2022 Dear Hunt - Cold, Snow and Antlers

It has been a weird weather fall.

It has been a weird fall.

It has been a weird year.

After a very dry October with an unusual cold spell in the middle.  Temperatures warmed at the end of the month to the point that wearing shorts for an early morning dog walk was relatively comfortable.  While the growing season is long over, it also isn't with green things trying to sprout in the gravel driveway.  My last lawn mowing was well into November and could have been even later.  The combination of this meant I wasn't thinking much about deer hunting.  This might be a good thing since my walkthrough on the property I hunt showed very little sign of deer; the dry conditions and actively falling leaves did leave some ambiguity.

And Indiana has greatly increased the price of deer licenses.  I enjoy the ability to hunt in Indiana, but this increase gave me pause as to how much I enjoy it - I end up considering how much crap I have to put up with at work to pay for a hunting license.  Hmmmm.  Not only that but Indiana has reduced the amount of deer that can be taken greatly.  This doesn't affect me directly, since I'm usually content with one deer, but it does point to a weakening of the deer numbers due to aggressive reductions and some evidence of disease mortality.  All taken together, buying my license was accompanied by some wincing.

But it wouldn't be fall without an early morning trip to Mike's.

November 12, Opening Day

A relatively pleasant early morning opening morning came after a very rainy Friday.  I was up too early and sat with the dogs before getting ready to hunt.  Weather forecast was for a bit of snow, so I was bundled up in my snowsuit with my rainsuit over top.  The combination was a bit restrictive.

I had set up my treestand already so after getting to Mike's it was a quick walk down to my stand and up in the tree.  The morning air was sweet and still; I could hear the occasional squawk of some animal that I have no idea what it is.  Early mornings are the best!

As it started to get light out Turkeys began making a bunch of noise across the ravine and to the east.  I could hear them putting and scrambling around, although I never did see them.  They shut up around 9:00 when it started to snow.

It has been a few years since I hunted with my shotgun but I decided to on this opening day because of the precipitation - although I'm not really sure why that matters.  The snow was "fun" at first.  It started light and began to pile up on everything.  The snow got heavier through the morning to the point of not being fun.  I guess it was pretty and I wanted to get a picture, but it was too hard to get to my phone in the wet and cold.  Snow piled up well over three inches which was much more than the "dusting to at most an inch" that was forecast.  It ended as drizzly ice crystals which was unpleasant.

There was some shooting through the morning, but overall (through the day) it was not near as much as on some years where it is non-stop at the height of typical deer movement.  I wasn't sure if that was from the weather or deer numbers, but I suspect it was deer since I saw so little throughout the day.  As the day wore on, snow falling and a few very tricky dead leaves kept making me think briefly they were deer.

Trying to eat my snacks was a struggle.  My hands weren't working 100% and while my breathable, waterproof gloves did their job, they left my hands sticky.  So once taken off, they were hard to get back on.

I finally saw my first deer around 3:15 when a doe ran down, across the ravine diagonally to the left (east).  I watched it as it made its way further eastward.  

My feet started to ache as the afternoon got later.  As it started to get dark right near 5:30, I heard trampling as a doe came barreling down the hill immediately to my left and ran right in front of me.  I suppose if I was completely alert and had my gun up the whole time I might have had an opportunity, but there was no way to shoot.  I was slightly disappointed after such a long day, but it was still day one.  I was quite happy when 6:00 rolled around and I could end my day.  My hands were difficult to manipulate and feet were non-feeling blocks of ice.  It was a painful walk out to my truck.  Since it was "summer" only two days previous, I didn't have a snow brush in my truck.  When I finally rolled out towards home, the heat was on high.

November 13

After again sitting with the dogs, I headed to Mike's.  Getting to my stand was too easy, with just a bit of ambient light, the snow made it nearly like daylight and I could follow my foot prints.  I was easily set comfortably in my stand.  Temperatures were cool with a bit more wind than opening day.  I was wearing my windproof fleece so I had much more maneuverability but was still very comfortable.

After barely getting in my stand a small doe walked in front of me.  I put my crosshairs on her, but knew it was still 20-25 minutes before shooting light - despite the snow making it seem later.  I wisely followed the rules and let her walk away.  Shooting a deer is not terribly difficult.  Shooting a deer while following the rules can be a bit more challenging.  The only difference between a hunter and a poacher is what they decide to do.  A true outdoorsman also believes in fair chase...  

Another deer, probably this same doe, ran towards my left behind a honeysuckle bush a couple hours later.  I couldn't shoot through the bush so I waited.  When she did leave, it was at a full dead-on run with a few flying leaps mixed in.  I wisely let her go despite how close she was.

An hour or so later I saw movement in the middle of the ravine as two coyotes trotted down it.  I'm somewhat agnostic on coyotes.  Yes, they do kill some game animals and will kill chickens, but rarely do they kill dogs, cats, etc. (not never).  These coyotes were frighteningly healthy, but I let them walk.  Not only do I love the sound of coyotes howling, but there is no reason to affect my deer hunting - which is what the day and season is all about.

Around 10:00 a doe walked the same path diagonally across the ravine as the deer the previous day.  I had a few windows to shoot, but I've learned not to take chancey shots and she was walking quite quickly.  She could circle around towards me anyways.  She did not.

Thirty minutes later a six or eight point buck followed the same trail.  He was going much slower and I almost shot, but hesitated just a hair too long.  It was the right decision not to rush it, but I was kicking myself just a bit. 

A short time later, another coyote ran back to the east.  I couldn't help but wonder if it was one of the same dogs from previous and the neighbor had shot one?  After a miserable opening day, my original plan was to head home mid-day.  But temps were nice and I was seeing enough to be entertained.  The clouds were parting and the sun was warming the day.  I decided to sit for the entire day again.  As it warmed, the previous day's snow started to fall in huge wet glops from the trees.  The movement and noise made listening for anything impossible.  I let myself doze several times through the late morning.

Around noon after a brief treestand-nap, I looked around.  Behind me was a rock and I thought, "In this sunlight, that rock looks a lot like a deer."  "There's no rock there - that IS a deer."  I leaned forward and saw an impressive set of antlers.  He was behind me to my right - awkward, but not terrible.  He was on alert, so I leaned back and shot before he had a chance to bolt.  I was worried my shot was a bit too far back and he bolted at the shot - down the hill and into the "creek" which was completely dry with the very dry recent weather.  He was slowing as he left what I could see.  The distance he ran didn't fill me with confidence.  

