Hunts THAT CRASHED & BURNED!!!
- Thread starter Jay
- Start date
I agree, if you would have been in our old gang we have all went with you to the hospital, dressed you up in Jammies and Fuzzy slippers and took you into emerg. Kept you safe and sound and had a good laugh to boot, at your expense of course.
I agree 100% on this response, I mean come on, safety is first in everything which includes the whole hunting party geez.
Chuckle!
And talking about expense, I figure it cost me $750 for my moose hunt "that wasn't" & I didn't even take the rifle out of the case! FACK!
Cheers
Jay
- Location
- The Conservative part of Ontario
One of the "dicks" reporting in here.
To be fair, we were in constant touch with Jay throughout his trip out, even STEERED him around the bull.
His ailment developed in camp, he did not appear to have it when he arrived, and certainly did not know he had pink eye. Nor did we when we let him go.
If it had happened later in the week, I'd have absolutely come out with him. However, at that point, the trail was in great shape. Fairly dry, and safe riding.
Later in the week, every water hole was full, and mud was up to the top of the ATV tires. The bridge at the creek was fully half underwater.
No way would he go out alone under those conditions.
We come and go from camp alone all the time, it's no big deal.
To be fair, we were in constant touch with Jay throughout his trip out, even STEERED him around the bull.
His ailment developed in camp, he did not appear to have it when he arrived, and certainly did not know he had pink eye. Nor did we when we let him go.
If it had happened later in the week, I'd have absolutely come out with him. However, at that point, the trail was in great shape. Fairly dry, and safe riding.
Later in the week, every water hole was full, and mud was up to the top of the ATV tires. The bridge at the creek was fully half underwater.
No way would he go out alone under those conditions.
We come and go from camp alone all the time, it's no big deal.
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- Location
- Somewhere on the Hudson Bay Coast
Some years ago now, I decided that, despite being cash poor, my life would be forever diminished if I didn't get out caribou hunting that weekend. So I bummed a snow machine and a sleigh with runners, fitted with a box to carry my gear. It wasn't a Komatik, but beggars can't be choosers, and it had seen little use and was in good shape. The loading process went quickly and without mishap, and off I went anticipating a couple of days of hunting and camping.
The weather was mild and clear, and visibility was good. My trek was to take me south of the airport, into the treeline, then east into the barrens and towards Cape Churchill. The unmaintained road along the airport had blown clear of snow, so I travelled on the tundra alongside, and turned into the shallow ditch when forced to by thick stands of willows. Negotiating snow drifts and hummocks made progress, slow, which proved fortunate.
About a mile from the tree line it happened. There was a "SNAP" the machine was momentarily and dramatically slowed, enough that I was lifted off the seat and nearly went over the handlebars, then it rocketed ahead. I released the throttle, allowing the machine to slow to a stop, and looked behind me. Well ####! The hitch pin had broken, the sleigh as 30' behind me, and all my gear had torn through the front of the box, and lay in the snow in front of the sleigh. As it turned out, in my rush to pack I had neglected to bring a package of spare hitch pins, not that it mattered the sleigh was ruined, and my adventure had come to a crashing stop as it were.
When I checked the sleigh, the teflon under the runner had been cut and torn away. The hitch bit into a hummock and twisted into a pretzel. What had done that? I pushed the now empty sleigh back and got my answer. A piece of steel pipe, sticking up at an angle out of the frozen ground, had snagged the soft teflon dead center on the left runner. The chances of hitting it were so small as to have been infinitesimal, yet there I was. I piled my gear onto the sleigh, turned the machine around, and drove back home to get my truck to retrieve the sleigh and my gear. It only took a bit of shovelling to get back to the sleigh, and instead of in my tent, I was back home by dark. I should have just bought a lottery ticket, I'd have had money in my pocket, and wouldn't have had to buy a broken sleigh.
The weather was mild and clear, and visibility was good. My trek was to take me south of the airport, into the treeline, then east into the barrens and towards Cape Churchill. The unmaintained road along the airport had blown clear of snow, so I travelled on the tundra alongside, and turned into the shallow ditch when forced to by thick stands of willows. Negotiating snow drifts and hummocks made progress, slow, which proved fortunate.
About a mile from the tree line it happened. There was a "SNAP" the machine was momentarily and dramatically slowed, enough that I was lifted off the seat and nearly went over the handlebars, then it rocketed ahead. I released the throttle, allowing the machine to slow to a stop, and looked behind me. Well ####! The hitch pin had broken, the sleigh as 30' behind me, and all my gear had torn through the front of the box, and lay in the snow in front of the sleigh. As it turned out, in my rush to pack I had neglected to bring a package of spare hitch pins, not that it mattered the sleigh was ruined, and my adventure had come to a crashing stop as it were.
