Old time hunt camps and memories.

What a great story, it sure looks like the same plaid which makes it even better!

Thank-you!

Sadly, most of the accommodations I hunted from were rented cabins, except in the early days, when it was my grandfather's home. I've mentioned before that I hunted with Fudds. Well, not one of them would go together to buy the place. "it's only for a hunt" "we can rent" they said. So we hunted from shacks, and trailers for many years. That went for the second camp I was in as well, until a couple of us managed to find a shack the rest could see fit to buy. I still own a chunk of that one. They are too cheap to buy me out.

All the owners of our camp are family. Just recently we completed the process of incorporating, as the amount of owners was growing as generations went by and people had more kids and the legalities were getting complicated. Also it saves us a bit on insurance too. My mothers generation is still has the most combined shares (7 people) but they have started passing on some of their shares to their interested kids. I recently was given 25% of my mothers share (my sister also took her 25% for now. My mother kept 50% for now. Three others in my generation were also given a portion of their parents share. The rest are too young. One of my 2nd cousins bluntly told his father he never has any interest in going to the building again.

Not all of our owners hunt, but the hunts very much drive the direction of the camp. Many friendships have been developed over the years of non-family invited to hunt with us.

I still have that jacket I wore in 1987, pictured in my avatar. I won't be around to see it but I wish for you in thirty years there will be a new picture of you with your wife smiling like that.

Cheers! Thank-you

Glad you found a wife that hunts, mine does as well. Makes life a lot easier in hunting season.

It does! Shes more of a bird hunter (she loves dog training and hunting grouse over her vizslas) but she also comes out for a few deer runs too.
 
Great thread JYC.
Our cabin was a Galaxie canopy.
I usually gartzs the front seat of the 66 GMC.

Rules?
Ol` Paw told me once, and once only, then he whacked.
I lerntuh stay outta arms reach.

Memory gartzs sharp real qwick when I wuzz ah yung'un.
 
I think this is a great memory, however it makes me wonder what the new camps are doing. I've been part of a camp now for about 5 years, we have two old campers that we tow in and cover the centre with a tarp to create a quasi compound, we spend sat to sat of the first week there, hunt mornings and evenings, we drink and play cards after dark, there's afternoon drinking ( obviously in moderation) while waiting for 2-3ish to hit the woods again. Calibres are typically 30-06 or smaller, bolt and levers. Everyone behaves, everyone has a strength and a specific role they fill every year, everyone does more than their share of chores ( you almost have to get in line to do dishes) with the exception of the outboard to get across the point or the ATVs to get across the property, we spend the week exactly like this and we're always successful. (with 6 hunters we've not left with less than 2 hanging, with our best year being 5.)

We all range in the 40s ( with a couple of newly injected members in their 30s)

how have things changed?
 
In the late 50's, three of us young guys started to look for some decent hunting areas not too far from where we lived.
We managed to find an old, somewhat dilapidated shack in the middle of some difficult access, but prime muley country.

We made a couple of trips up there to make that cabin livable [including eliminating the resident packrats], and for the
next few seasons, we hunted from there every fall. It was quiet, hardly ever saw anyone else up there, and the muleys
were plentiful. Many fond memories were made there, everyone did their share, and we had a great time. We have gone
separate ways now, but we keep in touch. The first of many memorable hunt camps over the decades. Dave.
 
I started hunting in an established camp... older mentors of my fathers... next to me, and my father the youngest hunter was north of seven decades. The oldest was a fiesty, jolly, shrivelled gentleman... he hunted deer with a beat up old Winchester and at this stage, couldn't hit a garbage truck, let alone a deer... on one evening hunt he was sitting in the V of an old rail fence while I and a couple others pushed a cedar swamp... all of a sudden, five deer burst from cover and ran toward the old fella, as the hooves beat down on him the first deer leaped straight over the old fella who fell backward onto his back with his old Winchester in his hands, one by one, the deer jumped directly over him... as the last deer leaped into the air, he squeezed the trigger on his rifle straight up... as it turned out, the bullet went straight up through the brisket, heart and into the spine... the deer, a nice thick eight pointer (eastern count) cartwheeled to the ground behind the fence.

