Publisher’s Notes
What’s Inside
Holy Cow...where did summer go? Hunting season is here and I am trying to figure out when I am going to get Hunting time to go hunting and snag a few salmon for the smoke Fishing house. Trapping
Contest Patriot Montana Dan Sportsman’s Meditation Safety Hunting Tools Tony Rebo Unleashed Next Gen/Local Celebs Gardens are waning but the elections are heating up. Me personally I will be glad when the Fly Fishing elections are over as I am sure the candidates will be too. Salmon Fishing Kids are back in school so please slow down in school zones and watch for those buses picking Outdoor Tech Shooting up and letting kids off of on the bus. A quick prayer for our teachers, they are going to need Mountain Memories all the help they can get. Food For Thought Ranchers are moving cattle back to the ranch so be mindful when passing cowboys and girls Making Memories moving cattle and don’t spook the horses or cattle. Be courteous and let them do their job Awareness The fires have abated and life is starting to get back to normal for many. Fairs are over, bowhunters, grouse hunters and a few fisherman are out enjoying all that Montana has to offer. Outfitters are starting to see non-resident hunters come in so Montana has officially entered the fall hunting season. Tourist and vacationers are leaving or have left...the roads and highways will soon quiet down. I think most businesses had a great summer and looking forward to fall.
then you can move on down the road. They keep food on our tables.
Next month should bring us in some bow harvest pictures, bear hunting pictures and some fishing pics to entertain you. Make sure folks send them in...they don’t have to give up their honey hole but everyone loves the pics, especially of the kids and ladies making it happen. Bear firearms season opens 15 September so don’t forget your orange vest and hat. Snagging season also opens on the 15th, so join the crowd and bring plenty of weighted hooks. Our Log Bed Giveaway Contest is still running so don’t forget to enter. Life is short so get out there with those kids and have some fun this fall and make some memories, but be careful! ~Raf Viniard ~ Publisher
Thank You Advertisers! Guest Writers This Month:
Bill Barcus, Page 4, Kayak Fishing Laurie Boehler Walsh, Page 34, Suicide Awareness Cover Photo By: Robert “Bob Hosea” aka The Bob Factor Bob captured this rare and lucky sighting of a Montana Badger
To Contact Us: Montana Woods N Water 171 Clark Creek Loop Plains, Montana 59859 406-407-0612 Email: raf@montanawoodsnwater.com www.montanawoodsnwater.com
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Seen On Blog Only How Bad Can It Get? www.montanawoodsnwater.com/Blog
Staff Publisher/Editor/Layout/Sales: Raf - 406-407-0612 Photographer Robin K Ha’o Pro Staff Writers This Month: Chuck Stranahan Pastor Jim Sinclair Dan Helterline Tony Rebo Carol Cady Nathan Albertson Lori Goodman
Editorial Policy: Montana Woods N Water (MWW) reserves the right to refuse to publish any form of content that does not include the author’s name, complete mailing address, and/or valid phone number or e-mail address. Anonymous submissions will not be addressed or published. MWW reserves the right not to publish anything we feel is not in good taste or appropriate. All content, material and graphics designed by Montana Woods N Water are copyrighted.
HUNTING
Smoke lingers from the valley floor to the top of the mountain. Thousands of hunting acres destroyed or is it? Keep reading!
Plan D
By Raf Viniard
I have over 3,000 road miles a month to dream about the fall hunting season. I had a Plan A, Plan B and a Plan C area to try and fill my tags this year. All year I have spent miles staring through a windshield, and as time allowed, walking, glassing, studying Google Earth, analyzing, planning, dreaming and fantasizing about hunting the areas I had chosen to launch my full frontal fall assault on. I know you hunters out there can relate…we all do it. All the planning is what makes it so much fun. Down time is planning time. I woke up a few days ago to learn that two of my areas had been fried like forgotten bacon on the stove and my third area was being assaulted by a crew of loggers and heavy equipment. Looking like Plan D will have to be launched. Over the years I had learned to never put all my hopes in one area to hunt, so I always have 2-3 places to choose from depending on weather, game pattern movements, hunting pressure, wolf pressure, etc. Two of the areas I had planned to hunt and had hunted several times I was knowledgeable of the lay of the land and my third area was a new adventure that held some promise and would need some additional leather work as the season progressed. All of these areas held big old fall fattened bears, respectable elk (which I have yet to see standing in its tracks) and either a mule deer or whitetail sporting enough bone to hang next to my other trophies. Well, this is where Plan D comes in…you know that other area you thought about but it was a lower priority than the others. Looks like Raf is going to be going to Plan D this year between the fires and logging operations that has left its mark on my original “Go To” hunting locations. I will still watch and investigate my original three areas I had planned to hunt because the game is still there, so I am not totally discouraged from the hand I have been dealt this year. Continued on Page 6. 2
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FISHING
For the Love of Kayak Fishing By Bill Barcus Fishing can become addictive, and over eons of time many a person has succumbed to this age-old pastime. It has provided a food source for man since the beginning of time, or sometime thereafter starting with Noah and his family with the Covenant display of the rainbow in the sky after the flood. There certainly were fish in the Garden of Eden as four rivers formed their junctures from a river or lake that went out from it. Although not a fisherman, Adam apparently had a hand in naming the various species of creatures in the Garden – so the story goes. Bill Barcus is a retired law enforcement officer, wildland firefighter, Succumbing to the fishing addiction at a young age I remain so writer and wildlife photographer. enslaved to this very day. Growing up on the Colorado River of the Southwest we boys would regularly play hooky from grade school and spend lazy summer days along the banks and backwaters of that great river, swimming and catching bass, crappie, bluegills, sunfish, and catfish. Those were the days when we didn’t need a signed absentee card from our parents or the school nurse. We just went fishing. No questions asked. Now, I have analyzed this fishing addiction for many years. And granted, I savor a tasty meal of freshly caught fish – whether panfried on the home stove or grilled over a camp fire with a favorite recipe. Usually though, I release the catch and head home or back to camp pondering on what else to fix for supper besides fish. So, what’s up with this logic? I believe its best summed up by the American Essayist, Poet, and Philosopher, Henry David Thoreau. “Many men go fishing all their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.” Over the years I’ve fished the lakes and rivers, the creeks and streams of the western continent using myriads of methods and techniques, including a variety of boats and floats. I currently own a 17-foot, V-Hull beauty with an impressive outboard and trolling motor setup. I truly love this boat, but am beginning to feel a bit sorry for it. It has lived in the pole barn now for the past six months without being used and begs for attention every time I pass by. I’m not ignoring my boat, it’s just that I’ve found a new love, and not sure how to break the news without hurting her feelings. The new love is a kayak – a fishing kayak. Retiring and moving to the Inland Pacific Northwest corner of Montana a few years ago, there had to one prerequisite to making the big move of a lifetime. Water and fish and, lots of both. I settled for a slice of the pie on a few acres by the Clark Fork River near Trout Creek and built my own home that I call, “base camp.” This kayak love thing actually goes back a few years. It all started on the Wild and Scenic Verde River of central Arizona where one of my job functions was kayaking the class II and class III rapids each spring from Camp Verde to Horseshoe Lake – a six day, 80-mile excursion that severely tested my novice skills. Continued on page 9. 4
TRAPPING
Trappers are gearing up getting ready for the upcoming trapping season and hunters are gearing up getting ready for rifle season. However, the trappers have more at stake this November than hunters or do they? If the public land trapping ban is voted in then trapping is pretty much over except on private land. Not next year, but effective November the 9th the day after the elections.
