Randy Newberg, of On Your Own Adventures, called and asked if I would be a guest hunter on his show for a Montana wolf hunt.  I was excited and thankful that he would call me to join him, especially considering I had zero wolf hunting experience.  Randy and I talked, and we both understood this hunt wasn’t likely to end with much in the way of wolf footage, and even less likely to end with a dead wolf.

But Randy and I both have the same philosophy when it comes to hunting: The odds might be stacked against you, but the odds drop to zero if you don’t at least give it a try.

We spent five straight days hunting for one of Montana’s most elusive creatures.  Our expectations were low, so we were thrilled when we spotted our first two wolves late in the afternoon of the first day. Under normal circumstances, we would have had a shot at them, but the camera guy was unable to locate the animals in his viewfinder, so I had to pass on the shot. I was learning, painfully, that trying to capture the harvest on film adds a significant level of difficulty.

Nonetheless, it was more excitement than we had expected for the first day.

The subsequent four days of hard hiking and glassing in sub-zero weather, left us with little to show for it.  We were fortunate enough to see wolves again, but we couldn’t get within range. When the professional camera guys ran out of time, Randy and I decided we would still try to get a wolf anyway.

But two weeks later, Randy called again, and said he was able to get the camera crew for another five-day window in January.  So we held off for them, and when they arrived, we went back to our old location.  It seemed most of the elk had moved out, and we figured it was likely that the wolves had followed their food. That meant  starting our second five-day hunt at square one in a brand new area. The entire first day was gobbled up by learning the lay of the land. On the second day, we loaded up our Crew Cabs with spotting scopes, cameras, tripods, and the rest of our necessities and cruised to a high vantage to glass as much country as possible.  We did the same on the third day as well.

In the late morning of the third day, I spotted a group of bull elk about four miles away, all of them necks wrenched and looking back. Something had their attention, so I watched. Nothing at first. For ten minutes they stood frozen peering back over their shoulders down the hill below, their antlers curling high above their bodies, full of tension, ready to dart.  And then, 30 yards below the bulls, appeared a beautiful black wolf, lined in silver.  And so began the chase.

The wolf kept its heading, straight away from where we’d been. But three hours and nine miles later, we found ourselves in the one position we’d dreamt of but never thought possible: closing the distance on a Montana wolf, now within shooting range.

The cameras were set. I threw the bipod down on the rifle and readied for the shot.  Randy called out the range at 510 yards. The wolf was on the move, and we yelled to stop it from disappearing into a draw.

“I got him,” the cameraman said.

I settled the crosshairs, and began squeezing the trigger.  At the report of the rifle, the wolf disappeared into the draw.

“You smoked it!” Randy yelled.

I wasn’t so sure. The wolf came up out of the draw, and we could see it had been hit. We shot again, and it went down quickly.

Walking up on this wolf was utterly amazing. It was bigger than I had imagined it would be, and its fur was long and wild.

The odds were stacked against us, more than any other animal I’ve ever pursued, and yet it worked out.  This may be the first wolf ever harvested on film in the lower 48, and it’s quite possibly the first wolf to have ridden in one of the best hunting packs in the world. It quite simply doesn’t get any better than that!

Stay tuned! The hunt will air this summer as part of On Your Own Adventures with Randy Newberg on the Sportsman Channel.

Bear number one of the year.

The season got off to a bang when good friend Brain Barney and I spotted a huge boar five minutes into our first glassing session. The hunt was on! I bailed off 1500 vertical feet of steep hill crossed the river and made my way up the other side. After a very steep climb my stock was cut short by some very fickle wind, my first hard learned lesson of bear hunting. Bears have a nose that makes an elk look like he has no sense of smell at all! If you don’t have the wind right you might as well not even try it. You will be done before you even get started.

Another evening spent locating spring black bear.