I got out of my treestand and walked to where he was, immediately finding blood, so I knew he was hit and hit at least reasonably well.  I walked to where I last saw him which may have been on the neighbor's property.  It looked so foreign without any water in the creek.  I stood there, unsure exactly where to look when I heard "scurrying" and saw my deer up against the embankment.  It was nearly a cliff which would have normally been at the water's edge.  I walked over to him, and he was still struggling a bit.  I delivered a coup de grace (not to the head).  He was wedged between a deadfall and a tree; once free, he fell into the creekbed.  He was another brute of an Indiana deer.  A 12-Point with a lot of character.

I left my hat on his antlers in case any of Mike's neighbors saw him and walked back - packing out my stand.  I had previously bought a small ice fishing sled to make getting deer out of Mike's a bit easier.  I wasn't so sure about the size, but brought it with me along with my knives.  Gutting the deer was easy if a bit unpleasant since my shot was a bit too far back.  His liver was eviscerated, taking a bit of a lung with it - so definitely a killing shot.  I also nicked the stomach which wasn't so nice.

Getting him in the sled was a bit of a challenge and he didn't fit so well.  I ended up wrapping his antlers in the pull cord, so I picked up his head when I was pulling.  The sled DID help a lot, but it was still exceedingly difficult picking a route and getting him out; it was made a bit easier when I found a stick to pull with so the cord didn't cut into my hands.  It took at least an hour to pull him out.  It may have been twice that without the sled.

Once near the top of the ravine, Mike came out.  He blessedly helped get my deer into my Maverick.  The deer almost filled the smallish bed of the trucklette (I wish I had gotten a picture of that).  I talked with Mike for a bit before checking in my deer on my phone and heading home.  I was really glad I shot the deer at near noon so I had tons of light to get him out by.

I'm leaning heavily toward getting him mounted.  He isn't a monster deer, but I'm unlikely to ever shoot a 12-point again.  I have a full day of processing ahead of me to make a final decision.

I still wince at the cost to hunt Indiana as a non-resident, but I'm grateful for the opportunity.  Mike and his SO are so gracious to let me hunt where I have a safe place with minimal disruption.

I still have an expensive doe tag in my pocket.  But EHD has hit the local population and as my opening day shows, the overall population isn't what it once was.  I suppose if weather becomes perfect, I may head into the woods again, but my season has likely, and happily, ended.  Life is good...

2022 Bear Hunt Day 10 & 11 - Home

I woke up a few minutes before my alarm and got ready as fast as I could.  It took me a few extra minutes to get my bear in a cooler since it had finished freezing in a slightly different shape, but I still made it all fit in one of my bigger coolers.  After triple checking the cabin, I was out the door.

Temperatures were cold, and the early morning drive was nice.  I'm familiar with the roads and knew the early route.  I saw some animals - likely a fox (although it could have been a small wolf) and a lynx.  A doe later in the day had me slowing down as well.

The sun rose right as I got to the sleepy border crossing, and I spent a few minutes there as the guard read questions from his computer screen - yes the gall bladder is left with the rest of the guts; yes the paws are still fully attached to the hide.  He had me fill out the declaration form differently than I had seen previously, but as long as I get through, I'll fill it out however they want.  And I was back in the United States.

I listened to Jonathon Franzen's The Discomfort Zone, which was an interesting take on the concept of a memoir.  His writing was once again pretty good, but he comes across as self-indulgent.

Then I listened to podcasts the rest of the day.  I had some older Planet Money podcasts that I finally got around to listening to and I liked them, but they seemed frustratingly abbreviated.

My mind drifted home quite a bit as I thought about my prodigal dog, now returned.  We will have a lot to figure out here.  I'm a bit concerned she may have heartworm and/or tick-born diseases.  But I guess that will only be one thing among many to deal with now.  At least she didn't get hit by a car or chased into the next county by a coyote or...  I really wanted to actually see her and pet her to know that she is actually home.  I think I'll have to take her on a combined thank you and apology tour to all the people that were involved with her over the last 141 days.

The early part of the drive in the US was pretty with many very moosey areas.  Traffic remained light with few evil motorhomes.  

This changed as I got to US 2.  I survived Duluth before heading south and finally getting on the interstate.  The area around Madison had more traffic than I expected for a Sunday, but it was a holiday weekend.  I got to Sis' house and spent some time catching up with her and Liz.  I had a tex-mex tempeh bowl for dinner which was quite good - if a bit unusual - and a really nice change from the crap I had been munching on most of the day during the drive.

______________________

Up early the next morning I started the coffee maker and sat with Sis' dogs.  They were up soon enough and we finished catching up.  I was out the door fairly early since I was also going to lose an hour going home.

The drive went fast enough.  Traffic remained relatively light all day.  Even getting around Indianapolis wasn't too bad.  I had to take a snaking route once I got near home to avoid the many Indiana construction zones.  It took dueling GPS units to figure out the right route.

Back at home, my bear had thawed more than I expected so I took care of it right away.  I guess that is a blessing of a small bear that it went very quickly.

More importantly, I got to see my run-away dog.  She didn't seem happy, but she was quite calm which is probably good enough for now.  There will be plenty of time to try to get her to learn that life with people can be good.

2022 Bear Hunt Day 9 - Fish, Beagles and Northern Lights

I woke up to my final full Manitoba morning.  Fantasy camp must come to an end, but not yet.  There is a bear in the freezer and fish to catch.  

We all met in the lodge for breakfast while the Utah crew had already gone out for a morning bear hunt.  Just before breakfast was on the table, Dave came in and said that Austin had shot a bear.  We all quickly finished our food and went out to look at Austin's bear - which was a really nice black bear.

But with fish to catch, Carter took Gene and I out for an all-day fishing adventure.

We spent the day fishing in various bays and inlets.  Some were more productive than others.  Gene did hook into a really nice pike.  It had one of the biggest lampreys I have ever seen.

I could not buy any fish larger than about 24 inches with or without a lamprey.

Just before lunch, we stopped by Kendall Point to see one of the newer lodges they are building.  It was really pretty, but not nearly as pretty as the view from Kendall Point itself.

