After winning the Mystery Ranch 6500 in the BAYED contest on On Your Own Adventures Forum – Hunt Talk, I’ve been trying to give this pack the workout it deserves.

Immediately, this pack became my go-to pack while shed hunting and bear hunting in the spring and carrying the spotting scope and other goodies.

Over the summer I took it everywhere with me.  The 6500 carried my gear deep into trail-less areas several times, on quests for cutthroat and golden trout.

Trying to get away from the crowds while paddle-fishing on the Missouri, I got a chance to haul out my first critter for the pack.

The pack even got to come to work with me a few times. Working on the Charles M. Russell NWR, I helped dig out a 75 million year old Elasmosaur fossil.  I packed in bags of plaster and five gallon water jugs for the crew using the NICE Frame and Load Sling.  I even packed out the skull of the beast encased in rock and plaster. It was the heaviest load I’ve ever carried.  The pack did great!

August through November the pack never went more than a few of days without getting sweat on it.  From bowhunting antelope in the breaks to chasing elk up high in the Gallatin Range, the pack came with.  After having many close calls during archery season, I ended up empty handed for elk with a bow.

I was, however, able to harvest a six-point bull as soon as rifle season began.  The bull came out pretty easy with the NICE Frame and Load Sling.  Help from my friends was an added benefit!

Although my buck from this year didn’t require packing, the 6500 was still there carrying my gear on our float trip in which we accessed land-locked public land via river.

Throughout the year, the NICE 6500 accompanied me on many adventures.  It’s the best pack I’ve ever used.  I am planning to add more MR’s to my collection for day hunting and skiing as soon as funds allow.

Thanks Mystery Ranch Backpacks and On Your Own Adventures for the amazing pack!

Congratulations to the winners of the 2012 Freeskiing World Tour in Revelostoke!  Here are a few shots from our very own Meg Haywood Sullivan. Thanks again Meg.  For full coverage, follow this link:

http://espn.go.com/action/freeskiing/story/_/id/7429572/kye-petersen-angel-collinson-win-revelstoke-freeskiing-world-tour&Asf

The next stop on the tour travels to our neck of the woods.  Good luck to everyone at round 4 of the tour, at Moonlight Basin, Montana.

Poppin new Saddle Peak colors..

Fresh

Finally, somewhere has snow this winter...

What: After 2 years of filming, Sweetgrass Productions brings their ski epic, ‘Solitaire,’ to Bozeman.

When: 8 p.m. Tuesday, October 11

Where: Emerson, 111 South Grand Ave.

Why: See for yourself…

Click here to view the embedded video.

How: Tickets. $10 in advance, $12 day of. Available at Northern Lights Trading Company or buy online here.

On the evening of September 23, all that success sparked against a bit of luck, which sent my arrow flying. And so I harvested a gorgeous Montana archery bull.

As a “sport,” hardcourt bike polo is still fairly young. The League of Bike Polo, a governing body, has formed and there are now tournaments around the world as well as an official set of rules that goes beyond the three rules we have always used here in Bozeman (of which I can only remember two.)

Polo in Bozeman was instigated in 2006 by bike culture aficionado, long-time wrench monkey, and all-around great guy, John Friedrich. John is also the guilty party who brought alleycats, rocky sprints and several other urban-style cycling shenanigans our town of 35,000.  Sadly for the community, John has since moved on to cast a much wider net at Specialized in Morgan Hill, CA.

Attempt #1:  Bogert park

After a pilot game in a run-down parking lot behind John’s apartment, the first attempt at playing polo as a community activity took place at the now nationally famous “waste” of stimulus funds, the Bogert park tennis courts. The game did not last long at Bogert, as Bozeman municipal code does not allow for recreational wheeled vehicles on tennis courts.  As it turned out, the large and often vacant pavilion immediately to the west of the tennis courts was also off limits during most hours of the day, due to an ordinance passed back in 2000 when a few neighbors (mostly one neigbor who we swear just sits in his back yard eagerly awaiting the magical hour when he can report whichever wheeled recreators just turned into criminals like a Cinderella’s coach into a pumpkin) complained about the noise caused by skateboarders. To be “fair” the ordinance includes all wheeled recreational vehicles, rather than limiting the ordinance to the source of the problem.

