frisbee.

I would recommend this spot to anyone with a dirt bike, four-wheeler, or dune buggy, but also to anyone that just wants to get away for the weekend and see a different take on the beauty that Utah's natural features have to offer.

Bowfishing Caballo

As a hunter, there are lulls in the season during which there is not much to do. This happens typically during the late spring and throughout the summer. This is a time when all forms of wildlife are bringing new young into the world, the big herds come down to lower ground to eat the new growth in the low valleys and meadows, and the hunting seasons are put on hold. Usually during this time the outdoorsman turns to large lakes and fresh streams to pursue that elusive Largemouth bass and German Brown trout. It is no different for me.

It was a couple of years ago that I was introduced to a different kind of off season “hunt.” Patrick Meitin, an outdoor writer and family friend, took my brother an I out on Caballo Lake in southern NM for a little bow fishing. I had heard of bowfishing before, but this would be the first time out for me.

If you already have a recurve bow, you can set yourself up with a bowfishing rig for about $60-$80. Lucky for us when we hunt with Pat have the gear and experience on our side. Ty and I have experience with a bow, so the only instruction we got was, “Aim below where you see the target.”

So with that we headed into the shallow waters on the north end of the lake. We started out on a flat bottom boat, to more quietly sneak up on the groups of fish, and ended the day wading the narrow channels on the far end of the lake.

Pat was right, aim a little low, and after a few shots we were ready for hours of action. We ended up shooting quite a few fish that day with Pat bringing in the biggest. On a few occasions we were lucky and hit two with one shot. This now is one of my favorite off season hunting activities.

Nuevo México

There are certain times in life, and sometimes you don't realize it in the moment, that you are experiencing something that you may never again experience. Looking back on this last weekend, I feel that I had one of those experience.

I had the opportunity to travel to New Mexico with my good friends Dan and Mike. We have had some pretty awesome experiences this summer, and this trip wouldn't disappoint either. In fact, apart from the 12 hour drive to Mimbres, the trip was just fun all around.

There was some serious preparation that went into this trip. First off, we had to book the trip in advance with Billy at Mimbres Taxidermy and Guide Service. Lucky for me, he is my dad and finding an open weekend for us wasn't too hard. Secondly, we had to grow mustaches. A mustache may come free, but it was the most expensive part of the trip. We all suffered the ridicule and weird looks for a few weeks just to enjoy one weekend on the back of a horse in the woods as real men.


And as real men we were woken up by my dad at 6:30 am on Friday morning and had the opportunity to unload four tons of oat hay, shuttle the horses around for the pasture, and saddle the seven we were taking along. We finally hit the trail around 2 in the afternoon.



I was anxious to get my lure in the water. It had been years since I have fished on the Gila river, and I was really hoping that it was as good as I remembered. That first afternoon we fished the holes close to camp before dinner, and caught quite a few fish between us all. Of course my dad caught the biggest one. The only good thing about him catching a big one so early on in the trip meant that he would go back to camp and feed the horses and make dinner, giving us a chance to catch some fish.







We were blessed to have rain every evening of the trip. It rained (and haled) just enough to break the New Mexico heat and give us the energy to keep having fun.




We found, actually my dad showed us, an Indian ruin on a ridge above the river. We found a few arrow heads, some pottery and a view to die for. It is obvious why the Mimbreno Indians chose this spot to camp, or live, or whatever they used the site for.




The second day fishing was just as good as the first. Dan was proud to have caught the biggest brown trout. We all had a lot of luck and we even decided to keep a couple to eat for dinner. We convinced Dan that most people eat the fried tails, and of course he ate the one on his fish. I guess they don't taste as bad as you would imagine.



We made it back to the truck in the early afternoon on Sunday with enough time to get home and recuperate. We didn't have any problems with the horses, the dogs stuck around, caught a tone of fish, and I even saw a black bear about fifty yards away. I would say it was a good trip. One for the ages.





I want to dedicate this post to Gus. Gus is my hound dog that I picked out of a litter of puppies about fourteen or fifteen years ago. He has been a great dog throughout the years and brought great memories. This was probably his last trip out with us as he is getting a little old to run with the young dogs. Thanks Gus.

