Elk Mountain

There wasn't a cloud in the sky as I started out. The trees were on fire with the Fall and the air was as crisp as a September apple. I had planned the day perfectly. My backpack was loaded with food, clothes, emergency supplies and ammunition. I was off in search of the elusive elk in the high mountain country of Northern Idaho. More than that, I was looking for a part of myself that I hadn't had for far too many years. I really had no idea how I would find that lost piece of my soul and what the journey ahead held.

I began my climb, backpack and rifle neatly in place. The hills leading up the canyon were steep and covered with low-lying bushes that reached 8 feet in places. The going was slow and painstaking. I had to pick my way one bush at a time. I didn't mind. My mind kept telling me how great it was to come up against the elements and win. I felt strong. I was confident and even if I never saw an elk, I would make this a day to remember.

Once I reached the top of the draw I came out into a bald spot on the hill. From there I could see for miles. It was awesome. The mountains seemed to go on forever. Blues and greens mixed with the bright yellows and oranges to make a canvas that could only be painted by the Creator Himself. At first I thought: "I wish I had a camera." Then I changed my mind. "You could never capture this on film. It's far to subtle, too dynamic, too real. I pressed on into the first valley.

As I moved on, the weather began to change. First it just got cooler. Then the sun disappeared behind a bank of clouds that soon covered the entire sky. I really didn't pay much attention. I was on the move. That was my first mistake. Never ignore weather changes in the high country. As I came to the base of the draw I realized that I had some choices to make. There were what appeared to be three ridges ahead. Which one would lead me further into the area I wanted to hunt? Checking my compass, it seemed like the middle one was correct, so off I went.

Within an hour I knew I had made the wrong choice. Standing before the 200 foot rock wall dotted with small plateaus and outcropping of brush, I realized I blew it. The problem was that while I was walking into the canyon, the canyon had become shrouded in a dense fog. I was disoriented. As I rested and thought about my situation, it began to snow. First a little and then a lot. Within what seemed like a few minutes I was in the midst of a blizzard. The storm had come in behind me, so I figured I'd climb out of it. Up the wall I went. About half of the way up as I was reaching for a hold on some brush, the ground underneath my feet fell away. I was left hanging in mid air by the roots of the brush above me. Below me was a fifty foot drop that ended in a small lake.

Try as I might I could not pull myself up. Every time I would try, my backpack would get hung up in the roots. I was getting exhausted and afraid. I slipped off the backpack and tried to pull myself up with one arm. The backpack and all my supplies fell from my grip and rolled down the hill into the lake and out of site. Now I was worried. I managed to get past the roots and up to the ledge. I couldn't go back. The ground was gone. I had to go on. So up I climbed inch by inch, rock by rock and root by root. It took what seemed like hours to reach the top. Once there I was in shock. My clothes were soaked to the bone. I was freezing cold and I had never been so tired. It was getting late. I had to get out or I was in big trouble. I walked the ridge until I found a route off the side. Working my way down took what little strength I had left and when I got to the bottom, I sat in disbelief.
What had gone wrong? Why was I so lost? I had used my compass many times to try and find my way. I was sure I was heading north. Then it dawned on me. Every time I used the compass I was holding my rifle on my shoulder. The readings were all pointing to the rifle not true north. Now I felt like a complete idiot. I was near frozen, maybe near death and it was all my fault. The conquering hero had turned into a joke. But there was no time for self-pity. The sun was setting and I knew if I didn't get out quick, I would freeze to death. Like a crazed man I began running up the first hill I found. "The higher I go, the more light I will have." I reasoned. Running, falling, getting up and falling again, I clawed my way on. Then the hill leveled out and the path disappeared. Before me was a wide stream overgrown with huge brush. I frantically looked for another way. There wasn't one. So, into the stream I went. I was already dripping wet. Nothing mattered now except survival.

I forged my way down stream for a while falling every few feet on the slick rocks. Gasping for air and shaking out of control, I finally had to get out. I just couldn't go on. As I hit the bank of the stream I fell in total despair. "I'm going to die out here; alone, freezing and a failure. What about my wife, my kids. I haven't done a thing with my life. I always thought that a person's life flashed before them at a time like this. I can't think of a thing I've said or done of any value. No, there's Barbara and Rachel and Joe. And there's God. God. Suddenly, I realized that throughout the entire ordeal I had never really talked to God. I had just been so busy staying alive. Lying on the ground, I felt my remaining strength drain out onto the snow covered earth. "Lord," I said, "I may be with you soon. I'm really scared. Not to die, but to die like this; alone and without having done anything I wanted to do with my life. I feel like I've let You down and I've really failed myself. I'm sorry. I just can't go on."

Before I had hardly finished my little prayer, I heard a voice in my head. "Jerry, you need to get up one more time and climb. It's not far, but you can't stay where you are. You must try one more time." "I can't do it. I'm too tired. I'm so sleepy", I said. The voice sounded again. This time it was louder. "Jerry, get up right now and climb!" Not wanting to get God mad right before I hit heaven, I put all my energy together and crawled up the hill. It was totally dark. I could see nothing. I could feel nothing. I just dug my way along in the dirt; pulling my frozen limp body by my fingers. Then, with what I was sure was my last surge of energy, I reached up in search of something to grab onto to pull myself up one last time. My hand hit a log. I gripped a branch on it and jerked myself over it. As I landed on the log, I saw something. It was a road or a trail. No, it was a dirt road. I had come up at the end of the road.

To make a long story short, I stood up and began to follow the road inch by inch in the dark. After an hour or so I saw a light in the distance and I moved toward it. Once there, I found two men at their camp. They took me in, nursed me back to semi-consciousness and gave a ride to my own camp some seven miles away. As I sat in the back of the truck, I thought over what had happened. I had truly come to the end of my self and in the process God had taken me to the end of the road to bring me to a new understanding of what it means to obey His voice. I never want to go through something like that again. Though I know I might. But more than that, I never want to doubt His voice nor disobey His instructions. I have learned that my end is His beginning and that His grace is sufficient for all my needs.

Oh, I don't hunt alone anymore either.