As you may recall, I have spent the last 19 weeks training for the Mayors Marathon, in Anchorage, Alaska. I never expected for my experience to be so rewarding. In addition to the increase in my fitness level, I was able to make new friends and see for myself “the Last Frontier”. I found a whole state that knows the value of recreation to it’s economy, and people who are practical and no-nonsense. So here are some impressions:
The Race
The night before the race Team in Training held a pasta party with John Bingham, the Author of the Penguin Chronicles as our speaker. John gave a very entertaining and inspirational speech that had us raring to go for our 6:30 am shuttle bus ride.
When the gun went off at 8 am a sea of over 3800 runners left the starting line headed into the foothills of the Chugach mountains. I found myself holding steady at a 11 minute per mile pace as we turned on to the Tank trail from mile 7 through 17. The large loose gravel was a challenge for those of us who trained mostly on pavement.

At mile 10 I had some encouragement from my coach, Renie which spurred me on through mile 15. That portion was the most difficult. When I topped out past mile 15 , I was able to find a stride that took me to mile 20 on a pace 15 minutes faster than my previous 20 mile training time.
“The last 6 miles is all Heart” is what marathon runners will tell you. It has to be, because my body was at redline! Everything is telling you to stop, slow down, WALK…Finally I told my self that I might as well run because I hurt as much walking as running! When I reached “Insult Hill” a half mile from the finish, a Team in Training coach was there to spur me up the hill at a run.
When I heard the crowd at the finish line cheering I pushed myself to run across the Finish line as the clock clicked past 5 hours 5 minutes and change. Not a speed record but an accomplishment for me.

I have to give credit to where it is due to all of my coaches and training partners in the Redwood Wine Country Team in Training crew.

All of the folks who shouted from the sidelines and rang cowbells. The Anchorage daily news put together a really great video segment that gives the true feeling of what I heard and saw along the 26.2 mile race course.

Next time, I’ll tell you about the people that made the trip so special.

Well folks,I’m gonna be out of contact for a few days while I travel to Anchorage to run the Mayors Marathon in Anchorage, Alaska. I have some adventures scheduled for after the race. I will be sure to post an update, after I explore the “Land of the Midnight Sun”.

I’ve been training 19 weeks for this, and ran 20 miles in 4 hours two weeks ago.  I’m as ready as I am going to be.

After I watched the buck turn about inside out, I fumbled for the radio in my pocket. My hands that were so steady seconds before were now wet, sweaty and shaky. “I shot a buck, I shot a buck!” I remember saying “check your watches guys, ‘cause we gotta start the trail no sooner than 15 minutes, He’s hit good, but I’m waiting ‘til you get here to start tracking.”

Confident that the buck was well over the next rise, I walked to where the buck was standing at the shot; saw the ground torn up at the sight of his rapid departure, and found my arrow 5 yards beyond with red frothy blood all over the white wraps an Quik Spin vanes. The Rocky Mountain Snyper blades didn’t have a nick or scratch in them. I stuck the arrow in the dirt and paced back over to where I had shot.

Once Cal and Taylor saw the arrow, they immediately began with the high fives and back slapping. I showed them where the buck crossed the horizon and let out a whoop as I saw a big fork sticking up out of the grass not 10 yards the other side of the rise.

As we dragged the buck across the hill and down to the creek bed below, we relived the stalk a thousand times between all of us as we hiked the ½ mile. When we reached the boat I made a special point of getting the first photo of my buck with the two great people who I can credit with getting a bow in my hand. I hope every one can find a hunting partner who can bring out the best in them the way Cal Farnsworth has done for me.

Post script:

There are numerous other people who deserve to be mentioned that contributed to my success in archery hunting. These include:

My daughers Erin and Kelsey. Thanks for being my shooting partners.

Marilyn and Steve Dutra. Thanks for your hospitality at the Sonoma County Bowmen’s club. Without your support, I would not have been able to introduce my girls to archery.

Natalie, my loving and puzzled but understanding wife. Without you honey, the heifers would have gone hungry a lot of nights!

