Man Tracker



This next post will be one of epic proportions.
Go grab yourself a nice, big cup
of hot chocolate.
Put another log on the fire,
slide on your favorite, fuzzy slippers,
and
pull that overstuffed chair
right up to that crackling fire.
If you don't have a fireplace,
just light a nice candle or two and fake it!
Now put up your feet, sit back
and enjoy the story. . .


It has become a Thanksgiving tradition for the Senator, the buddy boy, and I to head to "The Hills" (the Black Hills, that is) for the long Thanksgiving weekend.  It usually takes us about 270 minutes to pack up the pick-up with all of our stuff, so our departure time is around Noon, or so. 

We settle in for a long winter's nap upon our arrival, because Friday morning brings this:

Deer Mountain/Mystic Miner Ski Area

While the Senator headed out to snowshoe these hills, Patrick and I headed up the chair lift to hit the slopes.  He "boards" and I attempt to ski.



The conditions weren't perfect, but they were good enough for us.
The sun was shining and the mountain was a calllin'.





He's gearing up for the first run.





"See ya at the bottom, Mom!"



And he's off!

 Fifty-nine parallel turns later, and my leg muscles a burnin' on fire, I made a successful first run.  Not once did I think about my arm, which as many of you may remember, I inconveniently broke in August.  Nope, it wasn't until I got to the bottom of the hill that I remembered.  Then I had to quickly psych myself up for the next run, for Patrick was already in line, ready to tackle the slopes again.

Up and down, back and forth we went.  Then Patrick wanted to take a break.  Really, he did!  I know he did.  I'm sure it was him who said, "Mom, let's take a break."

When we got to the pick-up, we found the Senator having a little snack, after his morning of snowshoeing.

Makin' a  PBJ with some fine cheddar on the side

I planted my skis next to his snowshoes and had myself a little snack, too.

I turned to see if Patrick wanted a PBJ, and lo-and-behold,
he had gone back to the hill.
And I thought he wanted to take a break!

Bottom line. . . he boarded more, and the Senator and I continued to snack.  We ran into some friends, Monte and Lynette, who have a super nice shack, slope-side.  We had a beverage with them and caught up on things, since we hadn't seen them since last winter.

Then it was back to the hotel hot tub, and we turned in for the night.  It was a successful first day back on the slopes.

Saturday was to be more boarding and skiing, but we decided to try the snowshoe trail.   This is where the MANTRACKER part of the story begins. . .


Here I am, the handy girl,
just warming up a bit
before we get started.
Whew!  Feeling good so far!
I'm on a roll!



Patrick was trying to figure out how
he was going to keep up with
his "handy girl" Momma.

Seriously now, this is the closest I would
be to him in the next three and a half hours.
Because, before I knew it. . .

Dang it! They were off and a runnin'!
"Hey, guys?" 
"Yooo Hoo!"
"Yo! What about the handy girl?"

I finally kicked 'er in gear and headed down the trail.  I was tracking their trail.  I was "Man Tracking."  (It's another new show on the Science Channel the boys have become addicted to - called "Man Tracker")

Pretty soon I had come to a sign that said this:

I thought to myself, "Awe, isn't that nice they're going to have
bratwurst for us on the trail."
So,
I kept trekking right along.  I kept thinking I should
have been smelling the brats cooking at any time.

On the way to the Bratwurst, I saw this lovely stand of aspens.
Keep in mind now, I hadn't seen the boys in a while.
My "man tracking" skills were not the greatest.
I figured I'd catch up to them at the brat stand.

Trudge, drag, trudge, breathe, trudge, trudge, trip...oops!
"Hello?"
"Anybody out there?"
And I still couldn't smell those darn brats cooking?

Then I saw this sign! 
Yippee!  The brats would be right up that hill.
Then, I'd  find the boys.
I was such a smart Man Tracker.



I know you are very excited at this point.
Let me tell ya, I was too!

Do we need to take a break here?

Do you need to warm up your hot chocolate?

Add another marshmallow?

Put another log on the fire?

Go ahead, I can wait. . . .

