Better Than a Big Elk Down

I've just gotten back from a two week bow hunt for elk out in the mountains of Colorado. Of course the first thing I'm expecting to hear from everyone is, "Well, did you get an elk?".

For those of you that like to go straight for the chase, no we didn't get any elk.

For those of you that want a smidgen more, here's a smidgen. 

There were three of us, Nate, Brian, and myself. We spent most of our time in the Frying Pan and Holy Cross Wilderness. Other than Brian carrying an inReach, we had no connection to civilization. We camped in the White River National Forest on the border of the wilderness and then hiked in each day. That allowed us to camp close to our truck but we were still able to hunt the wilderness area. The National Forest allows motorized vehicles on designated trails and we wanted to get away from the majority of the people, just like the elk did. The day would start at 4:00 AM. The first several days we spent mostly hiking and hunting and searching for any elk sign that we could find. That week seemed more like hard days on the farm than a vacation. We'd get back and cook our food in the dark and then crash and at 4:00 AM that stinking alarm would be ringing again. Don't get me wrong, lots and lots of good and fun can happen on the farm between 4:00 AM and 10:00 PM. And that first week of the hunt we had lots and lots of good moments. Like the day we watched three pine martens just having a ball, chasing each other up a tree and then pouncing on each other, over and over again. Or the day we fished a little lake up above timberline, catching cutthroat trout left and right. And every morning the moonless and starlit sky was just amazing! So the first week was a good week, but man were we tired. Well I shouldn't speak for the others, but I was tuckered out. 

After talking to some other experienced elk hunters we changed our strategy and just hunted in the mornings. We'd return to camp around two or three, take a nap, and then shoot some arrows, eat supper and make a fire, and just hang out and be in bed by eight.

Our second week was pretty awesome. We had some great interactions with several bulls. Nate had a bull at twenty yards but couldn't get a shot and Brian, of all people, missed one at twenty yards. Brian is a great shot and doesn't miss. He very seldom missed the Gatorade bottle that we were shooting around camp. I guess having an eight hundred pound six by six raking his horns on a tree and peeing all over himself  only six yards away can get a man a little worked up. When the bull presented a twenty yard shot, the arrow didn't fly true. Maybe it wasn't just the bull elk that was peeing on itself. Whatever happened, somewhere in the Holy Cross Wilderness, there's a beautiful arrow with white feathers and a customized wrap sticking into a log or a tree or somewhere discreet.

I didn't get in on any of those real close encounters, but I was close enough on a couple occasions to think I was going to get a shot. There's nothing like feeling the tingle going down your spine as a bull screams out a mad bugle just out of sight.

But since we didn't get any elk, let's just go to the subject of fishing. For some reason some of my best friends are some of the  best fishermen around. I'm not sure why, but that's just the way it is. There's Bobby who is a trout master. Fish after fish after fish. He loves it, and when it comes to trout, he can probably out fish any one around. But even if he couldn't catch fish, he'd still be a great friend. And then there's Nate. He's more of an "any kind of a fish" fisherman. If there's a fish in the water he's going after it and he'll probably catch it. Sometimes I think God must have given these friends to me because he could see I was needing help in learning how to fish. Or maybe to keep me humble. Or maybe to help me realize that my value to him isn't based on how many fish I catch. But if I'm not careful, it's easy to let feelings of inadequacy step in, like I'm not quite the right caliper of a fisherman to hang out with these guys. Or worse yet, feelings like "I'm just no good". I've realized that it's not a healthy thing to compare myself to my friends. It can create jealousy and all kinds of bad things.

The truth is that God has given me some really good friends because he knows that I need good friends to go through life with.

But there is such a thing as healthy competition, so let's go there. When Nate and I were hunting in Utah several years back, we stopped by Lilly Pad lake to fish. He caught a couple of brook trout and since I wanted some lunch we were cleaning them. While doing that, I suggested that I probably brought the wrong fishing gear, which would explain why I didn't catch any. Nate immediately went and picked up my rod and on his first cast, caught a real nice brookie. Well let's just say that I haven't forgotten that.

So when we got to that lake at the top of Wildcat Mountain in Colorado, I really didn't want a similar experience . Brian got the first cast in and caught a beautiful cutthroat trout. I didn't really know Brian very well before our trip, but it turns out that he's done some tournament fishing and has done well at it and fishes on a regular basis. So him catching that first fish, well that was acceptable. But Nate? Nate was casting while I was still tying on a rooster tail. Bam. He missed one. I tried to hurry. He missed another one. I cast and bam, I caught one! And then I caught another one. Two fish before Nate caught any! I was so excited! After that, well, things went downhill. Nate caught fish after fish. I caught a couple more, but not near as many as Nate and Brian. But I do hold tight to the realization that I caught two trout before Nate caught one. For whatever reason, it's a special memory to me.

Later, on one of our last days there, Nate and I were hiking back to camp after a great day of hunting. Unfortunately, Brian was back at camp with a bum knee. We stopped by a little lake with the hopes of catching our supper. It wasn't quite as good of a lake but we could see that there were fish there. We fished for a bit without catching anything. I watched closely as Nate cast and let his spinner settle, and then retrieve. He caught a beautiful lake trout. I tried to imitate that. Two casts later I caught one! We had our supper. Since Brian can't eat fish, two were enough. Fried in crisco with mashed potatoes on the side, they made for a great dinner!

I guess when it comes right down to it, there's something even better than catching the biggest or the most or the first fish of the day. Better than being able to go on an elk hunt. Better than taking the biggest bull ever with your longbow. 

What that better thing is, is having friends to go through this life with.

I may not be the best elk hunter or fisherman in this world. But I am thankful for the friends that I have. And if I have to eat my humble pie every time that they're around, well that's quite alright too!