Executive Director of the Humane Society of the Untied States, Wayne Pacelle ‘We are going to use the ballot box and the democratic process to stop all hunting in the United States...we will take it species by species until all hunting is stopped in California. Then we will take it state by state.” There you have it folks. So you think this is just about the trapping...not hardly. So when you go to the ballot box this November a lot is at stake. If you don’t believe in voting then you are basically voting that you agree with Wayne Pacelle. Some say it don’t effect me so I don’t have a dog in this fight. That is not true...keep reading. I have a friend of mine in Massachusetts where trapping is banded. Many hunters have given up deer hunting because the coyotes have decimated the deer heards. Trapping is banded there even on private land and the results for sportsmen have been disastrous. Washington, Arizona, Colorado and California are another examples where trapping is banned on all lands (private & public) and personal costs has risen in lost production and resources. If the animal rights activist win this vote to ban trapping on public lands you can rest assured the spike in predation will occur within a couple of years. So how does that effect the hunters. An already strained elk, moose and deer heards will see larger declines. Something as simple as trapping for coyotes, skunks, raccoons, and weasel things not listed as furbearers will no longer to be trapped on public or municipal lands...to include golf courses. No trapping will be allowed on Forest Service and BLM lands or grazing leases or wildlife management areas such as waterfowl nesting areas. Waterfowl and upland game bird nesting will quickly see the effects of a trapping ban. Colleges campuses, schools will no longer be able to trap skunks, moles, gophers, etc. We call this unintended consequences. Will mouse and rat traps be included? Trapping on private property will be next. Calling in a state certified trapper to remove a troublesome raccoon, coyote, fox will no longer be an option. Only government employees can trap problem animals after all mean of non-lethal removal are tried and documented. In Montana 40% of the wolves harvested were taken by trappers. If we loose trapping as a management tool big game populations will decline and livestock deprivation will increase and that includes Fido and Fifi, your cats, chickens, rabbits, etc. Wild animals cannot read name tags on your pets collar...they are just another meal or defending its new untrapped territory. Without trapping it will hurt our ability to control wolves. One third of Montana’s wolf harvest was taken in Region 1 and half of those were taken by trapping. Region 1 has the highest wolf density in the state. So hunters, golfers, ranchers, farmers, hobby farmers , homeowners and private land owners - you do have a dog in this fight and he is called the Wolf and the Coyote any other vermin that votes to band trapping in Montana. Note: Special thanks to Paul Fielder for helping me with this article. 5
HUNTING CONTINUED In fact, my hunting partner and I have already been discussing our new tactics and options to hunt these ravaged areas. Yes, our tactics will have to change and the view may not be the “Montana High” I so much enjoyed about these areas, but the view looking through my rifle scope at any of the target animals I pursue will be icing on the cake and make up for the landscape imperfections. Wildfires are very destructive but at the same time it is nature’s way of cleaning itself up. As long as no one’s life is lost or property destroyed I just look at it as part of living in the most beautiful state in world. The smell of smoke brings me back to the days of firing tobacco in a tobacco barn back in Kentucky or a campfire at hunting camp. Ah and the added bonus of Morels by the bucket full this spring. As for logging operations I am so glad our locals can still find work in the forest and provide for their families. I for one consider them my best friends, they create some of the best hunting habitat and at the same time help manage the forest to A properly logged forest is a healthy forest! prevent these raging wildfires that are so much more destructive. I have never been given an evacuation notice because a crew is logging timber down the road. Within the next 1-3 years these burned areas as well as the timbered areas will be breaming with new growth and wildlife. The views will be even more spectacular than before and the anticipation of hunting it again will be just as strong if not stronger in the coming years. Not to mention I will no longer have to crawl over and under downed logs and wade through brush over my head to get to some of my haunts. I have heard a lot of whining about how much land that has been removed from hunters this year due to the fires…time to suck it up buttercup and use those hunting skills and make it happen. There are thousands of acres that you have not even explored yet so get out there and lay some leather if you are physically able. For those that can’t physically do that, ask some of your old hunting buddies for a little assistance in finding new hunting ground until the burned areas recover starting next spring. The roads are still there for you road hunters, burn that fuel and support our local convenience and tire stores. I have a Montana Woods N Water embroidered hat for the first MT resident hunter to send me a picture of a game animal (bear, deer, elk, wolf or cat) they killed in the burned areas. Take a picture where it lays with the burn in the background!
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CONTEST
New Contest - Engraved Log Bed Giveaway Montana Woods N Water has teamed up with George Nass of Baldy Mountain Log Furniture and Mike & Kristin Maxwell of New Life Carving to give away a handmade queen size log bed with a mountain lion engraved on the footboard. The bed does not come with a box spring or mattress and must be picked up in Plains or you are responsible for paying for the shipping and handling if you win it. Retails for $1,000.00+
So how do you win this bed? In 200 words or less tell us why you love to read/follow Montana Woods N Water. Your entry has to be emailed to: Raf@montanawoodsnwater.com no later than 30 September 2016. Legible hand written letters will be accepted and should be mailed to MWNW, 171 Clark Creek Loop, Plains, MT 59859. Contest ends 1 October 2016 and the winner will be announced on Facebook and in the October issue. Mike, Kristin and George will judge all entries and decide the winner. If you have any questions or would like to order matching night stands, dressers, chesters, coffee table, end tables, etc. contact George Nass at Baldy Mountain Log Furniture, see ad to right for his number. For your wood carving needs call Mike or Kristen at New Life Carving, see ad to left for number. Many different engravings styles available. 7
Business Card Directrory Ad —Only $50.00 a month!
Heat Press Now Available 8
FISHING CONTINUED Then, it was onto the east coast where while pursuing the female love of my life, we tackled the open waters of the Atlantic and explored the backwater sloughs of Chesapeake Bay in sleek sea kayaks. Not that I’m an expert kayaker – far from it. There were many times that I was upside down as many times as I was right side up. The kayak love thing never left me, and with the move to Montana the idea of owning and fishing from a kayak burned from within. No, I had never attempted fishing from a kayak. But the very thought of it kindled in my mind until one day recently I bit the bullet and bought a fishing kayak. The retirement budget couldn’t allow for anything extravagant. It must be said that there are so many makes and models of fishing kayaks on the market today that choosing the right one can be overwhelming. There are sit-ins, sit-ons, and tandems. There are self-propelled models with electric trolling motors, and the Pedal Powered configurations. Many fishing kayaks even come equipped with USB ports and battery compartments for Go Pro cameras, cell phones, fish finders, and other Gizmos. Fishing kayaks come in every make, size, shape, and color, with any and all available features that offer unique appeals to today’s kayak fishing craze and tournament crowds. Being a back to basics sort of guy, who has absolutely no desire to be sucked into this kayak fishing craze that has taken on new dimensions in fishing today, I decided to keep things simple when choosing the right kayak for my needs and budget. It’s often referred to as the KISS method. And, most of us know what that acronym stands for. The yak that I chose – after weeks of research – was a Sit-In, 10-foot model, with the standard polyethylene construction offered by most manufacturers. It is a basic fishing yak with two rod holders aft of the cockpit, a rear storage compartment, and bungee cord lanyards laced on the top of the bow for rain gear and the like, and a trolley anchor system with anchor. The inside front and rear cockpit areas offer ample room for stowing fishing tackle boxes, and assorted gear. I do not promote any particular brand of kayak. I state here that my choice for the make and model of the fishing kayak was the Old Town Vapor 10 Angler. It is a basic fishing kayak. No frills. The 10-foot length is perfect for my needs and is easily transported in the rear of the pickup truck or on the rear bed of my Ranger side-by-side. The weight of the Old Town Angler is approximately 47 pounds and I can throw this yak over my shoulder and carry it down to the water’s edge, and can be launched virtually anywhere. It is roomy and supports my 200 pound frame well. The purchase was affordable and didn’t crunch the wallet. Old Town does offer high-end fishing kayaks with Sit-In and Sit-On models, but as I said… I’m a back to basics guy and like to keep things simple. Personally, I don’t need all the fancy Gizmo electronic gadgets to catch fish and keep me entertained out on the water. I equip the Old Town with one rod for the fish I’m after, a small fishing net, stringer, a