I've been hunting the mountains of Colorado now for 13 years. It's a long standing family tradition and we generally head to the San Jaun National Forest near Pagosa Springs. I live in East Texas and the trip to the mountains is always a well awaited adventure. We normally hunt 2nd or 3rd combined rifle seasons for elk and mule deer on the Piedra River which is area 77. We hunt without guides or horses, I guess we're what you call "Do-It-Yourselfers". We do it on our own with back packs and one person tents. We backpack miles into the mountains as far away from horse trails and other hunters as we can get. I can spend as many as 7 days backpacking in the mountains without returning to main camp. For the last few years my hunting partners have been my older brother Tim, Brent and myself.

THE TRIP

Let me start by expressing and enforcing my friendship to Brent, friends are hard to come by and you're an important friend to me. I tell this story at our expense so others may enjoy our adventures and misfortunes.

The trip started off as usuall on the evening of Wednesday October 14nth. We left on time and we didn't experience any of the usuall wrong turns or mishaps brought on by unending gossip, discussions and excitement of the upcoming hunt. We arrived in Pagosa Springs in the late morning hours Thursday. Our first stop would be the True Value Hardware Store. (An absolute must stop for all hunters going through the area.) There we can pick up anything we need for our hunting trip, top of the list was Bull Tags. We had put in for "The Draw" and already had our deer license. We completed our shopping and then headed out for our much anticipated traditional breakfast at the "Chimney Rock Cafe". For thirteen years they have served the best food in the mountains with the friendliest of people. After trying to finish their GIANT hotcakes and the plentiful gravy and biscuits we were ready to set up base camp and start the hunt.

To get to our longtime hunting grouinds we turn up First Fork Road which winds through the canyons and cliffs of the Piedra River and dead ends at a bridge spanning the river of rushing cold water. Next to the river we set up a meager base camp which on this occasion was a light weight 3 room tent with just enough room to sleep us three hunters and a handful of gear. But with a nice heater and cooking stove it is a well appreciated home for the nights we stay in it.

After setting up base camp and collecting water from a nearby spring we'll begin to pack our backpacks and get ready for the gruelling 7 to 9 hour climb the next morning that starts our 10 day adventure. Each hunter packs his own food, clothes and hunting gear as they see fit for surviving in the mountains. Food is generally Ramen Noodles, Dinty More Microwave Lunches, cheese, crackers, sliced ham, beef jerky and some candy. Then we share packing some of the cooking and survival items that are shared during the hunt. These items would include a mini propane burner with a couple of propane bottles and a small nonstick pan for heating food and water. Also a small propane torch for starting fires and a mini propane lantern. Most important of all is a couple of water filtration pumps for clean drinkable water which is an absolute must in order to survive.

After the packs were synched down and ready for the ascent to the hunting grounds we all picked up each others packs to see how heavy they were and brag on whose pack is the lightest or heaviest [smuiel]. Brent's pack was way over the limit on what I felt he could handle. Brent is new at backpacking having been with us for a couple of years now I felt confident he could load his pack wisely. Brent has struggled with altitude sickness his first two years. A debilletating condition created from a lack of oxygen in the body that the body can usually adjust to after two or three days. But, for some people it demands medical intervention and without this attention it could mean death. In previous two years Brent just needed a couple of days for his body to adjust. At that time he could begin effectively hunting and moving freely about the mountainsides. But with a pack this heavy I wondered if he could make it. I did suggest to him that he lighten his pack somehow. He said he needed all that was packed up and asked me what he should do. Well, I suggested to him that since I didn't pay attention to what he packed I didn't know what was weighting him down and suggested that he could possiblyremove extra clothes, food or any other item he felt he could do without. He seemed confidant he could make it with the pack as it was.

With our packs ready for the next morning we began to gather firewood for a campfire that night, the cold air sinking into the deep river canyon made for very cold nights. The campfire was nice and we talked of past hunts, the future of this hunt and the weather that we might have. The biggest topic was the dreaded ascent that lay ahead of us the next morning. The cold did set in quickly and after the hot chocolate we hit the cots for some needed sleep.