I was hot on their trail. . .

A quick shot of my snowshoes,
just so you know I really was hot on their trail.



At this point, I was thinking to myself,
"They're out there.  They're watching me."
Not the guys, mind you . . .

 I began to think about the possibility of one
of those famous Black Hills Mountain Lions
finding me . . .



I finally came to a Y-intersection on the trail, and my heart sunk. 

I knew my luck was a runnin' a bit dry, for I saw this sign:

Oh, it was bad enough that it said "Wipeout," which didn't sound very promising, but I had finally come to the realization there would be NO BRATWURST.

NO BRATWURST! 

The first two "bratwurst" signs I saw were just trail markers.  What was I thinking?

So, now I would have no bratwurst and I had no guys!  The handy girl was certainly not feeling very handy.  And, I  still kept thinking about that big, nasty CAT that could be lurking just around the bend. 

So, smart, little handy girl decided not to turn around.  Oh no!  Smart handy girl decided to take the trail marked "Wipeout." 

 SERIOUSLY, GRAMMA! 

Well, as I told the Senator later, it just looked intriguing.  Come on, where is your sense of adventure? Besides, the trail looked like it was all down hill anyhow.  What could be so bad about that?

See? Wouldn't you say it looks intiguing?

Sing it with me now, and start skipping. . .
"Weeee're off to see the Wizard,
the wonderful Wizard of Oz!"

Oh, Toto, "I'm afraid we're not in Kansas anymore!"
Auntie Em?
Auntie Emmmmm?

This was taking a look back up the trail,
from whence I had just come. . .
Does it appear to be getting darker,
or is it just my imagination?

I began thinking, 
"The heck with Man Tracker."
I may need to kick into survival mode.
I thought this would be a good spot,
If
I had to spend the night somewhere.

Believe it or not, I did begin to relax.  It really was so beautiful and peaceful, AND I was going down hill.  Nice, it was really NICE.

THEN, this guy crossed my path. . .



Turkey track.  Really, it is!

I figured I had better take a pix of myself.
After all, if I had seen one more live animal,
I may truly have had heart failure,
OR
if I had ended up stranded out there for days,
I figured someone might want one last look at
the handy girl.
(Thanks for the really cool headband, Mom!)



Yippe!  I had finally made it off the "Wipeout" trail,
BUT,
Where to now?

Oh where, oh where were those guys?  I looked to the right. I looked to the left.  All I saw was a huge open meadow.  If only there was someone around, so I could ask directions.  If only there was someone around to keep my company. If only there was a big strappin' guy to save me from this rugged wilderness. . .

"Oh, why, hello stranger? I seem to be lost."

"Follow that trail around the bend ma'am."
"You'll find a fork in the trail, go right, and
head on up the hill."

"Oh, why thank you, large, strappin' guy."

He then asked me if I'd like to hike with him. 

I told him, "No thanks.  I'm married."

Just around the bend, I saw this sign.
It was about as encouraging as the "Wipeout" sign.
No kidding, "Lost Run."

Ah, yah, I KNEW I was lost!

Thanks for telling me, though.
It was a good thing I told the
hunkin', strappin' guy I was married cuz
just up "Lost Run"
I saw this. . .



There they were! The guys!



I scoped in on them.  They seemed to be in deep conversation.





They seemed to be looking at the map.
I hollered, "Man Tracker has spotted you!"



The Senator was intently studying the map.
Patrick seemed to be casually saying to himself,
"Oh, there's Mom."
(Not like I hadn't been missing for about four days!)

SO, we met up. .  . studied the map. . .
and decided to go THAT WAY. 

Which way, you ask?

That way. . . the uphill way. . . Ya, right!
Hey, there they go again.
"Guys, aren't you glad to see the handy girl?"
"Wait up!"
Trudge, pant, climb, trudge, pant, pant, pant. . .

Oh, isn't this lovely?

No, not really.  It was just a big, blob of snow on a pine bough, but I was so dang tired from going up, up, up hill I had to stop. 

I thought if Patrick and the Senator turned around to check on me, it would look better if I was pretending to take pictures, rather than flopping my body on the ground, writhing in pain from the altitude.