It Runs in the Family

I have sometimes wondered, and maybe you have too, what drives a person to crave the outdoors. There are many plausible answers. Maybe it is because you get tired of your cubicle world, or maybe you just like the fresh air the mountains bring. I have always felt it was in my blood. Let me tell you why.

First, let me point out that I come from a long line of outdoorsmen. My granddad was a cowboy by trade, roaming the mountains on horseback chasing cows. In the fall he would take paying hunters into the same mountains after trophy deer. I never did get to meet him, but I have seen pictures and even a silent film of his hunting camp. One heck of an outdoorsman.

My dad is the best hunter that I have ever met. He’s not so bad with a rod and reel in his hand either. The first memory I have of the outdoors, a picture my mom showed me more than a memory, was a muzzle loader deer hunt. I couldn’t have been six months old in a baby carrier on my dad’s back. He has run a very successful guide service for quite a few years now.

My mom also loves the outdoors. She taught me to love more than the chase, but to really appreciate the other aspects of nature. If you want to know what kind of plant you are looking at, or how a rock formation was made, she is the one to ask.

My brother and sister are both very outdoorsy. Ty asked me one time how I can stand to live in the city for so long, referring to Provo. It’s hard to explain to someone who has lived in Mimbres his whole life that Provo is not that big of a city and that the outdoors are close.

And now I am proud to say that my niece and nephew are keeping the family tradition alive. I just got news that they won some trophies at a junior fishing tournament. Cam is only five and he won’t let you help him rig his line. I know that Mara will be the same when she gets older. I know they get it from their dad and mom, the way it should be.

I guess that is the answer to my question. I love the outdoors because those around me do. I hope that we can enjoy the great outdoors for generations to come.

Zion National Park

Zion National Park is a 229 square mile park in southern Utah near Cedar City. The park offers some of the most amazing sights available to anyone not interested in leaving the comfort of the front seat of the car. The natural phenomena are even more amazing, however, if you get out and hike one of the many trails that cut through the red sandstone mountains of the park. Recently we made our way down south to see exactly what Zion had to offer. We first tested the waters (very cold) of The Subway and later the more technical Keyhole and Pine Creek Canyons. Here is what we found out.

The Subway

The Subway is a 12 mile long slot canyon hike that is one of the most popular of the park. It starts with a two mile decent from the trail head to the main canyon. If this is your first trip to Zion National park, as it was for me, you will find the views of the red sandstone bluffs and slick rock valleys amazing. Just wait until you make it down into the canyon. I can only imagine the forces at work as water carved the wild shapes into the rock.

To do this hike we needed wet suits, about 40 feet of rope, and a lot of energy. Most of the drops in the canyon can be done with very simple down climbing techniques, while some require using the placed bolt anchors to rappel. We also brought along our harnesses and rappelling equipment, but didn’t really need it. You would be fine to just plan on using the rope as a down climbing aid rather than a rappel line.

The wet suits really came in handy. There was a fair amount of water in the bottom of the canyon, and in places swimming was required. With the canyon being so slotted and deep, not allowing more than a few minutes of sun each day to reach the bottom, coupled with the water being spring runoff from the previous winter’s snow made the water very cold. In fact I would say it was the coldest water that I have ever swam in. I was glad that we had the suits.

Once you finish the slotted portion of the canyon you have a few more miles of creek to wade through before the accent back up to the lower trail head. For some this was the not the most desirable part of the trip. It did seem to drag on a bit, but that is just the price you pay to see some of the most amazing formations that nature has to offer.

Keyhole Canyon

Keyhole Canyon is a much shorter hike, but in its own way much more challenging. This three-quarters of a mile hike took us more than two hours to complete. You start by making your way up a hundred yards of slick rock and instantly realize why they call them slot canyons. Keyhole is much narrower than The Subway.

This time around we had our wetsuits and also our full rappelling gear. There are a couple of 30 foot rappels that require some previous experience rappelling and good equipment that is rated for this kind of use. With the depth and narrowness of keyhole comes some of the coldest water in the park. There was only one part where the water was over our heads and we had to swim, but there were several waist and chest deep wades that made the $20 wetsuit rental worth it.