When I checked the sleigh, the teflon under the runner had been cut and torn away. The hitch bit into a hummock and twisted into a pretzel. What had done that? I pushed the now empty sleigh back and got my answer. A piece of steel pipe, sticking up at an angle out of the frozen ground, had snagged the soft teflon dead center on the left runner. The chances of hitting it were so small as to have been infinitesimal, yet there I was. I piled my gear onto the sleigh, turned the machine around, and drove back home to get my truck to retrieve the sleigh and my gear. It only took a bit of shovelling to get back to the sleigh, and instead of in my tent, I was back home by dark. I should have just bought a lottery ticket, I'd have had money in my pocket, and wouldn't have had to buy a broken sleigh.
Not really a "hunt", but at the end of May 2015 two buddies and I loaded my truck with a plethora of guns/ammo and headed out on the 2200km drive to a place in Colorado to do a couple of days of prairie dog shooting.
'Got as far as Des Moines Iowa when I received an email from the guy that was going to be taking us out...
Biblical weather (Tornados, rain, snow, flooding) were forcing him to cancel on us... Not his fault as the main hwy to his place was now closed and the roads/dirt tracks to the prairie dog towns were... Gone.
So... We finished our dinner, spent the night crying in our hotel room and headed home the next day. Quietest trip home ever 'cept for the weeping of three grown men.
'Got as far as Des Moines Iowa when I received an email from the guy that was going to be taking us out...
Biblical weather (Tornados, rain, snow, flooding) were forcing him to cancel on us... Not his fault as the main hwy to his place was now closed and the roads/dirt tracks to the prairie dog towns were... Gone.
So... We finished our dinner, spent the night crying in our hotel room and headed home the next day. Quietest trip home ever 'cept for the weeping of three grown men.
- Location
- The Conservative part of Ontario
My great personal adventure was a two man hunt.
We were hunting from a tent.
I phoned him two days before the hunt and told him I was dying, had the flue really bad, couldn't even breath well. He says lets go anyway, I never get sick, I'm on too many meds.
He was right, he didn't get sick, however, being sick with the flue in a cold tent, and eating outdoors under a tarp in the rain isn't fun at all. I learned to love Buckley's mixture, it kept my head clear, I was drinking from the bottle, too hell with the directions. I also drank my share of the water we had, and we went out and got some from a local well. There are a few pools of barf feeding the trees up there, probably still smells of Buckleys and that was near thirty years ago.
By about Thursday, I was feeling well enough to cancel my grave opening. Damn it was a bad few days. But, I did shoot a yearling black bear that hunt, even though we didn't see any moose.
If I were sick like that, I will always tell the guys, and back out. No way will I bring that or even a cold to camp. I'm a very dedicated hunter, it would really bother me to stay home, but I value my friends health more.
We were hunting from a tent.
I phoned him two days before the hunt and told him I was dying, had the flue really bad, couldn't even breath well. He says lets go anyway, I never get sick, I'm on too many meds.
He was right, he didn't get sick, however, being sick with the flue in a cold tent, and eating outdoors under a tarp in the rain isn't fun at all. I learned to love Buckley's mixture, it kept my head clear, I was drinking from the bottle, too hell with the directions. I also drank my share of the water we had, and we went out and got some from a local well. There are a few pools of barf feeding the trees up there, probably still smells of Buckleys and that was near thirty years ago.
By about Thursday, I was feeling well enough to cancel my grave opening. Damn it was a bad few days. But, I did shoot a yearling black bear that hunt, even though we didn't see any moose.
If I were sick like that, I will always tell the guys, and back out. No way will I bring that or even a cold to camp. I'm a very dedicated hunter, it would really bother me to stay home, but I value my friends health more.
I went hunting twice with full blown pnemonia. Nothing gets in the way.
Let me get some details. It was a while ago I heard the story.
IIRC, it was a true Hunt From Hell.
-blew up one transmission the first day, about 100 km into the trip.
-blew out another transmission on another vehicle the next day
-finally got to the hunt area, got a moose, then during the skinning/gutting, a blade slipped and went thru Howie's boot and into his leg. Howie didnt realize how deep it went until removing the boot. Off to Prince George hospital and and overnight stay...
Howie and the slasher are BIL. Howie's sister is the slashers wife. She made up a photo essay of the whole gongshow at the time.
I'll see if she still has it.
IIRC, it was a true Hunt From Hell.
-blew up one transmission the first day, about 100 km into the trip.
-blew out another transmission on another vehicle the next day
-finally got to the hunt area, got a moose, then during the skinning/gutting, a blade slipped and went thru Howie's boot and into his leg. Howie didnt realize how deep it went until removing the boot. Off to Prince George hospital and and overnight stay...
Howie and the slasher are BIL. Howie's sister is the slashers wife. She made up a photo essay of the whole gongshow at the time.
I'll see if she still has it.
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Yes... A few years back my dad and I were skinning a bull that we had hung up... he asked "how many animals do you think we have skinned together?" I rough calculated well over a hundred, and he said "it is amazing that we have never cut each other..." And at the exact moment the words were leaving his mouth, he reached around the hind quarter to slice, just as I did... my knife glided over his thumb... resulting in a trip to the hospital and six stitches... shoulda kept our mouths shut.
I agree with you 100%.
