A Fresh Start

Steve and I have finially kicked off Proving Trail Adventures with the release of our new dall sheep hunting video:  Lace 'em Up.  Its the first ever DIY guide to Dall Sheep Hunting and covers everything you need to know about Dall Sheep Hunting in Alaska.

The videos and more information (free downloads) are available at our website:  www.provingtrailadventures.com

We'll also be updating the blog there with our hunting stories and adventures.

Sheeping Trip 2012

Steep Slopes

The sheep scouting trip was a huge success and no rams were spotted. What? Yes, you read that right. Let me explain.

Steve and I had an initial plan for access on this hunt and with the newbie kiddo at home, scouting opportunities were going to be limited this summer. A prior attempt with Paisley and me hitting the ATV trail ended abruptly with me swamping my ATV, underwater, miles from the trailhead. Sheesh, talk about an ordeal. It only took me five hours of freezing my toes off in waist deep water to get that thing muscled around and started again. All that with a 1.5 year old sitting on the grassy slope constantly wanting to slide down and play in the water kept me going back and forth between kid and atv duties. A submerged cell phone not working for the drive home added to Liz’s worry about us until we finally showed up, mud everywhere, just after midnight. That was a great Father’s Day, one for the books for sure!

Okay, now the success part. I hit the same trail again, this time just me, the dog, the ATV (renewed after 6 oil changes), with my pack ready for some hiking and finding those rams. For various reasons, even with getting past the water successfully, this trail wasn’t going to work out for us to hike. I called it the trail from hell. It was swampy, buggy, wet, brushy, nasty, filthy, get mud on your lips kind of horribleness. Probably a normal 4 wheeler’s dream but not for this ORV amateur. And since we would be hiking in on the hunt, all I could think of was “this is really going to suck and we’re going to need waders.” A Sat phone call to Steve over a midday coffee break had me figuring out what to do next since I didn’t have my notes for alternate access with me. We soon had it figured out and I was ready to get out of there. I picked whitesocks out of my coffee, gulped it down before any new bugs could dive in, and turned the mechanized transportation around to head back to the truck.

Water Break

The new spot we picked to try was flat out awesome. It wasn’t long before I was above tree line and hiking across a high basin of goodness towards a distant mountain pass. It sure felt good to be hiking, and I smiled at the thought of “using the quads God gave you.” There’s something about hiking in the high country that’s just all around good for the mind, body, and soul.

18 Hour Camp

Up and over a couple mountain ridges and I was starting feel like I was getting close to a pretty good starting point. A small band of ewes on a distant green mountain slope hinted at better things to come. It was 7pm when I put the spotting scope away and found a place to set up the tent as it started to rain. 18 hours later with the clouds pressed in and about, it was time to get going back home. I climbed much more than I needed to getting out of there; being in new country and trying to find the right spot to slip over a mountain ridge in the fog has it’s challenges. It ended up being a good get-in-shape hike despite the rain.

The "go home" View

Back home I scored with my shortened trip by having an extra day with the family.

So where’s the success?

Well, having a route figured out to get you back to where you want to get too without aimless wanderings around in places that are hellish is huge. Or worse, time lost with miles and miles of backtracking can be devastating on a weeklong trip. Knowing your access, especially for those difficult to reach areas, is crucial intel for the makings of a successful sheep hunt.

Only fifteen days to go till Steve and I slip by the “18hr” camp spot as we make our way further and further into the mountains in search of Dall Rams.

July and Sheep Training

July is a great month with the countdown to opening day of sheep season only one flip of the calander away.  This is the month that sheep hunters in Alaska really start to amp up their summer training.  Folks can be seen early morning and late evening hiking the neighborhoods with backpacks weighted packs.  For me, it's looking a little different this year as I've had to get a bit creative with it.  I've still hit a few of the local mountains, including a 45 min hike up Flattop with the 60lb pack...not too shabby, and a buddy and I even dumped our water jugs out on Wolverine Peak after an evening hike.  6.5 gallons of water in the backpack makes for about the perfect training hike and being able to unload all that weight up high, saves the knees on the decent.  I'm liking this a lot more than the bag of dirt I used to haul up and down mountains.