Attempt #2:  Baxter parking garage

If you have ever ventured into the underground parking garage behind the Baxter hotel, chances are you took one look and immediately ventured back out. Our founder John Friedrich once described the parking garage as “a concrete box coated on the inside with infectious diseases and a grotesque shape-shifting monster in the corner and sharpened rusty knives at shoulder height, ensuring only the strong of will and skill would play.” Everyone rolled up their sleeves, donned dust masks and spent 3 consecutive nights sweeping away the filth to make the garage fit for play. The Baxter location attracted great turnouts of people and the lights were really helpful as the days grew shorter into the fall, however the space was too good to be true. Although the garage had a pre-game sweep every week and, thanks to polo, people were actually able to park their cars down there without the worry of flat tires and tetanus, the property owner was not too friendly to our game. After a few weeks the cops were called, polo was evicted again and the garage assumed it’s former identity as a great place to share needles, paint graffiti and dump trash.

With the loss of the parking garage space occurring well into fall, polo did not continue until the following spring. After a couple of other places were tested and rejected for either poor playing surface or because “the man” had something to say about it, polo found it’s home for the next couple years at the Hawthorne school playground. With a promise to the groundskeeper not to damage any windows, and to clean up after ourselves, we were good to go. But late in the summer of 2010, construction started at Hawthorne, leaving us to hang our heads and take our mallets elsewhere.

For a couple of months, polo found a home in the basement of the new publicly funded downtown parking garage, but the sloping floor, several power boxes ominously protruding from the wall and the occasional partial flood quashed our enthusiasm.

When Mystery Ranch moved facilities and gained a nice paved parking lot, we finally got a reliable, legal space to play for the foreseeable future.

We’re always looking for more players, and all are welcome, even if it’s just to watch a bunch of adults talk trash while hitting a street hockey ball with mallets made from repurposed ski poles. Really, it’s just a whole lot of fun.

6:30 Wednesday nights @ Mystery Ranch, 1750 Evergreen Drive, Bozeman

For more info see thebozemanfix.blogspot.com and Bozeman Bike Polo on Face book.

I find myself in the heat of France. Yes it is hot, hot, hot, and my route has been slightly altered so as to escape the afternoon asphalt melt fest.  By about 10:30 am, the tar on the road begins to get tacky and stick to the bottoms of my shoes. Already by this time, the sweat is dripping off my forehead… and what happened to the breeze? But I am not here to write about the heat.

I have completed my first week on the trail. WOOT!! And it has been incredible: little sleepy french villages, rolling hills, flowers and gardens galore. I actually feel like I am on a very long garden tour, passing through backyards… I now know four different ways to set up poles for beans, and one day when I have land and a garden, I shall try them all and decide which I like best.  I set forth on the trail with vigour and determination, ready for big long days covering many miles. Little did I know that the trail had other plans, being very much in charge, and offering challenge without hesitation.

On my second day, I encountered my greatest fear, a wild dog. Ok, well, it wasn’t wild, but it was certainly angry and was not hesitant to prove it had sharp teeth and would have been very happy to sink them into my leg. Luckily, my leg was not a morning snack, and said dog eventually tired of me standing there like a trembling fool and sat in the shade, watching so that I dared not advance. Not really having the resorces or experience to solve this problem, I did the next best thing I could think of, I found a male escort. Yes, how very damsel-in-distress of me, but I didn’t much feel like waiting the whole day for someone to pass or the dog to go home. Regardless, my escort felt very special, I am sure, and also told me I could throw rocks, which is apparently a good deterrent. Though having not actually seen it in action, I am skeptical of the tactic and cross my fingers that I won’t have to test it. I have since encountered many delightful tail wagging pups who have restored my faith in European dogs. They’re not all bad.

I would say that has been the most challenging thing I have encountered thus far. The days continue to go well and I am figuring out a daily routine.  The French don’t know what the word stress is, as their lifestyle is incredibly laid back, which makes it difficult to plan things like meals. Their hours are very mixed, taking the afternoon off despite a sign in the window that says what time they open in the afternoon. It’s no longer surprising if the store remains closed the rest of the day. Lodging, too, has been interesting, a good lesson to research guidebooks more thoroughly beforehand.  Though there are places listed, there are no addresses, making it a challenge to find a place to stay, except for campgrounds, which have become my norm.

Here I have found some of the kindest folks who inquire about my journey, sharing tid bits of the local history and little windows into their own lives.  Last night, due to it being Monday (and in villages, things aren’t typically open on Mondays), the couple who ran the campground made me a delicious dinner and gave me the opportunity to get to know a few locals.  I am grateful for the little French I know. It has helped tremendously, though I feel the strain of my limited vocabulary. And yet somehow most of what I say is understood to some degree (I think).

The trail is very interesting, mostly old cart roads winding through the countryside. I’ve gone up a few steep mountainous hills that seem to go on forever and ever, and when I think I have reached a plateau, I turn a corner and up the trail goes.   The scramble is well worth it, for there is always a captivating view of the valley waiting at the top and often times a nice shady tree to stop and stretch my legs while catching my breath.