The next day another good friend of mine made it closer than I did to the big boar, but was also unsuccessful. For the next week we tried to locate the big bear but were unable to find him again. Food is key for bears in the spring; without good food bears will not stay long in an area. After not finding the big boar for the next five days, we were sure he left the area in search of better food.

Chocolate soe. not what I want but nice to have around to watch and learn from.

For the next couple of weeks, bears were few and far between. Spring turned back into winter. Foul weather and low bear numbers made it hard to stay focused. It was only about a week later that I ran into friend Steve Drake of Mystery Ranch. He was also having a rough spring chasing spring turkeys. So we decided to team up and see if we couldn’t figure this bear thing out. After a couple map sessions and a few conversations with other bear hunters we had a solid game plan.

As Steve and I walked to our first glassing spot, I could only wonder if this season would just be like all the rest. Within five minutes of being there my question was answered. Bears spotted – an awesome chocolate sow with a cub. Even though the sighting was short it gave me new hope for the season.  Good thing film cameras are a thing of the past, because I would have burned a lot of film taking pictures of bears through my spotting scope! About a week into our tag team assault on the bears I had to make a trip to Billings for work. I knew Steve would be heading into our bear rich area. As I sat in an afternoon meeting my phone started to ring. Guess who? Steve was calling to inform me that he had connected on his first Montana bear! I wish I could have seen the look on his face. Everyone in the meeting could tell he was pumped, from the excited yelling coming over my phone! I was bummed I could not help Steve get his bear out, but was confident that he would have no troubles. The Crew Cab is the best way off the mountain.

Sleepy little chocolate cub.

With Steve’s bear in the bag I started looking in other areas to see if we could take our new found knowledge of bears and apply it to other parts of the state. A long weekend trip found myself and good friend Karl Dagel, sitting behind the big glass doing what we do best. Karl was dumbfounded we found so many bears that close to town. Karl, is from an area that is better known as bear central. He was positive we would be on bears from the word go. He was right.

My bear before the stalk.

First night out I found myself with my boots and socks off wading the river on the stalk of what I hoped would be my first bear with a bow. If I learned nothing else from the spring season, it is that bears have a sense of smell that will put about any animal to shame. Don’t even attempt a stalk unless the wind is perfect. You will get busted!

Once on the other side of the river I worked my way into the trees not long after I spotted the all black bear feeding in the chronic green grass. The bear fed in every direction, never stopping for more than a brief second to get another mouth full of grass. I slowly worked in until I was at the end of the trees. I gave myself a “calm down, you got this” pep talk. As I waited for my chance to loose an arrow the bear continued to do everything in its power not to give me a shot. A couple minutes went by when the bear stopped perfectly broadside. It was really working a chewing – almost like it had got too much in its mouth to swallow. One more click of the rangefinder to make sure, and I came to full draw.

My first bow kill bear!

When the shot broke it surprised me, but where the pin was when it did could mean nothing but a bad day for Mr. bear. I watched as my arrow arched into his jet black coat. The bear jumped, let out a loud grunt and took off running right at me. Oh hell this is not good. I quickly loaded another arrow. But when I looked out from behind my shooting tree the bear was waded up in a pile a mere 13 yards from where he was hit!

I couldn’t help myself, after I realized the bear was stone dead, I did a little end zone dance! From across the river I could hear Karl yelling his approval! My first bow kill bear – I couldn’t be happier.

Packed and ready for the hike out.

Now came the fun part: Pictures, skinning, quartering, and loading the whole bear into my Mystery Ranch Crew Cab! Even Karl could not believe how well the pack rode with such a load in it.

Some good tunes make the hike out that much faster.

Even though my season was over it did not stop me from going out and still trying to learn as much as I could about bears in southwest Montana. Good friend and owner of Big Sky Archery, Gabe Roffe, still had yet to pull the trigger on a bear. He was more than happy to have the big glass picking the hills apart alongside him. On the first night Gabe and I went out, we saw seven bears. The next night we saw four – all different bears. Night three I watched as Gabe made a play on a very big boar. Problem was, as good as our hand signals were, they were tough to see them at almost 2000 yards. Even though Gabe, was unable to put eyes on the monster black bear, he was still sure he could find a good bear before the season  ended.