Other alternative ways to train for the family man sheep hunter includes giving the daughter rides rides around the yard atop the pack/shoulders while I mow the lawn.  What's that make, 80lbs for an hour. 
See, everything applies to sheep hunting!
Of course my favorite training is hauling a truck load of firewood out of the woods on a wheel barrow.  Last night I brought home the third load of such.  Paisley came along on this last one to join in on the late evening fun.  Piggyback rides while dad pushed the wheel barrow resulted in another good work out as I turned 100yrds into a couple miles!  I don't take the pack filled with water on these excursions...the demand is already enough to soak a shirt.

The Boy

Sage Emerson Luber
June 29, 2012

Sage -  “Does not wisdom call out...from the heights along the way where the paths meet.” Sage has all the connotations of wisdom and as Proverbs says, wisdom is found in the high places, the mountain ridges, where a man walks narrow trails, step for step with God in awe of His creation.

Sage also captures the allure of the West.  The “West” has for me always been the high country where the sage meets the pines and it holds all sorts of adventure, exploring, and wonder of the cowboy.  The smell of wild sage beckons one to leave what’s familiar and comfortable; to enjoy a remote campfire, and to hear God speak in the wilds.

Emerson -  This one won out on the short list of names that we thought would fit.  It means Brave, Wise, Powerful, and the Victorious son of the Leader.  The “wise” fits well with Sage and the latter part tells me that he’s going to be a better man than me.

...Sage Emerson

Youth Hunt 2012

The Crew



                 My fifth year with this Proving Trail Adventures youth hunt was a trip that in all aspects, reminded me of how much I enjoy doing this; taking kids on an adventure that’s bigger than anything they’ve done before…and for most of them, their first hunt.  This being one way I can share my love for God and the outdoors with others.

                This year’s hunter, Levi, was new to hunting Alaska but that’s it.  At thirteen years old, he’s put a few whitetails in the freezer and this kid can hike!  His dad’s a good friend of mine and this was to be Levi’s initiation to manhood trip.  Or better put, welcome to the journey to manhood.



Levi - The Bear Hunter

                Other than a couple days of strong winds, we had awesome weather and enjoyed the sun on our face.  Bears did their part by making a great showing to keep things lively.  The first evening into camp had us stalking up the mountainside with multiple bears to pursue.  The highlight of the trip came as we snuck up on a ridge top and had two lone bears close by.  One was moving away at 315 yrds so he was out of the picture.  The other was a big bear, up in the top of a cottonwood tree, feeding on new leaf buds and oblivious to our presence.  We snuck to 196 yrds and got ready for the shot; it was a perfect set up, but I couldn’t give him the okay to shoot.  I knew that an hour before there’d been a bear with cubs up in this area so I explained that we were going to wait till we could be sure.  I picked apart the little patch of trees and surrounding area with my binoculars and couldn’t find anything but I decided we’d wait till the bear climbed down and moved out of the patch of trees to see if anything would follow.  After a long 10 minutes the bear finished it’s meal, clambered down the rough bark, and meandered out into the meadow across from us.  Sure enough, three little cubs came out of nowhere and followed her.  Levi, who’d never seen a bear before, was thrilled with the moment.



Doing what it takes to get these guys bears



                That experience later fueled a good chat around the campfire about the importance of a man’s character in decision making and being able to think in the midst of a situation and not just react.  I explained that there’s more than a few hunters out there who would have thought nothing other than “here’s my chance to be successful” and shot that bear within the 10 minutes that we waited, but that it would have broken your heart to walk up to it and suddenly have some scared cubs  start scurrying about.





The Stalk

                The next evening we had a nice bear start feeding in the corner of a meadow.  A half hour later we were creeping across the same clearing while judging hand signals from another buddy down at camp.  Things quickly got exciting for those watching from camp as we were suddenly 30 yards directly above the bear, which was feeding towards us.  Our view only provided a shadowy glimpse of his back due to the terrain.  I advised Levi to lock and load and coached him quietly as the bear continued to come closer.  Finally, at 17yrds, he had a broadside shot and put a bullet right through the shoulders.  Both dad and son commented on how things were starting to get “a little intense” in those final few moments.  I still smile thinking of how that evening went.  It’s fun stuff for sure with black bears on a mountainside.

                After a great breakfast the next day, we did what we could trying to burn up all the dry wood around, cooked some of the bear meat, enjoyed all the wildlife, and did a little exploring.  Those guys made the trip home with tired legs and great stories to share with everyone back home.



