More Gadgets and Gear

I don't know why, but it seems that no matter how much gear or how many gadgets you have, you still don't seem to have the one piece or part that you need. Either that or the gismo you have should have been replaced. Yeah, you've been there, you know you have, or is it just me???

Back when Shep was a pup (that means a while back), I was headed to Elk Camp in my trusty FJ40 Landcruiser. It was the third day of Elk season and I was anxious to get there since I had had to work the first couple days of the season. I went to work in in my hunting clothes and hit the road right afterward. The trip to Camp wasn't really all that long, but the anticipation just made it seem like forever and a day.

I pull into camp with about an hour's daylight left and really don't expect to see anyone around camp with daylight still burnin'. But there they were. This only meant one thing; they had downed an Elk or maybe two. Sure enough, I was right! Randy and his dad had gotten back to camp just ahead of me and were attempting to hang the critters on the meat pole. By attempting, I mean that this chore was getting harder by the minute. You see, the rope they brought along for this very purpose wasn't going to hang a small deer, let alone a Bull Elk and a Cow as well. Just as I pull up the rope breaks......again.......and the Elk go tumbling to the ground.......again. This is not working as it was supposed to, nope not at all. Well the old Landruiser had a 4-ton PTO winch on it and I pulled up and we hauled the Elk up onto the meat pole with ease, what a deal. Sure beats bustin' a rotten rope.........again.

That isn't the end of the gear troubles for this trip, not at all. You see, it sure is nice to have a PTO winch, and plenty of cable to pull yourself out of trouble or haul a critter up into a tree or heck, hook it up to a potato digger if you so choose. Problem is gettin' a balled up in gumbo mud when there isn't a tree or big ole rock to be found to hook onto to give you a little helpin' hand. See I figured I'd head down this gumbo mud road and take a look see. I went on down the road and got out and went on a little hike and hunted around for a couple of hours and then decided to head back up. Well when I get back to the gumbo mud section of this here road the ole Landcruiser just isn't having anything to do with getting back up to the main road. I'm slippin' and slidin' and makin' some big ole ruts and there's this fella comes by on the main road and he just sits there a 1/2 mile away and watches my futility. He's likely wondering what kind of an idiot would try to drive down there when it's wet out. But me, I already know what kind of an idiot it would take. Well, I'm not completely without an idea to get myself outta this predicament, cause I've been there before. Not on this road, but, well, I'll tell ya about that one another day, or maybe I'll just keep it to myself, ya never know! I head off and gather up some pine and fir bows and stuff em in the ruts to try and get some traction and after about 3 whirls at this I finally get some momentum and up the hill the Landcruiser roars. Whew............

But wait, there is yet another gear and gadget mishap to come. The next day, I'm on the mountain by myself. You see Randy and Ron had to head out and along with them went the trailer full of gear, so I borrow Ron's Coleman stove to make cookin' a bit easier. I figure I'll sleep in the Landcruiser if it's too cold or rainy and I'll be good as gold.

I climbed up above this saddle and was sittin' there watching a game trail that looked as if it had been the main travel path for many a critter goin' over the saddle. Sure enough, along about 1/2 hour before dusk along comes this Cow Elk. I hunker down and wait for the Bull that surely must be with her. Wait, there comes another one, and another and another and, dad-burn-it, they are all Cows. Thirteen Cows to be exact and not a single antler. It didn't matter how long and hard I stared at them through my binos, I just couldn't get any of them to sprout horns. Well, they never see me, so I figure, this is a pretty good spot, and I back off and head down to the trusty Landcruiser just after dark. I pull out the borrowed camp stove and get ready to fix up a can of beans and some bacon for dinner. I fill the tank with white gas and pump up the pressure. I light a match and then turn the knob to allow some gas into the burner. Right here is where things go all to pieces. You see, I've never had a Coleman stove do this before, it turns into a torch with a flame about 3-4 ft high and I'm pretty sure this isn't normal. I get the knob turned back off, but not before scorching the bloomin' lid to the stove nice and black. Anyway, I let it cool down and I just put the thing away. Cold beans and Vienna Sausage for me that night. This stove never pulled that trick again for me or Ron or anyone, but it always had that big ole black scorch mark on it to remind ya that it could.

Well, I never saw another Elk that trip. I suppose the screaming and the big flame out on the Coleman stove scared em off, I don't know. Main thing is we came home safe again, despite our best efforts otherwise. More lessons learned, more gear and gadgets to be obtained. And thus the journey continuous.............