Tag Archives: Kenetrek Mountain Extreme Boot

New Gear: Danner Gila Boot

8 Aug
I was so excited when the UPS driver dropped off my new Danner Gila boots, that I immediately tore open the package and put them on...even though I was wearing shorts...and ankle socks...!

They have arrived! I have been wanting to get my hands on the new Danner Gila boots ever since I started seeing them advertised earlier this year. So far they seem legit and I’m excited to put them to the test!

 

I’ve been on the hunt for a lighter weight boot to wear during the early seasons and may have just found the solution: the new Danner Gila.  I’ve always been a fan of Danner boots, but until recently their designs were pretty limited and hadn’t offered anything along these lines. Last year I decided that I needed a  lightweight and nimble boot, that was a bit “cooler” on the feet. Most full grain leather boots, regardless of being uninsulated or not, end up baking my feet during the warmer months. I’ve always shied away from boots that utilized mesh, or “synthetic” uppers and wondered if they would have enough support for technical terrain and be able to withstand the abuse that their full-leather counterparts can.

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Cashing in on white Gold.

13 Feb

The woods give way to winter's heavy blanket. This is a prime opportunity to be out and observe a whole different side of the mountains.

The woods give way to winter’s heavy blanket. This is a prime opportunity to be out and observe a whole different side of the mountains.

“When the temperature drops, a white coat enfolds.

The mountain grows silent, cept’ for crackling ice entow.

A soft descent, whether the North Winds will blow.

Heavens wide open; to release winter’s White Gold.”

It wasn’t that long ago; that any warm feelings I held toward winter, were very one-sided. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest; I viewed the winter months as a long endurance of cold weather and fighting treacherous road conditions. To me the months of white were only enjoyable if a chair lift ride to the top of the mountain was involved and immediately followed by some high speed s-turns; with either sticks or a board strapped to my feet.

At some point I had an epiphany which helped to change my views and broaden my scope. I know that I always appreciated how the coat of white brought a different kind of beauty to the landscape…but it was shallow in depth. I really think that I can credit bowhunting for changing the way I view a lot of things about this time of year.

Nothng quite compares to a day spent afield during a sunny day during the months of white.

Nothing quite compares to a day spent afield during a sunny day during the months of white.

I’ll never forget my first season spent with a bow in my hands. It seems like an eternity ago…but I can remember it like it was yesterday. By my second weekend of being out in the deer woods; a fresh coat of snow that was two feet deep, covered my little valley. It was exciting to see the signs of my quarry’s passing; seem to float up from the ground and reveal it’s self to me. It was a whole new world from the week prior…the woods seemed silent; yet filled with new sounds. The soft falling of snow filled the air like quiet static; the metallic tinkling of ice crystals bouncing off of my clothing. The soft squish and woosh of my boots; as I still hunted along the trail. The veil had been lifted from my eyes and a new awareness was being revealed to me…there no longer was just an endurance of cold and a quick descent. This was something new and something that I’ve learned to savor.

The first snow of the season is definitely a very special thing to hunters and something I greatly look forward to. It’s a time that the animals all change their patterns and become more “pattern-able”. While for some it may not be too drastic…it means a new way of life for others. They all become more trackable; with their hooves and paws leaving their story within the layers of snow. You can often tell the time of their passing down to the minute and tell exactly their attitude or how they are feeling; just by observing the amount of snow in a track, or by the drag marks they leave behind.

Here Moose, Elk and Deer tracks cross each other on a beautiful sunny day.

Here Moose, Elk and Deer tracks cross each other on a beautiful sunny day.

I used to view the deep snow as a limitation…that was before I discovered snow shoes. To me the deep snow opens up new avenues of travel that may have not been possible; maybe even the week prior. Just pick a line and go! It’s usually that simple. Push deep and follow that herd of elk. Strap your camp to your back and access that area with un-plowed roads. They may have been lined with hunting camps during the weeks of September…but remain empty and unpressured through the late seasons. Do the ungulate populations a favor and take a trapping class. Take advantage of the predator’s need for extra calories during the cold months and help thin out their numbers by appealing to their winter-appetites. This time of year holds plenty of new possibilities; you just have to be open and embrace them.

