The Way West...a bowhunting journey.

[JC]

Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.....spend the winter writing the danged book already!    It's stories like that, that need the telling for many years to come.

[IB]

Well the confuzer battle and all the smoke in the sky caused OLE Lam"O" to short circuit.      

I had fully intended to throw out a couple phots for ya ta chew on. NOW I can't get into Photo Pail  :mad:    

[Randy Morin]

Thats enjoyable reading Charlie! How was the mountain.  Like you remembered it?  Dont ya hate them errant grass blades.  Been there.  

[DarkeGreen]

Chase'n critters is more important than puter stuff anyhow. Besides, you both need to go stick something so we'll have more to read about later.    

I can't bad mouth technology to much, its kept food on my table for more years then I want to think about. I sure have some bad thoughts run my mind about it from time to time though.  

Just keep feeding us more stories as tech toys and time permit. It's well worth the wait from where I'm setting!

[Charlie Lamb]

It was easy goin at first. Mostly level as I bushwhacked through a meadow filled with brown, crispy herbage that crunched and crackled with each step.
I'd never wanted it to rain anywhere so bad.

As I walked I pulled a Judo tipped carbon shaft from my quiver and slid it across the bow.
A kill zone sized sage bush took the whispering shaft right through the middle at 15 steps.

I plucked the arrow from the dust without slowing my pace and looked for the next target.
With little deliberation, another rib cage sage was punched... this time at closer to 35 yards.

(dang! Breakfast is ready)

[Charlie Lamb]

The going got a lot quieter as I entered the pines at the end of the meadow. That was good and I made a mental note to stay out of the meadows.

A razorbacked ridge sliced up the mountain toward timberline. Following my usual Zen pattern of hunting I let my subconscious lead me toward the  ridge.
It went where I wanted to go anyway and would provide a good test of legs and lungs... not to mention a great view of the surronding country.

I fully expected the climb to be too much and was surprised that although my breathing became labored, my legs didn't complain at all and my heart maintained a steady, reasonable tempo.

I was stopping  every little bit to catch my breath and would have been stopping to glass the country anyway. It all seemed quite natural and I could feel the age dropping away with each foot of elevation I gained.

[Charlie Lamb]

It wasn't long and I knew that timberline was a goal that I could attain at the pace I was keeping.

I'd already climbed higher than I needed to to find elk. Below I could see the large blocks of timber where they probably were, but I kept on pushing.
 

It wasn't the elk I was after anyway and I think that most bowhunters will come to the same conclusion at some point.
Elk may be the excuse, but the reason we come to the places they reside is so much more.

I think we come not so much to visit the elk as to live with them... or maybe live LIKE them. To marvel at the sights they see every day and fill our lungs with the rich pine scented air... air that is heavier with pine than oxygen. If a person could only bottle it!

[Charlie Lamb]

Soon a trail cut into up onto the ridge and I laid my own tracks on top of those of elk and deer and coyote.

To my left the mountain fell away sharply and far below I spotted a small waterhole. The pock marks on the distant, bare dirt, mountainside told me that it was a game magnet. I noted it's location for future investigation.

I'd not go there today. It was much too steep from this side. One careless step could send a man sliding out of control to rocks and lodgepoles below. In some places you'd have fallen a long bowshot without touching anything but air.

So I kept trekking upward. It was impossible to tell how long it had been since the tracks had been made in the dusty trail. Maybe a month or maybe an hour.

The dropping told another story,however. Dry and hard and round like marbles they hinted of a browse diet and not the homogenous clumps that spoke of a rich grass diet.

I'd push on until I found sign which was green and glossy. No need wasting time where the elk weren't.

In time I found myself in cover which was much more sparse. The lodgepoles had given way to alpine fir. I found myself giddy with the altitude and searching the alpine meadows for some huge old buck mule deer.

I had no tag for them, but I dearly wanted to see one of those heavy horned old timberline bucks... I'd hunt elk on the way back down!
 

[Charlie Lamb]

I'd attained my goal without really trying. Where I'd not even climb a Missouri hilltop for the chance to see a deer, I'd often climbed mountains just for a chance to savor the view on the other side. Today had been no different than countless days I'd spent as a young man in these very same mountains.

Instead of tired and footsore, I was rejuvenated and longed to push on. For this moment in time I was part of it all, one with the mountain and wise enough in my years to recognize and appreciate it.

The sun hovered low to the west and I knew I needed to bale off now or face an unpleasant walk through rough terrain in the dark.

With care and by sticking to the edges of the high meadows I'd be able to hunt my way back to the truck. It was prime time and all my senses were on full alert.

I'd like to say I came on a huge bull, bugling to the world and how I layed him low with a sharp broadhead, but the truth is I saw no elk on the way down.

I thought I heard a cow chirp at one point, but it was just the call of a Clark's nutcracker. (a high country bird) Just at dark and still a half mile from the truck I thought I heard the last chuckles of a bulls challenge, but I couldn'td be sure.
I was making time now and making too much noise in the process. I made mental note of the location to check out another time.

At one point a bat came darting and diving by and it made me smile. Then an owl swooped noiselessly overhead and wheeling around came back to see what I was.
I stopped for a moment to watch before entering the meadow where I'd find my truck.

The days ahead would be better for what I'd learned today and I'd left an old man on the mountain.

Thanks Buck! I truly understand.

[**DONOTDELETE**]

great story.... can you hunt elk on Sunday?

[Shadow Hunter]

This has been a great journey wonderful story telling and incredible pic's. Thanks for bringing us all long.

Shadow Hunter

[Roughcountry]

Yep, I'm votin for the book also. Really great stuff right there Mr Charlie  

[vermonster13]

I picture one of those coffe-table books, something big enough to do the pictures and stories justice!

[AZStickman]

Damn Charlie you put into words so fluently things I've felt for years..... Thank You.... Terry

[Al33]

[cjones]

Keep it up Charlie. Thank you for taking us all along with you through your magical season.

[charlielambsdaughter]

WOW! dad that is beautiful country. love your stories hope you have more love ya your daughter melissa

[RayMO]

Thanks again Charlie  

[Littlefeather]

 Melissa, Good to see you and Theo stopping by to chear on the ol' man! I think he's regressed back to boyhood. I sure wish I could find that fountain of youth void of daily stress myself. Great telling Charlie. Please, do tell more! CK

[Shaun]

Missed ya Charlie while I was off playing bows n arrows with CK and a couple Jay Hawks in west TX. Glad to be back and catch up on the western adventure. Some sweet words about that solo mountain climb, thanks for writing down your thoughts.