Gabe with his last minute spring bear.

On June 15 at 10:45 pm I got a text from Gabe, “You still up?” Gabe usually won’t call me unless he really needs help packing something out. From the sound of it, it was more than a one man job.

Double Crewcabs ready for the long walk out.

Early the next morning found Gabe and I a long way from the truck. As we made our way up to the top of the mountain the unmistakable shape of a very large bruin came into focus. With an hour to go in the season Gabe had managed to not only make it up to the top of the mountain, but manage to find his quarry in the fading light. The on again off again rain storms made pictures and skinning a bit more wet that I prefer, but we got it taken care of in short order. With double Crew Cabs filled to capacity it was nothing more than a scenic hike back down the mountain.

The end to what has been the best bear spring of my life.

This spring season was as fun as any I have been a part of. My total count for the year was one animal short of 20 bears. It would not have been nearly as easy to continue to push myself to go, if not for the company of good friends and an iPod playlist or two. I hope to add ten bears to my “seen it” list next year. Next spring, come rain, snow, or shine, you can bet I will be out picking the hills apart with the big glass.

The end of a fun filled spring

Author with Elk Sheds at Sunset

Come April 10th, shed hunting turned into turkey hunting. Archery hunting for spring gobblers proved to be just as difficult as last year. I inadvertently found myself in bow range of far more elk than gobblers.

After four weeks of turkey hunting, winter came back with vengeance! The mountains around Bozeman got nearly fifty inches of snow in three days. I quickly steered some of my study time for college finals to the mountains. You can ask anyone who skied that storm and they’ll agree that it was the best snow of the year. As for finals – I passed.

Spring Black Bear hunting was next on the list. As a relatively novice bear hunter, the only sightings I’ve ever had were flukes. This spring, with the help of a friend, I turned my occasional bear sightings into multiples. Every day for about two weeks, I left work right at five o’clock to archery hunt a nearby mountain range with Phillip Larson from Black Gold Bowsights. We saw a handful of bears and after a few nights had a beautiful blond boar pegged. We put a great stalk on him the next night, but had an ATV spook the bear from the hillside.

Days later, I took my grandpa’s rifle out on a solo hunt. I immediately spotted a bear through the spotting scope on a hill side a mile away. Ten minutes of watching the bear had me convinced that it was in no hurry to leave the area. I packed up my gear and began closing the gap. One mile through the scope equaled at least two on the ground. Forty minutes later I was perched on top of a big cliff upwind of where I had last seen the bear. I glassed for thirty minutes with no luck. About when my impatience was going to get the best of me, I looked straight down to the base of the cliff and there was the bear! I got my gun set up and then grabbed the camera. I had to put my camera on a tripod to take photos; I was so excited I couldn’t take a clear picture! I watched the bear for twenty minutes to try and determine its size, but more importantly, make sure it had no cubs. After an anxious, but necessary, wait I steadied my rifle, took the shot, and harvested my very first black bear – a gorgeous mature chocolate phased female.

Before the shot

I was one happy hunter! Few things could compare to the experience. After making sure the bear was down, I made two quick phone calls, one to Phill and one to Mark Seacat. They were pretty excited for me. I was glad to have been able to share the moment even if it was via phone.

After the shot - looking down at my bear

Putting my hands on a creature I have only seen a dozen or so times was as strange as it was exciting. I pondered at the scene for a longtime.

As with any and every hunt, the work was just beginning. I removed the internal organs and then partially skinned the bear to allow the meat to cool. Next step was loading my Crewcab. With the entire bear in the pack, I cranked my waistbelt as tight as I could get it, rolled onto my stomach and then stood up. Thirty minutes later I had made it just 200 yards. It was 10 p.m., there was no moon, and I was battling a steep ravine with a raging creek in the bottom. After falling down, while attempting to climb out of the ravine, I was feeling pretty hopeless. My only option was to wade down the creek. As if someone from above felt my struggle, I cut a jeep trail in minutes. I went from cursing god to thanking god.