Friday morning we were up at the crack of dawn and a heavy frost on the ground greeted us as we emerged from the tent. After a short discussion we all agreed to head to the cafe for one more round of GIANT, thirsty pancakes mainly because none of us wanted to cook and we needed and wanted one more good meal. A quick breakfast and we were ready to start the long climb that awaited us.

We parked the Suburban at the trail head, strapped on the backpacks, grabbed the guns and two bottles of water and locked the doors and the adventure was on! Directly in front of us was a steep rocky horse trail that started the ascent and beyond that, nay miles away, was our goal for the day. The first climb is no problem for pack mules and horses but for low landers with 50 pounds of gear on their backs it is pure butt kicking work. The first leg of the climb would take us into Two Springs Park (Park is a meadow in the mountains) a ten acre meadow at 7000 feet only a half a mile or so from the trail head but it makes or breaks every person who thinks of hunting this part of the mountains. From there is a two mile trek into Indian Springs Park, a 4 acre park at 7800 feet that I really like because I've seen and killed animals in and around it. At Indian Springs we leave the horse trail and begin another steep climb up a ridge that separates those who think they can and those who really want it. No horses can follow over the steep rocky terrain with fallen timbers and choking scrub oak and most hunters won't go to the trouble to make their way through it. After that climb we head into the dark timber of a northern slope. Several more miles ahead is the final destination of the day. It is a large area with several springs that lay in a steep dark old forested canyon. I call it a canyon which is for lack of better words. Two ridges that come from the top of the mountain which is 10000 ft, then go down some 2,000 ft to the flat delta area we camp at. The canyons are not rocky cliffs though. The ridges are extremely steep but are covered with old growth forest in the shade and changes to aspen and scrub oak in the sunny areas. The springs emerge in the wide bottom of the two ridges. A type of valley that is wide and lush from the springs and lack of sunlight with lots of foliage and high grasses.

In the first steep climb heading into Two Springs Park Brent has already begun to fall behind. Tim And I reach Two Springs with Brent some 200 yards behind us. I took off my pack to go and check on him and offer words of encouragement. Encouragement at this point is all the help that can be offered, each person must carry his own weight. Brent had already developed an upset stomach and was complaining of being dizzy. This is the same symptoms he experienced for the two years before and I assumed that he would recover in a day or so and resume hunting. The Suburban was only a short distance back and he could reach it easily if he needed to. I told Brent he could make his way up to Indian Springs on his own, if he felt confident, and camp there till he recovers or he had the choice to make his way back down. He would make his choice depending on how ill he was. I told him we would mark the trail to the camp site with ribbons starting from a well known spot past Indian Springs. This way he could stay behind, adjust to the altitude and then find his way around the mountain to our camp. He agreed, assured us he would be fine, and the we left him on the trail alone.

Opening day we got up with the rising of the sun with only a light frost on the ground. We had both slept pretty good and we were ready for the adventure of opening day. Tim was going to head further around the mountain to a hotspot I discovered a couple of years ago. It's two meadows tucked away near the top of the mountain. One about a hundred yards on top of the other in tears. Each one is filled with aspen and grown high in lush vegetation. There's a small spring between them that trickles for about thirty yards slowly getting smaller until it disappears all together. We named the area Two Aspen Parks.

I was going up high and check all of the little nithces and hide outs that usually held elk and see if I could find a bull. One thing was quite clear, elk tracks were every where. Every game trail was stamped with elk tracks. Unfortunately they were all made a month earlier during a long wet spell. No fresh tracks could be found. At the end of the day Tim And I met back at camp. He had seen two deer, a doe and a small fork horn buck. The buck wasn't what we were looking for and was passed up for hopes of something bigger. My day went by with lots of walking but no animals.