Somehow I am constantly taken aback; how the white-coated ridglines and mountain tops seem to stand out in HD clarity and bring the lines of topography into clear focus. Everything seems to pop out at you; seeming larger and much closer. I see things much clearer these days and yearn to test mother nature on all her fronts. A tear of sadness almost forms at the corner of my eye…when the warm air currents of March sweep in…and take my White Gold away for the next seven months.

Into the grey: Part II

5 Dec
The day after our battle with the Tundra was no doubt the most beautiful day of the trip and owned one of only two; but spectacular sunsets. This day was spent recooping and included a fuel run into the nearest town, which was Coldfoot. This picture was taken by Brandon, in front of Toolik Lake and at the gateway to the Brooks Range. Photo credit goes to Sisu Productions.

The day after our battle with the Tundra was no doubt the most beautiful day of the trip and owned one of only two; but spectacular sunsets. This day was spent recooping and included a fuel run into the nearest town, which was Coldfoot. This picture was taken by Brandon, in front of Toolik Lake and at the gateway to the Brooks Range. Photo credit goes to Sisu Productions.

Continued from Part I…

Even though we were both exhausted; it was invigorating to know that we hadn’t much farther to travel and we set out with spirits renewed. I can’t speak for Darin; but my stomach was growling and I looked forward to sipping some hot coffee near a warm campfire.

We took the easiest line down the ridge face and soon were standing near the shore of the small lake. The fog only allowed us to see what it chose to reveal to us and what we thought and hoped we were seeing…was not even close to the reality. What we thought we were looking at; was the edge of a small lake, with a narrow channel that separated its shores from a slightly larger lake. We had circumvented this lake less than twenty-four hours earlier and expected to be back in camp within the hour.

For the ones who have never experienced it before; I should probably take the time to explain (or attempt to) what it’s like to walk on the arctic tundra. visualize walking on an endless waterbed; or better yet…a thin mattress that is spread out over soccer balls, softballs and baseballs…and then basketballs, covered in growth attached to the surface of the mattress. This would give you a good idea of what it’s like to “walk” out on the muskeg covered tundra. There is never a trail or length of firm ground to walk on (except for rocky areas), only endless high-stepping in between and around the tussocks, or “tundra tufts” that coat the spongy surface. That my friends is muskeg in a nutshell.

So now with that image in your head; picture how we both felt after two days worth of hiking on this strange medium. We both had trained very hard physically for this trip, during the months prior; but I’m not sure that anything short of training on the tundra can prepare you enough.

At this point in time; my short and stocky frame wasn’t treating me as well as Darin’s six-foot  height and long-legged stride was treating him. I would lose him in the fog for long periods of time;  as I slowly plodded along the shoreline. I’ll never forget how demoralizing it was to realize; that there was no “channel” between two lakes…just one long and very jagged shoreline of a single lake. I really can’t remember if the wind and icy rain had subsided by that point…but I recall a deafening silence that amplified my own thoughts into audible conversations with myself and with my God.

On top of the world in the Brooks Range. Darin snapped this pic of my on our last day of hunting. This was my most favorite area of the entire trip; I didn't want to leave.

On top of the world in the Brooks Range. Darin snapped this pic of me on our last day of hunting. This was my most favorite area of the entire trip; I didn’t want to leave.

I have a very deep and personal relationship with my creator and it is a habit of mine to “chat” with him as a friend; while being out in the mountains. I always ask for a “pure heart” and for my “hunting instincts, wits and senses to be sharp and keen”. I never presumptuously  petition God for a notched tag; only that “if a shot opportunity presents it’s self; please make my shot be true and grant a clean kill”. My ongoing conversation on this day, was going nothing like that. I found myself clearing my conscience of my many slights against him and asking “to keep a level head”. I knew that the panic that was on the edge of my subconscious; the questioning of one’s self that you will often have, when getting off track in a strange area…was a vice that I could not afford to give into. No good would come of second guessing decisions made at this point. The only right course, would be to stick to what my instincts told me and never waver, never stop. No matter how exhausted or hungry or uncertain I was…to stop would be to grow cold and sleepy; to sleep would be to die.