Mike Camp and Cindy Thomas. A very patient couple that own and operate Back Room Archery. You helped me as I set up my bow, and talked me through shooting hurdles I would have never surpassed on my own.

Eastman’s Bowhunting Journal. Cameron, thanks for setting the example of just how far a person can push himself mentally and physically. You make it impossible to say “I Can’t”. To South Cox; you gave me a great pep talk at the backpacking store earlier this summer. I look forward to talking with you again. Trevon Stotzfus; always there with a uplifting comment. I’ll see you at Sage Creek buddy!

Well Elk hunting in Wyoming is one of my passions. It has been a life long goal, so my ears perk up when I hear news from that part of the globe. Here are a couple stories I found interesting:

Wyoming Elk Feedgrounds to remain open Fish and Game officials will continue to feed elk on the Jackson, and surrounding area feedgrounds. Concerns about the spread of brucellosis from wild elk to domestic livestock is one of the concerns.

Antler Arch auctioned tyo Jackson Hotel. Anyone who has been to Jackson Hole Wyoming knows the Antler Arch. It recently sold, as a Rotary Fundraiser, to build a new arch to replace the aging antlers that made up one of two arches in the town square.

Donated antlers go to arch
JACKSON - The Wyoming Game and Fish Department has donated more than 250 pounds of antlers collected from elk feed grounds to help replace antler arches on the Jackson Town Square.
The pile of antlers is valued at $3,000.
The antlers were shed on the department’s 22 elk feed grounds. Normally, the proceeds from the collected antlers go toward the department’s contribution to elk feeding at the National Elk Refuge.
Last year, the agency made a donation of antlers to rebuilding an elk antler arch in Afton.
“These antler arches are a long-standing tradition and symbolize the importance of elk to these communities,” Regional Wildlife Supervisor Bernie Holz said in a prepared statement. “We’re glad we could contribute to this good cause.”
The Jackson arches, believed to be about 50 years old, are being replaced in a project that will take years.

“The heck with lunch! Let’s go after him!” said Cal as we pulled the boat ashore, “I’ll head upstream to keep an eye on him. You guys tie up the boat and come find me.” At that point it was 11:20.

When Taylor and I made our way over to Cal’s vantage point, he said” I lost him, I don’t see him over there any more. I don’t think he’s spooked. John, why don’t you go up the ridge, while Taylor and I go up the creek bed to try and spot him. If we find him, we’ll call you on the radio.”

I rearranged my gear, getting into still-hunting mode, and started skirting the side hill towards the buck we hoped was still there. I walked quietly into the gusting north wind trying to coincide my shuffles through dry leaves with flurries of wind, and staying in the shadows as the sun climbed to high noon. Each time I dropped into a coulee and peeked over at the next finger, I climbed cautiously looking for antler tips, a leg or some sign of deer under the hardwoods ahead. After I worked slowly to the top of what seemed like the ten thousandth finger, I saw the fence that divided the hunt area from private property spilling off the hill another ½ mile ahead. I told myself, “Well, If I haven’t busted ‘em yet I might as well walk to the boundary. The next knoll that I crested I was taken by total surprise as a doe jumped up and fled over the very next finger, followed by a high-racked buck. Cursing, I sprinted 50 yards directly uphill to try to get an angle on the disappearing shadowy forms, and double-timed across the next finger to see where my quarry was escaping to.

When I’d crested the next finger I found an open meadow with trees spaced about 60 yards apart. I was about 15 yards into the opening when I saw the buck on the skyline looking at his back trail. I froze in place and began slowly backpedaling until I could duck behind a tree. I expected him to blow and retreat behind the ridge at any minute, but he continued to bore holes in the tree line where I huddled, shaking behind an oak. It was then that I realized that three things had saved my bacon. 1) the wind was gusting in my face at 10 miles per hour 2) he spooked because the doe had spooked (he hadn’t actually seen me) 3) I was 50 yards further up the main ridge than I was when I jumped them.

