Surviving the Storm: As a First-Generation Outdoorsman

As a first-generation hunter, I lack specific or direct guidance for my hunting endeavors. During my youth, I relied on the support of friend’s parents and family friends to guide me through hunts. I am immensely grateful for my father, who accompanied me on numerous deer hunting trips between the ages of 13 and 16, enduring freezing temperatures and long hours in the woods, even when we had little success. I also joined friends' dads on small game hunts from a very young age. Despite these experiences, I never had the chance to hone my hunting skills and develop the innate human intuition that I continue to nurture to this day.

My serious commitment to hunting began during my sophomore year of college, and I'm proud to say that I'm now learning and helping new hunters enter the woods this year. I wanted to write this post as an experienced outdoorsman—a hunter, fisherman, backpacker, and extreme sports enthusiast. I recently faced a severe storm while on an elk hunt, and I want to share my experience with you.

To provide some context about my elk hunting experience, I have hunted unit 55 during the second rifle season for the past three years. Unfortunately, I've had little success, often only spotting a handful of elk. With light snow and moderately cold conditions, I persevered in my pursuit of a legal elk to fill my freezer. However, I believe this year will be my last hunting at this specific location. Despite my familiarity with the area, it has become increasingly challenging to access. With over two thousand feet of climbing and camping at the mountain's peak, exposed to the elements even with the best gear, you can run into weather trouble. Every year has been a test of endurance, building character along the way. Hunting elk is undeniably demanding.

At The Trail-Head

This year's elk hunt lasted 38 hours, the shortest yet. In preparation for the hunt, I invested in a new tent with a stove, GORE-TEX gloves, a new face mask, and plenty of MRE-style foods. My preferred brands are Backpacker's Pantry and Mountain House, with Pad Thai being my favorite. If you have any questions about them, feel free to comment below. Our camping spot always suffers from a water shortage, but that's manageable. I bring extra fuel to melt snow and filter it using a gravity-fed water filter. The weather for this past weekend was predicted to be cold with a bit of snow, which is typical for these hunts. However, we found ourselves in an unexpected early snowstorm, and that's where everything went awry.

Our journey began at 5:30 AM, covering a 300-mile drive to reach the trailhead. The weather was initially spectacular, as you can see in the videos we took on that Friday for preparation. With our packs, each weighing around 60 pounds, we crossed the river and hiked up the waterfall trail with joy. The ascent is always challenging, but after months of training, we made quick work of the 7-mile hike in just 4 hours. We reached our camp at 3 PM and promptly set up the tent. The mountaintop was surprisingly snow-free, unlike any other year I've been there. We found small patches of snow to melt for water. We established camp, started the stove, had dinner, and settled in for the night, knowing that adequate rest was crucial for elk hunting the next day.

During that night, after an hour of sleep, I awoke to find that snow had accumulated around the tent in less than an hour. It had reached the point where the weight of the snow was pushing down on the tent's sides and my roommate's head. I worried about the challenges that awaited us in the morning. I got up at 4:45 AM, ready to head to my hunting spot, and noticed that every side of the tent was covered in snow. I bundled up in all my fleece gear (noting my first mistake). I hiked beneath the peak of the 13,000-foot mountain known as Double Top, a location where I had observed elk crossing in previous years due to its excellent cover and a natural backstop. The hike was arduous, with snow nearly up to my knees, but I managed to cover the two miles I needed to reach my hunting spot. In a future post, I'll discuss my change in strategy for hunting elk because, unlike deer, elk tend to move around and migrate. I set up my gear and sat waiting for elk for a few hours.

I spotted some figures at the top of the mountain. Feeling optimistic and with the weather slightly improving, I decided to investigate. It was a 3-mile hike to the summit, and the snow became denser as I ascended. I checked my GPS, thinking I was close to our camp, only to realize I wasn't. Looking across the mountain, I saw a 1000-foot elevation change down and then up to reach the camp. The snow had become wetter and deeper.

While hiking along the ridge at the mountain's peak, I slipped into a chute, falling nearly to the bottom, where I was thankfully stopped by a few trees. Disoriented, surrounded by snow and lacking clear landmarks, I found myself lost. I couldn't discern the direction I came from or where I needed to go. Consulting my GPS, I chose a direction, but it turned out to be wrong. To make a long story short, I ended up hiking in circles for 5 miles. I followed my own tracks, using my GPS like a digital thread to find my way through the thick snow.

The Lost Section

Eventually, I oriented myself in the right direction toward camp, which required a 1000-foot climb in a 0.7-mile straight-line distance. With about 20 pounds of gear on my back, I was exhausted. I started my ascent but was far from being in good shape. I was cold and soaking wet. After ascending 20-30 steps, I took a break. The tracking mode on my GPS ensured I didn't get turned around, but I went from taking breaks to taking short naps and eating snow. My heart raced, I was out of water, and my only option was to press forward and survive. I communicated my situation briefly to my roommate via GPS: "I am lost." I knew that would prompt him to start searching for me within an hour or so.

I reached a quarter-mile where I could see the distinct trees near our camp. I collapsed and took a long break, gathering strength for the final 100-foot quarter-mile push. I finally made it back to camp, a grueling journey back to the tent.

Map of Tracking Points

After rehydrating and shedding my wet clothes, I crawled into my sleeping bag for a quick nap. An hour later, we discussed what had happened to me and concluded that we needed to get off the mountain if I was to survive the night. It had ceased being fun and had turned into a struggle for survival. There was no warm shelter, no dry clothes; I was on the verge of freezing to death. After a few hours of rest, we set off once more, descending the mountain to reach the truck. We hoped the snow would hold for the next few hours, and it did.

After 2.5 hours of stumbling and falling in the deep snow, we reached the truck. I had lost some gear during my falls, which was disappointing, but the main thing was that I had survived. I will be posting a video that captures everything that happened before the storm; survival took precedence over documentation.

As we left the off-road trail, it started sleeting at the lower altitude, confirming that we had made the right decision. The snow showed no signs of letting up. We drove to a McDonald's drive-thru, but the truck broke down. Now, the truck was stranded, and we were left cold. We spent the night at the Holiday Inn (look up "Holiday Inn" by Snoop Dogg; it always makes me laugh).

One of our good friends made a 600-mile round trip the next day to pick us up, and now, 24 hours later, I'm comfortably on a couch, nursing my wounds. I doubt I'll ever return to that spot. Low-altitude elk hunts from now on.

I thank my friends and the immense amount of education I have learned over the years for my survival. I am forever thankful to be alive. If you're gonna be dumb you gotta be tough

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