It was a a very difficult and stressful week of long hours and big decisions and I needed to get away for some mind mechanic time. I packed overnight gear planning to go in steep and deep despite the soaring temps and smoke filled air. Because it was 95 degrees when I left the truck and knowing water would be limited, I was climbing the trail very slowly resting briefly every hundred yards or so to keep from overheating. There was no air movement at all and the rocks all along the exposed portions of the trail were radiating heat such that I could feel it through my boots and reflecting up onto my face. Every rest was a minute or less because the flies and wasps were so bad.
I have a spot that has huckleberries galore, but it’s not easy to get to and I wasn’t in a rush because I didn’t expect bears to be out until the coolness of the evening brought some reprieve from the blistering sun. After just shy of 3 miles in I was preparing myself for a big climb up and over a final steep ridge, my third ridge of the trip. I paused to wipe the torrent of sweat running in my eyes and to look at the immense amount of berries surrounding me and was reminiscing of two years ago when I crossed this same spot and jumped a bear at 15 yards - it was hard to say which of us had been more startled. A nonchalant glance to the side startlingly revealed the back of small bear in the brush walking almost direct towards me and close.
I leaned my trekking pole against my leg while removing my rifle slowly from my shoulder when the pole fell over making a small noise. The bear turned 90 degrees and was slowly walking broadside mowing down berries as he went. 5 more yards and I wouldn’t be able to see him again as the hill dropped off. With no time to waste, I shouldered, the 300wsm roared, and all hell broke loose for a few seconds in the brush and I heard him go down into the depression just below him where the brush was thickest. I paused, and then heard what I think was another bear far up in the ridge clamoring over the rock chutes between huckleberry fields.
I had to stop and think. It was well over 90 degrees with no wind. Do I wait the usually 30-40 minutes and lose that precious time to cool him off, or do I risk bumping him. I decided to wait 10 minutes, start pounding some of the 170 ounces of water I had brought, and then go in. I hadn’t seen him fall and there was no final moan of mortality lost. I eased down in after him rifle at the full ready, sweat pouring and my heart pounding in my ears. Slowly and meticulously I worked my way down to where he had crashed, about 20 yards below where he had been standing. I strained to hear, but the buzzing of mosquitos, flies, and wasps filled the air everywhere.
Looking under a nearby tree with low hanging limbs, I saw a tuft of black hair sticking around the trunk. I sliced the pie on the tree at 10 yards or so just in case, but my scope confirmed there was no chest rise. I’m glad I hadn’t waited longer, it was a picture perfect shot. Now it was game time, the large exit wound through the lungs was already full of yellowjackets and flies in just the few minutes it had been there. I had to pack him up to the trail then almost 3 miles and two ridges out to the truck. I also don’t react well to wasp stings, although I had thought to bring a couple epipens just in case.
Some quick pictures, and then I made a plan - one I’ve never tried before and probably won’t ever do again. As soon as I finished gutting, I knew I wouldn’t be able to skin him right there with as bad as the wasps were, but I also needed to get the skin off and get him cooling as fast as possible. I knew I wouldn’t have time for multiple trips either - it was too hot and there were no creek bottom anywhere nearby. I carry 2 moose quarter size game bags for extra large loads and so I put the entire bear minus entrails into a game bag folded as tight as I could get him, got as many wasps out of the back as I could before tieing it shut, and then attached the entire bag to my pack along with my rifle and all of my overnight gear before cinching everything as tight as it would go. I was looking for any bear and not necessarily a big one, at that moment I was glad he wasn’t any bigger. Still, it was quite the sight - but for the record, I am now an absolute believer in the quality of the stoneglacier xcurve. I couldn’t lift the pack, so I rolled it over and laid down on the ground and managed to get the buckles on, before rolling up to a seated position and eventually getting my feet under me.
Time was of the essence, there could be no breaks. It was the most difficult pack out I’ve ever done. While I’ve packed two elk hind quarters and gear multiple times before, I’ve never packed meat in that kind of heat and smoke, or with the urgency it brings. With 6” steps and a lot of moaning and groaning I slowly got up to the trail and started out. With every step my hips and feet protested mightily and sweat and bug spray rained in my eyes. I didn’t even bother swatting the mosquitoes away anymore. After the first mile my growls and grunts were echoing off the hillsides. No time to rest, have to get to the truck, have to get the skin off, and get him to the new meat locker as fast as possible.
At the start of the last mile I started realizing I had to pace it more, as clear signs of heat exhaustion were showing now. Fighting a horrible headache, nausea and the urge to vomit, I took care to not let dizziness cause me to take a careless step as I descended the last several hundred feet to the truck on the steep hillside.
Finally arriving at the tailgate I guzzled four bottles of water and removed the bear to begin skinning. Within 5 minutes the wasps were there again en masse, eventually so thick I couldn’t even find a place to grab the skin without waving them away. I got in the truck with AC on full blast and drove down road, if it could be called that, to a spot 400 yards away. I skinned for 2-3 minutes before my foes arrived in force again. I drove, skinned, drove, skinned, and eventually after several repetitions completed the process. Arriving home the bear went straight into the new meat locker where it is now holding at 35.5-36 degrees.
The dichotomies of the hunt always strike me- it’s relaxing for the mind but pushes your limits to the max. It’s rejuvenating but incredibly strenuous. It’s painful and hard, but glorious and rewarding. Packing meat out can be the most miserable you ever feel and the second best feeling you ever have in the outdoors. Of course, the first best feeling is the exact moment when that pack full of meat finally gets set on the tailgate back at the truck. It was a small bear, but after the week I’ve had the day’s mission was a huge success.