The buck continued to stare at the tree I used for cover, occasionally dropping his head pretending to feed, and then snapping to full attention trying to coerce movement from me, 65 yards away. I couldn’t shift or move, his gaze was so intense. My feet began to go numb, and my back began to spasm in the contorted position I was caught in. As the wind gusted and the branches began swaying I rearranged my legs inches at a time and prayed the buck wouldn’t spot the movement in the shade. Once I had gotten myself arranged, I keyed the mike on the radio and said in a low whisper “I’m on the buck. He’s at 63 yards across a meadow. I’m staying here until I shoot him or bust him.” With that, I switched off the radio and settled in for a long wait. At that point it was 12:00

We stayed there in that Mexican Standoff for an hour. After a while I noticed his ears began to flicker back behind him, and he would look over his shoulder occasionally. The doe that I had spooked out of her bed began feeding back on our side of the finger, and I noticed the buck’s demeanor begin to relax. He began feeding under a group of Buckeyes occasionally snapping his head up to scan where I sat hunched behind the closest of the oaks. Thirty minutes after feeding over to where I could see her, the doe decided to bed in a barely discernible depression. She was facing down hill which was to my right, with her right eye fixed on my tree line. Pretty soon the buck followed her example and bedded with his rump to me and his nose into the wind near the crest of the finger. All I could see was his right haunch, head and neck as he sat there 62 yards away.

Over the next 30 minutes, I had plenty of time to look at the buck. His antlers were a reddish brown color. Heavy with eyeguards that looked to be about an inch tall. His main beam stretched in a high sweeping arc out past his right ear which was split a good 4 inches and fluttered in the wind gusts. I saw how his tines went straight up from the main beam, without any secondary fork. This was the biggest forked horn that I had ever been this close to. Bigger even than the three-point that had out swum me earlier in the day.

I began talking to myself in my head, saying “go on John take the shot, You shoot 75 yards at home…you can do it..” But I still kept myself to my 50 yard limit. I ranged the nearest Buckeye tree and swore if that buck fed to there, I would let the air out of him.

After I watched the pair of deer for thirty minutes I began to re-evaluate my position. If I could drop behind my side of the rise I could work to above the deer and maybe keep a favorable cross wind. I began backing out, keeping the tree between the doe, and I and freezing whenever the buck glanced over his shoulder. Once I was below the cover of the terrain, I slowly navigated the dry leaves and branches, stopping in my tracks when the wind died down. It was during one of these lulls that I saw the buck get up, shake like a dog and begin feeding under the buckeyes towards the one I’d marked as my shooting spot. Unfortunately I was 20 yards back from where I was going to shoot from! With the next series of 10 mph wind gusts I began working up the coulee out of sight of the buck.

I peeked back over to where the buck had risen from his bed from behind the branches of a pepperwood tree. I didn’t see him. Had the buck fed over the hill? I looked with binoculars at the crest of the ridge scanning for antler tips. No Buck. Then on my left, I spotted the buck feeding in my direction, getting closer every step. I fumbled with my range finder but couldn’t get a reading as the leaves of the pepperwood swayed between me and the buck. Finally the LCD read 25 yards, and I felt as calm as I ever had with a bow in my hand. I had made this shot so many times over the last year on the ragged 3-d deer in the hay barn; it was like every thing was in slow motion. The wind gusted once more as I stood behind the swaying leaves. With the next gust, I stepped 6 inches uphill and came to full draw. My 30 yard pin anchored on the buck’s arm pit, and my bow wrist turned to bring the bubble to level. Now I was just shooting bales back in the barn. I even remember squeezing my shoulder blades, and the release was a complete surprise….

To be Continued….

I had made arrangements to hunt the limited hunt on the third weekend of October with Cal and his son Taylor. The hunt area included a large lake and a boat was required to access much of the hunting area. Cal volunteered Taylor and himself to help me navigate in their 14 ft johnboat with a 15 hp motor. A definite plus!