110 pounds of black bear in my Crewcab at the trail head

Three hours later, I made it back to Bozeman. Two days later, I had recouped from the hunt and was back in the mountains exploring new country with Phill, while he pursued bears with his bow. On Memorial Day weekend the stars aligned for Phill, as he took his first archery black bear. What a feat!

Sow and cub napping

Montana is an outdoorsman’s paradise. I feel pretty lucky to have been raised in such a place. My next few months will revolve around fly fishing and preparing for this falls hunting season. It’s hard to believe that we are just two and a half months out from archery hunting speed goats, and three months from bugling bulls. Oh the anticipation!

As luck would have it, I tagged out on a beautiful bull elk on the fourth week of this year’s archery season.  With eight more weeks of hunting, I had the opportunity to broaden my horizons and focus hard on finding myself and two others some wall hanging bucks.

October 25^th, opening morning of the Montana rifle season, friend and co-worker, Kyle Christenson and I trudged through knee deep snow and headed into high country.  At first shooting light we were surrounded by mule deer.  We saw eight bucks that morning but never took a shot.  Two weeks later, we went back to the same vicinity and Kyle took a gorgeous whitetail.  It was his first big game animal, one he’ll have a hard time topping.

The next week, friend and roommate, Sean Schroff and I went in search of mule deer. Frigid temps and inclement weather pushed some of the larger bucks down into the lower elevations offering us some great opportunities.  Sean was able to reach out and touch his first mule deer.

With seven days left in the season it was my turn to give it a go.  I went to an area that I had run into some good deer during archery season.  At first light I saw two decent bucks under a cliff band a half mile above me.  Off to my left on a steep hillside were four does. With them was a worthy looking buck.  His head was down and neck was thick.  This boy was rutting hard!

In an attempt to close the gap on this buck I jumped a doe which then spooked the buck.  He bounded up the steep hillside and went out of sight.  I hiked as fast as I could up the hill hoping to spot him on the other side.  The buck was gone.  I sat down, pulled out the binos and glassed some neighboring hillsides.  I spotted a small buck a half mile out.  He was moving my direction.

The buck managed to close the distance between him and I to about 300 yards before abruptly stopping.  He fixed his eyes on something above him and then began raking a tree.  Higher up, running down the hill was a dominant buck.  The two greeted each other violently!  Antlers clashed!  As the fight ensued, I ran up to a small knob, un-noticed, and dropped to the ground to get ready for a shot. The smaller buck was quickly defeated.  The winner stood tall and was swollen with pride.  I rested my crosshairs slightly above his back and squeezed off a shot, making a quick clean kill.

2 hours after the shot I had the head plate removed and the quarters, loins, and back straps in game bags ready to be hauled out in my Crew Cab.

With the meat and antlers secured, I strapped on my rifle and got ready for the big haul.

After a good struggle I stood up with the pack, cinched down my waist belt and was on my way.  At 135 pounds, the 150 pound load was surprisingly comfortable.

Two hours later I capped off my 2009 hunting season by flopping my Mystery Ranch Crew Cab, laden with an entire mule deer, onto my Ford Ranger’s tail gate.

Steven Drake hopes to fill his crew cab on opening weekend of Antelope season.

After three weeks of countless spot and stalks on Montana speed goats my patience and motivation was wearing thin.  It was my last evening of hunting before college started and the pressure was on.  In a last ditch effort I snuck down a coulee on a barren piece of public land.  I failed to spot any goats before I headed in.  Regardless, my hopes were high.

