The hunt of 1997 took us to two different areas of Colorado. First we went near Maybell which is about fifteen miles West of Craig to hunt mule deer and then to the Gould area to hunt the great wapiti.

This was my third big game hunting season. The first was as a guest of a friend who was guiding for Eagle Spirit Outfitters in Steamboat Springs. That hunt was on private property outside of Oak Creek. I scored a five by five bull elk with one shot from another friend's .308. I was told that I sure was lucky to get an elk, because it doesn't happen too often. In 1996 we hunted mulies and elk in areas 21 and 22 near Rangely, Co. I had no success there, however I did have a mulie in my sights and let my son Steven take the shot and get his first deer. I did not care too much for what they call road hunting and spending our nights in a motel. I have a preconceived notion of what I think hunting should be like and this year I wanted to experience it. I wanted to scout an area and pick a spot and still hunt. I wanted to find a place that would afford me some peace and quiet and precious solitude. To hunt this way meant being more prepared than the past two years.

The journey begins long before opening day as any hunter will attest to. Not having many of the necessities for a self sufficient time, I wanted to acquire it all this year. The list was tremendously long. On it were mini binoculars, two good hunting knives, a saw, new pair of boots, wool socks, a belt for my pistol and one of my knives, a canteen, camouflage clothing, ammunition for the rifle and the pistol, maps of the areas, licenses, gloves and a survival kit. The later being the most important. In it are a compass, waterproof matches, rope and a lanyard, an extra knife, a metal cup, snacks such as granola bars, and candy, band aides, antiseptic, aspirin and a hole lot of other necessities. One thing that was in my pack this year was extra crutch parts. Most hunters don't have this on their list, but after what happened in Oak Creek on my first hunt crutch parts are standard supplies.

Let me digress for a moment to November of 1995. We were hunting bulls in two feet of fresh show and the ground had not yet frozen. We parked along the utility road that runs along the electrical towers. We found fresh tracks and began hiking in after them. About a quarter of a mile into the woods, bulls were spotted and brought down. They were in a deep gully and the only access was about another mile down the access road and hike in to the animals. On my way back to the vehicles my crutch tips sank into the ground and were promptly removed from my crutches. It became very difficult to get around as my crutches began to sink into the ground about six inches every step I took. After a couple of hours of retrieving the meat from those two bulls and a cow that another hunter got we headed back to the lodge. But, before we went to the lodge we had to run into Steamboat to find another pair of crutch tips. It was no fun trying to get around an icy downtown Steamboat without those precious rubber tips. Extra crutch parts are now essential.

Someone asked me why I wanted to go and I had to tell them that one of the factors is that this is the real deal. A storm can come up against the Rockies and cut you off from civilization in a hurry. You had better be prepared to spend at least a night in the forest, with no one to depend on but yourself.

After months of getting ready, the day had arrived. We met on October 10, 1997 at 4:00 am for the five hour ride to Maybell. There was Michael, Denny, Mark, Joe, Dave and myself. The theme song from 'Gilligan's Island' played in my head. we headed out in four separate vehicles. We had us a convoy. We made the usual stops at Ted's Place and the gas station in Walden. Just past Gould we ran across the sight that I will l remember for a long time to come. There, about fifty yards off the road out in a field were two bull moose and a cow moose. The bulls were establishing pecking order for the cow. We pulled over and watched for a few minutes. Man, the testosterone filled the air. What a sight!

We had breakfast in Steamboat after a wild chase by Mark to catch us as we missed the turn off and headed down the road. We got to Maybell and this is what we found. The area was mostly scrub juniper about ten to fifteen feet high with lots of sage mixed in for our walking enjoyment. Just West of our camp was the constant noise of reclamation of a strip mine. This was not very conducive to an enjoyable time. It was around the clock beeping of heavy equipment.

We spent Friday scouting the area for fresh sign and tracks. We found a few lone tracks and no fresh sign to speak of. It didn't look good for the hopeful hunters. We spotted some old deer and elk sign, a good indication that they may winter in the area. The weather so far had been unseasonably warm following quite a wet summer. There was plenty of grass still to be eaten at higher elevations.