We met at the diner at 5:30 on Saturday morning in a heavy mist. It didn’t dampen our spirits though, since the ground was like walking on Rice Krispies up to this point. We launched the boat at day break and cruised across the lake to where the hunt area started. As we were just starting to enter the hunting zone, we saw a spike buck trotting parallel to the water. “Good sign” Cal and I said in unison. Then about 45 seconds later we spotted two blacktails, a three point and forked horn on the side hill a couple of draws over. We quickly decided these bucks were worth hunting, so we motored into a cove downwind of the bucks and I began my stalk, scrambling up hill through the wet grass oak and madrone leaves. Cal and Taylor then motored out into the main body of the lake to keep an eye on the bucks.

While I was slipping and sliding on the steep side hill trying not to alert the deer to my stalk, the morning thermals began to play havoc with my approach. My spotters could tell every time the wind would switch the deer would move into another draw before I could even crest the ridge. I finally approached on the opposite side of the ridge from where I’d started and began descending one step at a time, drenched from the knees down from wet wild oats. I saw the boat out in the lake watching the action, when they both started hollering and made a roostertail as they came to the shore 500 yards below me. Fearing a tragedy I abandoned the stalk and scrambled down the slippery slope to the boat. “They jumped in the lake!” Cal said breathless. “The big buck’s swimming across the lake!” As I jumped in the boat I saw a 16 inch wide 3 point rack with v-shaped ripples getting further, and further away.

Well, I was spent… I was wet from sweat and wet vegetation, and I’d blown yet another stalk. Situation normal, all fouled up. I boarded the boat and we began cruising the shore again, looking for deer bedded under the trees. By now it was 8:30 am and any deer that had been feeding were bedded up tight out of sight from the water. To make things worse the wind began to pick up from the northwest. I spent the next two hours trying to dry out and warm up as the clouds cleared and the wind picked up. We entered another long cove and motored along the shore as the wind slapped waves against the flat bow sending spray over on to my binoculars as I tried to scan the tree line. Discussion turned to a good spot out of the wind for lunch. We decided that if we could get to the end of the cove, we would beach it and hunker out of the wind for a while. We’d picked out a spot when Cal exclaimed “Holy Cow, There’s a heck of a buck!” Neither Taylor nor I saw what Cal was so worked up about. Soon he directed our gaze to an oak tree about ½ mile up the creek. Even with the naked eye, I could tell this was a great buck.

To be continued…..

THWACCCCKKKK! As the broadhead hit the buck three inches above the elbow it sounded like an axe hitting a hollow log. I watched the bucks eyes grow wide as he instantaneously hurled his previously relaxed frame into a frenzy of all out speed away from the newly discovered danger. But it was all too late. As he crested the ridge 75 yards from the scene of the shot, he began to wobble and disappeared in the wild oats as he crested the ridge under the majestic bay and oak trees.

Now that’s how the stalk ended, but the real story is about the events and people that made this scenario a reality.

I was on a weeklong horseback trail ride when I met Cal Farnsworth. We started talking and soon I realized we both loved hunting. We talked about places we had hunted and even knew some of the same people. When he asked me if I wanted to shoot his hunting bow, he started a fire in my belly that has surpassed any passion I’ve ever had except for my wife and family. Two months later I was at Back Room Archery in Santa Rosa, picking up a 2004 Hoyt UltraSport. Now not to say I was obsessive or anything, but I spent every, and I mean every, evening trying to wear out my BLOCK target. Cal and I went on a wild hog hunt the next March. No success, but I knew Cal was cut from the same mold as I and was going to be a great hunting partner.

By this time I’d joined the local archery club, Sonoma County Bowmen, and began shooting the monthly club shoots, and competed at the weekly 3-D league with my two daughters Erin (7) and Kelsey (5). By the end of the 3-D season we all had trophies for top four finishes in our respective classes.

When I drew one of 35 tags for an October limited archery hunt for blacktail deer, I was ecstatic. My poor Glen Del buck took the brunt of my increased drive for archery accuracy in our hay barn. Soon I was refletching my practice arrows every other night. I stretched my practice sessions out to 75 yards. I shot off of the stacks of hay and from the barn floor at targets 12 bales up. When the truckers came to deliver hay, they honored my wishes to leave a lane down the middle of the barn so I could shoot during rainy weather.


