"Sounds good. Six in the morning?" came his instant reply
"Wow, sun up is only at 7:50. How about 6:30?" I wrote back.
Interesting how we used to phone each other now we rely on the impersonal way of reading texts. How times have changed.
One thing that has not changed... how incredibly steep these mountains are.
"Let's take another breather," Mike huffed.
I acted like I could take it or leave it, but I was more than ready to stop for a nice break.
"Not much further," I said, but looking up the face above us we both knew it would be quite a while before we broke out on top.
We had been hiking for nearly an hour by head lamps in the dark of the morning. Our theory being one must sneak up on the deer critters in the dark. If they can't see us coming, they won't know we're there.
Mike and I were breathing like two fifty-something old duffers, trying desperately to climb an impossibly steep mountain before daylight caught us in the act. If a deer had been born totally deaf, was almost blind, and had no smell olfactories in its nose... we might have a chance of sneaking up on it. Other than that... not a chance!
Daylight broke, spilling light down the mountain. The two old duffers were nowhere near the top.
"Hey, at least we are getting exercise," we both agreed at once.
"A few years ago I used to leave the truck about an hour later and get to the top to wait for it to get light," I told Mike. "You know, when I was young."
"Hmmm..." was all he said back. I could tell by his look, he could not imagine me young.
With a big groan Mike and I picked up our heavy packs and guns for a bit more climbing. Oh wait, those are empty packs. Oh well, they sure feel heavy. I did have a bottle of water and a candy bar in mine.
For some reason, we climbed a few ridges further to the right than we usually do, and found ourselves mired in waist high brush. All brush in Alaska grows thick and lays down hill. To climb through it you have to either part it with your hands, or just lean far forward and bull your way through it.
The top of the mountain found Mike and I with our coats stuffed in our empty but heavy packs, sweat streaming down our faces in the freezing cold morning air.
"Whew, we made it," Mike panted.
"I knew we would," came my smug reply.
We hunted hard looking in every place deer usually are found, Of course by now all the deer were safely bedded down for their noon naps.
Many time during the day Mike or I would comment about what beautiful views we have from high on top of the mountain. What we really meant was that we took so long to make the little climb that we missed the morning hunt and might as well find something good to brag about.
Taking advantage of the time with no deer bothering us, I snapped some nice pictures with my cell phone.
I received a text from one of my hunting buddies in Idaho. "Happy anniversary," it read.
I quickly sent him one of my newly taken pictures and replied back, "On top of a mountain, deer hunting."
I was more bragging to him that I made it to the top of the mountain than anything else. I expected a "wow, good job," or something like that, but no... nothing.
After enjoying a nice lunch consisting of a candy bar and a bottle of water, we decide to head back down.
Steep mountain downhill is almost harder than the up hill climb. Somewhere on the way down hill we again stopped to take off our coats, to slow down the sweating. We hiked a while when one of us exclaimed that he had forgotten his gun, leaning against the tree, while removing the coat.
Back up the steep slope to find the tree the gun was leaning against. It was quite an Easter egg hunt in a forest of thick trees and brush to find the lost gun, but at last we spotted the run away gun and got it returned to its happy owner.
"Couldn't be old age, could it?" one of us reminded the other.
I wanted to tell a story of one of us leaving a spotting scope laying on a mountain while sheep hunting, but I refrained myself. By the way, the scope was never found even though I spent the best part of a day looking for it. Or how about a camouflaged shotgun was left lying in the grass of a parking lot... Nope, won't go there... too painful.
Well, I must admit that the two old duffers made the climb all the way to the top and back to the truck... all in the same day.
I received a text that night, "Want to hunt tomorrow?"
I slowly moved my arm to retrieve the phone, then stiffly typed, "Don't know if I can tomorrow. so sore I can hardly move tonight!"
"Me too," came the reply back.
Oh the joys of old age and hunting critters.
Mike heading down the mountain
the view from the top
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