The Lost Hunter of Yellow Pine

The guys over at Addicted to Hunting asked a question a few days ago.  And, while I’d like to prove my manly sense of direction and say I’ve never been lost, the sad truth is that I’d be lying if I told you that.

I found an elk tag one year here in Idaho that allowed a person to hunt with a rifle during the rut, and while I’d never been to this place before, that just sounded like the perfect scenario and a sure fire way to bag an elk.  So, I convinced my brother, Todd, that this was the best tag in the world, and together we made our way towards Yellow Pine, Idaho and then past Big Creek and to the end of the road.  There, we made camp on September 14th on a lovely fall day.  The temperature was in the low seventies and it was sunny and we were excited!  The season opened on the 15th and that morning, Todd and I drifted out together.  After a morning hunt, we split up and met back at camp that evening with the same story – no elk.  It began clouding up that evening, but we thought nothing of it as we weren’t afraid of a few rain drops.  The morning broke much colder than the previous morning.  This time, Todd went one way and I went the other in hopes of covering more territory.  It was partly cloudy, but nothing real serious.  I found myself in the bottom of a canyon and on some fresh looking sign.  I kept following till suddenly, I realized it was clouding up.  When the precipitation came, it wasn’t what I was thinking it would be.  The snowflake touched my face, and I had just a moment of apprehension.  I turned back towards camp and made it a little ways when I saw a promising looking canyon.  I headed into it and got up in it about two hours when the clouds started getting lower and lower.  Pretty soon, I was fogged in and in unfamiliar country.  My apprehension was slowly turning to panic.  I tried to stay calm, but the snow started really coming down and my nerves were getting a little concerned.  I knew camp was above me, but this canyon had turned and twisted a few times, so I had no idea where the top of the canyon would be.  The timber is real thick in that country, so it’s easy to get turned around, but I’d had a big clear cut on the opposite hill to use as reference before the fog moved in.  Now, I was feeling mighty lonely!  After about three hours, I was really starting to get nervous.  I was doing everything you’re not supposed to do, and I kept traveling.  Then, as soon as it came, the snow stopped, and the fog lifted – and revealed a day without a cloud in the sky.  It was one of the strangest occurrences I’d ever seen.  I quickly spotted my clear cut, and realigned myself with camp and headed for the barn.  I was thoroughly soaked by the time I got back to camp, so I built a fire and began drying out.  That evening it clouded back up and in the morning we had 6 inches of fresh snow and it was still falling fast – Todd and I realized we were unprepared for that type of weather and headed home, calling our “best tag ever” the most wasted tag ever.