Base Camp Legends » Photos of Legends

Monster Brown Bear

Tom Sorenson — Wed, 02 Jun 2010 22:43:27 +0000

I just received an email from Micah Ness of Wilderness Pro. Micah is from an Idaho town not far from me and we met through a mutual business acquiantance. We both share a passion for filming outdoor adventures, and Micah is turning his passion for the outdoors into a business in Alaska with his adventure company, Wilderness Pro. With this particular email, however, Micah wanted to share with me pictures of his 2010 spring brown bear. Let me tell you, they grow them big in Alaska! This was a personal record for him, and the largest brown bear they shot this year – this monster squares at 10’3″ (think about that a second - ten feet!) and the skull measures in at 28″. I think that’s a bear I’d give a mighty big swath around. Check out the pics:

For the record, Micah is a very nice guy and if you want to experience Alaska in all its majesty, he’s your guy. Give him a call at 907.947.7377 or shoot him an email, and tell him I sent you his way.

Spring Black Bear – The Third, and Final, Act

Tom Sorenson — Mon, 26 Apr 2010 12:00:12 +0000

The final act? Already?

Meat on the hill

Yup – this play is over, ladies and gentlemen. It happened on a somewhat cool afternoon, again with my wife, Shanna. When we pulled into our usual parking spot along side the gravel road, we could see someone had beaten us to the punch as a pickup sat empty and two sets of tracks led up the trail before us. I’ll admit to a small amount of disappointment. However, we weren’t far up the trail when we spotted our fellow hunters coming down the trail towards us – with a turkey. It turned out that this man had called a turkey in for his boy who appeared to be somewhere around 13 or 14, and the young man had done the job on the tom. We chatted for a while, and I asked if they’d seen any bears – or even any bear sign. They hadn’t. Well, we’d already spent two weekends in there and hadn’t seen any bears or bear sign, either, so I guess we were even.

The game plan was much the same as the previous week – lots of hiking and glassing, and lots of calling. Predator calling was something we’d started last year and in all the sets we’d had yet to call in a bear – call that a bit of foreshadowing. I don’t know the exact score, but I’d imagine it was somewhere around 30 sets and no bears. For the record, those are pretty bad odds. But the law of averages says that we were due.

We hiked a few miles and did a couple sets without seeing any sign when finally, the long awaited, much anticipated set up happened. Shanna was getting hungry right about straight up noon so we decided to stop in the bottom of a draw and have a cookie. The draw opens up nicely and is a likely looking spot for a bear to hang out, so after wed finished our snack, I started the fawn-in-distress call. From everything I’d read about calling bears, you are to call non stop, loudly, and long. It takes lung power – lucky for me, I’ve talked many a ear off in preparing for just such a task. After about ten minutes, the familiar discouraging feeling – something to the effect of ‘there are no bears here’ – began to creep in. I looked at the open hillside directly across from us…

Half in disbelief, I hissed to Shanna, “there’s a bear!”

Sure enough, along the open hillside, there was a light colored bear ambling along. I knew he was in range, so I stopped calling and got situated. I made sure Shanna was on him with the video camera, and touched off the shot. Shock of all shocks, it was a one shot ordeal – a rarity from this rifleman. I can’t express the pure excitement that flooded me. Bear hunting is a different kind of hunting, and for me, this was my first bear. I kept saying over and over, “I can’t believe we called one in!” And, to be honest, I still can’t believe it.

The mountain was alive with its springtime glory, and it was outstanding to share the experience with my wife.

High Adventure deer Hunt

suzee — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 12:00:51 +0000

Nerves were tingling with anticipation as I made my way through the tangle of weeds and dense undergrowth. The dim early morning light made ghostly shapes, fanning the flames of imagination, sending all the senses to full alert. A soft breeze sighed, bringing the pungent smells of sage and manure… yes you read it right… manure… so much for making this sound like a romantic, high adventure! I was in our barnyard, making my way to the end of our horse corral to sit in the weeds and wait for a deer to come by!

All spring and much of the summer we had been watching deer cross through our barnyard on their way to and from the alfalfa fields. There were several nice bucks in the bunch. At first I thought I wouldn’t want to go after a deer right in our backyard… but as the elk season was coming to a close and we still didn’t have any meat to put in the freezer, I began to look at those deer as fair game! So for the next two weeks, I began the quest to put meat on the dinner table. It seemed at first that it would be a simple staight forward hunt… but I soon found that these deer were not tame… nor were they dumb! If I sat by the gate near the Russian Olive trees in the morning, they’d show up over by the horse corral, 200 yards away. So I’d switch and sit by the horse corral… they’d show up over by the Russian Olive trees. This is the way it played out , morning and evening… until it had dwindled down to two days left in the archery season.