The bay near Kendall has historically been a good one for smallmouth bass and it did not disappoint.  I hooked into a handful, with two really nice fish included.

Lunch was Carter's excellent fish tacos with exceedingly fresh pike.  Then we fished for the rest of the day.  Gene again hooked in to a nice pike.  This has not been my year for big pike (or bears).

Once Carter forced me to stop fishing, we headed back to camp.  I started to pack up for the trip home and turned my phone back on, setting it on the table in my cabin.  A text message from SO told me the canine issues we've been dealing with for 141 days are over.  Our new rescue dog who escaped and had eluded every possible attempt at capture was back at home.  She had gone into the neighbor's dog house to get out of the rain and SO had noticed her asleep in there.  The dog finally made a mistake.  The resolution of this frankly made much of the rest of the day a blur.

As it got dark, boats started to come in with the remaining hunters.  Erik had gotten a nice bear on the same size scale as my bear.  Doug got a huge sow.  Matt was unable to connect on his last night.

I booked again for next year - hopefully bears, weather and fish are all slightly more cooperative.  Regardless, I know it will be a great time.

The day ended with a showing of the northern lights, which was an incredible way to end the week.

2022 Bear Hunt Day 8 - Pooh's Blustery Day

I woke up to a different Manitoba as it was cool and breezy.  The change in weather made me hopeful that both the fish and the bears might be a bit more cooperative.

So after breakfast Mark took Bill and I out for fishing.  The temperature was almost perfect and the wind picked up through the morning.  Initially we were going to jig for pike, but we ended up casting most of the day.  We went through several bays and inlet streams and hooked into a few fish, but the fishing was a bit slow.  I did have one large pike follow my spinnerbait right up to the boat and jump part-way out of the water, but I didn't see it in time.  We were fishing the same bays as the bigger boat with Dave and Matt/Austin/Erik, but they seemed to do much better as they had several fish in the 30-inch range.

After lunch we headed out for bears.  Chris took Gene and I upriver and I was dropped off at the Seagull Shit Island stand.  I don't think I've hunted this stand previously.  It is a more open stand and I was able to get relatively comfortable quickly.

Not too long after getting situated, a boat came into the bay as people were probably fishing.  I've had this happen before and it likely doesn't affect the bear hunting much, but it is a bit annoying to hear people murmuring in the background.  Thankfully, they must have only done a cast or two and were gone.

The wind was significant through the afternoon and the tree the stand was in was really tall, this made the stand sway quite a bit.  It made me think of Winnie the Pooh and his blustery day.  I'm not sure thinking of a child's story while hunting actual bears would be universally thought of as appropriate, but after 25-30 hours on the bear stand, I will allow my mind to go where it wants to.

Not much was moving until it started to get a bit darker and I saw movement behind the barrel.  A bear was running around in the thick brush.  I had a hard time judging its size.  I knew it wasn't a monster; I also knew it was the second-to-last day.

After watching it for around 15 minutes (maybe?  throughout the late afternoon I didn't look at my watch much so my timeline may be skewed), it came into the barrel.  I could still see it wasn't huge for sure, but its back was above the barrel which I decided was good enough.  I lined up the shot and squeezed the trigger.  The bear spun 180 degrees and dropped almost silently to the ground.  I was glad I had a bear down.  I also realized the bear was likely going to be much smaller than I thought since when it came in, it was standing on a log a bit behind the barrel - making it look much larger.

After ensuring all movement had stopped, I walked up to the bear.  It was small - very likely smaller than even my first bear.  I should have given it a few more minutes to size it up.  I was still happy - with the tougher bear hunting, I may have shot this guy deliberately on the last day.  My shooting was near perfect with a devastating exit wound.  The meat will be beyond excellent and the front shoulders will smoke wonderfully (in my experience, larger bear shoulders can end up being so tough that even long smoking times don't make them tender).

I put out my orange and climbed up in the stand to pack up my stuff and wait.  Chris and Carter came in a short time later.  We took a few pictures and easily packed the bear to the boat.  We went and got Austin who had only seen one very small bear.

Back in camp, there was a total crap-show as a huge motorhome driver had moronically driven down into camp and gotten stuck on the rock by the lodge.  A "tow truck" - which was just a dually pickup with a winch came to get it out.  They did get it out, but it was not pretty.  I've always known motorhomes are evil - some drivers lack common sense too apparently.

The guys in camp were gracious.  Most of them probably privately thought that the guy who has been on seven bear hunts must be a water-head for shooting such a small bear.  Maybe they are right.

Dinner was really excellent ribs.  The Utah guys were making plans to head out and hunt in the morning since none of them had filled their tags.  

As my memory serves, in the beginning of the book Winnie-the-Pooh and the Blustery Day, Pooh goes to his "Thoughtful Spot."  This felt apt on a couple levels.  First, I'm unbelievably fortunate to go on one Manitoba Bear Hunt, let alone seven.  Even more so, I'm fortunate to be able to take a small bear and use it as an excuse (as if one is needed) to hopefully return again.  With nothing to prove to anyone, I can enjoy hunting and fishing for what it is.

Beyond this, 2022 has not been an easy year.  SO's knee injury blew up hog hunting this year and required months of the two of us figuring things out.  Isla died - and I still miss that dog terribly.  Work has been a horror show, and when I find myself saying to myself too often, "I only have to do this for xx more years." I know that I desperately need perspective to survive those years.  And with my ongoing canine issues now at home, there are days I question how I'm going to get through.

Spending a week hunting and fishing with interesting people has been therapeutic (with a full day of fishing still to go).  So maybe Manitoba has been my "Thoughtful Spot" this year.

2022 Bear Hunt Day 7 - Furnace Creek Bear Hunt

I woke up to another amazing Manitoba morning.  The same, yet different from previous mornings on this trip and past ones.  Views like these are cheating for pictures.

After a breakfast of French toast, Carter and I headed out to fish again.  We started at the same bay where we ended the previous day since it was quite productive.  I'm not sure what was up with the fish, but if they were still in that bay, they were not very cooperative.  We hooked into a few, but it was literally a few.

We tried a few more bays and did find another fish or two, but just about nothing was biting - and certainly nothing of any size.