My brother expressed his disappointment with the lack of sign and I agreed but reminded him that one animal is all it takes and not to loose hope so soon. In my mind I knew that it was the worst I had ever seen on this part of the mountain. Everything was crispy dry due to an Indian Summer that had set in a month earlier. It was moist around the springs but no animals had been coming to drink.

The next morning we started the day with the same plan as the first. I covered even more ground in search of some fresh elk sign while Tim went back into the Two Aspen Parks. The day went by with no animals seen or heard. That evening I told Tim we would haf'to work together if were to have any hope of getting an animal. So that evening we set a plan into motion. Since Tim had seen deer in the Aspen Parks and I knew it was an excellent spot. I would sit at the end of the Two Aspen Parks where I could get a good view, which is not easy considering that the forests are heavy and dense. But there are a couple of spots that I could see for 100 yards in each direction. Tim would circle in behind the parks and then begin a slow hunt toward me either running the animals by me or getting a shot himself.

With the next days hunting strategy agreed on we turn our thoughts to Brent. Neither of us new what Brent had been doing or what choice he had made since we left him on the trail. Each day we hoped he would show up at camp, feeling better and ready to hunt. But we also knew he didn't like making the unfamiliar hike around the mountains alone. So, that night, we also made the agreement that Tim would return to base camp the day after our hunt in the parks to check on Brent and make sure everything was OK. If Brent was feeling better he would return with Tim to finish out the hunt. With the next days hunt ahead of us and the day after that planned out we slipped into our tents again to try and get some sleep and await the coming morning.

Tim had Picked a spot in the top meadow watching a well used trail that lead into it from a steep bank of high grass and brush. From there a nice buck entered the park. Tim had dropped a nice 5x3 muley with antlers that are 22 inches high and 22 inches wide. With excitement running high we savored the moment. We both thanked the good Lord above and congratulated each other for the success.

Now comes the hard part. Getting a deer 7 - 8 miles back down to base camp. A price you pay to get into territory that has no hunting pressure. We discus the situation and the options. We could both pack the deer out and each of us loose a days hunt or one of us could pack him out and the other remain behind alone to hunt.

Tim instantly volunteers to pack the animal out himself so I can keep hunting. That's the kind of person Tim is. He is dependable, strong and always ready to carry more than his share. Tim would now haf'to walk back to our hunting camp for his backpack and equipment for packing the deer. Bonesaw, cheesecloth, handcleaner and baby wipes are the main things needed. While Tim is gone I go ahead and use the knives we have to skin and bone the deer. Flies have already homed in on the kill and swarming in large numbers in the warm sun. I get one side skinned with the deer on the ground. I spread the skin out on the ground so I could place the meat that would be boned out from that side of the deer on it. I boned out all the meat that is reasonable to save then begin skinning the other side while keeping the meat from falling off the skin. In an hour or so I have the deer skinned, boned and the meat packed in the hide for protection. In another thirty minutes Tim returns. We take the meat from the hide and place it in the cheesecloth then in the backpack. We put the bonesaw together and remove the skull and antlers. I get cleaned up with the handcleaner and baby wipes and Tim sets off for base camp some 7 miles away after already walking a good 6 miles. IT's just after 12:00 high and he will have only six hours to make it back to base camp at the Piedra River, he'll have to keep a staedy pace but he knows he can do it.

Well I make it through the night without any bears showing up and get up late to start the days hunt. I have decided to hunt for elk again in the dark timber above camp. And again I see plenty of old elk sign but nothing fresh. I made my way back to camp a little early to check on Tim and word on Brent. Late in the evening Tim arrives exhausted and alone. I ask about Brent and how he's doing. Tim gives me a puzzling look and tells me that Brent was gone. He went on to tell me that Brent had left a short scribbly note on the Suburban explaining that he could not recover from his illness and has gone to Durango to catch a flight back to Dallas and that's all we knew of Brent. The short note didn't begin to answer the many questions of what Brent had gone through and the fact is, it only created more unanswered questions.