When the B-Zone archery season opened in Mendocino County, I loaded my backpack, my bow and bear spray for a weekend backpack hunt. I saw lots of does but the only buck I saw wouldn’t let me any closer than 83 yards, well beyond my self imposed 50 yard limit. I packed that bow around a few more times during the general season. Hunting solo each time, and each time I never had the opportunity to draw it. I was beginning to lose faith in my deer spotting and stalking skills. The only deer that gave me an opportunity was that ragged looking Glen Del buck out in the hay barn.

to be continued…..

It is amazing as I develop more connections across the nation through Internet discussion boards the outstanding people I get to meet. If it were not for this electronic medium, it is highly unlikely that I would have the contacts in far flung places that I hunt and venture. So when I come across folks who are unique and special, I like to let other people know about their products and services. One such lady is Kiley Scott.

Kiley (also known as Southerngirl) is a multi-talented mother of three. She lives in Stuart, Virginia and grew up on a farm where her father introduced her to deer hunting at an early age. She represents Martin Archery as an official Archerytalk team member.
She is known throughout the archery community for her sewing abilities. Below is a sample of her bow sight covers.

She has also made a number of custom outfits for children like the jumper below

Kiley also makes suit ties in camo colors or any theme you can think of. From Stars and Stripes, to Mossy Oak to a Virginia Tech theme tie. If it’s on fabric, Kiley can sew it. Even her shipping is reasonable. Shipping is $2.00 for standard, $4.70 for Priority shipping. You only pay one shipping fee.

So take a minute to check out her website  southerngirlsewing.com.   She accepts payments by PAYPAL, and USPS money orders.  If you have a custom project for her, contact her at: kiley@southerngirlsewing.com

On the Sage Creek forums, one of the questions that came up was regarding what we can do to prepare for hunting in the off-season. Most of the discussion focused on the physical training and practicing with our weapons aspects. I try to incorporate my time with the family into my off-season practice.

I’m gonna focus on the little things that make Western hunting miserable or a joy. The three parts I’m referring to are: Eyes, Feet and Butt…

Eyes
In the West, spotting the quarry is a large part of success. I spend more time on a hunt looking through binos and spotting scopes than nearly any other activity. Practicing with your optics builds familiarity with finding distant landmarks and zeroing in on suspicious looking spots. Nothing is more frustrating than catching a glimpse of something “bucky” and not being able to get the glass on it first try.

I even make myself spend time behind the spotting scope checking out the neighbors’ hillside. Do you know how tough it is for me to look through a spotting scope and not hike over the hill to see some new scenery? It takes discipline and I really have to make myself do it. If I don’t see any deer on the neighbors, I start checking cow ear tag numbers out in the field.

I involve the rest of the family in my “eye practice”. Whenever we travel by car, we see who can spot deer first. There is nothing better than hearing your daughter exclaim: “Dad, there’s a nice buck!” It is about training your eyes so they instinctively recognize parts of deer and gravitate toward gamy looking areas. Only consistent practice can hone this skill. Additionally, being able to direct your hunting partner to the spot you see is always a challenge..”You see that dead oak tree on the hogback? OK go about a 100 yards at 5 o’clock and there is a patch of buckbrush. He’s bedded about 45 yards below the brush patch. I can see his main beam and hind leg”. Being sure you and your hunting partner can communicate directions to one another effectively is a vital hunting skill to practice.

Feet
I wear my hunting boots to work. Try out different socks and liners with them. Walk at lunch in them. They should be plenty broke in by the time hunting season rolls around. Don’t forget a good coat of oil or conditioner. My personal favorite is Obenauf’s. If you are a wingtip wearer at the office then trade the weekend shoes for the hunting boots. Miles on them now will save blisters later.

Butt
Spend some time on horseback. If you are headed for a horseback style hunt in the fall, you need to stretch out those muscles that don’t get stretched in an office chair. If you are confident on horseback you can scan the country you ride through and perhaps spot a bedded buck or bull elk that thinks he’s hidden. More than one hunter I know has collected a trophy this way.