Lots of back slapping and salutes and laughs ensued. Namen passed away the following spring, that turned out to be his last hunt and last deer... if I could be in his boots at 92, I would be thankful for a great life.
 
The camp I first went to for many years was in the Lost Channel area. Originally started on the 99 yr lease. That lease expired many years ago. Continued for several years on a short term basis and then the government gave the owners the option to buy the acre of land the camp sat on which they did. It was steeped to traditions. It was off grid of course, gas stove and lights, and heated with wood. Eventually we got a generator for lights. new guys always got one of the top bunks which guaranteed you would sleep poorly due to the heat from the wood stove. Being young a new guy the first year you were teased a lot and always got the stand that pretty much hadn't seen a deer for years. After the camp elders got to know and trust you some they put you dogging simple runs, and as you gained experience and showed that you were comfortable in the bush and weren't prone to getting lost you were given more advanced runs to dog. You were a dogger until you got enough seniority to get a stand or some one died or got sick and could not attend camp.
We had no atv's to get around on we dragged and carried all the deer out. I carried many a deer out across my shoulders with my coat draped over it so someone would not take a shot at me.
The food was first rate. Most of the women baked and sent all sorts of pies cakes and tarts etc. up with there men for the week. The smoke was so think in the camp at night you could hardly see across the camp an it wasn't from the stove. Drinking was a favorite evening past time, if you drank during the day you were not allowed to touch your gun or leave the camp. Bathing was non-existent. You brushed your teeth outside with a cup of water that was taken out of the beaver pond down the road as that's were we got the water. No body drank water anyways, only coffee, beer, rum, rye.
The single seat out house was a popular spot in the am. When I put a Styrofoam seat on it one year it was immediately voted the best camp improvement since the invention of smokeless powder.
The evenings were spent playing cards and swapping stories. No TV, radios or anything else electronic. Cell phones and GPS hadn't been invented yet. If you were really a home body a couple fellas would drive to the nearest payphone on a Wed eve to call home.
If we got deer that was great if we did not and it happened some years we didn't really care it was all about the hunt and the camaraderie.

I eventually had the opportunity to purchase land and start my own camp with a few partners and we created a whole new set of traditions and memories with friends and family.
I would not trade all those hunt camp experiences and memories for nothing. They are priceless and I hope to create many more before I am done.
 
Excellent post! Thanx for sharing as it brought back many memories.

My dad brought me to moose came for the first time when I was 11 years old, early 70's. I remember my mom giving me a note for my teacher to advise her I would be out of school for a week...lol

The camp atmosphere was pretty much as indicated by most.

My chores were specific, but simple. Made me feel as being an important part of the camp experience.

When the men went moose hunting, I would go out and shoot grouse and rabbits. I always looked forward for the men to come back and listen to their daily activities.

I remember one of the guys shooting a cow one day. I went with the guys to "help". I was told I was the best leg holder in camp...was pretty proud of that.

I remember a regular named "Saul". I remember his four deformed fingers on his left hand. He told me it happened when he rolled over his car with his arm out of the open window, holding the top. This usually got a laugh from all the other guys. I actually believed him. Never found out how it happened. But what I remember the most about "Mr" Saul was his hunting rifle...a Winchester lever action in .348 caliber. I absolutely loved that rifle. He gave me a bullet that year, and I still have it.

Yep, hunting camps from days gone back were great...many memories.

A few of us bought land about 10 years ago, and basically built a hunting camp. We go 2-3 times a year. Most in our sixties, with a couple of sons who I am sure will carry on the tradition.

Things haven't changed too much, and we always cherish the past hunts.
 