The best part of this hike was that the awesome sights never really ended until before we knew it we were back at the truck without any gruesome accent to the road. We were all amazed at what we had just witnessed and excited for what was to come later that day.

Pine Creek

Pine Creek could be described as a hybrid of The Subway and Keyhole Canyon. The slot offered some of the most amazing formations, but the length and difficulty of the hike made it necessary to have a little canyoneering experience. Lucky for me I had two and a half ours experience gained earlier that day at Keyhole. I was ready to go.

With cold water and great views I was hoping that Pine Creek had something more to offer that we hadn’t already seen that day. My wish was answered with some great rappelling. With several of the drops in the canyon being significantly higher then in the previous canyons, a 60 meter rope is a must. We must have done more than a half dozen rappels over 20 feet high with the biggest thrills being the 60 foot rappel and the 100 foot free rappel.

The sixty foot rappel came pretty early in the hike. The point of view as you drop down in to the belly of the canyon is one that is unique to this hike. As I was coming down I just had to wonder how many thousands of years and millions of gallons of water it took to create this natural master piece.

The oohs and awes did not stop from that point on until the final rappel. Toward the end of the canyon, and as it opened up a little more, the canyon bottom was littered with boulders that size of small houses that required a lot of down climbing and boulder hopping. We all knew that there was a big rappel at the end, and the anticipation was getting to me. Finally we made it to the drop off point.

I knew this was the “big one” when I look over the edge and my heart tried to escape through my chest. As I threaded the rope through the ring anchors at the edge, I could tell that the rope didn’t touch the face of the rock the entire way down. Some in the group had some questions about the sanity of anyone that would voluntarily go down a 10 millimeter rope to the base of the canyon 100 feet below, but at this point there was no option of returning.

We were rewarded on our way out with a small pool of water just deep enough surrounded by boulders just high enough to jump off of. We were refreshed and ready for the steep hike back up to the road. We all made is safely back to the truck exhausted but ready for the next best thing that Zion could throw at us.

I was not disappointed by the big rappel at the end of Pine Creek or a single moment that I spent in Zion National Park this summer. I hope to make it back again soon as well as some of the other natural wonders that Southern Utah has to offer.

Photos courtesy of Mike Knippers, Daniel Nelson, and Justin Lee

Cruising the Canyon

There are many ways to get outdoors these days. In my younger years one of my favorite activities was to ride the back roads of Mimbres on my 1983 Kawasaki Km 80. After I outgrew that bike and let other priorities take place in my life, I never got another motorcycle. Well now I can relive my childhood again. I recently became the proud owner of a 2008 Honda Rebel CMX250C. I know what you are thinking, and you are right. It isn’t the hog that you would expect a 24 year old college student to go out and buy. But this is just enough bike to get me around and still feel like I am not riding a scooter. I really got it to save on gas money and for better parking on campus, but there is also recreational value to having a motorcycle.

With only 40 miles on the odometer I decided that I would take it for a ride up Provo Canyon. I have always seen bikers cruising up and down the canyon roads and had looked forward to doing it someday. So on this lazy Sunday afternoon I took a spin up to Squaw Peak lookout. It was everything that I had hoped for. For such a small bike it handles well both at higher speeds on the main canyon road, and on the windier Squaw Peak Road it took the curves with ease. I wouldn’t recommend going over 75 mph especially with windy conditions because of the weight of the bike, but for casual cruising and great gas mileage, this is about as good as it gets.

As a side note: If you are going to ride, wear a helmet. Just because you see everyone else on the road riding without one on, doesn't make safe. Your life is worth always strapping on a good quality helmet.

South Mesa Elk

I believe you can find in every young boy’s heart the desire to be out in the wild. This is apparent in this urban world that we live in when you see your little brother or younger nephew trying to build a tree house or camp in the back yard. I was no different growing up. From my little toy squirrel rifle to watching Robert Redford’s Jeremiah Johnson, I wanted nothing more than to be a real mountain man. Unfortunately we all grow up and have to face reality. For some this reality sets in earlier than for others. Growing up for me started in high school. Contrary to some of my peers, growing up for me had nothing to do with girls and everything to do sports. The increased responsibility of after school practices and fall training camps kept me out of the woods more and more as the years passed. Luckily there are those occasional weekend hunts and summer fishing trips that make us feel alive again. Let me tell you about one of these moments that I had a few years ago.