Breakfast

A Moment

Got up early Sunday morning, left the gals sleeping in the truck at the gravel pit and went for a hike just as it was starting to get light.  Found a fatty moose trail so I followed it for a mile until it cut between two ridge lines.  The ridge on the right looked inviting so I climbed up the hillside to the tune of a thousand aspen leaves shaking.  I tried calling for moose but wasn't really into it.  I was more content to just stand there in the aspen grove.  The beauty of the trees, the crispness of an early fall morning, the cold air, the colors, and the sun getting ready to break over distant mountains.  It was perfect to just stand there and soak it all in.  It was good to be alive and see God in this moment; it was true worship. 
I think that when Psalms 35:10 says, "My whole being will exclaim, 'Who is like you O Lord," the author was describing such a moment.  I also think that long ago, God created that hillside and that grove of aspen trees, knowing that one day I would follow a moose trail to this exact spot and there, pause and see His Glory.

Paisley's First Sheep Hunt





With a family sheep scouting trip wrapped up under the belt, why not try a sheep hunting trip. Liz had what sounded like a solid tip on this particular drainage. This was the last weekend of the season so we decided to go for it.  We figured the rams would either be there or not, and the weather looked to be an awesome time to be out camping in the fall.

We had such a great time exploreing, camping, hiking, and checking out sheep that it was a success - and we even got to bring home some sheep horns to put on the wall to remember Paisley's First Sheep Hunt.

Below is a picture summary of the trip:

This is where we're going.

The Moby Wrap

Paisley Sized Swimming Hole

Neat Rocks

Sheep Country

Happy to be up with the sheep.

Drat - no rams

Ewe

Dall Sheep

Nothing like having your kiddo 200 yrds from some sheep

A young ram

More sheep horns for the Luber house.

Look what I found

Liz was thirsty.

Along for the ride.



Kifaru Longhunter - Kid Carrier



Gravel Pit Camping

A BLUE BEAR!

Give me raspberries and no one gets hurt.

A truck bed.

Paisley has one for the wall!

Soggy Bottom Deer Hunt

Saturday morning had us up at 3:30am and heading out the door for a meat hunt. How was the weather for this trip? Let’s just say the previous trip was considered a drizzle compared to what we’d be in this time. It was a deluge and hurricane forces for wind again. Up top, the wind had everything hunkered down tight. We had a tip from one of Steve’s buddies about a little bowl where the bucks like to hang out. When we first arrived we spotted one deer in there but the fog was so thick we couldn’t tell if it was a buck or doe. So we kicked around the clearings hoping to jump something. That proved unproductive so we went back to check on the bowl and see if we couldn’t put antlers on that one deer. The fog has lifted just enough to see that there were several deer around and one was a forkie. I decided to take him since he appeared to be the only buck around bigger than a spike. One shot and that buck was down and another forkie stood up from the brush. Nonchalantly, Steve got ready and took this buck. We thought that was fun and had a couple tasty meat bucks down. Looking the other deer over we saw another little forkie with some deformed antlers. I asked if Steve would split the load of this guy and he agreed; so I shot one more. They were all so close in proximity to each other that we drug them together for a picture. We quartered out each animal and had our packs stuffed full with deer quarters and bags of meat. Another wet hike out and we were back home and hanging gear by the stove. That was a fun day, there’s something super enjoyable about going on an any buck hunt when trophy potential isn’t a priority.

From what I’ve heard from Steve, it hasn’t really stopped raining since we left there.

 

Deer Hunt - Sheep Style

Prince of Whales Island. Home of our good friends, the Bethune's, and a healthy population of Sitka Blacktail Deer. Our hunt was going to be early enough in the season that the bucks would still be up high, but late enough that they would be hard horned and no longer in velvet. Labor Day Weekend was going to be a good time to be up in the alpine. Steve mentioned to me before I arrived that it’s just as hard as any sheep hunt we’ve been on. I was going to find out just how true he was.

 

A locked gate on a forest service road provided the perfect place to start hiking. The weather was going to be sketchy on this trip, but the forecast called for better weather the next couple days and we planned to be up high with the bucks when it did clear off. But starting out - it was raining. Again, I hate hiking in the rain, and in rain gear and there’s been so much of it this year. Arrgh.

Muskeg

The hike up the old growth timber was fun. Fatty blueberries were a reward for every time we had to stop and climb our way over some giant deadfalls. The clouds and fog were set in thick when we made it into the alpine and continued our climb up to the first peak. Steve knew of a campsite for the night that would provide some protection from the wind that started slamming us as we descended the backside of the mountain. All night long we could hear the wind roaring just over the top of the tent - the little bank of ridge we had for protection was huge in keeping us on that mountain that night...otherwise it would have been no bueno!