At this point I had given up trying to use any kind of stratgem and was just hoping for a doe to come by haphazardly. The season would end on Wednesday… on Sunday evening we were relaxing in the easy chairs when I happened to glance out the window and could just make out the shapes of deer in the fading light. They were gliding through the barnyard on their way to the thick Russian Olive trees. There were two does, two fawns, one spike, a forked horn , and a decent three point.

looking out the window we saw the deer pass through just at last light of the day.

I tossed and turned most of the night, visions of those deer dancing through my head. Gary got up at 5:00 for his morning jog. I sat munching my cold cereal, arguing with myself over the futility of trying to intercept one of those deer… finally disgusted with the argument, I put my spoon down, plucked my bow off the rack and headed out to the horse corral!

After about an hour of shivering in the cold morning, the faint light of dawn began to bring shapes into focus. I’d been staring for some time at the dark line of trees when I realized the faint outline of gray was a deer! I was so sure that the does would show up first that it took awhile to register on my brain that the deer was the nice 3 point buck! I soon made out three other deer farther back in the shadows. They were about 70 yards away, and feeding very slowly toward me. I had brought the video camera, so decided to focus on getting some footage of the deer to calm my nerves and occupy my mind while I waited for them to feed within bow range. There were two fawns in the bunch and they began to jump and play, chasing each other around the sage brush… it was a beautiful sight… Then things got a little dicey as a forked horn came up my side of the ditch, seemed to catch my movement and penned me with his eyes for what felt like an eternity! He finally decided the movement wasn’t threatening and began feeding about 17 yards away. I had hoped to get an opportunity to take the 3 point… but it looked like this little forked horn was wanting to end up on our dinner plate! I figured I’d have to take him if he kept coming, for he’d soon see me and bust everything wide open. I was waiting for him to turn broadside, when suddenly he threw up his head and stared up the hill for a few seconds. then turned and jumped across the ditch and disappeared down the other side. I eased back down from my knees and glanced up the ditch bank hoping the 3 point was still there. He was… still calmly feeding, unconcerned. Mouth dry and palms sweating I put the range finder on him… 28 yards… very doable… but he was quartering slightly toward me. Heart pounding, I watched and waited… I felt transfixed as I saw him slowly turn and present a perfect quartering away shot! All the universe seemed to go into slow motion… I drew, anchored, settled the pin, squeezed the release…thwack! Instantly everything sprang into fast forward, deer bounding away, disappearing over the side of the ditch bank… then total quiet. I sat stunned… the emotions overwhelmed me. I felt sure the shot had gone true, and I was so grateful! I finally got up on shaking legs, still flooded with emotion…

as I began to walk toward the spot I’d last seen the buck I caught movement from the trees and saw the forked horn coming back up the ditch bank towards me! It was very interesting behavior he displayed,,, he’d walk towards me staring straight at me, then turn and look back in the direction he’d come. Farther out in the field I saw one of the fawns prancing around in one spot looking intently at something on the ground. The grass was too tall to see, but I was hoping it was my buck! I didn’t want to spook the forked horn and fawn so I just stood and waited for them to lose their curiousity. They finally wandered off, and I went up the ditch bank, finding good bright red blood! I followed the blood to the edge of the tall grass and looking through a little opening in the grass spotted the yellow and green fletching of my arrow, and a gray shadow on the ground! Even though I was quite sure I’d made a good hit… the relief flooded through me…

A good sight to see...

Curious little forked horn

I'm glad I got footage of him ...what a beautiful deer he was!

Now the work began! I had never field dressed an animal without Gary’s help, and I wanted to know that I could take care of it if I was all by myself… so I rolled up my sleves and dug in! Two and a half hours later, tired, bloody and sweaty I had all the meat in the house ready to proccess… it was a very rewarding feeling! Very similar to the feeling you get when all the vegtables and fruits of the garden are harvested,and preserved for wonderful feasting during the long cold winter.

Fruits of the labor!

This might have been a backyard hunt…. but to me it was filled with excitement being the first deer I’ve taken with a bow… and the first one field dressed without anyone there to help me! It had all the elements of a high adventure!