I had the opportunity after high school to work the fall elk hunts with my dad. Our camps were set up about 3 ½ hours on horseback from the truck. It was a busy fall as we had a pretty successful year getting tags for our hunters. In fact, we had so many hunters draw tags that year that we had to get some extra guides and hunt out of two separate camps. This is good for business, but means a lot of extra work for our small operation. My job: pack hunters in and pack the successful hunters out along with the meat and trophy. The sad part of this story is that I too had drawn a license that year and would not be able to dedicate the time necessary to fill the tag. I would spend the first week of the hunt riding from the truck to camp, from one camp to the other, from kill sites to the truck, etc. I put in more hours on my trusty ride, Little John, that week then ever before. Later in the week as things slowed down I realized that I would have a morning to dedicate to my hunt.

Riding across North Mesa from White Rocks to Spring Canyon almost every day gave me the opportunity to scout out the elk traffic. I knew there wasn’t much as far as the big herds go, but I had seen a lone bull out on South Mesa a couple of times. I wasn’t close enough to tell how big he was and I didn’t have time to go after him, so I decided to put on the pursuit on my free morning.

As I woke up at 4am in my Spring Canyon camp the fog was very thick. I had to get the mules fed and watered before I could leave. What would usually take me an hour to do ended up taking a little longer. I couldn’t see the animals through the fog until I was right up to them. I finally fought my way through the fog and it was time to pick up my Savage 7mm Rem Mag and head up the canyon. Spring Canyon, slicing its way between North and South Mesa, is in an advantageous location for the elk hunts. I would have my choice of topping out on either mesa, both known for having large herds in the fall. What I didn’t want to happen was climbing out on one side just to find out that the herd was feeding away from the rim on the other mesa. With the heavy fog that morning it would be a gamble. Knowing that South Mesa hadn’t been hit very hard I decided to rim out on the south side just a mile or so up from our camp. At this point I was pretty frustrated with the fog. Not only was it a cold and wet fog, but there was no way that I could possibly see the elk before they had me made. I had conceded that getting a shot off this morning would be nothing more than pure luck.

As I labored my way out of Spring Canyon I decided to stop and catch my breath before rimming out. I became witness to one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. With the sun finally peaking over the horizon I realized that the fog wasn’t as thick up high. As I turned around I could see the sun was revealing the fog pouring out of the canyon like a pot of water boiling over. It was time to get serious. There wouldn’t be any fog on top. Originally I thought it would hurt me to have the fog so thick, but now I realized I would have no cover once on top. I had one chance at whatever elk might be close. With my breathing under control I inched my way to the very rim of the mesa. My plan was to get to the edge and have look to see what was around. As I did this, the giant beast of my dreams came into view. There was no more controlling my breathing. My heart was about to explode out of my chest. With only a few pinon pines to use for cover I jacked a bullet into the chamber. He was only maybe 150 yards away. He had no idea that I existed. I had him dead to rights, but wait, did I have buck fever? I took a second look at his rack to realize that he was just a 4x4 rag bull. He was a lone satellite bull hoping to come across some cows that hadn’t joined the big herds yet. I had been skinning and packing elk all week. Did I really want to go through all of that work for this guy? I decided to just sit and soak in the moment. It isn’t every day that you get to admire nature in this way. That was a special moment for me. After about ten minutes he finally caught my scent and hustled off to the other end of the mesa and out of sight.

I hunted my way back to camp so that I could water the horses again and head off to the other camp to see what work had to be done. Turns out I had another elk to pack out which meant another long trip to the truck and back to camp. But I rode with my head high. Sure I had been skunked on this hunt, but I like to think someone else would have a chance at that same bull, if not this year then in years to come.

As fate would have it I got a call on my radio the next day as I was riding back in from the truck. Ty, my 16 year old brother, was on South Mesa with more work to be done. He had found an elk and made a heck of a shot with his Ruger M77 25-06. I got to ride up and help him quarter out and pack his trophy. Turns out he found our little friend from the morning before. I was never more proud of my little bro nor the fact that I had let one get away. I may have gone home empty handed, but that was a successful hunt.

