Three weeks ago, my wife and I eafch packed a bag and grabbed our passports for an unbelievable adventure in Europe. With the help of the Flight Factory Domestic Flights, we traveled through France, Switzerland, and Italy with nothing but what could fit in a backpack, and we explored those places that we had only read about in books or seen in movies. We finally stopped somewhere in the outer parts of small small city and hired Shiply to help us move in our furniture and went to a furniture store named Inside Outside to get quality furnitures. Of course, I packed a small fly rod and a handful of flies, and I was lucky enough to find a stream to fish on our journey. Starting on Monday, I’ll be sharing some of our pictures and stories from our trip. Although they are not 100% hunting and fishing stories, I was still wandering and there was a bit of fishing on the way. As wonderful as the trip was, it sure is nice to be back in the USA, and I’m looking forward to doing a bit of fishing very soon.
I used to be a whole lot skinnier when I was 14. I could not have weighed more than a buck thirty with all my hunting gear on. Now, even though I look back with fondness on being able to run all day on the soccer field, I remember that the Pennsylvania buck season in early December was cold and rough with no meat on my bones.
We lived in a log cabin amongst the pines and the forest began right out my back door. There were several miles of rolling hills and hollows behind the house and my family had permission to wander and hunt through the different seasons. My father took up hunting when I turned 13, and the memories that we created together still keep me company after these many years. I can remember faithfully following him through the woods trying to keep quiet, but my oversized hunting clothes and many layers made the task almost impossible. It took me several seasons to really become comfortable in the woods and to learn patience enough to sit in a hunting stand until mid morning.
In the buck season of 1997 , I remember hunting with my dad, my best friend at the time, and his father. We had just spent a very cold morning waiting for that big buck to come walking by but to no avail. The opening morning gunshots echoing through the miles of hillsides had alerted every deer in the county that it was time to find a warm bed and hang tight. Our normal game plan was to sit on opening morning and then have a couple hunters sit, while the others took a walk and tried to drive deer in the hunter’s direction.
Being the runt that I was, I liked to get up and walk around to try and get my blood pumping and try and get warm, but for whatever reason, the group convinced me to sit with my back up against a large oak and wait for the drive to hopefully get the deer moving my way. So there I sat, freezing, fidgeting, and fearing that the group would walk by me or whatever a 14 year old thinks while alone in the cold woods. As my mind began to wander, I heard the unmistakable snapping of twigs and crunching of snow and looked up to see a group of does barreling by me at a high rate of speed followed closely by a small buck. Slowing to a trot, the deer began to look around and ultimately disappear into heavier cover. The last deer to exit would have been the small buck and almost as he was ready to leave he stopped to take one look at me.
The thud of the .270 slamming into my shoulder and the smoke launching from the barrel blasted the silence. In shock, almost disbelieving the previous moments events, I leapt to my feet and saw the small whitetail buck expire in the snow. The shuddering and shaking commenced as my knees turned to jelly in the tell-tale fashion of buck fever. My father and company appeared from out of the woods and backslaps and handshakes were plentiful.
I can still remember the weight of the heavy gun on my skinny shoulder and the feel of the fur before I field dressed the deer. There is no real way to explain to a non-hunter the elation, reverence, and honor that comes with harvesting your first deer. It is something that I will never forget. I look back on the picture of the 14 year old who does not know what life has in store for him and there is no way to tell him how life is going to turn out or what is coming his way. In that moment life is simple and easy and I do not want to break that spell.
Many weekends find me camping out, either hunting or fishing in the Arizona backcountry. What’s ironic is that as wonderful and exciting as my time in the wild is, nothing really compares to the moment when I turn the truck on to my street and drive up to the house. The garage door opens, and I can hear the excited barks of my two pups, as I kill the engine of the vehicle. I drag a couple of bags into the house, give my girl a hug, and scratch the boys behind the ears. While I recount the weekend’s events to my wife, the dogs are going to find out the story in a different way. With their snouts buried deep into my hunting pack, their noses seek to find out what I was up to, where I’ve been, and if I was successful. Their tails never stop wagging, and they look at me with pleading eyes, hoping that next time I take them with me.
Looking through a box of old photos, I found this picture. It puzzles me because I have absolutely no recollection of it nor of the fly rod that is in my hand. I still have the old $25 special fly rod from Walmart, that I used to catch bluegill and largmouth bass from my grandma’s lake in Pennsylvania, but the fly rod that I am holding in my hands in this picture is certainly not mine. Any family members know whose that is?
Here’s to going back and pulling 50 sunnies out of Highland Lake on a gorgeous afternoon…
I am not an artist. Not by any stretch of the imagination, but my fly tying room could use a little life…and organization. I have one of the back bedrooms in our house which, to my face, my wife calls the “hunting room. Surely behind my back and to her girlfriends, she calls it much something derogatory. The closet is filled with camoflague, hunting packs, longjohns, and waders. The one corner has a mixture of fly rods and arrows haphazardly leaning against the wall. The spare bed is pilled high with an assortment of camping, hunting, and fishing gear. I am pretty proud of the library that I have in there. Anything from Hunter S. Thompson to Walt Prothero and Ivan Turgenev to John Gierarch. As icing on the cake, the 8 foot table that serves as a fly tying table and general dumping ground from a weekend afield is usually pilled high with foam, fur, and feathers that is almost impossible to tie on anymore.