This topic interests me very much. Traditions, memories, friendships, and experiences can be very difficult concepts for non-hunters as they believe that hunting is only about killing. Nothing can be further than the truth. I got my first hunting licence when I was 15 years old and didn't have a mentor, but my friends and I learned from each others successes and mistakes. A year or two later, some friends and I spent a week at one of Ontario's traditional deer camps - what many refer to the 99-year lease deals. The camp had been in existence since the 1930's, and there was only 1 member left in the group. The camp was very rudimentary: 2 bunk beds, a wood/coal cooking stove, a sink that drained outside on the ground, and a table with a few chairs. Lighting was provided by lanterns and candles. There was a free-flowing spring behind the cabin that provide all the water you could drink and we shared the duty of hauling water in buckets. Although the owner had shot a few deer in his life, his knowledge about deer and deer hunting was largely based on his personal experiences and myths that still seem to linger today. I hunted with my first rifle - an 1898 8mm mauser. This was during the 1970's, and anyone who can remember those days will tell you there were few deer about. Although I didn't shoot a deer, I tracked and jumped a group of does while tracking them in the snow which elevated my status in camp that night!
I've never posted an image on this site before but I will try to post an image of the cabin.
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Not long afterwards, I went away to college which prevented me from going back. Eventually, I moved to northern Ontario to work and got back into hunting. Some fellows that I met at work were pretty successful moose hunters and I was able to work myself into their group. Accommodations weren't very sophisticated and consisted of shacks constructed out of plywood, tarps, and plastic with old carpet on the ground. Usually, we would go out a week before the season and spend an afternoon building it. For a few years, we attached the camp to a travel trailer at one end, but eventually left the trailer home. These were very comfortable and the comradery was first class. The camps were warm, dry with plentiful food and drink. Yes we did imbibe, sometimes to excess, but always after dark when the guns were locked up. Loaded guns and hunters don't mix! Some of my best hunting memories are of those adventures. Moose were plentiful in the 1980's, and we took our share. Although the following photo is not one of from the 1980's, it is a similar style camp for two hunters that I used recently for a few years.
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When I moved to northern Ontario, I eventually hooked up with some other fellows and we formed a group of deer hunters. Each November we travelled to Rainy River and chased whitetails around. We stayed in a variety of places including a camper and in an old bachelor's living room flaked out on mattresses. Eventually, the old fellow moved in to a retirement home so we ended up getting permission to use an old farmhouse. Boy, that place had character! It was old, the floors were sagging, windows were busted, skunks lived in the cellar but we made it comfortable. Good times, and lots of deer, made up for any of it's short-comings. Here is a picture of the old farm house.
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Our group ended up buying 160 acres for dirt cheap and we came to realize that the old farmhouse was a fire trap. So, we had most of the property logged and used some of the large spruce trees and cedar for lumber which we used to build a brand new camp next to the old farm house - which was later demolished. It is a very comfortable camp and is nicer than some houses that I've lived in. Although it has electricity, there is no running water. and we have to get it from a tap outside. We also built a sauna which keeps us clean after a day out in the field. Although we still play cards every night, satellite TV brings in the hockey games. I no longer drink, the other guys do but never to excess as we are too old for hangovers! I could probably fill a couple of pages and share stories, but I'll leave it at that for now. One thing that I've learned is that it really doesn't matter what you use for a hunting camp, it's what happens inside and outside of it that makes them special places to go back to. Here is a picture of our camp today.

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edit: oh oh, my pictures didn't transfer from google drive. Can anyone give me a few pointers? Thanks.
 
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My dad got out of hunting when I was a very little kid, so I never had anyone to take me... so I never went when I was a kid.

When I got older and moved out, started hunting with some friends.

Eventually got into a group of guys from church who all go up the St. John River for the duck opener. Tents and all on an Island off Evandale. Dudes who have been going there since at least the 80s, maybe the 70s. I have only made it with them a couple of times, but wish I could go every year.
 
My dad tellsme tales of the camp from years ago (he is the only one left but now i join him). One of my favs was when one of his buddies who had never gotten a deer before had decided to hollow out a section of a big cedar tree along the atv corridor in a small clearing. He spent an entire mid-day getting it just perfect as a natural blind. Then he dumped a giant pile of acorns/corn/molasses about 15yrds away.

He sat there in his natural blind all day from before dawn till after dark for 3 days of the hunt. My dad and his other hunting buddy would pass by when they went back to camp for lunch and back again for afternoon hunt. Never saw a thing.

On the 4th day, the guy said "screw it, im gonna sleep in and work at the camp till afternoon hunt" so my dad and the other guy went out. When returning for lunch, what do they come across when they enter the atv corridor near the clearing with the bait pile? A nice 6 point running away from the pile. They notice a bunch of it missing so he had been there for a bit at least lol

So of course they start laughing and head back to the camp to tell their friend. He didnt believe them and it wasnt until he went out that afternoon that he saw big buck prints and a bunch of the feed gone that he realized they were telling the truth.