When we had first arrived at the lake shore; Darin had asked me what time it was. I stopped and peeled back my sleeve to gander at my trusty Suunto. I was shocked to report to him that it was almost nine o’ clock. “Five hours!” Darin’s voice rose in protest. “We gotta get going!” he said as he spun on his heel and trotted into the fog; disappearing almost instantly. Since arriving in Alaska; time had taken on a new meaning. With the sun starting to set sometime around eleven o’ clock and finally disappearing behind the mountains around two in the morning, only to rise a handful of hours later…time almost had no meaning. The very slight difference in light suddenly became apparent to me. I did not want to spend the night out there. Since I had only planned on a quick stalk; I had left most of my gear in Brandon’s truck. I did have a little water, a little food, a head lamp and a means to start a fire…but where was I going to find firewood? Where would I find shelter?! I turned back to the shoreline and continued on behind Darin’s tracks in the snow.

I hadn’t made much progress; before I felt my legs give the tell-tale signs that they were on the verge of cramping. Five plus hours of almost continuous travel without stopping to rest and refuel; was starting to tell on me. I slowed down my already slow pace; to that of almost a crawl. I finally gave in and stopped. I drank a gulp or two of water and then pressed on. I hadn’t been able to see Darin through the fog for some time; but every now and again, Darin would shout a questioning: “Luke?” into the grey curtain that stood between us. I would holler back: “yeah?!” and after he was assured that I was still on his trail; it would be back to the same dull and endless track.

Darin standing on the edge of the grey curtain. This was a day that we were stuck at camp; towards the end of the camp. This was a thick fog that came in from the Arctic ocean...it was nothing compared to our day spent lost.

Darin standing on the edge of the grey curtain. This was a day that we were stuck at camp; towards the end of the trip. This was a thick fog that came in from the Arctic ocean…it was nothing compared to our day spent lost in “the grey”.

I had been inching along, immersed in my own thoughts and in my now hours long convo with the Man Upstairs…when suddenly the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I had the sudden feeling of panic and deja vu…I spun around and looked towards my back trail. The spooky feeling of deja vu kept haunting me and then I envisioned a pack of wolves or a Grizzly materializing out of the fog. I then thought of the movie “The Grey”; that I had watched a short time before. I chuckled to myself and wondered “why did you have to watch that movie?!”…although my chuckles held no true humor.

It was about that time that I heard Darin shouting at me; but this time his voice sound strained and carried a tinge of worry in it. I couldn’t understand what he was asking of me; so I shouted back to him. This time his shout rang though the fog with a definite edge to it. “CHECK YOUR GPS!” I immediately dropped my pack and started to rifle through it; looking for my Garmin. Once I found it and turned it on; I worried that with the thick fog cover, it might not be able to get a signal. It was only the day before that Brandon had warned to not trust your GPS entirely. “A GPS doesn’t always work right up here…sometimes they can act screwy” he had cautioned. When the screen remained blank; with just a black arrow indicating where I stood…I started to curse myself. I had neglected to purchase any Alaska map software and my plan of “dropping pins” would not work if I had also neglected to actually carry it out. I enlarged the screen to view the one pin that I had dropped the day before; when we had left the truck to stalk our first big bull. I refused to belive what I was seeing; the GPS was telling me that the sight of our first stalk, was several miles away, in the opposite direction that it should be. I almost tossed it into the fog. I wanted to scream with outrage. I scrolled over to the compass function and I immediately wanted to scream once more; the direction that I knew in my heart should be West and therefore the direction of the road…read as “South”.

I tossed the GPS back into my pack as Darin was shouting back for some sort of reassuring news. “IT DOESN’T WORK!” I yelled back. “WHAT?!” Darin replied. When I once more repeated myself; there was no answer, only silence. I could only imagine what Darin was thinking at this point; and now my prayers were focused around him, asking God to “help Darin keep his cool…please don’t let him panic. We both need to make it home.”

