A Spring Bear Thrill

Late May, Ticks, and the Wilderness. My First

It was no surprise when I asked Devan if he was up for a backcountry bear hunt in Idaho. Of course, the answer was “yes.” Now to figure out how we were going to set off into the wilderness in pursuit of a warrior, an apex predator. I have five months to figure out how we are going to get it done.

I recently dove into the pursuit of hunting. I grew up on a farm in Southwest Idaho where the only time the pellet gun came out from behind a dusty, cobwebbed barn door was to get rid of nuisance birds, rock chucks, and the occasional raccoon. Not being the best of shots, I scared 99.9% of the animals away. I didn’t grow up having the “hunting camp” stories from generations of hunters gathered around the campfire, where the size of the “one that got away” progressively got bigger and bigger. I was and still am figuring it out through the education and experiences of others. At the end of the day, I am hooked.

With our packs loaded down with enough gear to last us a couple of days, Devan and I set out for the area that I had looked at on my phone’s screen for the past 5 months. I don’t quite know what fired up inside me to want to pursue bears. Was it the idea of getting into some gnarly backcountry, where we would have to cross runoff charged rivers and streams? To hike up alongside snow melted avalanche chutes? Was it because I thought this was the way to cut my teeth into the world of backcountry hunting? I think these played a factor, but I believe it was because I was chasing that thrill. The thrill of hiking into desolation. The thrill of glassing up an animal, not a rotted or burned out stump from a fire that happened years prior to our arrival. The thrill of a 50/50 chance that we may not have been successful and hiking all that way for nothing but the sights, the sounds, the laughs, and the internal mind battle that clashed with every heavy step.

Alas, there he was. Our game plan was to get behind a skeletonized tree just below the ridgeline to block us from the wind and glass the bowl we had just gotten to the top of. Out of the corner of my eye, the downhill stroll of a bear. He had this strut, a swagger. 28 hours into our hunt, we finally found a bear. “No way!” Devan was in disbelief. I still don’t know if it was because he didn’t believe that I saw a bear, or if he didn’t have the confidence in the area that I had picked to hunt.

It didn’t cross my mind prior to this endeavor, “how am I going to react? Will I be calm and collected? Will I squeeze the trigger like I did at the range when faced with an opportunity?” And now, 475 yards away, he is in my sights. Range, windage, elevation, all of it accounted for. The clicks of the turrets on my scope, click, click, click. Dialed.

The thrill of trying something different. The thrill of doing something new. The thrill of figuring it out as I go. The thrill of being in a part of the country I never would have thought I would ever be in. The thrill of one of my best friends sharing this moment. The thrill of getting out of my comfort zone. The thrill of turning off the voices that said, “this is too hard. Let’s just turn back right now. The pain, the ticks, the unknown could all be over.” Thrill is not always easy.

41 hours in the backcountry. 2,460 minutes from the time we parked the truck and headed off, to the time we threw meat and cape into the cooler and lifted our heavy packs off our shoulders. Gassed, sore, and loving it. The chase for these thrills is on, and I don’t want it to slow down. It really is a State Of Mind.