Lip Gripper for the razor-sharp teeth Pike and Walleye, a small ice chest, and a small tackle box. That’s it. Back to basics. Plain and simple. Growing up a barefoot kid on the banks of the Colorado River catching bass on worms and grasshoppers, Blue channel cats on a kite string and safety pins baited with a chunk of Ivory Soap was as basic as it got. Reflecting upon Thoreau’s fishing theology. Henry obviously was a fisherman, because he wouldn’t have penned his theory without some first-hand intimate fishing experiences under his belt. I would compare Henry’s theory to that of taking a wild ride on a Mustang across an open prairie of grass with the wind and annoying bugs and gnats whizzing by under your hat, while never catching a glimpse of a prairie dog, let alone a whisker on one’s nose, and all the colorful prairie flowers whizzing by all but a blur. Logically, it would seem plausible for a better tour of the prairie if one just tied up the knotheaded Mustang and struck out afoot taking a leisurely stroll through the grass, with the gentle breeze and the sun upon the face, some bugs on the pant legs that just might turn out to be Lady Bugs, a few Daisies and prairie flowers to tease the aroma of the day, and maybe meeting up with a prairie dog and getting to count his whiskers. After all, I do suppose that my life-long love for fishing is not really about catching fish. It’s more about experiencing our Creator’s creation in all the unique forms that He created for us to explore and enjoy. For me kayak fishing allows for these experiences. There is a simplicity about it all that keeps beckoning both you and me onto the waters, and along the banks of the streams and rivers in pursuit of the mysterious monsters of the deep. Ha, and yes, it’s a bonus if we snag him and put him on the stringer. Thoreau had it right. Pictured Left: Bill’s kayaking buddies Kent and Sherrie Neal. Photos were taken on Noxon Reservoir in June. Kent Neal is the owner of Neal Structural Repair (NSR) of Noxon, MT. 9
PATRIOT
Freedom and Liberty What are they? By Robert Pierson As I wander off into the woods, with an expectation of finding meat for my table, it occurs to me that I have just taken a step toward freedom and liberty. A step that requires more participation on my
I
part then my normal life. am responsible for my well being out here. There will be no government holding my hand if I fall and need help. Because of this, I carry a trauma pak in the event of a major injury, along with a first aid kit. I have a compass, (not a GPS with batteries that can fail), along with a map, and I know how to use them. I make sure my boots are well greased and that I have extra clothing and firestarter and some food bars. I never carry a phone, because it gives me a false sense of security. I am responsible for myself. Do I have concerns? Yes, but I have prepared as best I can, and if adversity arises, I feel confident I can handle them and take care of myself, not letting fear rule me. The Founders of this great nation felt the same way as they stepped into the unknown and they pledged their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor and wrote the Declaration of Independence. It was like stepping into the woods without a map and a compass! But they made it through and came to the point that they needed a set of laws by which this new nation could be guided. That document is the United States Constitution. It created a totally new atmosphere in this fledgling nation. It created liberty for everyone and the people went from being a third world country to the strongest nation on earth in 200 years. The economy at the time went from dirt poor to very prosperous within two years. How? Because people were free to create their own life and business. Everyone prospered as a result of freedom. The Constitution limited the power of government to 17 areas of responsibility ONLY! Everything else was to be left to the states or the people. That is a far cry from what we have today, but the tendency of government is to take more control and grow bigger. It is only by us watching what is going on, responding to abuse of power and making a fuss, that we can control it. A real treat is to read the Declaration of Independence and compare the abuses of power that the colonies were experiencing with what we are experiencing now, only now it is on steroids. There is a growing movement to have a Constitutional Convention, the second in history. The problems we have now are because the government is ignoring the Constitution. Do you think that if we add some more amendments they will obey them? I don't think so! We are losing our liberty more every day. The White House is usurping power by writing legislation in the form of executive orders. The Constitution says in Article 1, Sec 1, “ALL legislative Powers herein granted SHALL be vested in a Congress...consist of a Senate and House...”. Do you believe “ALL” means some, or “SHALL”, means if you want? How does a “pen and a phone” fit into following this law. The only solution is to learn what the Constitution says and write to your Congress and quote what the Constitution says. If they won't listen, vote them out. It is the only way we will get our liberty and freedom back, and it will take work on all our parts. Maybe we can get out of the woods we are now in, and at some point regain our God given rights. Let's see if we can continue 'Living the Dream'. God Bless.
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MONTANA DAN
Whitefishing on Flathead Lake By Dan Helterline It was about ten years ago that fisherman experienced a whitefish bite on Flathead Lake that was nothing short of epic. This coincided with a peak in the perch population in which the whitefish were feeding on the perch fry. The Dan’s Yeti 110 iced down with some REAL Silver Bullets fishing was best in August which also coincided with fire season, a time, ten years ago I was unable to go try my hand at filling a cooler with these hard pulling, very tasty Lake Superior Whitefish. The fishing was so good that there was a commercial fishery for the whitefish to sell in restaurants. The perch population eventually crashed and with it the whitefish bite that was allowing fishermen to load up with coolers of whitefish. The perch population has slowly built back up, and the last two years fishermen were starting to once again report catching whitefish. This winter and spring the perch fishing in East Bay was as good as Dick Zimmer of Zimmer's Tackle in Pablo has ever seen it. This gave me renewed optimism that this summer the epic whitefish bite would return to Flathead Lake, and unlike ten years ago, I would not have fire season to keep me from my share of whitefish. I had a pickled pike recipe that I was dying to try out using the flakey white fillets of a batch of freshly caught whitefish. I got my first fishing report from a friend who had sent me a text saying he had just caught a cooler full in “the narrows” on the east side of the lake, I had also received a report of good catches at Elmo from Zimmer, this was all the encouragement I needed to hook up the boat and head to Flathead. My first trip was met with dismal results, Paul Rossignol and I fished in Elmo and Big Arm Bays and might as well have gotten skunked, Paul caught one embarrassedly small whitefish, the only consolation was I observed no other boats landing fish either. I stayed home for about a week licking my wounds until I started hearing more reports of fish being caught at Elmo Bay, my fishing partner Ray Baenen was camped at North Shore so I loaded some camping gear and headed to Flathead to tie in with him. The first morning we launched at Elmo and there was already a good cluster of boats anchored slightly east of the ramp. We fished for several hours and only landed a couple of fish. Ray then made the decision to move until we located some fish that were more willing to help us with our mission of filling our cooler with whitefish. Using our fish finder and Minnkota IPilot to stay in fifty feet of water, we kept moving east down the shore, temporarily anchoring until we could locate some biting fish. On about the third stop we hit the jackpot and the cooler slowly started to fill. Having a live well on the boat was very helpful, we would place the freshly caught whitefish in the live well and cut its gills, then as water was circulated in then out of the drain the fish would bleed out. Continued on Page 12. 11
MONTANA DAN CONTINUED This was a perfect solution to help bleed the fish before we iced them in the cooler to help insure the highest quality of fillets to take home. Having a good anchor system is a must for vertical jigging for Lake Superior Whitefish. A Minnkota IPilot was the perfect tool to help locate schools of fish and stay above them. Ray had tried several types of weighted jigging spoons that imitated the perch fry that the whitefish were feeding so heavily on. Zimmers green and red Rattle Disasters in the heavier weights worked well and Jigs like the Buckshot Rattle Spoon and a lure called Rattle Snakie both in perch patterns were equally effective. The heavier three quarter ounce allowed you to get down to the bottom in fifty feet of water more quickly where the whitefish were holding. These hard fighting fish can reach ten pounds and the ones in Elmo Bay were in the two to three pound range. We had several good days in Elmo Bay and I soon had all the whitefish I needed to try my pickled fish recipe. I had also heard reports of good catches in Big Arm Bay, The Narrows, Skidoo Bay and Ray later fished Yellow bay with excellent results and landed one whopper that pulled the scale down to eight pounds! The whitefish bite that I had waited almost ten years for had finally returned to Flathead Lake. Hopefully the perch population will stay healthy for a few years and allow me to load up on these tasty hard fighting fish next year also. Dick Zimmer in Pablo is an excellent source of information on what's happening on Flathead and he is always my first call before I decide to hook up my boat and head to the lake.