One highlight I have been greatly enjoying is eating Brie and Camembert cheese every day. It is one of the least expensive things, and I am quite certain I have begun to sweat in the smell of stinky cheese. And now when I open my bag, I get a waft of cheese…not sure if this is the most pleasant of things to be greeted with, but my belly is happy nonetheless.  French campers are very luxurious in comparison to home as well. They have modest sized campers, to which they add these large tents on the back to make an outdoor patio. However, I have noticed they prefer to take their plastic chairs and sit under a tree, rendering the whole tent portion pointless. There does not appear to be any camping with campfires, which is also interesting. I am still getting used to the differences here.

In five days, I anticipate arriving in Le Puy, which will mark the completion of section 1 (of 3) along the trail. Looking ahead at the days to come, the landscape is about to change to mountains and with fewer villages, and hopefully more shade.

For now, I shall wrap this up, as it’s time to go in search of a food store and maybe some ice cream.  Lots of love and happy thoughts….pictures soon to be posted and more adventures and stories to come.

Until then, happy trails and hugs!

-Fern

On another random Wednesday evening, Brad and I planned a quick and dirty trip south to rip big lines in classic Montana fashion.  The Tacoma adorned with my old Summit 700, a case of PBR, winter bags and a tarp, we blazed through the park, losing count of the numerous close calls with various hoofed animals.

Home sweet home

We had some big missions in mind, and thankfully, the snowpack in the region has been very conducive.  With no consistent weak layers, and a minor threat of wind slabs, our confidence in some of the bigger objectives started to overbear any fear of strength, ability or prowess.  We toured around day 1 ripping some beautiful east facing lines only to be blindsided by one of winter’s deadliest predators.  Skirting along a knife edge ridge, making it a point to stay as close to the windward side of the ridge as possible, Brad stepped just far enough to make everything go BOOM!!  Scrambling to secure himself back into terra firma, a truck sized cornice ripped itself loose and tomahawked downward.  Usually the best sign of instability, proved itself worthy, when nothing on the slope below ripped.  So….   I guess cornices are the big concern, as we continued our search for the entrance to the line we had scoped from below.  Steep, stable and soft.  Honestly, a heavenly threesome.

Brad on warm up laps

Brad's brilliant ballet

Steep, Stable and Soft

Sunday we awoke, a little drier this time, to mixed weather and mixed feelings about going towards our main objective of the trip.  After a little dry out time in the Soda Butte, and sufficient caffeine intake, we decided it was worth a shot, and we ripped our way through the burn and into the basin below the pinnacle of a stellar mid winter descent.

Churchbells

The great white plateau

A few hours battling steady winds, steep switchbacks and variable snow, we gained access to the ridge that would eventually allow us the entrance to this monarch of a line.  Staring down the gut of this beast made my hands do their usual nervous sweat.  I think I recall saying to Brad, “hey, I’m not doing this unless you are 100%”  His response, “how can you be 100% in a place like this?”  We agreed……75 was good enough… And we dropped in….

Thank you Cooke, for this gift

Skiing lines you’ve been eyeing for years is always rewarding.  Especially when in good conditions with the best partners.  Thanks Brad.  Always a pleasure, amigo….

As my 2010 hunting year comes to a close, I know I have been blessed with many opportunities and more than my share of success. In visiting with Mark Seacat, he asked if I wanted to write a short blog about my hunts. I’m certainly not much of a writer but I have a lot of respect for Mark and the products that he represents so I’ll make a stab at it.

I had several very memorable hunts this year but probably the highlight was my trip to the NWT to hunt with Ram Head Outfitters. My goal was to take a sheep, caribou and moose with my bow. On the third day of the hunt while stalking a nice 140 class ram, we ran into a real monster of a ram. With the conditions not being the best for stalking into bow range, I made the decision to take the ram with the guide’s rifle at 265 yards. He was a beautiful 10 1/2 year old ram with horns that stretched the tape to 41″ in length and 14″ bases. After drying, he officially netted 167 5/8″ B&C.

My Mystery Ranch 6500 really served me well for multiple uses. It actually compressed down nicely and I used it as a carry on bag on the airlines. We accessed our sheep area by boat and backpacked our camp up to approximately 4000 feet so the volume of the pack was necessary for the bulk. It also worked great for a day pack. Sometimes, I would take the top part off just to reduce the weight a bit.  This also makes it easier to access the main compartment.  And of course it worked pretty good for packing the meat, horns, antlers etc.