Two large snake skins and a musky smelling puddle of urine had me on full alert as I crawled my way down the coulee.  A half mile into the section I poked my head out to take a look at the surroundings.  I spotted a mature buck bedded on a hillside about two-hundred yards away.  It was time to try my luck at flagging.  I ducked back into the coulee, pulled out a white tee shirt from my pack, and held the shirt in the air as to get the buck’s attention and hopefully spark his interest.  Sure enough, he zeroed in on the white shirt and began running right towards me.  Right then, adrenaline started pumping through my veins, my heart rate spiked, and my breathing became rapid and somewhat uncontrollable.  The buck came to a screeching halt one-hundred yards out.

Look close to see the speed goat at 11:00

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted two alert does walking right at me.  In all the excitement of having the buck run in, I failed to nock an arrow.  With the two does closing the distance fast, I shoved a sleeve of the flagging shirt in my mouth, nocked an arrow, and put the rangefinder on the does.  As steady as I could, I drew my bow.  The lead doe took four more steps and turned broadside.  She was well within my effective range.  With the shirt still dangling from my mouth, I settled my pin right on the kill zone. Instinct took over.  My trembling hands steadied.  I touched the trigger on my release and sent an arrow towards its final destination.

I was confident I had bagged a speed goat before the arrow had even reached its target.  A split second before the arrow found its place the doe ducked down and jumped back.  My arrow flew right over her back and stuck in the dirt.  She “jumped the string!”

Experiences like this are what archery hunting is all about.  It’s an extremely challenging, yet thrilling, sport.  If and when the day comes that I do harvest an antelope with my bow, the sense of accomplishment will be out of this world.  The 2009 archery season is young, anticipation and excitement is high, there are five arrows in my quiver eagerly waiting for a chance at a trophy.  Any animal taken with a stick and string is a trophy.

This essay appears with permission from the RMEF in its entirety and as originally published in the July/August 2009 issue of Bugle Magazine. Please become a member of the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation. Help protect the wild places where free ranging wild elk call home. Learn more at http://www.rmef.org/.

Download the PDF.

I decided to sit back and rest for an evening and just glass, hoping to find a batch of good bulls showing themselves right at dark.  I didn’t see any bulls and not even one single cow!?  I did take notice of a few sets of tracks way up high in the deep snow moving through what historically was a travel corridor for bulls. Going off this tiny bit of info, I shaped the next mornings plan.  An early start would be needed if I ever wanted to glimpse any of the bulls making those tracks.  I would have to try and intercept them… if they were even up there in the timber of the high benching pass.

I left the truck the next morning with the realization that this was going to be a big day.  I never dreamt how big it would become.  After 2 hours of stiff hiking in a steep black timbered slope, I was slowly approaching “the zone”.  It was approximately 15 minutes before legal shooting light when I hooked into the tracks.  They were bull tracks, six of them and moving up and away from the wave of people they were so accustomed to eluding.  I followed the tracks, slowly sifting through the knee deep snow only now taking notice that I was approaching 9000 feet .  I had followed the tracks about 500 yards paying close attention to their shuffle-shuffle-eat routine written in the snow.  Pushing slowly along ready for anything, I caught a visual.  I shifted to my left about ten feet and laid down where I had a clear shooting lane ready.  They were all bulls, I could see 2 of them as they walked through my lane, both being small 6 points.  I kept looking and another bull appeared moving left to right, he was also a small 6 point, not what I was after.  I kept searching, and BAM, from out behind a huge douglas fur tree stepped the bull.  I could make out he was very heavy with extra stuff and that was all the convincing I needed.  I patiently waited for him to open up into a lane so I could get a shot.  Crack, the first shot hit it’s mark from about 150 yards through the timber.  I proceeded to follow up on him with a few more insurance shots and the great bull finally toppled.

Tyler Johnerson with his hard-earned 2008 Montana elk.