Ray Baenen, Dan’s whitefish slaying partner. 12
SPORTSMAN’S MEDITATION
Fire Control
Pastor Jim Sinclair
Wow!!!! Can’t see, can’t breath, haze everywhere, red sun, orange sheen Photo Taken By: Todd Boehler - Thanks Todd For Sharing! at dusk, All because of a small flame. When you live in Montana it’s just part of the deal. Along with a Forest fire comes many firefighters and scores of support people from paramedics to cooks, to logistics personal. It takes a small army of people to take care of things. It really is amazing what a little flame can produce. It also comes with a lot of opinion about all aspects of the incident. “Let him that readeth understand.” Not to get into the politics of a fire, but the point that cannot be missed is, it all started with a little flame. I couldn’t help but reflect on what the Bible says about “the fire” of the tongue. Its pretty clear in James 3:3, 3 We can make a large horse go wherever we want by means of a small bit in its mouth. 4 And a small rudder makes a huge ship turn wherever the pilot chooses to go, even though the winds are strong. 5 In the same way, the tongue is a small thing that makes grand speeches. But a tiny spark can set a great forest on fire. 6 And the tongue is a flame of fire. It is a whole world of wickedness, corrupting your entire body. It can set your whole life on fire, for it is set on fire by hell itself. 7 People can tame all kinds of animals, birds, reptiles, and fish, 8 but no one can tame the tongue. It is restless and evil, full of deadly poison. 9 Sometimes it praises our Lord and Father, and sometimes it curses those who have been made in the image of God. (NLTse) Bottom line is that our tongues can cause us some pretty big fires in our lives, a few words spoken adversely can take a myriad of resources to put out. I recently heard a lesson on words, it was proposed that if we could record our speech for a week, would we be comfortable playing it back to a group of people we were close to…I think not! We have the choice to have huge fires in our lives or small flames. All by the words our tongues speak. Although the flames are almost extinguished and we can see again, the better scenario would have been to not have an incident. Hopefully we will all realize the choice is ours. Watch those little sparks, they can get out of control. Keep livin the life. Pastor Jim.
Photo taken by Robin K Ha’o - Thanks Robin For Sharing 13
SAFETY
Stop, Think, Observe, Plan (STOP) By Raf Viniard I know as I get older I don’t take the chances I used to, so this article is geared more towards the 40 and older crowd but there is even something here for you bullet proof lads. I used to just jump over the side of the truck bed and keep moving. Nowadays I sit down on the tailgate and wiggle off until my feet hit the ground. If you are laughing at this, that means you either can relate or your time is coming grasshopper. As we head into hunting season make sure you are in shape to walk those mountains. You may be using muscles you have not used all year. Know your limits, abilities and respect your brain when it tells you that your body is in pain. Your heart may tell you that you are young but the body will tell you a different story and not lie to you. Blowing out a knee or hurting your back trying to prove you are still young can have life long consequences for many hunting seasons to come. Don’t write checks your body can’t cash. Make sure you drink plenty of clean fresh water, sugary drinks are not the best for hydration. Stop and rest...hunting is not supposed to be a job...take in the beauty that hunters pay thousands of dollars every year to come and enjoy...for you it is FREE. Even though tree stand hunting is not real popular in this area, there are a few like myself that hunt from one from time to time. If you are hunting from a elevated position make sure you wear a safety belt and inspect that stand for wear, cracked, broken or missing parts BEFORE you get in it. A fall from as few as six feet can leave you with some bad injuries and a lost hunting season. Falls from 12 feet or higher most likely will end with internal injuries. Continued on page 15.
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SAFETY CONTINUED I have got where I use a walking stick a lot. It has become my third leg. I have found it really stables me going up and down steep banks and I use it for a multitude of other things like holding back limbs/brush wading across streams or crossing loose rock. I have been known to lean on it more than once when trying to catch my breathe going up a steep mountain. It has saved me from countless falls when stepping on a wet or grass covered stick or rock. I have and even some of my friends have used it to shoot off of or stabilize my binoculars when glassing long distances. When helping a buddy up a steep bank, simply extend the stick out to him or her and it is far better than using your bow or firearm and much safer. I often use it to score the ground and leave my boot print in the fresh dirt so someone knows I went what direction or leave directions for those following me. It also makes a great poop inspecting tool to see what that old bear has been eating. For archery hunters...watch those broadheads. Cutting yourself is one thing but hitting that bow string with that razor sharp edge can lead to an explosion of bow parts. You will definitely need to clean out your britches after that experience. When using a knife to skin your game be sure and cut away from you and your friends. Make sure you have adequate clothing and dress in layers to prevent hypothermia. During this time of year the day temps may be a little warm and you may get sweaty but as that suns goes down behind the mountain...things start to cool down real fast. Have a way to start a fire in case of an emergency.
To the untrained eye you may have called this a walking cane by mistake. NO! This is my walking stick! As my WALKING STICK and I mature in age it will be called a WALKING CANE. Until then this is my WALKING STICK.
Always let someone know where you are hunting and when you plan on being back. If something happens they will know when and where to start looking for you. I carry a Delorme InReach with me for an emergency (Read article on page 33) which is a satellite communications device where I can text Momma or a friend as to my situation. Good luck and be safe out there! Remember wisdom is supposed to come with age. Stop, Think, Observe and Plan as to what you are about to do...your life just might depend on it.
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HUNTING TOOLS
GUNRACS
By Raf Viniard
As a publisher I am always getting asked to try this or that product or service and then endorse it. Because of my busy schedule I just don’t have the time or resources to properly vet a product as it needs to be done to see if it does everything it says it does. This is one product that I absolutely love and will be in every truck of mine from now on. Veteran Glenn Devolder of Paradise , MT designed and patented these GUNRACS that simply slide into your existing head rest holes. Pop your head rest out and slide them in. Tighten a few bolts and they are locked in place.
At first I was not sure as to whether I would use them that much so I got a set and started using them during bear season. Man was I impressed. If it is the weekend, Pam (My Betterhalf) is in the truck with me to either go fishing, hunting, scouting or on a mountain adventure. She has a little disease called FOMO—Fear Of Missing Out. With all her gear, purse, food, drink, etc. things got a little crowded in the front seat with two rifles. I never liked my gun resting in the front seats, either barrel up or down. Too much of a safety issue and placing your barrel down in the grit in your floor board is damaging to the crown of the barrel. I used to lay them in the back seat but it never failed...they got buried under something and my scope was taking some scratches. Not to mention if I needed to grab it quickly to sprint up/down the mountain I had to open the back door (quietly) untangle something from the strap...you know Murphy’s Law. Well these little beauties have solved all these problems. When hunting season is not in play, my fly/spinning rods are setting in these GUNRACS. I can quickly grab my pole and test the bite at the nearest roadside fishing hole. I have also used them to hang my hunting/cowboy hats, fly fishing vest, jackets, Attention Hunters: Get those ATV’s, Quads and RVs binoculars, cameras, Momma’s purse, game calls and things I insured from loss, theft or damage. Call us today for a don’t even remember using them for. They are so versatile FREE QUOTE! and actually VERY useful. Locals such as Ron Pelletier, Bill Alde, Dean Haun, Steve McDonald and Patty Pardee all are using these GUNRACS and evaluating them. Patty says, “I believe I might have serial #2 or 3 of Glenn’s GUNRAC. It is really slick, trouble free and a safe way to store your rifle or shotgun when running Montana back roads. Everyone that saw it commented on how well they liked it as well. This rack holds your firearms securely, yet it is really easy to grab your rifle when getting out of the truck quick.” I can personally attest to the ease of getting them out quickly. I stumbled on a Grouse the other day heading out to bowhunt. As soon as I stopped the truck he was already ducking for cover and running up in the brush covered bank. I grabbed my shotgun and headed up after him. He didn’t make it far before he was spotted and joined my Gatorade in the cooler. They are really easy to install. You can install/flip them forward or backward depending on whether you want the racks facing to the front or towards the back seat. They are rubber coated so they protect your expensive firearms. Call Glenn today for pricing and reserve your set. Thanks Glenn!