Near one bay, Carter pointed out some old structure remnants which he said was guides Chris and Mark's family cabin.  Apparently when the park was formed the area was littered with small cabins like this.  People had the option of keeping the cabins for a fee, or letting them go.  A few kept them and are the cabins that now sparsely dot the area.  Most let them go, including Mark and Chris' family.  I wanted to see it so Carter and I participated in "contemporary archeology."  It was barely two walls and some rotten remnants.  But it did provide a diversion to slow fishing.  It's hard not to stand in these kinds of structures and feel a sense of history and loss.

The morning was warm and the day got hot.  Very hot.  Way to hot for Manitoba in September.  Way to hot for bears.  The boat ride back to the lodge was nice, but more summer nice than fall.

After a lunch of giant moose burgers, which were excellent, we headed out for bears.  My normal warm weather hunting clothes would have been too hot so I sorted through what I had and found the coolest camo I had; I was sweating just standing at the dock while waiting to leave.  I couldn't even wear my hunting boots and opted for my water shoes instead.  I have never worn water shoes while hunting before...

Mark took Gene and I out, dropping me off at the back of blind bay first.  I'm not sure if it was the stand or me, but I was able to get relatively comfortable fairly quickly.  The previous day I had pulled something in the back of my knee to the point it was painful to walk and I was even limping a bit.  I don't know how it is possible to do this while in a treestand (in it, not getting in/out), but staying comfortable was definitely more challenging.

Thankfully, it was breezy enough that the heat wasn't too miserable.  The sun was behind me and it did start to cloud up a bit.  While it was terrible for bears, the time passed tolerably.  I did have a pine martin come in which was fun to see as I hadn't seen one of those in a while.

It even did start to cool down a bit as it got dark - but cool down relative to the Death Valley heat earlier.  This is, of course, an exaggeration, as the low in Furnace Creek was near the Manitoba high.  Superlatives still seem applicable when it is hotter in Manitoba than Savannah, Georgia.

But fur covered bears stayed buried wherever they could to stay cool and a short time after dark, Vance came and got me.  We headed back to camp enjoying the temperate breeze in the boat.

Doug was the only person who saw any bears, missing what he said was a huge bear right at dark.  Shoot lower next time Doug!

I'm starting to feel a little bit nervous about getting going home with empty coolers and feeling like passing on that Day 3 bear may have been a mistake.  But there are still two more days - a full 1/3 of my hunting time and the forecast is for much cooler temperatures.

2022 Bear Hung Day 6 - Immature Valley

I woke up with an absolutely brutal headache, while the day was brightening to an amazing morning.  The best option is to power through - I think.  

So after a breakfast of egg bake, Carter and I went up to go after some pike.  We fished several bays trying lots of different tackle.  Nothing seemed to work great, but nothing was too bad either (except the buzz bait - I gave up on that quickly).  Most of the fish we brought in were small.  Carter did manage to land two pike bigger than 30 inches.  It often seems the guide brings in the biggest fish - either because there is a bit of skill in it or just luck.  Or both.  I did have one monster follow my spinnnerbait at one point which is almost as fun to see as landing a big fish.

Back in camp after the morning fishing we had a fish fry "shore lunch" to eat.  There was way too much food, but it did taste good.  Fishing with Carter had cured most of my headache, but between the residual that was left and food coma from eating so much, a nap was a requirement before heading out for the afternoon of hunting bears.

Vance took Gene and I downriver.  Gene got dropped off first and I sat at Big Valley (Happy Valley?  Grand Valley?).  The stand is a skinny single ladder stand without sides which is not terribly comfortable.  There was no place to put my bag either so I had to put my bag behind me on a part of the stand that sticks out only about an inch.  Most of the stands are double-ladder-stands so I guess I've gotten spoiled.

But falling into the rhythm of bear hunting meant it was actually relatively easy to stay comfortable(ish) once I got everything situated even if dozing was out of the question.  I was really glad I took that nap before going out for the afternoon.

I'm not sure if time passed quickly or slowly, but it passed.  The afternoon was way too hot to hunt bears, and there was little wind.  What little wind there was ended up being almost a relief.  Thankfully the mosquitoes weren't too bad until much later in the evening and the Thermacell did its job of keeping them away then - despite the fact that the pads I had were a little on the old side.

Around 7:00 I noticed a moving dark blob way off to the right of the stand.  Unquestionably it was a bear.  All the discomfort of sitting in a single stand disappeared and my heart started pushing huge volumes of blood (Matt also saw bears and his Fitbit sent him a message saying his heart rate had increased to over 120 BPM while remaining inactive - which is one of the funniest hunting things I've seen recently).  I set up my shooting stick while watching the bear slowly work in.  After a few minutes it came into the bait.  It wasn't a bad bear and it had a cool blaze on its chest, but guessed it was a sub-six-footer.  I second guessed and re-estimated a few times, but I knew it was not a big bear.

With the less-than-ideal hot hunting conditions and people in camp seeing few bears, I really did think about shooting.  Plus part of my brain was telling me I could fish for more pike if I shot this bear.  But it just wasn't a Day 3 bear - maybe a Day 5 bear (maybe I won't get a chance of Day 5 though?).

The bear hung around for between five and 10 minutes.  It even had the courtesy of walking half way towards be and taking a giant dump - proving that yes, a bear does shit in the woods.  It really did not go after the bait too aggressively and seemed more interested in the cabled "Jolly Rancher" thing Vance had strung up in a tree.  No doubt it was affected by the high temperatures since it was panting like a dog.

Then it walked towards me, at one point looking directly up at me before going directly under my stand and even scratching itself on the shaky ladder a little bit.  It sauntered off behind me and to the right - leaving me alone to second-guess my decision to let it walk.  I'm never very comfortable with the god-like power to decide whether an individual animal lives or dies.

The rest of the evening passed quietly.  The wind died down to absolutely nothing which made every movement feel like I was pounding on the trees and treestand.  I like the stillness and don't at the same time.  I'm also mesmerized by the different sounds of the woods in different places.  As it started to get dark, I swear I heard the sound of the predator behind me (the real one from 1987).

We picked up Gene, who hadn't seen anything and headed back to camp.  Dave (and Vance) both thought my bear had been just over six feet which nudges me a tiny bit into the regret direction.