Hidden Wall

There are a few reasons why Provo is a lot more fun during spring/summer time. A top that list for me is Rock Canyon. Rock Canyon is not a well kept secret. In fact I would say it is the most traveled outdoors site in the state. Usually when you go outdoors, you are looking to get away from all the people. Here is where you may not be far from town or from people, but you feel like you are. The trails may be congested with day hikers, boy scouts, “date walkers,” and the like, but for rock climbing there is no better place for the time investment.

I will let you on a little secret that has kept me going back. Walking up the canyon you will see many areas where the sport climbing is good, but good luck finding an open route. In fact in the last five or six times that I have been up there, red slab and tinker toys have been over capacity. Recently Mike and I have found a little hot spot called hidden wall. Don’t let the name fool you, it is not hard to find this wall. The name comes from the fact that it is not in the Climber's Guide to American Fork/Rock Canyon, the local authority on the best sport climbing routes. We have visited this spot three times in the last two weeks and have not seen another climber nor have we seen the ever present signs of frequently climbed routes. With routes ranging from 5.8 to 5.11d, this is a good spot for the weekend warrior to get away and have a solid few hours on the rock.

My favorite of them all is the 5.9+ on the far right side of the wall. Making it to the first anchor may be a little sketchy, but from there to the top is a solid 60 foot ascent of knobby arête. The view from on top is pretty amazing and you will feel like taking on the world. Maybe word will get out of how great this spot is. Maybe it won’t. But for now, I can’t think of a better place to be climbing.

Product Review: Spit'n Image

For those of you that have not had the opportunity of catching a bass on top water you are missing out. I’ve been lucky enough to catch smallmouth on bullfrog poppers on the Gila River, Stripers on top water plugs on Elephant Butte Reservoir, and now largemouth bass in California. The secret weapon: Heddon’s Spit’n Image. This top water lure does a fine job imitating a shiner or shad trying to escape its chaser. The simple wrist action is easy enough for the inexperience but sensitive enough for the seasoned pro. No big daddy bass can pass up this one. Just flip it up near the reeds or brush and let it spit and pop its way back to the boat. In the early summer you are sure to catch that big one and have a great time.

Benjamin Franklin

I was sorting some of my pictures and came across this gem. Let me introduce you to my friend Benjamin Franklin. Ben is a mule that my dad bought a couple of summers ago. He got his name because we paid one hundred dollars for him. For those of you not familiar with livestock, you usually get what you pay for and a hundred bucks isn’t much for a mule. Ben only cost that much because he hadn’t been packed much and never had been ridden. He is kind of small so you probably wouldn’t want to ride him much anyway. But my dad isn’t one to shy away from opportunity.

So I guess it was the end of summer in 2006 that I went home to spend a little time with my family. My dad was off in the woods working I think and we all ended up going down to the farm to check on the horses. The conversation came up about our little mule and how he got his name. Sara, being the trouble maker in the family, thought it would be funny if one of us tried to ride him. I didn’t really think it was that good of an idea, until she made it clear that if I didn’t try I was just a chicken. Of course I would never turn away from such a challenge. It just so happened that my saddle was in the truck so I saddle Ben up for the first time ever. I made sure that we were in the field far enough that if he did decide to buck, the landing would be a smooth one.

As you can tell, my first attempt to get on wasn’t so successful. The only thing that I had going for me was that he was so small that I could pretty much man handle him and make him cooperate. I finally made it up on his back, to his dislike.

Ben never did buck, however he tried to run me through some trees. I really wish that we had got it on film. As he “loped” across the pasture I was doing my best to slow him down. He wasn’t having it. We jumped the irrigation ditch and right into the thick of the elm trees that line its banks. At that point I decided that I had done my part and stepped off. Ben ran through the trees, scratching up my saddle, and finally stopped about a quarter of a mile later on the other end of the holding tank.

If you asked Ben he would tell you that he had won the battle. I never did ride him again and as far as I know my dad sold him last year. But ask me and I’ll tell you how I got the best of the poor little guy. And ask my sister and she’ll tell you that I’m no chicken.