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TONY REBO UNLEASHED
“Teach and a man to fish and you will feed him forever…” “Teach a woman to fish, and you will …” By Tony Rebo So a couple of weeks back my wife and I were down on the Clark Fork River fishing. It was an overcast cloudy day with a pretty good wind coming out of Idaho. The river was very low and we could only put the boat in at the Bull River Bay. I would travel several miles downriver and then turn into the wind and drift back to where we had come from. It was a day of fishing, and we produced a limit of bass, 4 nice pike, and several large perch to fillet. My wife was so excited to post her pictures of her fish and to tell her story of how she out fished me. The stories have spread all over the country and I have been harassed non-stop. I even had a telemarketer stop in the middle of his sales pitch to ask if my wife had out fished me. How she is able to spread the word to all ends of the earth is beyond me. William Wallace’s limbs were spread to the four corners of England as a warning to all others who would dare challenge the king. Somehow her story had the same outcome. I feel that in my best interest I have to explain how a day could happen where my wife would out fish me. First of all I just want to put out there that if I go missing after this is published would someone please call law enforcement and have them drag the bottom of the river, also have one of them bait my wife’s hook. The alarm rings at 5:30 AM, I jump from the covers and head into the kitchen to retrieve a fresh pot of coffee that has been brewing since 5:15 AM thanks to the timer. I am already dressed as a true fisherman will always save time by sleeping in his clothes. The boat and gear are already waiting in the driveway from the night before’ s preparation. My dog Harley is waiting in the truck and all we have left is Brenda. I call out to her and let her know we are ready, I hear a low grunt from the bed and some sort of sound that resembles curse words directed towards my family. To be exact it was along the lines of “you morning people, your mother should have given you away to gypsies”. 6:15 my wife enters the bathroom, at 6:30 I knock on the door and remind her we are burning daylight. At 7:00 I hear the hairdryer, 7:15 I knock again and tell her I have to make more coffee. At 7:30 Harley has left the truck and is sighing at the front door. 7:45 ESPN is reporting that Kapernick may be the most hated guy in the NFL. At 8:00 my wife arrives from the restroom and finds me sleeping in front of the TV with spilled coffee on my jeans. She announces “what are you doing, I am ready to go so let’s get this show on the road”. Continued on page 23.
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Dan
Sam
Andy
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LOCAL CELEBRITIES/NEXT GENERATION
Pictured Top Left: Tony Hochstetler shot this unique 6 X 6 palmated buck opening day of archery season. Three days later and he put the smack down on a doe. Tony that freezer is filling up fast. Congrats Tony! Now that is the way to start off the hunting season. Pictured Left: Paul Fielder takes a break from fighting with the anti-trappers and spends a little time doing some of the things he moved here several years ago to do. Much deserved time off Paul...congrats.
Brenda Rebo of Libby, MT with “her” Bass! Read the article on page 17 to learn all about the catch from Tony’s (her husband) point of view. Brenda...Tony is starting to sound a little whiny...now tell us how it really went!
Pictured Left: The Stinnett crew just keeps putting fish on the table. Seth, Cade and Lily each with their own catch. Cade’s inched the others out with 18 1/2 inches. Way to go Team Stinnett! Thanks Amy for sending these to Montana Woods N Water!
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FLY FISHING
Indian Summer Trout By Chuck Stranahan This is my favorite time of year to fish. And this year, especially, there is an immediacy to my need to be out on the river. I have had enough to do with the sultry gloom and choking stench of the fires that buried summer. Through it all I looked forward with hope to the days that would follow. Now they are here. The air is finally washed clean by the autumn rains. There is a fresh dusting of snow lingering in the mountains. Leaves are turning color everywhere. The river is low, but cooling. The trout are easy to find. There are good hatches to fish. Most of the summer tourists have returned to their jobs and their schools; most of my neighbors are woodcutting or hunting; I can enjoy long stretches of the river in solitude. What more could an angler want? And yet, there is never enough of it. As the nights turn chillier and the days grow noticeably shorter, winter continues to close in one day at a time. You can’t help but notice that, in the midst of beauty that you wish would last forever. And so, if you’re like me, you fish. You fish just as much to get out as you do to catch trout. You fish to store up enough of something you find out there to get you through the winter, even though it is hard to define exactly what that something is. Perhaps it has to do with just savoring the sweetness of it all just one more time, because you know that before too long it won’t be there to savor any more. For me, solitude also has something to do with it. There is time to reflect. And the reflections are brought sharply into focus by each new set of surroundings, every change in nuance. The world, on a trout river in autumn, seems almost overripe with beauty. So I tie or pick out a few favorite flies. I break out an old cane fly rod - not because it is the best tool for the job at hand, necessarily, but for sentimental reasons. I stuff one pocket of my fishing vest with a handful of fresh local apples and head, in a lazy hurry, for the river. I suit up, spend a few extra minutes tinkering with my leader and tippet and dressing my line, then take the cane rod out of its case and join it and stroke it through the air a few times. It even sounds different than graphite. It comes to life in the hand in a way that must be experienced to be understood. Even though I’m not especially oriented toward material “things”, I have an affection for this painstakingly crafted piece of bamboo much as I do for my father’s old violin. I step into the stream and feel the tight chill of the current pull against my waders. I half-think about where to cast, how to work the water in front of me. The rest is instinct. The rhythm of the casting and the river absorb the conscious mind. The surroundings seep in. Always, there is so much beauty. There might be a faint whiff of wood smoke on the breeze, mingling with the mossy scents of the river bottom and the dried brush and grasses along its banks. 20
FLY FISHING CONTINUED
On the main river there are cottonwoods and on the West Fork there are pines ripe with aroma. The scents change and mix as I move along and the day changes. I hear mental echoes of Willie Nelson’s version of “September Song”, or recall images from Dylan Thomas’ “Poem in October”. I stop and look up, occasionally, and do a one-eighty or a three-sixty, just taking it all in. I take a tart Macintosh out of my pocket and feel it break against my teeth. On some days there are fish. They, too, are resplendent in their autumn colors. The browns, getting territorially aggressive as spawning time nears, are nearly luminous. The rainbows range from golden to bright magenta on their sides. And the cutthroats seem to beg the question: just how beautiful can trout be? And why are they so beautiful in the first place? And why are we equipped to perceive and appreciate that beauty? These are small questions, but important ones. Larger ones occur to me as well. The answers, such as they can be, are often comforting and at the same time humbling. There will be a time, and I fear it will come too quickly this year, when it will finally seem too cold to go fishing. That’s part of the poignancy that sets in each day out, when the time comes to take down the rod and slip it into its cloth sack, and then into the long metal tube. This may be the last time, for this year. So I savor each day, savor each moment that I am drawn further into this world of Indian summer days and trout fishing, grateful that I can do something that I love and be rejuvenated by it as it touches the inner core of my being. And winter is not the dull, final death of it. The stored remembrances of the brilliance of autumn fishing will get us through and give us hope for the future. An old poem reminds me: “The autumn leaf is emblazoned with spring’s belief.” 21
SALMON FISHING
