-------------------- "A road is a dagger placed in the heart of a wilderness." -William O. Douglas
Believe it or not the "HARDWAY" is often the EASIER way(in hindsight)! 2xOIF VET Bear Cub #48@28" Posts: 970 | From: Gladwin Michigan | Registered: Oct 2007
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The archer pulled his daughters gear out of her mothers car and loaded it into the back of his pickup. She was wearing her good luck hoody sweatshirt. On the back was "STATE CHAMPS" in bold letters. On the front was a black oval with MVP in red crowding its center. His daughter kissed her mother good bye, waved a last acknowledgement to the shouted "good luck" and turned away from the retreating vehicle. Carefully she placed her longbow in the rack behind the seat of her fathers truck. It was slender resting there above his hunt scarred recurve. The riser was muted wood, with a single embellishment of her own design on its side. She had always shot a longbow as soon as she had the choice. It suited her, the way the archers recurve suited him. They drove the lonely road to the north base of Bull Mountain. With only three days to hunt they had agreed to hike into camp in the dark the first night. Better to be up on top that first morning. They unloaded their packs from the truck bed. She laid out a small canvas tarp on the ground beside them. On this the archers daughter placed the gear she knew she could not afford to forget. Then each found its way again to its rightful place in the pack or on her belt. The archer had taught his daughter to think for herself. From the beginning, when the adventures they shared were measured in yards instead of miles, he had asked of her to consider what became known as "the list". "The list" was an account of the basic things any woods wise traveler would need. In the beginning, they had gone over the list together, checking the items one by one, the archer doing most of the work. His daughter crossed off each item as they found their way into her pack. The list was fun and a part of the bigger adventure. As she grew older however, he became purposely less helpful. This worked for awhile, until one trip the archers daughter declared the list "a bunch of crap." She had decided at that point in her young life that any list her parents were associated with was not a list worth considering. This was about the time of the divorce. She then forgot to pack her extra warm vest and it had turned wet and cold. The archer did not offer her his extra clothing, even though he had it to spare. It was hard for him to watch her suffer as she clocked the day without complaint. He remembered the piercing looks she gave him as he fished the river warm while she shivered against the wet wind. But his daughter never forgot anything after that and it was not long before the list became a simple tool again rather than a point of tension. It became something they discussed as they packed for a trip together while on the phone, though the archer did not mention the list by name any more. He went over his own equipment in the waning light. September itself was diminishing. The days shorter and the evenings had a new edge to them that sometimes seemed foreboding. Watching his daughter from aside, he knew better than to ask her if she had everything. She didn't have much patience for stupid questions, no matter how well meaning. She was her mothers daughter in this regard. He did not like that. The archer then wondered if he may have been too hard on her the trip she forgot her warm vest. He looked up to check the glowering sky and cinched the straps that held his sleeping pad to his pack. It was hard for him to admit it, but he wasn't being fair. He knew much of his daughters good character was also from her mother. Finally they pulled their packs off the ground, shouldering the loads. They then confirmed an extra key, placed under the wheel well of the truck.
"Which way Dad?"
The archers daughter wanted the compass heading.
"Up" was all the archer said and with that they were in the timber, bows in their hands.
-------------------- Learn, practice and pass on "leave no trace" ethics, no matter where you hunt. Posts: 1105 | From: colorado | Registered: May 2009
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-------------------- In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities. In the expert's there are few...So the most difficult thing is always to keep your beginner's mind...This is also the real secret of the arts: always be a beginner. Shunryu Suzuki Posts: 9315 | From: tribes hill , new york | Registered: Jan 2008
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Charlie- Love the signature...but, I find it hard to relax after a posting such as this one,lol.