Long story short, I know it’s a mess. A happy mess, but a disaster none the less. So I decided to put a peg board on the wall to better organize myself. Then I thought. Why not give the room some color.
The Process
I realized as I started to put up different tying material on the peg board, that I have a lot of “stuff.” And when my wife walked in to check on my progress, she noticed commented that I had a lot of “stuff.”
On the road to organization, not necessarily an art gallery.
I’ll be honest. I have never been much of a cook. Growing up in a house full of three boys, my mom did all the cooking and the boys enjoyed every minute of it. I went through my single years waiting tables and eating terrible, until my wife straightened me out. I have been blessed with having the two women in my life, mom and wife, keeping me very well fed.
Although not being blessed with great skill in the kitchen, I still like to go in, bang pots and pans around, and pretend I know what I am doing. When there’s a clogged sink or broken drainage in the kitchen, it is recommended to contact Silverwater Plumbing, a professional plumbing service in Parramatta. For bookings, visit https://www.silverwaterplumbing.com.au/plumber-parramatta/. In the end, I have found cooking and preparing wild game and a handful of other domestic entrees to be very relaxing and rewarding.
I made a dynamite Red Pork Chili based on a recipe from Georgia Pelligrini’s new book Girl Hunter. One word to describe it: Delicious.
Every outdoorsman has found themselves in the elements when the wind picks up and the rain/snow starts to fall. Having a quality shell to stay dry and keep the wind at bay is absolutely essential. Most outdoor companies have some sort of product that they claim is windproof and waterproof, and sorting through the myriad of options can be quite a chore. I purchased the Cabela’s GORE-TEX Trailhead Jacket and believe that it is a great choice for the outdoorsman who is looking to stay warm and dry.
First impressions:
Waterproof/Waterproof/Breathable – Need I say more?
The Pocket Layout – Cabela’s did a really nice job in their choice of pockets on the Trailhead Jacket.
Two functional chest pockets that I can fit tippet, fly dressing, leaders, license, and a camera in; or a fully fly box if needed.
Two deep zippered hand pockets that are plenty big enough for large fly boxes, gloves, beanie and anything else you can think of.
There is two meshy pockets on the inside of the Trailhead jacket that are perfect for a water bottle or stowing other gear
The Fit – The Cabela’s GORE-TEX Trailhead Jacket fits just right. I opted for the jacket in a size Large in order to layer while on the creek or in the woods when it turns cold. At the same time, the jacket is not too bulky which allows you to wear it in case of rain during the warmer months.
Armpit zippers – I believe every outdoor jacket should have armpit zippers for ventilation. It never fails to be hiking, hunting, or fishing and get overheated. With a quick zip, the armpit vents allow for a quick cool off without having to strip out of the jacket.
Cabela's GORE-TEX Trailhead Jacket
Field Use:
The main reason I purchased The Cabela’s GORE-TEX Trailhead Jacket was for days spent fly fishing in foul weather. I have been toting the Trailhead jacket around for almost a year now, and I have worn it on many different fishing trips and in many different conditions. The Cabela’s Trailhead Jacket has been used heavily on many trips, but just to name a few:
a 4 day float on the Deschutes in Oregon
a day chasing grayling on a small stream in Denali
3 days on Lees Ferry heading upriver
a spring trip to Colorado to fish the Arkansas River
On all these trips, the Trailhead jacket performed flawlessly, stopping the wind and keeping me dry. I found that a merino wool base layer and a fleece or sweatshirt underneath the Trailhead Jacket, kept me warm in temperatures below freezing. Running up Lees Ferry on a March morning at high speeds was not a problem for this jacket.
Some other features that I have come to appreciate about the Trailhead Jacket:
Fully functional hood that can be cinched down to fight the cold and elements
Fleece-type lining on the chin when the jacket is zipped all the way up. Keeps from chaffing your face.
Velcro on the wrist of the sleeves to adjust tightness of the cuffs
Washability – This jacket has been through the laundry many times and it always comes out looking new.
Multi-functional – The Cabela’s Trailhead Jacket is a great jacket in the outdoors, but my wife doesn’t roll her eyes when I wear it in public either. It is a great all around coat that can be worn on any social occasion.
The Cabela’s name: I understand that Cabela’s is a big box store, but I appreciate their commitment to their product and the name. As with many other Cabela’s products, if you’re not happy, take it back.
Cabela's GORE-TEX Trailhead Jacket
Pros:
– Waterproof, windproof, breathable
– Thoughtful pocket layout that is user-friendly
– Armpit vents
– Multi-functional and versatile
– Price
– Washable
– Cabela’s name and warranty
Cons:
– No lining for warmth
– A bit bulky when loading a pack
Prognosis: I purchased the Cabela’s GORE-TEX Trailhead Jacket on sale and could not be happier with my purchase. If you are looking for a great all-around jacket to keep away wind, water, and snow, the Trailhead Jacket is definitely worth trying on.
* Disclaimer:
The reviews at Arizona Wanderings are my honest opinion. Arizona Wanderings is not sponsored by or associated with any of the stated companies and is accepting no compensation, monetary or otherwise, in exchange for this review. My independent status may change in the future but, as of the date of publication, no relationship other than described above has been pursued or established.
