We headed out late last Friday to the same area in which we had stalked elk the previous week. We still didn’t have any real idea of where to camp but having Farley in tow, as I had no one to watch him, getting up high where we could check on him throughout the day was important. When we arrived in the woods we were met with several road closures and washed out two-tracks. The immediate signs were less than inspiring but plugging along we arrived on a small ledge, high up in the tree line, and even though the darkness covered our view of the forest, we decided to set up camp and settle in.
Camp that night was makeshift at best but that was just fine with us. We were high above the wilderness, had a soft ground of pine needles to bed down on, and the weather was mild at worst. Farley was let out and was quick to run the area, no doubt wanting to stretch his legs after a long car ride and tap into his feral roots. As we set up and pulled out our sleeping pads a slightly disturbing white cross was found on the ground etched with the name of someone who passed long ago. We look at each other for a moment and then concluded that while sleeping on someone’s grave would not be the wisest of choices, this was still a good place to settle down. Why would someone put a cross all the way up on this random ledge if not to show that that person had a great love of the outdoors? We both decided that if that man was looking down on us right now it would most likely be to wish us luck on our journey. The cross, buried underneath leaves and dirt, was brought up and placed against a log, where it should be. God speed my friend.
The rest of the night was filled with a meal of noodles and elk meat, Farley running up and down the hillside, and a few drinks under the stars. With our alarms set we both settled in for the night and at 5:30 the next morning we would stretch our legs and begin our search.
When my phone buzzed early the next morning I slowly opened my eyes to see the morning light. The blue, white, pink, and orange sky radiated over the eastern horizon and I knew the sun would soon be shining. The lower foothills were clouded in fog and while there was a slight bite to the air, the morning was beautiful. I slowly strolled out onto the ledge that we had only been able to barely see in the night and the view was spectacular. Forest land as far as the eye could see and every so often, breaking the silence of the morning, you could hear blue grouse, high in the trees, fanning themselves in the early hours. What a way to wake up.
Soon after, James was up and about giving Farley some quality dog scratches and taking in the view for himself. What we couldn’t see the previous evening was a large rocky outcrop to our north, only a quick hike away that looked like a great place to get in some early morning glassing. So, with the dog along side, we grabbed the gun and walked over to check out the view. Upon arriving the sun was shining on the hillsides and if bears were anywhere to be found, the open slopes around us were perfect. We glassed up and down, side to side, just as we had heard was the strategy. However, the morning silence and glassing was interrupted when the little brown dog knocked a boulder the size of a smart car down the slope in front of us. Breaking into a least ten pieces on the way down the dog, initially frightened, was soon off to investigate the noise at the bottom of the canyon that he still didn’t realize he created. Idiot. We laughed for a moment and then made our move to explore the woods, armed and ready.
We traveled much of the day through open country and were able to view large expanses of forest. Along the way we bumped into many deer, all apparently under the influence of a long winter as most of them simply stood broadside to us through the trees. Elk, on the other hand, were never seen up close but were once or twice heard crashing through the woods, with about as much grace as a teenager at their first dance.
For me, and I think James, one of the coolest parts of being up in the woods was hearing ruffed grouse perform their mating display throughout the day. Standing on a platform, preferably a log, the birds will beat their wings, slowly at first, and then in rapid succession to create a very deep-toned thumping in the woods. The noise can appear faint at first but no matter what you are doing, if the bird is close, the sound will quickly fill the air around you. Every so often we caught a glimpse of them but quick to move these birds were often gone before we could find them. It was an unexpected treat that would remain a constant throughout the weekend.
As for the main reason we were out there, we had not seen any bears but more over, we had not even found any sign. We were beginning to wonder if we had chosen the right habitat and slopes to be in. We’d often get to a spot and see the early spring green up that we had read about but we were missing something. There was some element of this forest that we just weren’t seeing clearly.
We adjusted midday and moved across the main road corridor where we decided to get back to some high ground and scan back on the slopes we were on the previous night. Despite this, we were once again, out of luck. The only thing we were finding with almost disturbing regularity were ticks. James, known for having an aroma that draws the tick masses to him, was reaching to his neck seemingly every five minutes to pull another of their assassins off. It was soon joked about that they must be diving off the trees, almost like kamikazes, sacrificing themselves for the good of the species. I’m not going to lie, it’s amazing how many James picked up. He was easily to ten ticks before I found my first. But so goes the game and apparently, James and I were not winning. By the end of the two days we combined for an even 58 of them; it must be spring.
After we scanned into the evening we finally submitted and headed down for the day. After a quick strip down and once over for remaining ticks we set up camp and built a fire. The flame was just what we needed after a long day. Settling in much lower in the forest this night the temperature was ideal. We reminisced about the discovery of fire and how even after all these years we are still completely mesmerized by the flames. Warmth and light, a wonderfully successful winning combination. James polished off a glass of whisky and with the stars out above, we bedded down for the evening.
The next day we decided to change our strategy and search the lower foothills. Traveling through much thicker brush we figured it couldn’t hurt and realizing that we hadn’t seen any bear sign up until this point, we had to adjust our thinking. We called on a few prey calls, weaved our way around and while a bear was not to be found a coyote did decide to grace of with his presence.
With James up ahead I could see him raise his rifle. In that moment I thought he was on a bear and my heart started to race. As he swung his rifle around I pulled out my bow, nocked an arrow, and waited. Then, out of nowhere, I heard a sound I am all too familiar with, a coyote’s bark and scream. Apparently seeing James behind a tree this coyote was not too pleased and made sure to show us his disapproval. The barks were loud, the yaps deafening, but it was still a pretty cool moment. Standing less than 30 meters from James the canid soon got frustrated and left. I will say, it wasn’t bear, but those few minutes were fun.
The rest of the day did bring us one small pile of bear droppings but it was from last year and we were once again stumped. As the weather turned and the sun got stronger we soon found ourselves laboring to stay focused. Our first weekend was coming to a close and while we were happy to be in the woods the overall trip, in terms of bears, had not provided what we hoped. From here, we continue to learn the landscape, continue to cover ground and glass slopes. Although we didn’t find what we came searching for it was, as always, just fun to be in the woods. Bumping into and hearing elk, deer, blue and ruffed grouse, and a coyote made the weekend memorable. Next weekend we head out again, hopefully to learn something new and catch our first glimpse of a black bear, protected and sheltered, hidden within the forest’s fortress. Here’s to hoping.
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