Snag It & Smoke It! By Raf Viniard By the time you read this I will have probably heavily invested in leaded treble hooks from Libby Sports Center. Snagging season is appropriately named, I think I snag more rocks than Kokanee salmon. But I sure have fun doing it. I am torn this time of year between bear hunting and filling the smoke house with some Kokanee. Last year Kori Erickson and her son Marley introduced me to this sport. Pardon the pun but I was hooked and schooled. Her son Marley tore them up...that boy has a eye for snagging. There would only be 2-3 fish swimming in the large pool of water and one or two of them was coming home with Marley. That boy was good. Last year on my first cast my reel broke so let’s just say that was interesting to deal with. I ran back to Libby Sports Center got a new rod and reel and got ready for the next morning. The second day I got schooled (again pardon the pun) by locals that made it look so easy and within a hour their buckets were filled with a limit of 20 an they were gone. I struggled for another hour and finally had to go back to work with only 10 fish. So what is all this snagging about? First you need plenty of fish...trying to snag 5 or 6, 10-12 inch salmon in a pool of running/ turbulent water can be very tricky and the bigger and faster the pool of water the more tricky. Secondly a lot of weighted treble hooks. I think last year I bought a dozen and came home with three, and two of those were somebody’s else misfortune that I accidentally snagged. The rocks absolutely love them. Third, location, location, location. Watch where the locals fish and how they fish...there is a technique. Pictured Left: Last year I also hooked up with Austin Baken, Patrick Smith and Joseph “Joe” Stewart all of Libby, MT. These young men gave this rookie snagger some pointers and then showed me how it was done. Plus, they found my camera that I so clumsily left behind and returned it. Now that is honesty my friends. This year I am clearing my calendar of all work and heading to the old snagging hole. If it takes me all day I am going to try and get my limit and try and master this technique. As soon as I get my limit it is back to bear hunting. So if you see me out there pulling on a rock ...no laughing after all I am still snagging! I wonder if Rosauers Supermarket sells fresh salmon, in case things don’t go as planned? 22
TONY REBO UNLEASHED CONTINUED The boat is in the river, and I am giving my wife the advice she needs to catch fish on a cloudy day. The wind was picking up and I told her we would drift with the wind fishing the rocky shoreline for bass. I sat up on the bow and moved the boat along the shoreline while she fished from the back of the boat. Now this is where my story begins as to why she caught more fish than I on this day. I have to bait my wife’s hook as she doesn’t like to get dirty, so I have two options, one; bait her hook or two; let her shake the worm box over the water to eliminate the dirt and most of the worms. Because there are only a dozen worms in each box I choose option one. Brenda loves to catch perch, and so she will spend a great amount of time just fishing over the side of the boat catching small, small, small perch. Small perch are able to strip the bait from the hook as fast as it enters the water and so you can only imagine how much time I spend baiting her hook. Now because the wind was so gusty on this day I also had to spend a great deal of time working the foot control to the electric trolling motor, but wait I have to re-bait her hook again. Did I mention that she also gets hung up on the bottom of the river? Well yep I have to get her line free, work the control to the motor and wait.. I have to re-bait her hook. It wasn’t long and I was mastering my chores of keeping her happy and also being able to make a cast about every 15 minutes. That was until she declared that she had a big fish on. The tip of the pole was bent in half and it looked like a keeper until I shut off the electric motor to assist her and the pole went limp. Somehow her line was tangled around the motor. This is why I bring extra poles. I had to pull the motor to work on the tangled mess while running my backup motor while navigating the wind, while freeing her line while baiting her hook.
Darby’s fish!
Two hours later I have the primary motor free from 200 hundred yards of 8lb test line. Apparently she opened the bail to let the imaginary fish run. So ok I was back in the captain’s seat running the motor, freeing her line and baiting her hook. “Could you hand me a sandwich?” She said. Oh sure I can do that while navigating the motor and freeing your line and baiting your hook. “Would you like a soda with that?” So as I bend over to fetch a soda from the cooler I hear her yell fish on and she jerks the rod only to pull the ¼ ounce jig from the fish’s mouth and swings it wildly in the air and directly into my right eye. The weight of the jig almost knocked me from the boat and the swelling in my right eye was immediate. Never once did I get are you ok, all I heard was hurry and bait my hook I can see the fish it is right there. So here is the visual; I am now sporting a swollen shut, black eye while fetching food and drink, while navigating the motor while freeing her line and baiting her hook. As soon as her line hit the water, bam the 5 pound small mouth took the bait and made a 3 foot leap from the water. Brenda fought the fish while I fought for the net. I ended up on the wrong side of the boat trying to net the fish probably because I only had one good eye while she yelled at me to stop messing around and help land the beast. So now I was netting her fish, getting her food and drink while navigating the motor while freeing her line while baiting her hook. THIS WENT ON FOR THE REST OF THE DAY!!! Finally back at the boat launch I was loading the boat while Brenda displayed her fish to everyone in the parking lot. There was one point where she was stopping traffic on the highway and showing off her fish. Each time she would show off the fish she would turn and point at me and then the group would all start laughing. We barely got into cell service when she posted her catch. Within minutes I was receiving texts asking about my fish and my pictures. I explained a few times why I didn’t want my picture taken with my black eye and how I got it while netting her fish while getting her food and drink while navigating the motor while freeing her line while baiting her hook. It is just too exhausting! So once again; teach a man to fish and you will feed him forever… Teach a woman to fish, and you will be netting the fish while getting her food and drink while navigating the motor while freeing her line while baiting her hook, all with one eye…..
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OUTDOOR TECH
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SHOOTING
Get Those Rifles Ready...Practice, Practice, Practice By Raf Viniard Yeah I know ammo is expensive. But practice makes perfect. Most sportsmen have left their rifles all alone setting in the gun cabinet or on the gun rack and have not picked it up since last fall hunting season or spring bear. Now that the weather has cooled down it is not such a hot chore and actually enjoyable to shoot. Once you get it all dialed in...practice shooting off of a rest. Standing, kneeling, prone, etc. Hunting situations can change in a instance. Shoot within your limits. If you don’t have that expensive scope you can dial in, know what your rifle does beyond 300 yards if you are going to take those kind of shots. The first shot out of a cold barrel is the one that really counts. All those follow up shots the barrel has already warmed up and can effect accuracy and fine tuning. Give that barrel time to cool down after a 3-5 shoot string. Pick up another rifle and shoot it while the first one cools down. Practice your breathing technique and sitting that gun in the same place on your shoulder each time to develop muscle memory. Work on the grouping first. Then fine tune hitting the mark. Only do one thing at a time so you don’t get confused as to where you started. The closer the grouping of shots the better. This gives you a little more margin of error when not shooting off a bench. Find the ammo that your guns loves the best. This part can get expensive quick. I shoot a 7mm STW and a box of shells is about 70 dollars off the shelf if I can find them. This is where reloading or hooking up with someone that does helps. A special thanks goes out to Arnie Richards for finding the load my rifle loves. Remember: Relax, focus, pick a spot, breathe out a little, hold and squeeze the trigger...it should be a surprise when it goes off. Clear your mind of cell phones, issues at home/work and concentrate on the task at hand.
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MOUNTAIN MEMORIES
89 MILES OF MONTANA MEMORIES….. By Carol Caddy As I drove along Highway 2 between Libby and Kalispell Sunday, I couldn’t help but remember the hundreds of trips before this one. I am 75 years old now (and grew up in Libby) and my parents have passed. My mother was Harriet Belle Trippet and was born and raised in Whitefish and my father was Robert L. Wilson and he grew up in Kalispell. So, every weekend we would make the trek to the Flathead from Libby to help out both grandparents. My brother and I got to fight over who stayed with Dad in Kalispell and who went with mother to Whitefish. My Grandfather W. K. Trippet was Whitefish City Engineer. He was a bridge builder and did some of the bridges on Highway 2, one being the Pleasant Valley Fisher bridge near Happy’s Inn. It is pretty much just a culvert now. So driving along I came to that little bridge; thinking, remembering, and picturing my Grandfather as I crossed that little bridge. Back in the day, there were the turtles that lay on the log along Loon Lake, sunning themselves! As a kid I always hoped the sun would be out so they would be there!! (The log is still there and I still look!) Coming up on the straight stretch before Middle Thompson Lake, geez….the wind storms that happened back then along the chain of Thompson Lakes. It would lay those big ponderosa pines right across the highway (back then the trees were right up against the road) and you would have to wait for someone to come along and saw them away. If they weren’t too big, we could do it ourselves, but most of the time it was a waiting game.
As I came down on towards McGregor Lake a road takes off to your left which goes to Lost PrairiePleasant Valley. There is the old school house which was my mother’s first teaching assignment. I think it is still there. The time frame was 1933-34. Continued on Page 28.