Not a horse owner? No problem. Nearly all of us have a rental stable within a few miles of our house. Check in the yellow pages, or an Internet search engine under “Horse Rentals”. If you live in the North Bay area of California I would highly recommend the Chanslor Ranch in Bodega Bay. A couple of their summer wranglers have even spent time as packers for a western outfitter during hunting season. Start out with an hour or two on a weekend, and then as your body grows accustomed to it, take your spouse on a romantic day ride. Guys, believe me, it will build points for when you take off to go hunting in the fall. These stable horses will be similar to the horses a western outfitter will have in camp. Your rump will thank you….

These are all things you can do year round to improve your western hunting experience. If you are not saddle sore or nursing blisters and you are spotting lots of game, you are well on your way to having a memorable Western hunt.

For each of the past two years I have broken my spotting scope tripod while mule deer hunting in Western Wyoming. So I finally decided to search out a seriously rugged yet lightweight tripod. I arrived in Elk Camp in the fall of 2006, I saw for the first time, the K&K Outdoors tripod. Over the next 5 days I had the pleasure of spotting elk through scopes mounted on this tripod. Soon after, I ordered one of my own after seeing and using the product.

I was immediately impressed by the construction of the tripod. The legs are manufactured from seamless extruded tubing which makes them strong while still lightweight. The components in the hub and leg levers are machined from solid 6061 T6 aluminum for extreme durability. The legs each independently click-adjust to 25, 35 or 45 degrees. This came in handy when we set up to glass in a jumble of rock. Despite the uneven surface we were able to adjust the length and angle of the legs to have a steady rest to view elk over a mile away. Since all the leg angle adjustments are independent at the hub, there are no pesky cross braces to bump your legs on while glassing. Cast nylon compression cam levers adjust the length of each leg. The vertical height adjustment is by a central column, held in place by a machined aluminum compression sleeve on the central hub.

The pistol grip is designed for spotting scopes, binoculars and cameras up to 48 oz. The head uses a 1” ball for 360 degree horizontal panning, and 45 degree up or down vertical . There is even a slot to allow the grip to lie at 90 degrees from vertical, which is perfect for a rifle rest.

I had always used camera style heads, and I was impressed with the smooth motion of the compact ball head on the pistol grip. The pistol grip comes with a machined quick attach shoe similar to what you find for competition bow stabilizers. This allows you to set up quickly to glass and break down quickly to be on your way. This quick release locks in firm, not sloppy like others I’ve seen..

K&K manufactures three sizes of Tripods in either Forest Green or Camo
· The TP65 extends to a max height of 59 inches and collapses to 18.75 inches, weighs in at 51 oz
· The TP45 has an extended height of 45 inches and collapses to 16.75 inches weighs in at at 47 oz..
· The TP36 extends to 36 inches, and collapses to 14.25 inches and weighs 32 oz.
· The Pistol Grip head is 5.5 inches high and weighs a mere 12 oz
They also have Binocular adapters, window/tree stand mounts and 4 wheeler handlebar mounts.

The TP36 I now own is small enough to fit in my small daypack or even a large fanny pack. It is actually, collapsed, nearly as short than my spotting scope. Despite its compact size this model is plenty tall enough to glass while sitting on my rump on a mountainside, or look over short brush. If you want a tripod you can stand up with, the TP65 is your best choice.

What I liked the most was the rugged construction. This is a tripod I can tie on the back of my saddle and not worry about plastic components cracking in the cold or weak hinges on the legs. While it might weigh slightly more than my previous lightweight tripods, I won’t have the added weight of the duct tape it took to hold the lightweights together in the last days of the hunt. This is the steadiest tripod that I have had the pleasure of looking through, that I could easily pack while hunting in rough terrain. The only steadier tripods have been big, and heavy. The K&K tripod can be described by the adjectives: lightweight, steady, smooth, and rugged. I look forward to using this one for years.

You can get any of the tripods and related products from Sage Creek Outfitters