We were able to get back to our spike camp early and spent the rest of the day relaxing and enjoying fresh sheep meat for dinner. Mike Bridger was my guide for this sheep and caribou hunt to follow.

After packing the sheep off the mountain and re-grouping at base camp, we relocated our spike camp to a new position to hunt mountain caribou. After three more days and 4 stalks, I was able to connect with a 40 yard shot on a respectable caribou (not to be confused with the toad that Seacat whacked a week or so before).

Harvesting the sheep and caribou was great, but now I had the better part of a week until moose season opened on September 1. I made the best of that time by doing a little fishing and hiking… which I pretty much had to do to offset the massive amounts of grub I consumed while at base camp.

On August 29 we went to the camp where we would hunt moose. This gave us 2 1/2 days of scouting which proved to be very productive. I’ve been using Sitka Gear for a couple of years and absolutely love it but this was the first year I relied completely on Sitka rain gear. I was a little concerned if it would be durable enough for hunts like this and especially Kodiak… if it would keep me dry over the long haul. Those concerns were completely unfounded and my Sitka Stormfront system served me very well.

We located the moose that I would ultimately stalk and kill on consecutive days before the season opened and then again on opening morning. After one of the more exciting hunts I have ever experienced which lasted about 4 1/2 hours, I was standing over a gorgeous 62 inch Yukon Bull Moose on the edge of the Godlin River.

The good news for this pack out was that we were able to use horses. I like my Mystery Ranch 6500 but was happy not to load it up this time, but instead let the horses carry out the load. Scott Erickson was my guide for this moose hunt and he no doubt thought highly of Sitka rain gear as well.

After returning from the NWT, I made a trip to Alberta around the first of October to hunt mule deer. I was fortunate enough to take this nice 30 1/2 inch 3 x 4 on the 5th day of my hunt. I just recently had him scored for P&Y and his gross score was 176 5

I’m a sucker for sunsets – here’s one from Alberta on a very windy evening.

My next hunt was to Kodiak Island to hunt Sitka Blacktail. This was the fifth year that I have hunted Kodiak. It is one of the most fun, challenging and satisfying hunts that I have done. It is a DIY hunt that I did this year with Earl Chauvin. Earl is a good friend and hunting partner. We both took two nice deer each.

This hunt not only puts your body to the test but also the gear that you use wether it be optics, archery equipment, tents, backpacks or especially clothing. There is a lot of climbing involved so layering is a must. You’re cold, then you’re sweating by the time you get to the top, and then you get cold again. I utilized Sitka core layers, 90% jacket and pants and Stormfront rain gear and stayed very comfortable. All their gear is durable and built for bowhunters – no baggy sleeves and nothing to bind or interfere with the bowstring.

I packed my first deer out whole. I’m not sure, but I suspect that with the gear I already had, plus all the meat, cape, and head, the pack was well in excess of 100 pounds. I had a three hour pack out that went well into the night and although my old worn out knees struggled a bit, my Mystery Ranch 6500 was great.

I took my second deer on the 7th day of the hunt in the same vicinity as the first.  After a long stalk, I shot the buck at 87 yards (80 horizontal distance) and he went less than 30 yards.

Earl hiked up and lightened my load by helping me pack this one back to camp.

There were other hunts and harvests in 2010… these are just some of the highlights.   To say the least… it was an unforgettable journey.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Sockeye Salmon on Lake Creek

21 years ago in April, while my mother was in labor with me, my dad was out fly fishing the Missouri River. Perhaps I was born to fish. When I turned 21, I held my dad to a ten year 21st birthday promise – we’d go to Alaska for a fishing trip.

Fairweather Range near Juneau from 36,000 ft cruising altitude

Growing up, my hunting and fishing buddies were my Dad, Paul, and my Dad’s two friends, Phil and Denny. Every summer Phil, Denny, and my Dad, would go on a fly fishing trip into Yellowstone Park. I was never invited. They said that when I turned 21 I’d be of age to join them on such a trip.

Recently, in the first week of August, I found myself along with Phil, Denny and my Dad, in Alaska in pursuit of big fish and an unforgettable experience.

We started our trip in the small town of Hope, on the Resurrection River, catching Humpies on fly rods. Humpy is the nickname for a pink salmon. The Humpies were running hard. We had no problem hooking and inadvertently snagging dozens of these fish with our fly rods. Male pink salmon have enormous hump backs, hence the name. Their humps make them very susceptible to being snagged on the drift.