What an awesome bull, what a long season, I was overwhelmed with emotions.  After taking in the moment and snapping a few pictures with the timer, I went to work on the beast.  I prepped the bull for packing him out, loaded up the head, cape and horns and headed down still running on adrenaline.  The heavy massive horns carried perfectly.  I made it out a little afternoon where I rallied my uncle to come back up and help with the remaining loads.  The afternoons revisit to the kill site had turned to nightfall, but by 7:00 p.m. that night we had the bull in the back of the truck.  All the hours logged in the mountains this fall cinched into my Crew Cab payed off huge.  It’s great to have a pack that can meet every requirement of every aspect of every hunt!  I have tremendous confidence trekking the backcountry when I have a great pack.  Thanks Mystery Ranch for your superior product.

Check out more of Tyler’s adventures at www.huntsoloventures.com.

The bugle had been lingering in the background since jolting me awake at 1:24 a.m. I was growing impatient watching Andrew finish his breakfast.  It was time to go.

We had glassed this bull and his 30 cows last night as they fed into a timber and sage covered meadow across the canyon.  Exactly the situation we had been searching for, we sat down our packs and made camp.

Andrew enjoys another meal from the Jetboil! Photo by Mark Seacat

While eating dinner, we watched as the herd began feeding their way toward the upper portion of the meadow.  Above them, a brief ridgeline separated the herd’s meadow from a dark tract of timber that ran on for miles.  In the mid-morning tomorrow, the elk would likely disappear into this area to bed.  We knew catching up to them in the heavy timber would be difficult.  Our best chance was to be above the herd at first light.

Andrew was still working on his breakfast as we began wading across the river.  We were late, but the ridge leading us to the elk was direct and we made good time in the breaking dawn.  Twenty minutes before shooting light, we dove off the ridge to our left, directly into a steady headwind.  We still had a couple hundred yards to close when the bull screamed for the first time since breakfast.  As Andrew promptly veered off to begin calling, I paused momentarily to nock an arrow before continuing quietly in the direction of the bugle.

At shooting light, just 50 yards in front of me, I watched as the bull moved hurriedly between his cows on the outer edge of the herd.  Barely acknoledging his presence as they fed amongst the sage, the cows only briefly glanced up as the bull fired bugles in the direction of Andrew’s calls.  I knew I needed to get above the herd immediately, and by using the sparse trees in the meadow as cover, I moved quickly toward the ridgeline.

Soon I had connected with a game trail that would put me directly above the herd.  As I neared the upper ridgeline, I spotted the bull moving through the trees below me at 25 yards out.  While he passed behind a large tree 15 yards away, I drew my bow.  At 11 yards he stopped completely.  He stood there for a moment, quartering slightly away and bugled once more.  I held my spot and released.  Twenty minutes later, Andrew and I were walking up to the first elk I’d ever harvested with a bow, an unmistakable red arrow adorning my quiver.

A good sign. Photo by Mark Seacat

After taking some photos, we quickly began the process of field dressing and quartering the bull.  Less than an hour later, we had a large pile of boned meat and four quarters sitting in front of us.  I asked Andrew, “Do you think we can carry all of this out in one load?” “I don’t know, but I think we should at least try it,” he replied.  For a moment I just stood there watching as Andrew began loading his Crew Cab, these were going to be some heavy loads…

Hindquarter, Front Shoulder, and Head. 150 plus pounds! Photo by Andrew Crow

Negotiating the final obstacle... Photo by Andrew Crow

The Author watches as the first sunlight reaches the high country. Photo by Tyler Johnerson

Well, I can’t say I didn’t have my chances.  I hiked into a completely new area and spent a total of 2 days scouring for elk.  I saw 18 different bulls with only 2 being shooters.  I had an opportunity at a smaller 5 x 6 on the first evening but he wasn’t what I was after.  I had one of the shooters at full draw Wednesday morning at 50 yards before he winded me and wheeled out not giving me any shot.  Pushing on I relocated the herd bull, four satellites and 18 cows. They were 2 basins away and this was the last morning of my fall archery hunting season.

