I'm a long time lurker here as I've been dreaming of a mountain hunt through Alberta for a long time. I've always known Alberta was a special place and I finally had the chance to fulfill my dream in early November on a guided Mule Deer hunt. The following is a recount of the experience.
Being a late-in-life hunter, I’ve had a lot of firsts between the tender ages of 30 and 35. It took me four years to punch my first deer tag, and while I’ve savored becoming a better outdoorsman, it’s been at a much slower pace than I anticipated. Initially inspired to take on the endeavor through the perfect storm of circumstances, it’s been a whirlwind of a ride that has enriched my life in ways nothing else could have.
Living in Ontario, Canada (don't hold it against me), the ecology and topography of the landscape limits your methods of hunting to a few - primarily ambush or still hunting. And living in Toronto, the largest city in Canada, the deer and areas I’m hunting could both easily be defined as suburban. While I love and will forever persue these (not that I have a choice), any time I see anything remotely mountain-hunting related, whether it be as mundane as a magazine ad or watching episodes 4 & 5 from season 6 of Meateater for the empteenth time (Land of Giants: Idaho mule Deer), the little boy and grown ass man in me say in unison – “I’ve gotta get out there.”
I’m an active guy who likes to stay on the move, making staying still in the stand my biggest challenge, so the allure of a spot and stalk hunt is something that checks a lot of boxes for me. With that being said, reading through the regs of the Western provinces put a hold on any pursuit. There are a lot of barriers to entry for the late onset hunter but trying to do a DIY mountain hunt as a resident of Ontario multiplies the difficulty. Mainly, there aren’t any provinces that allow OTC tags for non-residents without a resident hunter host or guide. I could always take the guided hunt approach, but have you seen house prices in Toronto recently? So unless I somehow make a friend who happens to live and hunt in Alberta or BC (unlikely), move (more unlikely), or find a duffle bag full of cash (wishful thinking), the chances of huffing it up a mountain with a tag in pocket were slim….that was until I randomly came across a Kijiji ad for a mountain Mule Deer hunt in Alberta. That’s right, a Kijiji ad.
Obviously, there was some skepticism when responding to the ad on my part, but after some back and forth with the outfitter, and most importantly seeing they had a legit website and reading some positive feedback on online forums, my intrigue was peaked. Now the final piece of the puzzle was cost, and with a last-minute cancellation by one of his other clients, the price wouldn’t punch the down payment on my mortgage in the gut. All this, combined with me quitting my job to start my own company and the passing of my father a few months earlier, it seemed like another perfect storm of circumstances to take a risk and go for it. And so with the grin of a kid on Christmas, and a “here we go” to an empty room, I sent my deposit.
With about eight weeks until the hunt, I started to do my research to get my gear and myself in order. I’ll be honest and say that the gear process was a fun one. I’m a gear junkie at heart, so researching all the necessary parts of what I needed was an excuse to geek out extra hard. I relied a lot on the classifieds section of various forums and local buy and sell ads (Kijiji for the win!) for things like tripods and a spotting scope, but when it came to things like merino underwear, I thought it best to buy those new.
The physical aspect was an odd one however, as it required me to train for something that I couldn’t actually do in practice, which is climb up a mountain. While I can do lunges until my butt resembles Shakira’s (Google it), the general consensus online is that there’s no substitute for doing it. Which brings us to the Centennial Park bunny hill, a Mystery Ranch frame pack and a 30kg/66lb pound bag of gravel from Home Depot. While less than a foothill, let alone a mountain, it’s as hilly as it gets within the Greater Toronto Area and hiking up and down that thing wasn’t a walk in the park figuratively (though I was literally walking through a park). I also have the distinction of becoming the first male under 65 to use the Stairmaster at my gym. 100 floors were a chore at first, but by the end I was crushing 400. Tie in carrying in x2 45lbs of bait to some trail cam sites on a friend's property, and I thought I was good to go…….thought being the key word.
Fast forward eight weeks and I landed at the Calgary International Airport, getting picked up by my guide Sam Laforce of Laforce Outdoors (
www.huntbackcountry.com). His muddy white truck (possibly the worst colour choice for an outfitter) and me with a giant rucksack and duffle made it easy to find each other in the mass of people in sport coats traveling for business.
Shortly into the conversation, I think we both concluded we’re in the same category of crazy. A couple of hours later, and a failed attempt at taking a dump in an already clogged and nearly overflowing gas station toilet, and we were at base camp – a field of snow with a wall tent. This would be our camp for the night, then we’d head to the trailhead for our backcountry river valley trek early the following morning.
Matt, one of Sam’s guides, arrived shortly after to set up another wall tent for clients doing a resident only educational hunt. This program takes AB residents from noobs and gives them the skills to make extended stays in the backcountry. The course load includes long range shooting (Matt was a sniper in the military), chainsaw fundamentals (Sam still works in forestry), glassing, field dressing and meat care. Since we were all in the same camp the first night, I hung out for part of the chainsaw class and learned a ton. If you’re a resident looking to take the plunge, I can’t recommend this enough. If it was offered in Ontario, I’d be all over it.
Day 2
The next morning, we loaded up our gear and headed to the trailhead. The road was thick with the trucks of hunters, but we were heading to place that few people were willing to work to get to, and only seeing one other hunter in six days is a testament to that (hope you tagged out a beauty, Harley.) A long hike from the truck got us to our basecamp. In addition to his ruck, Sam also pulled a sled to bring certain luxuries, mainly a Kifaru Sawtooth and backcountry stove. Getting to use this was a real treat for me, as I don’t see another scenario where I’d get the opportunity.