The anger that I was feeling towards the GPS was steadily turning into something else. I felt a fire burning within me. I refused to admit that we were lost and was determined to listen to my instincts; no matter how the situation seemed. But first; I needed to rest and refuel. I found a knee-high “tundra tuft” that I figured would make a comfortable stool. I shrugged out of my pack and dug out a granola bar. “YES! You need to refuel…” I thought to myself as I savored the peanut butter flavored morsel. I found some chocolate-peanut butter “malt balls” that I had been hoarding; which were frozen solid. I sucked on one and pondered the situation while it melted. It was hard to fathom that we had gotten so far off course. It was obvious that the lake we had been following was not the lake we thought it was; “but where the heck did this lake come from?” I had been all over this area only hours before and did not remember seeing a lake of this size. The only answer that made sense; was that we got turned around once we topped out on the plateau. I knew in my head where the road was and where the oil pipeline was; we had crossed neither. The road and the pipeline intersected and then veed away from each other. Our camp was situated off the road and along one leg of the “V”; which meant that we had traveled a lot farther parallel to the pipeline then we had realized. How much farther; I had no idea. I just knew that we had been traveling continuously for hours, in our pursuit of the bull that had gotten us into this mess.

The glorious day after. By ten a.m. the majority of the snow had melted off and you could see for miles once again...a stark contrast to the day before. Something unique to Alaska is the extreme changes of weather on a daily and some cases; hourly basis.

The glorious day after. By ten a.m. the majority of the snow had melted off and you could see for miles once again…a stark contrast to the day before. Something unique to Alaska is the extreme changes of weather on a daily and in some cases; hourly basis.

Once I had sucked my water supply dry; I once again buckled on my pack and set off. I was feeling an overwhelming loneliness and needed the revitalization that the sight of another human would bring. I tried to pick up my pace; but if I went any faster than the slow and steady pace I had been traveling in, I would feel my legs burning with lactic acid and fatiguing at a rapid rate. Darin would offer encouragement from time to time; always through the grey curtain, never within my sight. I asked him if he could see the end of the lake or if he could see the road; he answered in the negative. I had been lost in my thoughts and moving forward in the same, slow death-march cadence…when it became apparent that I was hearing…”something”. I hollered at Darin: “do you hear that?!” “Be quiet….listen…”, was all he said. We both stood there, straining our ears, both isolated from each other by the grey curtain. It became apparent that what we were hearing; was a truck on the highway. Every time I turned my head to better hear and attempt to gauge its origin…it would sound like it was coming from a different direction. This went on for quite sometime; catching the sound of a truck  every so often, stopping and desperately straining to hear…hoping for a solid direction, or confirmation that we were on the right course.

Finally I was rewarded by the sight of Darin; standing still with his head cocked to the side as he struggled to pin-point the location of another truck. I kept on until we were standing side by side. This was the first time we had laid eyes on each other for several hours. He wanted to know what I had been doing and what had taken me so long. “What do you mean? I only stopped for no more than ten minutes…!” He informed me that he had been waiting there close to forty minutes and that he had begun to worry about me. His longer legs had afforded him a considerable lead over my short tree trunks that had been propelling me along at a snail’s pace.

We could hear another truck along the highway and both agreed on its direction. We set out with renewed vigor; knowing for once that our instincts had been true and we had to be close to salvation. I tenaciously kept stride with Darin; ignoring my weakening legs, not wanting to be left alone in the fog again. Every once in a while we’d stop to listen and gain a little more certainty in our course. And then finally! We heard a truck and this time it sounded closer and more definite than ever before. As we stood, straining our eyes…I caught a glimpse of something moving; just a little forward than were the sound seem to be emanating from. I could make out a black shape; steadily moving horizontally across from us…and then “hey! There’s the road…RIGHT THERE!” I shouted involuntarily. A wave of relief swept through my body; while at the same time it seemed that my legs would collapse beneath me. Only a fraction of a mile away; stood a beautiful black line, bisecting the infinitely white scene before us, into two distinct planes. Those last few hundred yards felt like miles and once we reached the road’s embankment; we both collapsed onto the snow.

Like death or taxes; one of the things you can expect to encounter along the Haul Road; is the infamous "Ice Road Truckers". In our case these truckers were our savior; as they called us like a lighthouse beacon cutting through the fog, back to the road. Here one of the flock is ascending Atigun Pass.