Back in camp the other boats came in.  Several people had seen bears and had some good pictures but most of the bears seen were small.  Doug had seen five bears, but the (potentially) bigger ones were when it was too dark to shoot.  I suspect Vance and the guides are sweating a bit with the small bears seen and not-too-friendly weather conditions.  Likely it isn't too long until things pick up considerably, but we all only have until the end of the week.

Before dinner Vance had made an appetizer of Canadian lynx.  I've eaten lots of wild game, but lynx was a first for me.  Taste was mostly pork-like.  I think it may be the first time I've eaten feline of any kind?

There was lots of talk about the bears we all saw during steak dinner.  After dinner the northern lights did make a brief ethereal appearance.  They were pretty far to the north and looked more cloud-like.  I thought about staying out to see if they would get brighter, but I was really tired.  And as much as I would like to see the northern lights again, I'm here for bears and it was time to sleep.

2022 Bear Hunt Day 5 - The Howling

After moving around too early, the day brightened much more than the previous day.  Breakfast was pancakes (I probably haven't had pancakes since I was here the previous year), then Carter took Doug, Gene and me upriver a short ways to cast for pike.  It dry and sunny allowing all the dampness from the rain to dry up.

Fishing was a bit slower than Monday, but everyone in the boat caught a few pike.  No smallmouths were taken in so I'm not sure where they were hiding.  Doug did hook into a really nice 39 inch pike which was quite fat.  So the big fish are still there.  Everything else was too small to keep with the exception of one which went into the live well for lunch later in the week.

As the morning wound down, we headed back in to camp for lunch.

With nice weather, everyone went upriver for hunting that night.  I sat at Kendall Right.  The stand was a wide double ladder stand, so it was relatively comfortable, but I still had a hard time not squirming too much.  It was windy which did allow for a little bit of movement, while also making it hard to hear anything.  The wind also kept the mosquitoes away (mostly).

The evening passed slowly.  I had beavers making noise in the water behind me along with quite a few ducks quacking.  It got slightly cool as it got darker and the wind died down to almost nothing.  I fired up the Thermacell as the wind died down and despite not having used it in a few years, it blessedly did its job of keeping the mosquitoes away.

Darkness came and I quietly packed up while waiting for the boat.  It was a very peaceful night.  With no noise from wind I could hear the creek and all those other wild sounds that the wind took away during the day.

Matt was already in the boat and hadn't seen anything all night either.  The ride back to camp seemed to go quickly and ours was the first boat back in.  In the next boat, Doug had shot a wolf.  It was much smaller than I would have thought and it looked really skinny - almost emaciated, but Vance said that is typically how they look in the summer.

The last boat in had a bear that Scott had shot.  The bear was unusual in that it had really short hair but down the length of its back it had a tall wispy mohawk which was also slightly chocolate colored.  It almost looked like the hair on a razorback hog.

Dinner was good, but I was more than ready for bed by the time it was over.

2022 Bear Hunt Day 4 - Soggy Bottoms

I heard rain overnight which made me hopeful that the forecast rain had come early and be over earlier than predicted.  This was not to be.

After sleeping relatively well, coffee was calling so I got up.  I had brought a book along assuming I wouldn't touch it, but the previous evening didn't have me on bear-hunting hours so I had a chance to read for a while.  I enjoyed the quiet time early in the morning and the coffee was great - even if it was made with river water.

After Breakfast Guide Chris took me up river a short ways for fishing.  "Pike is the only thing that matters."  We managed to bring in a few hammer handles, at least enough to keep me entertained.  None of them were big, but even small pike are pretty sure they are the baddest things in the water.  My dedication to spinnerbaits also brought in a similar number of smallmouth bass.  These were equally fun and one pretty decent size smalley came in as well.

Chris is a retired conservation officer and was really interesting to talk to.  When we left it was overcast but still rather nice.  Rain picked up while we were out including a few periods of heavy rain.  It wasn't storming, but I was really glad I had brought my fishing rain gear.  Thanks Dennis - I'd say that I'll return your rain coat some day, but I think it is mine now.

After lunch Dave took Matt (Utah) and me down river to hunt.  Radar suggested most of the heavy rain had passed which was hopeful; rain had started letting up to more intermittent showers, but it was on the snotty side weather-wise.  After dropping Matt off, Dave and I had a miserable boat ride to my spot during a heavier shower.  It wasn't too much fun.  My site was not hit when we walked in.  Both Dave and I looked at the logs sticking out of the barrel, "You never know.  I'm going to put you here anyway."  "OK."  Don't guide the guide.

Dave left and I got settled in.  The shooting rail was wedged against the tree making it impossible to pull in front of me.  The stand was not uncomfortable, but I was not able to get comfortable in it.  Maybe it is getting older, maybe it was just the day or maybe it was all the rain but the evening passed slowly.

As my time in the stand passed, the weather first got worse with continuing showers and the wind briefly picking up.  Then things started to improve as the wetness remained just from the water coming off the trees and the wind dying down.  Every once in a while a big rain drop would find its way onto my exposed neck which sent a shiver down to the core of my being.  Mosquitoes were there, but thankfully were only a minor annoyance; they could have been much worse.

It wasn't until looking at last year's pictures that I realized I was at the same stand were I had hunted and shot my bear the previous year.  They must of repositioned the stand since then it tilted forward in a painful way, but the rail did work then.  The bears were also much more cooperative since the night passed with nothing moving.

I was glad the rain had stopped, but everything felt damp and clammy.  I was surprised to see how clear and calm it really was once Dave came and got me.  The darkness of the stand can be deceiving.

We went to get Matt and I waited in the boat in the dark stillness.  I live for these rare beautiful moments.

Back in camp, one of the Pennsylvania guys (Bill, I think) had gotten a pretty nice bear.  He was the last guy in camp, but first to shoot.  The amount of fat on the bear was shocking with a solid inch of fat even on the hind quarters.

We all had a too-late dinner before calling the first full day in bear camp done.

2022 Bear Hunt Day 3 - Whittling Away Time

There was a bit too much commotion as I was trying to sleep so I had to use the air conditioner as white noise overnight.  I'm not sure what all of it was about, but it must have been non-residents since most of the offensive noise-makers were not there when I woke up at my too-early hour.  So it goes.  