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MOUNTAIN MEMORIES CONTINUED The picnics (Mom always packed a lunch) at the pictographs (Native American paintings) on the rock cuts this side of Kalispell. There were no fences back then protecting them…but my parents always told us not to touch. I would look and look and scan the valley thinking and wondering . I could imagine teepees with smoke coming from campfires. On the way back home to Libby….at the foot of Wayletts Hill (on the Kalispell side) there was a home and they had a tiny grocery store in the front of their house. We would beg Dad to stop for a candy bar and then turn right and take the road that went to Libby the long way. The road was littered with big pot holes and was just a grassy dirt road back then (people ran their cattle back there) but it went along the Fisher River a ways and you always see wildlife, especially in the spring. We saw lots of fawns right along the grassy roadway. Yep, I’m still making the trek from Libby to Kalispell as my daughter, Amy Lynn lives there now, so I guess we never really stop making memories. Lots of changes have happened down through the years on this stretch of highway, lots of history being made and it all goes into making a person who they are. I love this country we call Montana...it is in my spirit and soul!
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FOOD FOR THOUGHT
True Trophies
by Nathan Albertson
“The success of a man and the prowess of a hunter are not judged by trophies upon a wall.” I have often repeated this quote, though I cannot recall where I first heard it. Every year, we as hunters wait for the first day of our favorite season to open. We spend time day dreaming of pheasants with the longest tails we have ever seen, or turkeys that have multiple beards long enough they could trip themselves. Ever hopeful, we anticipate the success of a particular hunt, wondering which taxidermist we will use when we mount that 5x5 whitetail, 30-inch mule deer, a bear so big his ol’ belly drags the ground or a perfectly symmetrical 6x6 bull elk. These are often the readily apparent fruits of our joyous labor, as we do all we can to assure ourselves of a safe and productive hunt. All too often, we overlook the true “trophies” of our hunting excursions. Successful or not, enjoyable or miserable, there are always memories that we cherish of our experiences. These memories, coupled with various traditions of hunting camps, often form the basis of what I automatically conjure in my mind when someone mentions, “goin’ huntin’”. And, if we are lucky, someone has a camera to capture those memories. Growing up, my mother diligently kept scrapbooks of us children. I always thought it amusing when I would spot a picture of me as a toddler, bundled up with only my pale face peeking out at the camera, from a sea of bad 1970’s fashion, standing over a whitetail buck, eastern turkey, or the occasional coyote. Right beside me would be my father, proudly posing with his son, quarry, and usually a firearm. All of us would be perched, in some fashion, in the back of a ‘42 Willy’s Jeep painted pea green, with spray paint bought by the case from K-Mart. Dad would always be grinning ear to ear. Looking at the various poses, I would be staring blankly at the camera, staring at the carcass, or at times, trying to hold the deer up by its horns. I still look at these pictures and laugh, as a diehard hunter with a serious addiction to hunting and firearms; I never had a chance to be “normal”. Growing up in the Midwest, deer hunting was our only truly big game. Deer hunting was that time of year, where even the occasionally turbulent relationship between a loving father and hardheaded son was forgotten and time was shared together. It was the catalyst for events where, if I screwed up, such as getting halfway to our hunting area on opening morning and remembering I had forgotten my deer tag at home, the tempers were held in check and though not happy at the time, Dad and I laughed about it later. There are times to this day when we are riding together, headed to the family farm to hunt; Dad will ask if I remembered my tag. I used to get pretty indignant when he would ask me that question, but I now understand, that it is a way for the two of us to relive the memory of an event in our lives we shared together. In high school and college, hunting mostly on weekends, my ultimate goal was to fill my deer tags. Those four days of the nine-day season were very precious to me and every moment counted. Continued on page 30. 29
FOOD FOR THOUGHT CONTINUED To me, there was no time to sit in the living room and visit before lunch, or have a nap afterward, much less “wasting time” taking pictures. I wanted to be in the field hunting. In those earlier years, it was rare that we ever took any pictures where a dead deer was not lying or hanging in the picture. Occasionally we would get a group photo, but often, the subject of the very few pictures we took was of a successful hunter. The first, nice, eastern count nine-point whitetail I took happened to fall on the same weekend that my father shot one as well. That was the first set of deer antlers I ever had mounted to a plaque. Today they hang in my living room, a lovely decoration and nice addition to the décor of the room. But, in my shop, in cheap wooden frames, are two 8x10 pictures that are the real trophies from that One of my favorite memories. weekend. The pictures were taken in the driveway to the machine shed at my grandfather’s house. The deer were loaded in a homemade trailer my dad built from old car parts. The two bucks lay in the trailer, me sitting beside my buck and Dad beside his. Each of us is staring at the camera, one hand on the antlers of our bucks, the other gripping our rifles. Grandpa had taken that picture, and once he had, Dad asked him to switch places. Now, Grandpa sat with Dad’s deer and Dad was taking the picture. I thought this odd at the time; after all, Grandpa had not even been with either of us when we killed the deer, but ohhhh how he grinned when we recounted our stories of how we had each taken our trophies. Grandpa sits in that photo, his old dress hat that had been relegated to work wear perched on his head. His ever present coveralls cover his frame and upon his feet are his old rubber “gum” boots. That was my grandpa as I had seen him hundreds of times over the years, the grandpa I helped on the farm and loved dearly. Those are two of my very favorite pictures, and each one is to me, priceless, when compared to the antlers from that deer that hang in the living room. Grandpa has now passed and Dad, as well as myself, have aged many decades. But when I look at those photos, the memories of many hunts come back to me and I have to smile. Otherwise, the dust off the frames of those photos somehow becomes airborne and makes my eyes water a little or something like that. Some friends of ours used to have a unique hunting camp tradition. They “camped” in an old house we owned, that was merely four walls and a roof over their head. They brought in cottonwood bunks and nailed them together, installed an oil drum stove and used that as their base camp. Continued on page 32. 30
$379,000
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FOOD FOR THOUGHT CONTINUED On the walls of that house, scrawled upon the paper surface that covered the slat and plaster, were brief descriptions of the hunt’s highlights and the year. Some were simple statistics, “Two does, one buck”. Others told amusing stories of shots taken and missed or embarrassing mishaps that would follow that hunter for several seasons. Bob, and his boys Matt and Gabe, along with John Z., were the hubs upon which that deer camp revolved. That house has since been torn down, but before it was, the family called Bob and his boys and told them it was slated to be demolished. A few weeks later with razor and putty knives, chunks of that wall were salvaged and carried away. I have no idea how they saved those memories or framed them for viewing, but it Youngsters grow up quick...capture the memory. warms my heart to know that part of all that documentation, fun, and enjoyment, was saved from being bulldozed and burned. Several years ago, I started a photo album of my hunts. I now have a few photo albums, dedicated to different types of hunting and fishing. It seems I fall further and further behind with each passing year and the advent of digital photography. However, I enjoy when I thumb through them and see the picture of me with my first deer. Or, the picture of my brother with his first deer that Chris and I helped him drag from the woods. There are pictures of turkeys and hunting camps, college friends that used to hunt with me, an “Uncle” that introduced me to New Mexico and good camp food, and a bird dog too good for my poor training ability. As I leaf through the pages, the faces get older, but the smiles do not fade. While upon the wall may be the evidence of my hunts, within my heart are the memories I cherish. Within those scrapbooks are the trophies I was lucky enough to preserve for posterity. Perhaps it is time you start your own trophy preservation, for either yourself, your children, or your hunting camp. It is something to be looked at, stories written in and encased with photos and other mementos of the seasons past, such as a scrapbook or photo album. Tangible and visual reminders of how blessed your seasons have been. Along with warm and cherished memories of friends and loved ones by which our Lord Jesus has graced your life and your camp. Within a year or two, I can about guarantee it will be the center of conversation the first night at camp. Looking at memories, remembering faces of those moved or departed, you might find yourself swapping stories and reliving hunts of years past. On occasion, who knows, maybe it will be the basis of proof by which embellished tales may be reined in by the truth. But then, maybe you’ll forget about that picture book when the lies, hunting traditions in their own right, begin making the rounds! As the season starts this year, good luck to you friends. May God bless you with many warm and cherished memories, bring you success in all you seek, and permit you to share those moments with the ones you love. 32