The Elusive Gobbler

I have been asked before and even wondered myself what is so great about hunting turkeys. It is true that they are not the smartest species of big game that offer a good chase. What makes a man proud of scouting, tracking, calling and killing a dumb bird? It is true that a well prepared hunter has many advantages over the wild turkey. Turkeys are predictable. They will often use the same areas for roosting, feeding, watering, and nesting year after year. If you can find a turkey going to roost in the evening, the odds are definitely in your favor that you will find him in that same tree when the sun comes up in the morning. Turkeys are also vulnerable to calling during the early spring. In this case however, they have an advantage over the pursuer that attempts to call him in. As the bird gets older and as the season progresses, he begins to differentiate the hunter’s attempt at a hen yelp and a real hen’s search for companionship. These aspects and others make the turkey hunt atop my list of favorite big game hunts.

There is nothing like leaning up against a ponderosa pine on a cool spring morning in your guille suit watching a gobbler strut around your decoy 35 yards away. As he lets out his trademark gobble, the excitement is so high that the most seasoned hunter struggles to keep his composure.

Just recently I had the opportunity to listen to the music of Rio Grande Turkey in a way that I never had done so before.

I found myself that morning in what I had always thought was wine country in northern California. I never would have imagined that one day I would travel to the golden state to chase a big tom. This particular hunt was not the turkey hunt I am used to. Growing up in Southwestern New Mexico, I became accustomed to millions of acres of public land where you can hunt for days and most likely not run into another hunter. In the hills just outside of Ione, CA I quickly realized that I was not alone and more importantly I couldn’t give chase to all gobblers within earshot. In fact, that first morning I heard and even saw more mature gobblers than previously before on any hunt in any state. The real challenge was finding a tom on property that we had permission to hunt. We were given permission to hunt the 170 acres of the LNC Ranch as well as a collection of other small pieces of land that in years past had offered up multiple “shooters.”

My friend Ryan, native of Ione, and I arrived later in the evening and unfortunately were unable to put any bird’s to bed. The first morning hunt would have to be done blindly, giving more advantage to turkeys. On the first morning we heard a gobbler leaving his roost on the neighboring ranch, where we didn’t have permission to hunt. We knew however that these birds tended to cross the lower corner of the LNC on their way to the shady hillsides where they spent the afternoon feeding. Just as predicted we cut off a tom as he was sneaking around the hill the ranch house sat on chasing some hens. We skirted around the hill and got set up just as he let out his gobble to the hens that were ahead. At this point my inexperience ranch hunting came into play. I knew that there were houses in the area, but was unsure of the exact location relative to where we were set up. I had the open shot as the gobbler came around the corner, but froze for a second to make sure the shot was clear. Then he did what every smart bird that you think is dumb does: he walked behind a tree and on over the hill.

On any other hunt I wouldn’t think twice about letting a six inch beard get away and even though it turned out to be a safe shot, for the few seconds it was open I was unsure. I didn’t realize how difficult this hunt would be from here on out. Did you know that the game laws in California only allow turkey hunting until 4 pm in the spring? I didn’t It seems that we just missed our only opportunity at a bird that day.

On Saturday, the last day we would be in Ione, we didn’t have the same early morning luck that we had the first day. We saw plenty of birds, only not on the LNC or any other properties that we could hunt. But at about 3 in the afternoon we caught a break: a mature gobbler with three hens we hanging out on the upper end of the ranch. We saw them from the road a half mile away and had just about an hour to put the move on him. The fact that the afternoon birds weren’t talking much coupled with him having his hens made it clear that we would have to put the stock on and surprise him. I have never successfully snuck up on a turkey and this time would be no different. Fortunately as I made the approach, Ryan hustled around the point to cover the escape route. Just as expected the hens made me. Seconds later I hear the sure sound of a Binelli shotgun. Ryan had bagged him a nice Rio Grande Turkey with an 8 ½ inch beard. At that point it was nearly four o’clock and my hunt ended, but it was a success.

I just had my first California hunting experience and what a blast it was. We heard a ton of gobblers, saw more birds in two days than I ever have before, and caught a slew of bass in between. Of course that is another story for another day. Next time that elusive tom won’t be so lucky.