I have reached an all time low for the hunt at this point. Having not even seen an animal the weather was extremely poor for hunting and Brent now gone without us not knowing his condition. I'm now having a hard time finding an answer on what to do. Elk seem to be completely out of the picture this year and deer season has only one more day.

I gather myself together and convince myself that giving up is not an option. So we start planning a strategy for my last day of deer season. With Aspen Parks producing the only animals we decided to hunt there wednesday morning with the same game plan that got Tim his buck. Then if nobody gets an animal we'll go back and break second camp and pack it on up to Two Aspen Parks and finish out the last hours of deer season there and complete the elk hunt in that area too.

Tuesday morning we head around to the parks, on the way I spotted two doe and a small buck. I shouldered my gun but convinced myself I had worked to hard to settle for so little. Prayers were coming every ten minutes now it seems and I may have made a mistake passing on the small buck, I could've at least filled my tag and had some good venison. We made it to the parks and put our team plan to action again. I made my way to my spot and Tim went on around to the other side of the parks so he could walk the animals toward me. Tim couldn't shoot a deer, they would have to be pushed my direction so I could get a shot. It didn't take long and the second buck of the morning passed just in front of me. I took aim but again the antlers just weren't what I was looking for. The buck was joined by a doe and I enjoyed there company for several minutes till they disappeared in the brush. No other deer would come by that morning so we followed through with the plan to move camp.

We ate good at the Cafe that night and I got a much needed shower. We both talked about Brent and wondered how he was doing. We also wondered how he got to Durango? It was all still a mystery to us because no one camped at the river new anything about the situation. We always poked fun at Brent and how he was always sick. That night Tim and couldn't stop laughing at that guy. No one could scare two hunters like Brent. The year before Tim and were both woke up at 2 am to the sound of a rumbling growl outside our tent. Three or four times we hear it--BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. we both go for our guns not knowing when or if "THE EDGE" was coming for us. Then just as we're convinced that dang thing was coming towards the tent we hear it again BBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRR we whisper loudly to Brent to wake him and get ready for the pending attack and BBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRR, cough, cough, BBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRR, cough, cough. It was just Brent outside heaving up his guts again. And when you were walking around outside. You didn't watch for horse piles, you sure better watch out for BRENT PILES. That boy could make a cow with the scours look clean. My gosh I can't stop laughing to finish this story. Even though I know we left him alone on the trail sick.

The next morning we head up the mountain with empty packs and loaded guns. We did noticed lots of fresh elk sign in Indian Springs but at that time the significance of the sign was not known to us. We head up and around the mountain hoping all the way to meet up with a bull elk but no luck. We get up to Lone Tree Park middle evening and rested a while. Then headed out in the park to see if a bull would come out. Still no luck only a couple of doe would venture out and entertain me. Saturday morning we give it another try, Tim went into Lone Tree and I went into The Aspen Parks. Not even any fresh sign were present so we packed up and headed out in a hurry. We made it down to base camp through our stuff on the trailer and headed for home.

As soon as I arrived home and got cleaned up I called Brent to see how he was doing. A low keyed weak voice answered the phone. I asked him how he was, how he got home and what happened to him. Then the shocking revelation came forth. He had indeed made it to Indian Springs the day we left him alone on the trail. He stayed in his tent for two days and two nights dizzy and nauseated. Unable to eat or sleep he stayed in his tent all day and night. He asked "How many elk did yall get?" I told'em we didn't even see an elk much less shoot one. Then he explained how he had elk all around his tent THERE AT INDIAN SPRINGS all of the time. At night they would be all around him. He could hear elk bugling all night and much of the day. Saturday he was startled by a 5 x 5 bull bugling his lungs out right in front of his tent. Later that day he would struggle to get down the mountain where he met some mountain bikers riding the horse trails. They rescued Brent and carried him to Durango. From Durango he took a prop plane to Denver where he got an airliner back to Dallas. I told him all he needed to do was go to the emergency room and get some oxygen.

Anyway, Brent saw some elk and we got some nice deer and we all survived.

Thanks for reading my story