Phil landing a Humpy on the Resurrection River near Hope, Alaska

After a successful day in Hope we drove down to Seward where we’d spend the next three nights. Our first day in Seward started at 5:30 in the morning.  I dropped the guys off at the marina for an all day halibut and salmon deep sea fishing trip with Captain Larry. I was more than happy not to join them in the ocean due to a traumatic deep sea fishing charter out of Homer, about 10 years ago. The charter with Captain Larry ended up being a bust. The seas were too rough to get out into the open ocean where the halibut were. The guys caught rock fish and ling cod in the bay – none of which they could keep. The additional coolers we had packed became excess baggage.

Over the next two days, the rain in Seward permeated my rain coat. It was time to ditch the coast and move inland. We spent the next two days on the Russian and Kenai rivers fishing for Sockeyes. Here I learned the slap, jerk and pull method of fishing. This involves slapping the water with your split shot weighted line, drifting the line down stream near the fishes mouth, and pulling hard hoping to snag one in the mouth. Sockeye salmon, when they are moving up the rivers to spawn are in their last stages of life and don’t have eating on their mind. To catch and legally keep one of these fish you have to snag them in the mouth – literally!

My dad, Paul, drifting an egg pattern on the Russian River

The fly fishing I have grown accustom to is very aesthetic and pure. Snagging fish, at first glance, seems like a cheap and lame way to fish. After attempting to snag sockeyes in the mouth for two days straight, I realized that it takes a lot of talent – which I lacked. There were about 100 people fishing the confluence of the Russian and Kenai River, and distinguishing a local from an out-of-state fisherman was easy. Locals had their three fish limit – which were all snagged in the mouth – in less than an hour. In the two days we were there I only snagged two fish in the mouth. I have a new found respect for this kind of fishing.

Phil attempting to land a big Sockeye after forgetting to set his drag

Next stop on the trip was the largest float plane sea base in the world, Lake Hood. From there, we took a Dehavilland DHC-2 Beaver 80 miles northwest of Anchorage and into Black Eagle Lodge on Bulchitna Lake. We spent the next three days, from 6am to 10pm, fly fishing nearby Lake Creek.

Mystery Ranch proto on the shore of Lake Creek

As predicted, a large wave of Humpies was moving up the river. Sockeyes, Kings, Rainbows, Grayling, Chum, and Silvers were also in the river. Our goal of filling coolers with sockeyes and silvers was nearly impossible with the amount of pinks. Every time we hooked a pink we’d intentionally try to lose the fish. I eventually gave in. Why fight it?

Denny with a Pink Salmon on Lake Creek

Between the four of us, we caught eight different species of fish on Lake Creek: pinks, kings, silvers, sockeyes, chums, dolly varden, rainbows, and grayling. Oddly enough, I snagged my first ever grayling – a five incher!

Rainbow Trout on Lake Creek

A poisionous Fly Agaric mushroom over the Russian River

Denny said, “Sitting on the deck hanging out with you guys.” My dad said, “Bonding with my son and the freshly caught sockeye we had for dinner in Seward.” I said, well, I can’t say, because certain memories are meant to stay in Alaska. As the saying goes, “What happens on the trip stays on the trip.”

Certain aspects of Alaska were different than I had expected and prepared for. The two spray bottles of Deet never left their packaging and the only mosquito that stuck me was in the Old Seward Cemetery. He must have been excited to see “live” meat.

Daisy in the Old Seward Cemetery

The .44 lever action never left its case.

Tracks of a sow with three cubs

The most productive fly was a bright red hook – the pinks hit it like it was bacon.

Phil with a Sockeye Salmon

Further, Phil caught fish with berries on a hook that had come from a brown bears intestinal tract. I wonder what we could call that fly pattern?

Wild cranberry bear scat

On our last day, as Denny was leaving the hotel for an early flight his parting remarks to me, or “Pearls of Wisdom” as he would put it, were this: Steve, when you’re our age I hope you have two great friends, like your Dad and Phil, to share these kinds of memories with.

Three stooges sniffing mushrooms, which really did smell like licorice

In large part, this trip wasn’t about the fishing. It was about bonding and sharing what is now a memory with three other people that have helped to shape my life.  I shot my first big game animal with help from Denny. I’ve learned from Phil that size doesn’t matter as he can drop goose after goose with his 28 gauge shot gun. As for my dad, in addition to what I’ve learned, I’ve been able to share and experience so many great things with him. Whether it be hunting pheasants, aiding a drunk woman on the Missouri who locked her keys in the car during a winter storm, or looking into his wide eyes while a cow elk came trotting down the trail on which he was lying – my dad has been there for it all. Fly fishing Alaska, for my 21st, was yet another adventure to add to the memory books.