-------------------- "A road is a dagger placed in the heart of a wilderness." -William O. Douglas
Believe it or not the "HARDWAY" is often the EASIER way(in hindsight)! 2xOIF VET Bear Cub #48@28" Posts: 970 | From: Gladwin Michigan | Registered: Oct 2007
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posted
The archer and his daughter climbed steadily. It soon became monotony: climbing, climbing, climbing. Their world shrunk to encompass the small sphere defined by their headlamps that chiseled out a small oval of light in front of them. The bases of trees, rocks, scree fields and seeps passed under their bent bodies in a forgettable blur. They only heard their own heavy breathing. The hours passed as slowly as the shrunken landscape beneath them. The archer sometimes gave his daughter encouragement, even within his own blooming frustration. They rested in the dark when needed, until finally they stopped and wearily let their packs fall off them onto the forest floor of spruce needles and leaves. They switched off their headlamps and the darkness shut in around them like a vault. Only a few feet apart, neither hunter could see the other. The darkness was absolute.
After a minute the archer heard his daughters voice reach across the dark void between them.
"Dad"
"Yes"
"This better be worth it." He could hear the fatigue in her voice.
"Only you can decide if its worth it."
"Is the Monarch worth it?"
"I don't know sweetheart."
They stood invisible to each other for a few minutes, silent.
"Dad?"
"Hmmm?"
"I wonder if its worth it sometimes."
"If whats worth it?" The archer realized they might not be talking about the big bull up on the mountain.
"I don't know if its worth it Dad." He could hear the earnest tension in his daughters voice.
"At first it was fun. The pressure didn't matter. It was exciting. Then we took States and the recruitment letters started coming and everyone expected a repeat just like that. They don't understand how hard it is to win. Sometimes, I just want to disappear, not have to work, work, work at it.
"And you are always the one expected to win it..."
Her voice faltered. "Yes..."
The archer felt as if he were floating in the darkness. Only the tired weight of his own body told him he was not suspended, adrift. He wanted to make it alright for her, but he understood he couldn't. He spoke to her then, carefully, his words chosen and clearly spoken.
"Someone made you shoulder that responsibility?"
"No Dad!"
He knew he had to be careful. Careful not to mess this up.
"What do YOU want to do?"
"I don't know Dad."
"Don't run from it." He spoke her name clearly.
"I won't Dad"
He knew she meant it. If his daughter was anything, she was not a coward.
They shouldered the weight of their loads again and climbed the last mile up the mountain to camp, lost in tired thought. The sky was black above the crown of the forest. A river of cooling air fell down off the big mountains side like a water fall. The archer knew they would have rain by morning. They both were glad to finally be on level ground and under the light tarp the archer had prepared for them earlier. He climbed into his sleeping bag and the last thing he remembered doing before awaking at dawn was telling his daughter he loved her...
-------------------- Learn, practice and pass on "leave no trace" ethics, no matter where you hunt. Posts: 1105 | From: colorado | Registered: May 2009
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posted
Deja vu-I've had a similar conversation with my daughter-and she doesn't hunt!!
-------------------- SELFBOW19953 "When I aim at something, that's what I hit. When I hit something, that's what I aimed at." Loretta Young in "Along Came Jones" Posts: 1678 | From: DELAWARE | Registered: Mar 2003
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Great story Josh! But there is only one problem. I am off to find my own monarch on the 25th of this month. Be in S. Co. when the season opener finally gets here. I am not sure I can wait until I return on or around Sept. 9,10 or 11th to see if the story is continued or wrapped up!
Good luck to you my traditional bowhunting brother in your quest to locate your own monarch this coming season.
K.C.