I didn't want to get to camp too early so I putzed around my room for a while.  This was painful; I don't do lollygagging well.

You know why I'm whittling? Because that's what you do in a town where a yellow light still means slow down, not speed up.

I poked around online and came across an article referencing Twin Peaks which noted it was on over 30 years ago.  My friends - most of whom were idiots - paid little attention to Twin Peaks.  Thursday wasn't typically a go-out-and-try-to-find-booze kind of night, but I spent lots of Thursdays alone watching Twin Peaks.  The show was popular with people I was acquainted with; these were the same kinds of people I was in AP Chemistry class with.  I once snooped around online to see what some of these people were doing - their lives appeared as different now as mine does from late-teen me.  It is tempting to see people and places from so long ago as locked in time.  Aren't our houses and schools and friends supposed to remain locked in place, as if they had been frozen by some Narnian White Witch?  Just as my high school (and frankly College) is barely recognizable from what it was then, so too are most of these people.  There is a zero percent chance I would ever go to a high school reunion, and that is probably good.    I'll never be who I set out to be, but I will always be who I was.  I'm not sure where I am going on this non-sequitur, except that getting away from the chaos of work, away from the mundanity of days that pass without notice, away from the daily issues that make me shake my head is important.  A few forced minutes in a cheap hotel room en route to my seventh bear hunt allowed me a few minutes to think about things in the third person - even if it was a phantasmagoria.

Enough introspection.  I walked around outside a bit before it was time to hit the road.  The sunrise across the water was gorgeous.

I was on the road around 7:00 which felt really late but was in reality at least an hour early.  On my way out of Fort Frances, I saw the Tim Horton's and stopped in.  I was hoping to get a bear paw (defined as a baked pastry with a filling made of dates and other similar things).  I didn't see any, but decided apple fritters might be an acceptable substitute.  I asked the lady if they sold bear paws and she pointed to the apple fritters saying they are what people call bear paws.  Apple fritter it was (these are NOT bear paws).  I don't remember the last time I had any kind of fried donut, but it was pretty good.  It could have used a bit more apple and it was messy enough that I had to pull over to brush off all the glaze that fell off.  I was still feeling quite Canadian by having gone to a Tim Horton's at all.

I drove a route I'm now familiar with.  I thought about stopping in Kenora just because I had some extra time, but couldn't think of anything I really needed, so I took the bypass around.  Route 44 was as bad as ever in most parts with a few repaved areas.  

I listened to podcasts through the morning - mostly Hidden Brain and several involved loneliness which was a bit odd given that I have just spent the last couple days alone.  I stopped for gas at the Petro-Canada and thought about buying more junk, but my stomach wisely told me it was not a smart thing to do.  At the lower speeds on the smaller Canadian roads, my indicated mileage was even better than the previous day.

Soon enough I was at camp and Maureen happened to be leaving my cabin as I was pulling in.  The sights, sounds and smells were all familiar.

I vegged in the cabin and lodge for a few hours.  Dinner was turkey with all the trimmings while we all got to know each other.  In camp so far is two guys from Iowa, three from Utah with another two from Pennsylvania (I think) still working their way here through the horror of commercial air travel.

2022 Bear Hunt Day 2 - Our Neighbors to the North

After a reasonably good night's sleep I was up early.  I packed up all my stuff and as quietly as I could loaded up the truck.  Out the door around 4:30, I had the interstate to myself.  Sunrise came near the border with Wisconsin - even through the window of a vehicle it was pretty with fog hugging the ground in several locations.

I finished Franzen's How to Be Alone.  He's quite a talented writer if a bit verbose at times.  What I found a little disappointing is how myopic he comes across - everything he likes is justifiable and good, everything else is less so with a bit of qualification in a few rare instances.  And while he admits watching TV - he does so only by explaining, may times, how much he dislikes TV.  I have another of his books ready for listening, but I switched over to podcasts for the remainder of the day.

Getting around Madison was super easy in the early morning; Indianapolis could take a lesson.  I stayed on the interstate to Eau Claire, taking US53 north for the rest of the day.  When I stopped and got gas north of Eau Claire, I also got some locally-made beef jerky.  It was smoky to the point of almost tasting dirty and had enough salt to give me a coronary.  Even questionable jerky is good so I finished it quickly.  Shortly after getting gas it started to rain, and the rain built to torrential downpours at times.  Much like the previous day, I wasn't in a hurry so I was able to just take my time.  I need tires on the Ridgeline so speeding through the serious ponding would probably have been foolish.

The rain was done by the time I got to Duluth.  It seems like the exact same areas in Duluth have been under construction since 2018?  This wouldn't be so bad, but Duluthites drive ssssslllllooooowwwww.

I continued north and my mood lightened as it started to look more northy.  Traffic was non-existent and I was really enjoying the drive at this point.

All day I had been noticing how great my gas mileage was with moderate speed and a stiff south wind.  Actual mileage may be a bit lower once I calculate it, but this is still outstanding for an AWD Ridgeline.

There were only two cars in front of me at the border so crossing was quick.  The border guard asked me what kind of work I did. "Chemist" 

"Oh?  What do you work on?"

"Diapers."

This was followed by a pregnant pause as he decided whether that would possibly be something that someone would make up (it isn't).

Getting the guns through took a few minutes but was easy enough.  It is quite incredible that I can cross an international border with a couple firearms for a nominal fee, one piece of paper and a friendly conversation with a Canadian Official.  North America is a wonderful place and Canada is a wonderful country.

Once into Canada I found my hotel.  Walking into my room brought back memories of my 2021 bear hunt and all the angst about getting across the very recently opened border.  The world is slightly more normal now than it was then.  Once partially unpacked I walked down to the Fort Frances Tower.  It was closed in 2021 due to COVID and was now closed due to flooding a few weeks prior.  Some day I'll get up top (maybe).  

I had never thought that boats must cross the border, but I suppose they need customs when this happens as well.  I also suspect I'm not supposed to take pictures of the border area.  Oh well - I was in Canada.

Google maps showed me where a convenience store was so I could get some chips.  It ended up being quite a long walk but gave me a chance to see some of Fort Frances.  It reminded me of something, but I couldn't grasp what until I caught a smell that reminded me of my Opa and Oma's house in St. Catharines, ON.  This must have been a coincidence since there is no reason for a Canadian house to smell different than a US one, but it is still amazing how evocative scent can be.  For sure - Fort Frances has a mix of houses, but the neighborhood reminded me a lot of Opa and Oma's.  I also know my memory may be fading...