Like death or taxes; one of the things you can expect to encounter along the Haul Road; is the infamous “Ice Road Truckers”. In our case these nefarious truck drivers were our savior; as they called to us like  lighthouse beacons cutting through the fog and directing us back to the road. Here one of the flock is ascending Atigun Pass.

It was overwhelming to finally have something concrete and real before us. For the previous seven hours or so; it was nothing but an endless and featureless landscape that was all-encompassing; melded with feelings of loneliness and hopelessness. To finally achieve an end to that madness; is indescribable.

We laid in the snow for only a few minutes; prattling on how we both couldn’t belive that we had finally made it. Even though we had overcome the first major obstacle; I knew that we weren’t “out of the woods” quite yet…we still needed to get to camp. About then I realized that an icy chill transmitted by the snow; was steadily seeping into my bones and making my body stiff. I sat bolt upright and mumbled something about “we can’t stop…we need to keep moving..”, as I shakily stood up. After glancing at the hill that arced away to our left and disappeared into the fog…once again a perplexing puzzle presented itself…for neither of us could remember any hills near the vicinity of our camp. We were about to scramble up the embankment to the road top; when I happened to glance once more up the hill. The fog was shifting and moving about like an oil slick in a tidal flat. With the movement of the fog; a dark object was steadily becoming visible. I asked Darin what he thought “that” was…but before I even could finish my question; “what…the…heck?! That’s our camper! That’s our camp!!!” escaped from my mouth.

We scrambled up the embankment and suddenly our feet were lent wings. As I power-walked up the hill; I couldn’t help but be reminded of the long treadmill-esqe “fast tracks” found in every major airport. By now it was closing in on eleven thirty and the veiled sun was starting to set; causing the available light to darken into another shade of drab. We had been battling the vertigo causing fog and snow-covered tundra for over seven hours. With the sensory depriving conditions and continuous travel through a blank landscape; to us it may have well been seven days. We had entered a grey purgatory and had finally escaped.

Darin soaking in the veiw from camp; with a renewed outlook on things.

Darin soaking in the view from camp; with a renewed outlook on things that can only come from overcoming a great trial.

As we rolled into camp; I saw the figures by the campfire suddenly stand up  from their chairs, almost in disbelif…like they were looking upon creatures of the netherworld. The burning anger that had been fueling me onward; was still burning strong and I lacked the desire to speak. I kept on until I reached the door of our camper; almost leaping up the stairs. I could hear Darin telling a little of our story as I changed out of my sweat soaked gear and into some warm and fresh clothes. As I emerged from the camper; all traces of adrenalin were now vacant from my system; I almost lacked the strength to descend the steps. I staggered  past Darin on my way to the campfire; catching my toe on a rock and almost tripping over some piled firewood. The faces looking at me through the light and smoke from the campfire were blank and featureless. My newly made friend  Lance, helped me into a camp chair and asked me if I was hungry, almost like a worried father would dote on a wayward child.

I replied in the affirmative and shortly afterward; was handed a can of Nalley’s and a plastic spork. As I dug into the coal-heated can of chilli…I wondered if anything had ever tasted so good. No one interrupted me as I hunched over the can and  shoveled spoonfuls into my face; like I expected someone to take it away from me. Once finished; I leaned down and set the empty can on the ground, closing my eyes as I melted back into the chair. The silence was suddenly broken by Brandon softly saying: “we were worried about you guys.” While lacking the strength to reopen my eyelids; my reply came in the form of a sigh: “yeah…we were worried to.”

The day after our experience in the fog; was spent as an "active rest" day and a re-fueling run. We stopped along our into Coldfoot to do some shed hunting in the foothills of the Brooks Range. Here Brandon is pulling a fast one on me; he's playing moose with two "moose sheds"; that were actually pieces of wood. Ah, the good times!

The day after our experience in the fog; was spent as an “active rest” day and a fuel run. We stopped along our way into Coldfoot to do some shed hunting. Here Brandon is pulling a fast one on me; he’s playing moose with two “moose sheds”; that were actually pieces of wood. Ah, the good times!