Sue’s Gear:

Diamond Razor Edge Bow Packages
Bushnell Yardage Pro Sport 4 Rangefinder

Trophy Ridge Quick Shot Whisker Biscuit Arrow Rest

The Ghost of the Prairies

Tom Sorenson — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 12:00:09 +0000

I’ve come to the conclusion that Oregon is a strange state with strange laws. As close as I can figure, when you put in for a rifle antelope tag in Oregon, the first year you are unsuccessful, you get one preference point. But rather than continue to build points with each unsuccessful draw, you only keep that one point until 12 years…at which point they decide you are either exceptionally persistent, or exceptionally stubborn and they give you a tag. It does take some poor luck to actually have to go all twelve years before getting your charity tag, but such was the case with my cousin, Cody Waldo.

For many years, no matter what was going on in Cody’s life, it must have been nice in knowing that there would be one constant – he would be unsuccessful in drawing an antelope tag. It’s nice to be able count on things. But, this was the year he knew he would be drawing a tag, and we all wondered how he would cope with that one constant in his life taken away. I believed he would find a way to survive.

Opening day rolled around and Cody found himself with his dad and a childhood friend who also drew a tag. Rifle season in Oregon lands smack in the middle of August, promising miserably hot weather in the eastern Oregon desert. Traversing many miles, the trio joked that no one would cover more miles than them to get an antelope. The problem, however, was that antelope were showing themselves to be more scarce than it would seem possible. As the sun set on the opener, they finally found a small antelope that satisfied Cody’s friend and they were on the board. The season is remarkably short, and work was forcing Cody’s hand. He hadn’t waited twelve years to eat tag soup, but he had one more day and decided he didn’t want to spend half of it driving as far as they had the previous day. So, taking a chance, he and his father, Ray, hit a spot close to home that has always been a favorite deer hunting spot. Hiking a fence line, they spotted a lone antelope 400 yards away and lined the binos up on it – a buck!

At that much of a distance it was tough to get a real good guess on the buck’s size, but Cody decided it was one he would be happy with, and proceeded to settle in for the long shot. The following pictures tell the rest of the story:

Cody with his antelope that was 12 years in the making.

Cody's hunting partner - and father - Ray Waldo with Cody's 'lope.

Good mass - total net 74 inches.

First Idaho Wolf Kill

Tom Sorenson — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 12:00:08 +0000

Robert Millage with the first Idaho wolf killed in a wolf season in 80+ years

I was shocked to see Fellow blogger and Idaho photographer, Robert Millage’s, name gracing the front page of our local newspaper upon my return to civilization following my recent elk hunt. Robert is an Idaho boy like myself, but lives 5 hours away. So what is it that prompted his name to grace the pages of not just our newpaper, but as far reaching as being contacted by Sportsman’s Channel, Field & Stream, and NY Times? Robert was the first to connect on Idaho’s first wolf hunt in more than 80 years.

The wolf has created a major stir in the western states. Ranchers claiming they are killing livestock at alarming rates, hunters are up in arms that wolves are making the elk a relic of the past, and those trying to defend the wolf are claiming the packs are just doing what they’ve done for years before humans got involved. Management of the wolf was given back to the states this year, and Idaho was the first state to open a wolf season. Barring an overruling, Idaho will allow the killing of 220 wolves this year. But no one will get the distinction – for better or worse – of shooting the first as Robert. In speaking briefly by email with Robert, he informed me he’s gotten overwhelming support from fellow hunters, but the wolf defenders have left messages on his phone, sent nasty emails, etc.

It’s been said that the wolf is one of the most difficult animals to hunt because of their keen nose, but also because of their intellegence. They’re a predator that flat out knows how to survive. Robert called a pack in with coyote distress calls knowing that wolves will make short work of a coyote in their territory. This female led the pack and he shot her at 25 yards:

Because of their size and their preference to hunt in packs, wolves can wipe out game herds rather quickly.

Those teeth mean business.

Edge Expedite Mighty Predator Electronic Caller
Click to purchase

Big Fish, Small Rod

Tom Sorenson — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 12:00:01 +0000

Mike Di Pippo, President of Pen Fishing Rods with a Steelhead caught on the Pen Rod Extreme.

We’re talking very small rod. Mike Di Pippo, President of Pen Fishing Rods sent me this video along with several photos. I’ll admit to never having tried the Pen Fishing Rods, but c’mon, who wouldn’t want to catch a lunker on a rod that closes to less than 8 inches long?! Check it out:

httpvh://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nplomWaRT8I

He also sent me this picture of that massive largemouth along with the following story:

I woke up one beautiful summer morning with the strong urge to go fishing. Imagine that? I turned on the weather channel & sat back to watch the day’s forecast. The wind was at 1 mph. and the temperature was slowly rising. I was very excited once I saw optimal bass fishing conditions & called my friend Vinny. He answered with a groggy voice & as I explained the weather he slowly came to life & a sound crackled from his mouth. “aahwegoin’?” To which I replied “WHAT??” He then cleared his throat with a rumble & said “are we going?”