After I got back to the common area by the water, I decided to walk out to the point near the US.  I was getting tired of walking which is weird since I walk so much at home.  I suspect I was really getting tired of walking without a dog.  The weather had markedly improved through the afternoon, so I made the most of it.

On the way back there was a vehicle sobriety checkpoint which seemed odd for 4:30 in the afternoon - usually I hear of these late at night after people are leaving the closing bars.  But then I remembered ... Canada...

Back at my hotel I munched on my chips and some Rainy River Meats Pepperettes (do recommend).

Another noodle bowl and guilt-inducing Ding Dongs ended my day.  I went to bed hoping all my ducks were in a row for a final few hours of travel.

2022 Bear Hunt Day 1 - The Weight of the World

Without going into the painful details, I've had canine issues which have beyond overwhelming this year.  I've been doing everything I can to resolve this, but too much is out of my control.  I feel intensely guilty about taking off for a week even though nothing is really happening right now and SO is perfectly capable of handling what is going on.  I'm hoping that taking a few days to drive north will allow me to build a wall of perspective against this reality.

So after a week spent split between working from home and the office, I got the lawn mowed Thursday.  In order to keep the good dog (not the problematic one) happy, I worked from home for a few hours Friday before finishing my day in the office.  Since I was leaving right from work, I wore some not-so-good jeans and a T-shirt, making me feel a bit self-conscious.  In reality, no one noticed, not even my immediate manager when we had a quick conversation before I left.  Around 12:30 I fired up my OoO notification and was out the door.

Normally when I leave work on an epic adventure I feel like I'm levitating - especially when I get my inbox to where I want it to be.  Since this year has ground me like a mortar, I felt like I had the weight of a world on my shoulders - maybe not the entire Earth, but a world.  I needed that perspective.  Since I got out when I wanted to, I was able to take my time driving.  Getting around Indianapolis was only terrible, not worse, but as usual, I-74 west if Indy opened up with little traffic.

I was listening to Jonathon Franzen's How to be Alone.  My Boss' Boss recommended him but his fiction looked painful (especially to someone who rarely reads fiction).  It was a good mix given my mood.  The first essay on his father's dementia and death was powerfully raw.  Some of the language in the book is quite dated - which may be expected in a book which was published 20 years ago.  I find it terrifying soul-crushing that 2002 was 20 years ago.  The Harper Essay displayed a distinct lack of comprehension, like Mr. Franzen lives on another plane somewhere.  I felt sorry for him...  

Last year I was exceedingly anxious since COVID restrictions had only recently been eased and getting across the border required regimented procedures.  This year, because of the canine issues it hardly even feels like I'm going bear hunting.  I've had the requisite target shooting sessions and lists and plans to get ready, but today I was just driving.  I'm looking forward to the northy looking areas I'll see on the following day.

My mood had lightened a little bit by the time I got to El Paso.  A quick fuel up and I found my hotel - they don't give much for a cheap room including no refrigerator.  And I couldn't see my truck from the window so I felt safer hauling all my crap up.  For the price, all is good.

A noodle bowl for dinner followed by some half-melted Ding Dongs (I wish they sold these without the self-loathing) rounded out the day.

The Start of Something Big Day 4 - Home

Madison, Wi to Home:  476.9 miles

After waking up to cats all over me I had one too many cups of coffee before saying goodbye to Sis and her SO.  It's always great to see them and I was glad they could make the time.  With the oil and tires checked, I headed out of Madison on nearly-empty Sunday-morning roads.

As I left I found my mind wandering back to the issues at work and home, and I realized looking back 40-50 years can be like peering into a box of broken toys.  Stuck in the netherland of work-eat-seep-repeat for too long is soul-crushing.  I miss boundless curiosity for curiosity's sake.  I would like to explore all the possibilities of where the Mississippi River starts, and decide for myself.  I would like to follow my stick down the Mississippi River and watch it enter the Gulf of Mexico.  I'd like to create my own runestone.  But I'll have to settle for exploring the cultural starting point of the Mississippi River - which is still a great thing to be able to do.  I'm very fortunate to have been able to do this.

I motored south to Bloomington then headed east towards home.  Temperatures were cool, but not cold and it was easy to stay comfortable.  This can sometimes be no small feat after four long days on the bike.

Sometimes the ride from Sis's house to home goes by fast, on this day there were spurts where it felt like I wasn't getting anywhere.  I let my mind wander as I rolled along.  A north wind at times gave me chills, but it is better than an east wind - nothing good has ever come from an east wind.

Back at home Tibbit was really happy to see me and quite curious about all the smells.  I contemplated going to to work on Monday, which would have meant mowing the lawn after getting home.  That just felt like too much.  So a quick wash of the bike was in order allowing me another day to own my own time.

The Start of Something Big Day 3 - THE Start

Lake George, MN to Madison, WI:  550.8 miles

After a much better night's sleep than the previous night (no trains up here in northern Minnesota), I putzed around the hotel room for a while and changed my plans a bit for the day.

When I was a young kid, I always wondered how roads ended.  I don't remember having the same discomfort about where they started since they seemed to start at the end of the driveway (I guess).  I lived on a dead end street, so I suppose I may not have been too bright as that pretty much defines how a street ends - at least in suburbia.  That dead end street today in Google StreetView looks terrifyingly like it did way back when.

I suppose another possibility is that this book came out when I was young and was seemingly a staple of every school library.  The cover scared me (I felt bad for the dog) and it didn't look anything like the cul-de-sac I lived on.

Back in 2001 I was able to discover another dramatic way a road ends while on South Padre Island in Texas.  The main road on the island just ends - swallowed up by the sand dune the consumes it.

An equally pertinent childhood question:  Where does a river start.

The answer is ... it depends.  And the answer is also dependent on culture, history, politics, and yes, geography.