Deadfalls

10am had the clouds rolling out and unveiling a gorgeous green horseshoe shaped ridgeline that was loaded with deer. We didn't try to count, but we could easily see a hundred (and that's not an exaggeration) of orange coated deer scattered all around, most of them bucks. We set in behind the spotting scope and spent most of the day sorting out who was who on the mountain and finally had it narrowed to a couple good bucks we wanted to go after.

Alpine Goodness

Drying Out

More fog prohibited any success when we attempted a stalk and pinned us down for an early evening. Another tent location was found, deer poop moved out of the way, and supper was made. Oh, yeah, I should mention the deer poop - it was everywhere and slicker than snot! I've never seen anything like it. Normally don't like to discuss those things but Holy Smokes it was everywhere!

Orange Deer Everywhere...

My buck

5am the next morning Steve wakes me with a "It's big buck time." We double checked the deer that were out feeding and I spotted a really big buck on the far ridge where we planned to hike out. While he was bigger, I planned to take this closer 4 point that we'd seen the day before. We put a stalk on and found ourselves 240yrds on a ridge above them. It was long wait for him to stop and stand at a good angle to shoot, but the time passed quickly with him sparring with other bucks on the lush slope.

Waiting for the shot...buck in the middle.

Finally I had him clear and sent the bullet to its mark. The buck tumbled and rolled finally coming to rest in a tight creek bed.



We got a couple pictures here but the slope demanded him from my grasp and I wasn't about to hold on and go with him - this was some steep country.

Steep Country

Regarding the steep slopes; let's just say that to walk on these slopes without danger required special boots (that Steve has) or crampons which I’d brought along for this purpose. The crampons got used religiously after one slip (either on deer poop or wet deer’s heart; which is directly related to all the poop) had me hanging on the slop by a little willow type branch. It's not too much fun maneuvering yourself over to a place to get a foothold by swinging from these twigs like a monkey.

Deer's Heart

Steve's Boots

After we had my deer in the pack, we headed over to the end of the ridge to try and find that last good buck for Steve. The big buck I'd spotted earlier had disappeared and while there were several decent bucks around, nothing else looked like we'd be doubling up on big bucks together on this hunt.

Where's that big buck?

Lil' Forkie

It was late afternoon when we slipped over the ridge and found ourselves in close proximity to multiple does and a little forkie. Another long wait and the other bucks, previously unseen, began to get up and feed. While waiting for the biggest of these to feed into range, the big 4 point came out of the woods at the end of the ridge. We tried to stalk him several times be each route we chose was cut off by does that we didn't want to disturb. Finally with only 20min of shooting light left, the buck bedded down broadside at 260yrds. Steve had a great rest on the pack and took the shot. The buck jumped and ran so we moved in looking for a blood trail - and found a great one. Close by was the buck and we took pictures as the light faded and the night engulfed us. Rain started falling and ended the day and half of nice weather we'd had.

Giving thanks over this buck was special. Steve had thought he was going to have to shoot a smaller buck just to bring home some meat on this trip but he thought he’d heard God tell him, “just wait, I’ve got one for you yet.” We were smiles when we went to bed that night.

Luckily we had the tent set up, so by the time we finished carving up the buck and we had a dry place to crawl into and out of the rain. Sheesh, it was going to be a miserable hike out the next day.

It was the night we should have worried about. We had minimal blockage of the wind where our camp site was chosen, and it was the best around. When the wind picked up it would simply roar above our tent like a we’d camped behind the blast fence at the airport with a 747 taking off. But every 10 minutes or so an impressive gust would flatten the tent right on top of us. It was a long night’s routine of sleep for couple minutes, push the tent off your face, pray that we wouldn’t have to tackle the slopes and old growth timber in the dark, hope for daylight, and fall back asleep only to repeat again and again. It was incredible and scary.

The winds died down as the day approached and then it was psych ourselves up to leave the tent and start hiking in the pouring rain. It had rained so much that night that while there were established creeks, the whole mountain side seemed to be flowing water as we descended to old logging roads. It was wet and slippery all the way down and we each discovered a couple good ways to plant our rear ends down in the squishy, boggy, muskeg.

We made it home in time for supper that night and the living room at the Bethune House looked like a bomb had gone off in our packs. We had gear drying out everywhere near their wood stove – we were getting ready for the next trip. You’d think we’d appreciate the comforts of home a little more wouldn’t you.