We decided to stay and be out and set up at first light. The morning found us awake by 5:30 am to the aroma of fresh coffee. It was time to recheck the supplies in the day pack and set off for the morning hunt. Joe carried my rifle and a flash light as we set off in the darkness to my selected spot. It was about 300 yards up a hill covered with scraggly old sage. It overlooked a dried stream bed where I had seen the lone track of a bull elk and scattered tracks of some deer that were at least a few days old. Across the raven were two well worn trails that ran parallel to the stream about 25 yards apart. I could see about 200 yards up the stream bed and had a clear view across the gulch. In the other direction I could see the whole hill of juniper and sage. I figured it was a great spot.

The morning grew long and though the area was not overrun with men in orange, we heard no sounds of first day, first light success. The animals had not arrived, or they were being very cautious. By 11:00 am we were all back at camp and the weather had begun to turn foul. It started to rain and the temperature began to descend. Rather than hang around the camp we opted to drive over to Godiva ridge and check it out.

We drove for most of the afternoon, stopping at various places to check for signs of animals. There were antelope everywhere. Good size bucks and plenty of does, but no deer or elk. While on our little jaunt, it began to snow and get colder. The high light as seeing a badger scurry across the road and just before it disappeared into its den it paused long enough to look at us with a sort of 'what the hell do you want' expression on its face. Upon returning to camp, we had a great dinner of homemade chili by chef Dave and off to dreamland. The weather had turned nasty cold with snow and wind.

Sunday morning found us not so eager to get up at the crack of dawn. If we had a snooze alarm, it would have been hit three or four times. Never the less, we set off to our designated spots. This year I tried something different in the manner that I packed in. I had my back pack filled with my basic survival gear, binoculars, ammunition, some apples and bananas, granola bars and plenty of pogie bait (bite size Snickers and Butterfingers). On my belt was my trusty Old Timer hunting knife and my ever reliable Smith and Wesson 357 magnum. The difference was in how I carried my rifle. I shoot an Interarms 7MM magnum. It is quite a heavy piece, but a straight, flat shooter. I have been carrying it over my shoulder, but it would knock against my crutches and be awkward when traversing rugged terrain. This year I carried it in a soft gun case which I could hold onto the handle and my crutch grip at the same time. I found that I had to carry it backwards when going up hill as the front of it would make contact with the ground.

I set up in a spot directly across the gully from where I was Saturday morning. The wind was whipping last night's snow around pretty good. It was cold and overcast. Every so often the sun would make a warmly welcome appearance, only to be blocked out by the onslaught of gray clouds. I tucked myself into a generous juniper and snacked on some fruit and granola bars. After a while I got that urge that I was hoping that could be avoided during my short time on the hill that morning. I really had to take a dump! The thought of bearing my hiney in that frigid blustery storm was not a pleasant one. I wished that I had two good legs at that moment so that I could get down the hill quick, do my business and get back. The longer I waited the more pressing my predicament became. Finally I headed to a protective group of junipers and found a bare, welcome branch about a foot and a half off the ground. Peeling off my nice warm lined jeans I squatted and found relief. While pulling up my drawers I looked back to find my wallet about a foot from my adequate stool. I laughed to myself because yesterday a member of the party had done the same thing only he left behind his 22 pistol which had fallen out of his back pocket. It was found by another member and was a good source of fun for a while. Anyway I left what was the freshest sign that I had seen in two days.

Returning to camp about 11:00 with that feeling that I was coming off the hill a bit too soon. I have also noticed that it is much easier for me to travel the terrain more vertically than on the constant angle of the direct route. The crutches, being the same length, are great for level surfaces. On the angle of a hillside it tends to get somewhat uncomfortable. I have never liked those where you push the little ball in the leg to quickly adjust the height. The were too noisey. They may be just the ideal thing for this terrain. It would be nice to have one crutch slightly shorter than the other to use on the uphill side while following a trail along the side of a hill.

After a long tiresome walk down the hill I stood catching my breadth when I noticed some movement on top of the hill where I was posted all morning. What! Five, six, seven deer, strolling casually right above where I had been sitting! Time to head right back up that hill; no time to lose. As I crested the top of what seemed to be a very steep hill I met a man and a woman who where obviously tracking the small herd we had just seen. I motioned to them from about fifty yards away which direction I had seen them heading last. I figured that the deer would circle back around to the South side of the hill where they came from and set out in that direction. I found a place to set my gun case and back pack and strapped my rifle over my shoulder and across my back diagonally. This was not the best position for getting off a quick shot, but I could move around the hill fairly easily. I covered that hill from front to back and side to side. I saw fresh tracks of a large buck, quick moving buck.