O.K. right back at it.  Up, Up, Up.
"Way-ate up guys!"
"Geeesh!"

Here are a couple more "I'm so dang tired pictures."
I just had to catch my breath.

Ooooo!  Look at that lovely blue trail marker on the tree!
(I think the guys had just turned around to check on me,
and I had to make it look like I was taking more pictures.)
Breathe, breathe, pant, pant, pant!

Charlie Brown must have been up here!

Well, looky there! 
Looks like the Senator might be catching a breath or two.

Sure enough. . . ya, he was smiling,
but I know his heart was just a pumpin'!
And then there was that little guy up ahead.
He was ready to sprint!

By golly, he was sprinting!
Just look at him go!
"Find us the trail home, Buddy Boy!"

He had found the open meadow, and
Yes! 
Look down in the middle of the meadow.
That's the top of our pick-up, just peaking out
below the ridge.
"Way to go, Patrick!"

Three and a half hours later (and no bratwurst!) we had finally made it back to camp. 

I went to get a massage. . .



  

At this point, I was going to continue with our "Cutting of the Christmas Tree" portion of our weekend, but I'm sure your fire has turned to embers (or your candle wax has melted all over your table) and your hot chocolate is long gone. . .

SO, 

more to come. . .I promise. . . 

from the Hills, peace,

kathleen

the handy skiing and snowshoeing and man tracking girl

FAST-BREAK UPDATE!

After arriving home on Sunday,
the Hills got a dumping of almost four feet of snow!

Just thought I'd tell ya. . . 

And some questions and clarifications. . . 

So the Senator asks, after reading the blog, (seriously, he did ask!) 
"Did you really see that guy on the trail?"

The handy girl responds, "Ah, no."

Patrick asks, "Did you really see that mountain lion?" 

The handy momma responds, "Ah, no."  

And finally, other bloggers have asked,

 "Was that really a picture of you snowshoeing up the mountain?"

The handy girls responds,

"Heck ya, it was!"

"What choo thinkin'?"

from the range, peace,

kathleen

the handy girl

The Hunt - One Buck Down

WARNING! 

If you are not fond of hunting, guns, or dead deer, go no further.

Just go back to the entry titled, "Fall on the Range."

You'll be much happier... I'm just tellin' ya.

Early Sunday morning found Patrick, The Senator, and me out "glassing" for deer.  We headed to our location and saw three does right off the bat.  The resident small buck, that is usually with them, was nowhere to be found.  We wondered whether the high-paying hunters from East River had taken him the previous morning.



There's the guy we think the East River hunters took.
Do you see the nice doe sitting in the background?


We glassed high. We glassed low.  We walked the Range and the draws.  The Senator and Patrick found their perfect "sittin" spot for later in the week.

  

I found this nice little dam.  It was a duck hunter's dream.  I spotted, and then frightened, a really nice mallard drake.  I brushed up a coyote, too.  I then promptly let out a squeal, to which The Senator was not too happy about!  Shhhhhhhh! 

We saw lots of deer beds, but no signs of any movement. 

Back to the pick-up and more scoping out the land.  With our stomachs growling, and the thought of egg-in-a-hole and fried bologna on our minds, we started back to the cottage.  

We no sooner got back on the gravel road, took a couple of turns, and BINGO, a half-dozen does and a nice-sized buck passed right in front of us.  

That sighting turned into this:

We were on the hunt.  We had decided to go ahead and take the buck this weekend, as we still have two more tags to fill by Thanksgiving. At least we would have one down. 


We decided on our plan of action.



We crawled some more. . .
You see, out on the Range, there are few deer stands.
We stalk.



We site in...oh, 'bout 275 yards away. . .



We shoot.



We smile.
Well, the deer isn't really smiling, and that is not red lipstick on his lips. 
Sorry deer.
You will make some pretty good Senator Jerky, though.
Sorry deer.



One buck down, two does to go.

I'll keep you posted.

from the range, peace, sorry deer,

kathleen

the handy hunting girl