Yep, be ready in 15 I said. On the way there we did our usual teasing & putting down each other’s angling tactics (which is the norm) & we then decided to settle this battle with a lunch bet.
We both agreed. As we launched the boat we made up some really tasty sounding sandwiches that we would make the other pay for as part of the agreement for losing. We chatted about lobster heroes all the way to caviar soup. Mmm Mmm Good! We finally reached a shoreline that produced some really nice fish in the past.

We were using plastic worms with an eighth of an ounce bullet head & a sluggo hook since it holds the worm on a lot longer & prevents it from sliding down the hook when smaller fish tug at the worm’s tail. I casted in the worm a few times to loosen the line on the spool & untwist any potential kinks that may have formed on the line from the previous trip. While focusing on the spool with the bail open I noticed my line pull slightly from my fingers in a short jerk. I figured it was a little sunny or crappie & just left it as I uncoiled more line to a desired casting length which would reach the shore line under the over hanging trees with the skipping of my worm. I closed the bail manually & checked the weight to see if a fish had taken my offering. As I raised it, I saw another fast barrage of nibbles & set the hook. ZZZING!! Nothing.

I pulled the hook so hard I jerked our little 12′ Jon boat & almost capsized it. Vinny yelled “Hey, trying to flip us??” We laughed it off. We were slowly blowing along the shoreline with the slightest of winds adjacent to a submerged tree. I joked about a HUGE bass being in the tree ready for my worm & casted. The worm hit about 3′ from the front of what looked like the top of the tree & slowly descended. From previous experience I estimated the drop to be about 9 or 10′. The worm stopped short of my assumption, so I figured it was caught in the very tip of the submerged tree. I raised the tip of my rod & saw the line slowly jerk with one hard pull so I reeled up slack while lowering the tip of the rod & set the hook ZZING!! The rod stayed bent. At first I thought it was caught on what we call a Largemouth Branch, but I was wrong. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz the line took off to my left. I held the rod up skyward to keep pressure on whatever was at the end of my line. I started hooting & hollering about that Lobster Hero that I was going to wolf down once we got back to dry land. Vinny insisted it was still a large mouth branch, to which I disagreed.

I started to turn towards the fish & he immediately changed direction & headed back for the tree. He was powerful. The line started stripping again as he guided my line toward the hulking tree. Zzzzzzzzzzz zzz zzz! The bass started playing jump in & out of the tree pictured behind me. He finally navigated in & out of several branches & got stuck. I yelled thinking he was lost forever & I contemplated losing my rig and the fish. I kept a constant pressure on and the fish came out of one branch but I still had a few more to untangle. I smiled as I looked over at my buddy. This fish dove under a 900 lb tree & weaved in & out of the limbs like a true pro! He had done this to other fishermen before. “Click” I felt a branch give under the water with the gain of some line & kept constant pressure. The line went slack for a second. Then I reeled up quickly to catch up with the fish & all of a sudden it breached the water like an ICBM & jumped over the tree in an awesome display of strength & agility. I noticed that the branch was still dangling weaved into my line & that made me nervous.

However I kept at it. Rod up, pressure on & trying to gain line. I could’ve sworn he had his tail shaped in the form of a middle finger when he jumped!! Maybe I just got up too early to go fishing this day. After calling him every name in the book, he started to pull less, he jumped shorter distances, this time when he jumped, he hit the tree. I thought he knocked ‘em self out. My heart was thumping & felt like it was in my throat, my knees started knockin’ when I first set the hook. I thought I was going to lose him with each jump. I finally gained line on it & conquered ‘em. What a magnificent fish. I wish I had a scale to weigh him. After a short rant on how I’m going to have the best, most expensive hero known to man I asked Vin to take a picture. I had to have one for my album since it was such a roller coaster of a fight. The bass is currently swimming free somewhere in my secret fishing hole & I hope we meet again real soon.

Wyoming Antelope Archery Hunt

Tom Sorenson — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 12:00:54 +0000

Jeremy and his buddy, Chad have been in the deserts of Wyoming chasing antelope. Jeremy scored on a buck that’ll make the 67″ Pope & Young minimum while Chad arrowed the brute in the bottom photo. Check out the mass on that buck!

Jeremy Hoefs with his Wyoming pronghorn.

Chad's massive antelope.