But yeah, i remember that story now because my dad and I are planting late season food plots and when we were dragging the ground in that spot i found a bunch of old acorns.

We call that plot the "Emilio Plot". He passed away a few years ago now but hadnt hunted in at least 10-15 due to poor health. I put up a tree stand on the other side of his cedar cut-out and plan on hunting it this year, maybe he can send me one. :)
 
ah this thread brings back memories.

"camp" was where we parked the truck and camper. It was a 2 wheel drive, and the camper was homebuilt, sometimes a little road building was required.

Dad was never a drinker, but some of the other guys would bring a bottle or 2. No one ever got drunk

would either build a bon fire or sit inside and play cards at night after supper.

All the old guys are gone now.

Camp is now where I park my trailer, unfortunately the 2 trailers I had are done so camp is where I park my truck.

I need to invest on a new trailer as I'm too old for sleeping in the truck, and its been day trips only for the last 2 years.

but yes one drinks coffee, beer, and whiskey at camp, normally in that order.

Water is for cooking and washing dishes.
 
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Nothing use to pizz me awf more than parking, grabbing the gear and wander out in the bush only
to come back to the truck and find deer prints in my tracks at the truck.
Dang, shoulda sat in the truck.
 
Nothing use to pizz me awf more than parking, grabbing the gear and wander out in the bush only
to come back to the truck and find deer prints in my tracks at the truck.
Dang, shoulda sat in the truck.

I was glassing a mountainside one time and in my rear view mirror spotted a mule deer buck. Another time I had a bull moose sniffing my truck's tailgate (and no moose tag alas).
 
Nothing use to pizz me awf more than parking, grabbing the gear and wander out in the bush only
to come back to the truck and find deer prints in my tracks at the truck.
Dang, shoulda sat in the truck.

Countless times when backtracking my own tracks, I would find deer tracks inside my tracks.
 
My family has owned just under 200 acres in Ottawa valley since early 40's

Im the 4th generation to hunt there and my oldest kid is showing interest.

In the late 60's and early 70's they added members to the camp. Since then the only way in is to be a kid of one of those members.
They do invite friends to come for diner, drinks and cards but don't expect to shoot anything but skeet.

This is a double edged sword. We have 0 A$$holes in the camp but the old guys are dying or have bad heath and don't come up

At its peak it 16-17 guys, now its been as low as 4.
 
I'm excited this year, there will be my hunting buddy of 30+years, my oldest son, my youngest is praying for snow in Northern Quebec so he can have time off work, the other regular is still mourning the death of his wife but might show up for a few days.
 
My second hunt camp, we drew water from the lake, and drank it as is. Nobody ever got sick from it that I remember, though a few were puking for um other reasons. There are cottages on the lake now, so that put an end to that.
A few guys got the runs, but they were the ones drinking Red Cap. ;)
We had no refrigerator, so we would make a cold room out of some old cupboards, a sheet of plywood, and a blanket, in the corner of the cabin.
A target was set up out behind the cabin, and a window on the shack was perfect to shoot from, 'specially if someone was sleeping a bit long.
The damned old cook stove provided most of our heat, it's a wonder we didn't all die. Flames used to lick out around the lids and cracks pretty bad.
If the stove was out cold, it would smoke you right out of the place trying to get a draft going.

Then there was the outhouse.

I was first out to it, the first morning I attended that camp. Yellow hoar frost stood up all around the hole, there was no door, and the north wind blew right up through the hole flapping used toilet paper upwards. I learned to hold it, let someone else be first!

Big John used to run the dogs. He'd send us all out to our watches while he did the morning dishes, then he'd head over and dog off the run. Or so he said. Some days I think he grabbed a nap before leaving. You'd be damned near petrified with cold when he showed up. my father sat on a watch across the lake from camp one day, was there for an hour and a half, and expecting to see John any time. That's when he heard the screen door of the cabin slam. John was still at camp. One of our other guys, Mike, also used to do the dishes before dogging. I got him though, I shot a nice buck just a few minutes after arriving on stand, he was still in the cabin, and never even heard the shot. I had it gutted and hanging when he got to me.
 
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