I heard one shot ring out from the North side of the hill and a while later another shot from further away. Someone was at least seeing something other than tracks that only said that the deer was not there anymore. I checked up and down the gullies on the South side of the hill and remember thinking that this is where I should have posted. Gosh, I wonder how deer really think. We only think we know how they process information based only on our knowledge of the situations. I remember someone said that the deer are probably used to the noise of the heavy machinery at the strip mine and they were used to it. They only had to go a half a mile further away and they wouldn't have to listen to it at all. Maybe that's where they were hanging out. Who knows?

Anyway after about an hour and a half of trying to find them deer we headed back to camp and made ready for our trip to Gould in search of wapiti. As we headed East the weather was getting progressively worse. We could see that the Continental Divide was being hit by a snow storm. We ate in a little cafe in Hayden. The place was crawling with hunters clad in orange and sporting fancy felt hats and plain caps. We dined on pork loin sandwiches and fresh coffee. With all the hunting activity going on in that town, I began to have second, err third thoughts about leaving so quickly.

As we were passing through Steamboat we could see Rabbit Ears pass, or should I say we could see the base of it. It was snowing at the top. We knew we were in for a slow ride up and down this hill. We were pulling a seventeen foot camper with a six cylinder Chevy Blazer 4X4. As we ascended the hill the road became worse the more we gained altitude. The snow got worse and Maybell looked even better. Its a long way down the side of Rabbit Ears pass. A long way. When we got to the top the roads were icy and getting more treacherous by the minute. The snow plows were out and that was good. We were crawling along in four wheel low in second gear. Everything was as it should be. The two passengers were extremely nervous and not able to control the situation. feeling somewhat secure, the driver shifted into third gear and the nice slow ride got overwhelmingly exciting. The camper caught up to us rather quickly, trying its best to pass us on the right side. This sent the vehicle into a side spin and there we were, coming down Rabbit Ears Pass sideways. We were stretched out taking up about three lanes of the road, and clearly at the will of hopefully a kind, loving God. It was one of those slow motion experiences where time seems to stand still. I think it appears as slow motion because we were definitely 'in the moment.

After what seemed like ten minutes of a sideways free fall, the camper stopped on the right shoulder and the Blazer spun around into position. The only problem was that we were stuck. Luckily for us a kind snowplow driver pulled us out after towing a gas tanker up the hill a ways. We were on the road again, staying happily in second gear for the rest of the way down the mountain. The rest of the ride to Gould was uneventful. We saw a large herd of elk on a ranch on the South side of the road between Walden and the Rand turnoff. Other smaller herds could be seen about a mile North of the road, running along the riverbed.

Dusk on Sunday found us at the KOA campground in Gould and a foot of fresh snow blanketed the ground. There was still a storm raging on Cameron pass. We lucked out and found an empty cabin. It was fourteen by fourteen feet and contained a double bed and a bunk bed, a table and a couple of folding chairs. The main attraction was an electric heater and the fact that we had more room to walk around in than the camper. It had been a long day, starting out in Maybell, chasing dear and sliding down Rabbit Ears Pass. After a wonderful dinner of Laura's shrimp gumbo, the soft pillow and warm sleeping bag were a great way to end a most unusual day.

Monday morning found us scouting around looking for a likely spot for the afternoon hunt. We drove into the National Forest, South of Gould. We tried to get over to Owl mountain, but wound up getting stuck and having to get pulled out. It sure was pretty though. Later on we explored the Colorado State forest. The entrance is right at the KOA. It too was beautiful. I found a spot that looked out over a rather large meadow that had fresh tracks running through it. It was about a hundred yards down hill from where we turned off the road to where I set up. Because of the snow, I wanted to use my stool. This meant two trips down the hill. The first trip I took my stool and backpack and found a wonderful spot. I went back up the hill and strapped my rifle across my back.

I sat in the spot for nearly three hours and enjoyed the absolute beauty of the environment. The wind whispered through the tall pines and I could hear the trees creaking as they swayed in the wind. My thoughts ran wilder than they usually do. I wished I had a recording of them. Still no sign of the great wapiti. He is elusive once again. About 6:00 p.m. I decided to head back to the vehicle and meet up with Dave who was wandering around some where. As I was strolling down the road, I couldn't help but wonder what the other hunters thought when a one-legged guy on crutches emerges out of the forest. So much for the macho hunting facade. Any way, I realized that those elk are not very politically correct. The don't believe in giving handicapped hunters an unequal advantage.