The Mississippi River watershed covers over a million square miles and is arguably the most important river system in North America.  It starts somewhere north of where I live.  Canada at one point was claiming the headwaters since that would have given it much more control over the water.  But Canada lost.  Northern Minnesota is dotted with many lakes and streams, any number of which could be the start of the river.  The story of the "true start" of the Mississippi River is filled with giant scientific egos in a way that science is still dotted with too many giant egos.  At various times Glazier Lake, Elk Lake, Turtle River all claimed to be the ab initio.  After reading about the history of the area, I sort of like Lake Bemidji since it is where the water begins is long, slow, meandering journey south toward the Gulf of Mexico.

While detractors remain, culture always wins and in this case is aided by the USGS.  Lake Itasca is the source of the Mississippi River (and the earth is flat).  I've crossed the Mississippi more times than I can count.  I've been to near where it dumps into salt water.  It is time to see the source.

Lake Itasca was about 15 very cold minutes away from Lake George.  The state park that contains THE start of the river didn't open until 8:00 so I had to putz around for a bit and got gas before heading that way.  With temperatures in the 30's, a few people at the gas station felt obligated to tell me it was "a bit cold for a motorcycle."

I got to Lake Itasca State Park and entrance was self-serve so I probably could have gotten there earlier.  There was no pen though so I dug around in the motorcycle pockets and found one.  It was so cold that the pen barely worked; I'm betting the park will need to call me for clarification since it was almost unreadable.

Once inside the park a bridge crosses over the Mississippi River - here it is just a stream, gurgling insignificantly along.

The parking lot for the head waters was nearly deserted, but I was surprised to see a tour bus this early.  I figured maybe it was just parked for the night.  I walked the short path to the lake only to see a large amount of people.  However, they were much more interested in something other than the water as it became obvious they were birders.  Birders are a fanatical lot (which I suppose is good).

I wandered around a bit and tried to walk across the stones, but the water was just high enough that I doubted myself.  I turned around and had a conversation with a birder who was watching me, "I'm on a motorcycle and with as cold as it is, if I go in, I'm done."  A short distance away was a log allowing me to walk across the Mississippi River.

Shortly the birders left to go find feathers elsewhere and I had the Headwaters to myself.  I took quite a few pictures on the stunning, cool morning.  It was hard to contemplate the distance to a sultry New Orleans.

After wandering around a bit, I found a perfect pooh stick for the longest game of pooh sticks in history.  Standing on the log across the river, I tossed it in.  I watched it wend its way downstream until I could no longer see it anymore.  I left it to go on its journey while I turned away to go on my own.

I rode out through the park and was glad I did since it was such a pretty morning, even if it was cold.  I wished I had more time to explore as it looked like there was lots of pretty hiking to do.  I'm not sure I would want to do it during July since I suspect the park is loaded with people then.

Temperatures were warming slightly, but there was just enough wind to be a bit painful at times.  I continued south to Alexandria, Minnesota.

In 1898 Olof Öhman was clearing land for a farm and unearthed a large stone inscribed with runes.  At first he didn't think much of it, but eventually the writing was traced to Viking origins of an age that predates Columbus.  While it is almost certain that Nordic adventurers were in North America long before Columbus, how far they got inland is largely unknown - yet assumed to be limited to the Northeast coast.  But Vikings reaching Saint Paul would be quite fantastic.  It should be noted that this area of Minnesota was eventually settled by Scandinavians which seems slightly too coincidental.  

I first read of what is now called the Kensington Runestone in BJ Hollars excellent book Midwestern Strange.  Why BJ Hollars does not have a broader audience I find baffling.  His writing is engaging and Midwestern-sincere.  He doesn't succumb to the allure of pessimism - which is all to easy to do.  Mr. Hollars is one of a couple writers I really like who live in the area, every time I drive anywhere near Western Wisconsin, I always hope I serendipitously meet one of them.  This is vanishingly unlikely and I should be glad about this.  My guess is that neither one of them really wants to meet a chubby dude in the middle of mid-life who happens to like their writing.  Never meet your heroes?  No, never become a hero to anyone.

The Kensington Runestone has, with near-certainty, been deemed a hoax.  But exactly who did this and why is unclear since no one at the time really benefited from it.  I guess much like Mark Landis, some people just can't help themselves.  But I suppose that whether it is a hoax or not matters less than allowing myself to suspend being rational for a brief moment and just let the world be the fantastic place that it wants to be.

The Kensington Runestone now sits in a museum in Alexandria.  I easily found it and paid my entrance fee.  The stone sits prominently at the foyer once inside.  A short video explains the history of the runestone.  It was informative, funny and tragic.  I looked it over the artifact itself and, after having tried to see it previously, it was a little anticlimactic.  Some of the other artifacts seemed more convincing even if the provenance was not as clear?

The rest of the museum was interesting and well-done, if overly Midwestern.  There was bikes, snowmobiles, Indians, WWII, vikings, mastodons, bison and lots and lots of bad taxidermy.  Some of it stunningly bad. This is not fair, since much of it is old taxidermy done in a time when quality forms were not an internet click away.  Taxidermists had to make their own and getting it right was challenging.  Still, by modern sensibility, some of the misshapen beasts were a bit hard to look at.

The story of the dog was touching in light of my current dog situation.  I'll even allow the taxidermy of it wasn't terrible.

The museum was enjoyable even if was not able to solve the mystery of the Kensington Runestone.  Back on the bike I headed south and east.  With temperatures warming slightly and the prevailing wind behind me, it was relatively pleasant.

Questions remained as I rolled along.  The average speed of the Mississippi River runs somewhere between 1.2 and 3 miles-per-hour depending on water level and location.  I would have like to have watched my stick travel the distance.  I did not have time to watch a 3 month game of Poohsticks no matter how riveting it may be.

The Mississippi River is often called the longest river in the United States, but by most definitions it is not.  Almost certainly the Missouri River is longer.  And as the largest feeder into the river that eventually dumps into the Gulf of Mexico near New Orleans, why is the Missouri River not the upper branch Mississippi River?  Which would make the stretch of water between Minnesota and St. Louis something else altogether...

Getting through Minneapolis was again torture as a mix of construction and two accidents meant a couple back-ups.  Once rolling again, I made my way into Wisconsin.  The amount of road kill deer in Wisconsin was staggering.

I got to my sister's house around 6:30 which is a bit late by my normal standards.  We had a chance to talk for a bit and catch up before her SO came home.  A quick meal and it was time to go to bed surrounded by Sis's cats.