-------------------- Oklahoma Selfbow Society member Oklahoma Bowhunting Council member Posts: 268 | From: Oklahoma | Registered: Apr 2010
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posted
The archer and his daughter hunted hard the next day. The hike in the night before had leaned heavily on their stamina, while a steady rain made upslope hunting difficult. They tried a couple of set ups, but no elk responded. They walked one very promising meadow on a narrow bench to the west of camp. There was plenty of recent sign, and a very rutted up wallow at its low end, but the elk had moved on. In the afternoon the archers daughter bumped a big bear. She had only a moment. In one smooth, graceful motion, she nocked an arrow and had full tension on the string. The arrow flew true, but the bear was the faster. The heavy thwack of the broad head sinking into an aspen told the story. She looked up at her Dad and shrugged her shoulders. He stood on a height of ground just above her, laughing. That was a very lucky bear, he thought. His daughter was the most gifted physical person the archer had ever experienced in his life. She rarely missed. She never took a shot she didn't fully expect to make. A long time ago, the archer had stopped trying to take credit for his daughters skills. It was obvious to everyone that her gift came from someplace special. Back in camp, the archer was careful to make a good dinner and even went to the trouble of hot cocoa, something he almost never did for himself. Wet and tired, they ate mostly in silence. It was already dark by the time they had gotten back. The rain continued to fall softly, but the larger drops off the trees above them made an unsteady drumming on the tarp. It had been a good day. They found their sleeping bags under the open shelter and slept the contented slumber of woodsmen. Totally at ease and comfortable, deep in the raw wilderness, there on the rugged slopes of Bull Mountain. The second day found them up on the high top. The rain had let up, but the mountain was wrapped in a heavy veil of cloud. The colors of the aspen leaves seemed to vibrate in the muted light, their saturated yellow almost unbearably perfect. The archers daughter found an incredible group of rubs, all well over her head. Only a giant could have made rubs like this. They both felt the keen focus of the hunter when prey seemed near. Were these the sign posts left by the Monarch? They stalked forward through a series of linked parks, separated only by narrow bands of timber, always playing the wind. Elk sign was everywhere. It was obvious that the herd had used these parks heavily in the days leading up to the rain. The wind suddenly sawed around on the pair of bowhunters as they moved silently forward. It pushed into them now from behind their left quarter, taking their scent ahead and at angle into a thick stand of spruce. They both instinctively stopped, but it was too late. The sound of elk making distance through the thick grown forest was enough to tell them what they already knew. They had been winded. A large group of cow elk filtered through a sloped opening above the heavy timber they had been resting in. The archer and his daughter watched them through the mist, tan ghosts floating over the rugged ground. There must have been 30 or more. Finally, no more crossed the glade. A bank of heavy fog closed in over their heads, shutting off any view of the slope above them. The archer had turned away when a cry from his daughter brought him back around. The fog had cleared, opening like a curtain. He followed his daughters intent stare and there standing broadside just above them was the biggest bull elk the archer had ever seen. His massive body was in vague relief against the gray ground, while his fantastic antlers melted into the shifting fog above his head like the limbs of some isolated and lonesome tree. The archer could see the long scars on the bulls left side. He knew it was the Monarch. Another heavy cloud drifted in front of the staring hunters like smoke. The blocking wall of grey passed quickly, but when it cleared the slope above them was empty. The mighty bull was gone.
"Did you see that! Dad! Did you see HIM!
His daughter was jumping up and down.
"Oh Dad! That had to be the MONARCH! I KNOW it!" She kept her eyes on the empty slope, hoping for another glimpse of the mighty stag.
"He's gone now. You won't be seeing him again today" The archer wiped the wet off the riser of his bow, but his hands were shaking.
His daughter wasn't going to be swayed.
"Lets get him Dad."
She said this with a gravity in her voice that implied she had already made up her mind. She had a hard, intense set in her eyes. The archer knew that look. He had seen it when she was about to put away the championship game...
'
-------------------- Learn, practice and pass on "leave no trace" ethics, no matter where you hunt. Posts: 1105 | From: colorado | Registered: May 2009
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Besides, I can't be thinking about THIS bull, when I am hunting mine...
Joshua
-------------------- Learn, practice and pass on "leave no trace" ethics, no matter where you hunt. Posts: 1105 | From: colorado | Registered: May 2009
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Wow! Don't you DARE rush this baby. Matter of fact, I never want it to end. I guess it's gotta, or she is gonna be up there hunting forever, a granny in the crannies.
Killdeer
-------------------- Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.
~Longfellow
TGMM Family Of The Bow Posts: 15029 | From: Fibber McGee's Closet, VA | Registered: Mar 2003
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posted
Your story telling skills are amazing.......
-------------------- In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities. In the expert's there are few...So the most difficult thing is always to keep your beginner's mind...This is also the real secret of the arts: always be a beginner. Shunryu Suzuki Posts: 9315 | From: tribes hill , new york | Registered: Jan 2008
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