It was freezing cold throughout the night and into the next morning.  Above treeline, the wind was brutal….. but that is where the elk were.  I waited about an hour for my opportunity to develop.  Laying there freezing for about 30 minutes in one spot, I let at least 10 cows and three of the five bulls leak by me at 10 to 50 yards away. I was perched in the cliffs in what resembled more goat country than anything else!  I was wearing every piece of clothing I had with me and kept thinking, “Can I make the shot with this jacket?”  “Yes”, I kept saying to myself, you have your arm guard on, it’ll be fine….it wasn’t fine!

When my moment of opportunity presented itself, it was almost too good to be true.  It was my very last hunt for this year with a bow and it came down to this….. 25 yards and the bull had no clue I was there…perfect situation.  When I let the arrow go, my string caught my sleeve up in my bicep area! The rest is left puke over!!!!  A clean miss and I was truly sick!!  All that effort and then it came down to the last hour, literally, and BOOM, it blew up in my face!

Oh well, that’s why we hunt.  I can’t complain…. it was a great ending hunt for my bow season!  Being the eternal optimist I am, maybe I didn’t kill the bull because I’m going to run into a bigger one during rifle season!

Check out more of Tyler Johnerson’s Adventures at www.huntsoloventures.com.

Mark Seacat carries out the first load. Photo by Chris Awe

In my never ending search for total compatibility, commitment through hard times, and good looks, I have had many letdowns in my years.  Friends have told me to lower my standards, get over myself, and to lay-off the pursuit.   It wasn’t until early one fall in Montana that a friend paired us up.

Being the good buddy he is, Mark Seacat of Mystery Ranch had anticipated my anxiety and setup a blind date.  As an avid hunter, scheduling was hard this time of year.  My life evolves around long days in the mountains, seeking out adventure and game.  Knowing this, the arrangement was made… 5AM, on the tailgate, under the moonlight, 40 miles away at my favorite trailhead.

With hunting, and the proverbial “One” on my mind, a ruthless devil started to turn inside me.  Knowing all too well, we both agreed that it would be smart to have a third-party make the introductions.  I got to the trailhead early.  I incessantly dried my palms over the dashboard heater as I saw Mark’s headlights bobbing up the road.

Fumbling for my headlamp, my first impression was of shock and amazement.  Initially embraced by a tight grip on my hips, and a firm hug around my chest, I knew this was love.  With a tip of my hat to the almighty creator (Dana Gleason), I look back and can’t imagine life without the Crew Cab.  Many adventures later, and zero modifications, we are what most people refer to as “a power couple”.

A season later however, the real test of our relationship was hardened.  After a volley of whoops and he-haws, Mark and I began to understand the gravity of our recent success.  A beautiful 370” class bull tangled by our feet, a hounding sun overhead, and a governing path to asylum, there was no time to squander.

Fueled by the fall of that massive animal… we idled like a couple of diesels, summoning the strength for the path ahead.  With confidence, we each loaded our Crew Cabs with over 100 lbs. of freight.  By doing so, we set in motion a chain of events that will likely never be forgotten by Mark or I.

Predisposed by our steep descent into that remote drainage, we chose to blaze a new path out.  Intending to circumnavigate the rim of the canyon, we could’ve never imagined the terrain we would encounter.  We told ourselves the path would relent around the next bend, and held our course.  In reflection, I refer to the 5 hours that proceeded as “an outer body experience”.

We did successfully harvest and extricate that elk without any meat spoiling.  From what I’ve seen and experienced, the Crew Cab made the deal come together.  Having the ability to leave at the initial time of the kill with staggering loads, we were able to heave that elk out of the mountains before the sun, flies, or grizzlies got a turn.  Thanks to such a burly pack design, our loads were securely fastened, allowing us to negotiate our turbulent path out.  No pack I’ve ever dawned in the past would’ve held to that test.

I want to say thanks to the folks over at Mystery Ranch for producing and revolutionizing the backpack industry. The innovative Crew Cab has opened doors, and is helping to incubate and support a new breed of backcountry hunter.