MAKING MEMORIES
The Calvary Is On The Way! By Raf Viniard During the month of August I had two flats on the truck and one on the Jeep that I drive for work. I had not had a flat in years. The first time no problem, pull out the spare tire from the bed of the truck, change it and move along and get on with huckleberry picking. The next day I took it into the local tire shop and it was found to be beyond repair. I was informed it was time for a new set of tires for the hunting rig. I opted for two new tires at the time so as not to stretch the bank account. The second time I came out side to go to work and a Jeep tire was flat, no problem I aired it up and back to my local tire store for a quick repair. The third time was a little more interesting. Again my honey (Pam) and I were headed up to pick huckleberries in the truck towards the same mountain as before. As I started up the mountain it dawned on me that I had removed my tool box (containing my floor jack, lug wrench, mini air compressor, fix a flat, etc.) and the spare tire from the bed of my truck to move a casket (don’t ask) to the local funeral home. As we bounced up the mountain side I said a quick prayer to the man upstairs and pressed on...the berries were awaiting. Even though I kept hearing this little voice saying go back home and get the tire I decided to ignore it. That would have been another two hours worth of travels...no thank you...that would get into our berry picking time. Murphy’s Law struck at the very top of the mountain. Can’t say I wasn’t warned by the man upstairs or my local tire shop. As I stepped out of the truck knowing what had happened Pam says, “What’s wrong?” Now the gig was up...should I tell her the good news or the bad news first. Really there wasn’t much good news except we were close to the berry patch. The bad news was I have no way of changing it an there was no cell service to call anyone. I did think about smoke signals but since the fires were burning in the Thompson River drain I figured someone might have frowned on that. I had a VHF radio that I could call my buddy George on but his son had his truck that day in Kalispell. I tried it anyway but no luck. I walked around the immediate area hoping I might have a tiny cell phone signal for texting. I had one tiny bar...but it was just false hope. When traveling with Pam I know I will always have enough food to survive a week. She is not leaving the house without a couple of meals and enough junk food to feed a army stashed in her soft sided cooler. So hunger was not a problem. I had drinks in the hard sided cooler and plenty of clothes/blanket in the back seat if we had to spend the night . I had a single burner propane stove to cook with if needed as well. For about 30 minutes we discussed our predicament and weighing our options, Pam said, “What about that radio thingy you use to contact me on?” That is why I let her tag along! Yep, the Delorme InReach was in my back pack laying in the back seat and uses satellites to communicate. I fired it up, texted my buddy George as to where we were and our situation. The Calvary was on its way! George had to borrow a truck from Jerry Carr, run over to my house get the tire and tools and head our way. This alone would take about two hours. He hit me on the VHF radio using his hand held and kept us abreast of his travels. He was within a mile of us when his truck started over heating. He managed to get some water from a seep and finally get to us about another hour later. Luckily I had some antifreeze in the back of my truck. Continued on page 35. 33
AWARENESS WHY ARE WE KILLING OURSELVES in MONTANA? (Seriously) By Laurie Boehler Walsh This isn’t the story I’d have wanted to write. But the truth is, in 2015, we climbed to 1st place in the nation for suicide rates in Montana. Adults ages 45-64 have the highest incidence and overall, suicide in Montana is double the national average. Teen suicides are a major concern across the state and many schools are stepping up efforts to assess juveniles who may be at risk. Data for this year is not yet in, but no matter how you slice it, we have to figure this out. I was a college student at the U of M in the late 70’s and I remember frequently having feelings of hopelessness. During those “grey” times, I didn’t realize I was suffering from a treatable illness we know today as depression. Had someone asked, I’d have told them I was depressed. And had they asked, I would have told then I didn’t plan to kill myself, but that I really didn’t want to live. As a young woman confronting the challenges of life, I was feeling pressures that were foreign to me and looking back, I can see that my coping skills were not up to the task of dealing with them. I turned to alcohol which I thought was helping me, but in reality, it only exacerbated my problems and the depression. The very real chemical imbalance at the worst of those times could have been treated by medication. But Prozac, one of the first of the anti-depressants, wouldn’t make its debut in the US for about 10 more years. Since that time, I’ve worked with 1000’s of teens in my home state of Montana and in Arizona where I currently reside. I’ve had many friends, clients and colleagues who have taken their own lives and as a result, I have changed careers from being a probation officer for 20 yrs, to becoming a substance abuse counselor. Because I began drinking so young, I also budded into an alcoholic so have been in a program of recovery for the past 28 yrs. Thanks to some tried and true methods, I’ve increased my own coping skills over time. While medication is often a large piece of the puzzle in treating depression that can lead to suicide, developing new coping skills is also “key.” One such coping skill is developing a new way of seeing the world and the problems we all face. To that end, I’ve written a book called “Keys; a 90 Journey to Personal Freedom” (Publisher Amor Deus) which was released in March of this year. The aim is to assist people in learning how to roll with the punches and to seek and find joy in the little “Godshots” (or what we think of as coincidences) in our lives. The bottom line is that we have to provide good, effective answers to assess and treat this issue. One life lost is one too many. Continued on page 36.
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MAKING MEMORIES CONTINUED Man that was a good sight to see George round the bend. Pam had already fired up the little stove and was cooking hot dogs and George was ready for a Gatorade. Life was getting better by the moment. So much for the berry picking but we were truly making a Montana Mountain memory and content for this month’s issue. We took a potentially bad situation and turned into a fun day on the mountains. Granted I had rather have been picking huckleberries but it was still a great day in the mountains. Got the tire changed and back off the mountain we went. This could have been a really bad situation. Pam has MS and it gets really cool in the mountains this time of year at night. Can you figure out the things that went right, that we did right vs. the things that went wrong and learn from them yourself?
Let me make it easy for you...it started with a warning about a month before. The last time I went into Baldy Tire they warned me I was running too thin of a tire (I think it was a 4 ply) and that I needed to get new tires (6-10 ply) before hunting season. Trying to get every ounce of tread out of the tires that was on my truck, I procrastinated the large purchase. Well I am now the new owner of four brand new 10 ply all terrain tires. From a tire aspect my hunting rig is ready for hunting season. The rest I need to dig a little deeper to make sure. So check that hunting rig over before hunting season and make sure it is ready to handle these rough mountain roads, especially if Momma or the kids are going to be with you. Make sure you are prepared to spend the night in case of a break down and have a way to reach the outside world or put on those walking shoes. Remember the man upstairs listens to prayers (big & small) but most of the time it is us that doesn’t listen. A special thanks goes out to George Nass for coming to our rescue and Jerry Car for the use of his truck. I also want to thank Tony at Baldy Tire and the entire staff for all their assistance in getting back on the road not once but three times. In August their service was absolutely fast and amazing. Good job guys...thank you! (See their ad on page 12.) Pictured Left: This trip into the mountains had a lot less drama than the huckleberry picking adventures. Pam is now killing her own supper in case we get stranded again but rest assured the soft sided cooler was well stocked.
Making Memories Baby! 35
AWARENESS CONTINUED Warning signs for suicide: 1.talking about hurting or killing oneself. 2. Trying to get access to pills, weapons or other types of self destructive tools. 3. Talking or writing about death, dying or suicide. Some other things to watch for: hopelessness, rage, talk of seeing “no way out�, increased alcohol or drug abuse, withdrawing from friends and family, anxiety, changes in sleep patterns, notable mood changes and verbalizing having no reason to live. KEYS is now available in MT bookstores: Anaconda- Beyond Necessity, Butte - Books & Books, Hamilton, Chapter One Books, Libby- Mountain Meadows Gifts, Missoula- U of M Bookstore and Shakespeare & Co and in Plains at Plains Drug Store. Books are also available online via Amor Deus Publishing.
Matthew 11:28-30 28Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 29Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. 30For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
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