Once the camp was set and gear in order, we headed down the mostly frozen over river to glass the mountains on either side. And soon thereafter, I was doing something I’d been dreaming of for years; glassing for mule deer in the mountains. Given my excitement, I’m not sure I really soaked it all in, but I’ve got a grin while writing this and reflecting on that moment.
Day 3
This was my first full day of hunting! Saying I’m not a morning person is an understatement but getting up at 5am was easy on this day. After getting our gear in order, we headed up the mountain right behind camp, which has some great vantage points. The hike up was what I had been training for and although tough, I was holding my own. It was snowing lightly when we started. but about 2/3 of the way it became a full white out. So we found a small ledge with a cluster of trees to wait out the storm.
Eventually the snow lifted, and we continued on our way to the top. The peak offered a great view of the bowl behind the mountain and the faces on the other side of the valley, while also offering an area with heavily used trails that was within shooting distance. I mainly stayed at the spot that offered a shot, and although it took a bit to make this spot my own, I ended up making a La-Z-Boy made of snow.
We glassed until sunset and had a group of does below us in shooting range, but the bucks were too cool to make an appearance. I had a small victory in that the layering system I had put together worked like a charm and I never got uncomfortably cold. The trip down in the dark was interesting to say the least. My inexperience in the mountains meant I took it at a grandma’s pace. Meanwhile, Sam was sliding down like a downhill skier. I’ve deduced that Sam just accepts slips and falls at this point, which gives him a confidence that enables him to Billy goat his way up and down these hills.
Day 4
We started this day by glassing from the river bottom up into the mountains – Sam glassed one side, and I the other. Sure enough, I saw the same group of does feed into the same spot as the day before, but still with no buck in tow. Not too long into the sit Sam came over to show me a buck on the mountain right behind me. This 3x3 was at least 3 ½ years old and full bodied.
And now came a decision years in the making – do we go after him? I had a lot to consider. First off, with 3.5 days left, I didn’t want the hunt to end. He also wasn’t the deer I had pictured in my head, which admittedly, was greedy of me and a rookie opinion. Sam mentioned there were some 4x4s in the area and that got stuck in my head. If this was the whitetail equivalent in Ontario, I’d be ecstatic to harvest a deer of this caliber. Lastly, we both knew we were going to get snowed in the next day. With the loss of a day, my 3.5 days (including this day) was really going to be 2.5 days. Something I didn’t consider, though, was how a day of whiteout would affect our ability to hike up the mountains. I’ll chalk this up to my inexperience mountain hunting, but in hindsight it’s pretty obvious that a day of snowstorms will make things tougher for you the following day.
If you haven’t come to the conclusion yet, I decided to pass, but not without Sam telling me old adage “don’t pass on the first day what you’d shoot on the last day”……..more than once. During that morning other than that buck, we only saw does, so we decided to head up the mountain.
While heading up a particularly steep section, we approached a large cluster of trees prime for bedding. Sam pushed me to shoulder my rifle, but the steep hillside was tough enough with trekking poles, so I pushed back. Then Sam hit me with the most badass line of the trip “When it comes to killing, there are no compromises.” I later asked him if he’d used this before, but he just came up with it on the spot, which makes it even more badass. Of course, we ended up spooking does out of that bush, and sure enough because my rifle wasn’t shouldered, had there been a buck I wouldn’t have been ready. Stupid Sam, with his years of experience, giving me good advice.
Once at the top of the mountain, Sam glassed up another buck, a 3x4, but this guy was noticeably smaller than the first, so we just watched him bed. One thing to note is Sam was a spotter for Matt, the former sniper, in the military, making his game eye something to behold. He spotted this deer in bush so thick that if that deer hadn’t moved and I been glassing to this day, I still don’t think I could find him. We had some additional entertainment in the form of two does that came into our Montana Decoy. They hung around for about 10 minutes and seemed too curious about the decoy to care about us. A small group of Stone Sheep also fed on the neighboring face not 200 yards from us.
We ended the day heading down the mountain in darkness again, and with a bit more experience under my belt, I was able to go slightly faster than my grandmother.
Day 5
This was the dreaded snow day, and well, it was what it was……snowy.
Day 6
The last full day of hunting, I woke up excited but also extremely nervous. I don’t subscribe to manifesting your dreams through positive thoughts, but like an atheist praying on a sinking ship, I told myself “Today is the day! There’s going to be deer! You’re going to do this!” And with my positive vibes being sent into the universe, we set out to glass in the river bottom.
At this point, I was ready to take Sam up on his advice of shooting what I would not pass up on the last day…….because it was the second last day. The same does from days before were out again. They eventually fed into the tree line and I thought to myself “it’s peak rut, where the hell are the damn bucks?!” And on que, Sam shot up to me and told me to grab my gun, then showed me the pic taken from his spotting scope.
“Oh ****” was all I could muster up. I was clearly too excited, because Sam told me to calm down and meet him back at camp asap, as he was bedded on the mountain we were camped on the base of.
Once hiking, I immediately I noticed how much more difficult it was with all the snow. As soon as it got steep, I was slipping everywhere. Every step of elevation required two or three attempts. And about 20 minutes in is when things started to go south. I couldn’t keep up with Sam. I was getting more winded by the second, and worst of all, I was pouring sweat. Remember that layering system I was so proud of? In my excitement I had only taken off one oversized puffy and my Gore-Tex layer from my torso, and no layers from my legs. This left merino boxers, a heavy merino baselayer, Sitka 90% pants, down puffy pants and goretex pants on my legs. And on my torso were two heavy merino layers, mid-weight down puffy jacket and Sitka Stratus jacket.
I’m humbled to say that this is when the mountain broke me. Every step was a challenge. Every slip like a slap in the face. And with the rising sun, I knew I was failing at the task at hand. Eventually it got to the point where I was counting my steps in threes, then taking a break. There was a large part of me that wanted to give up several times, but I knew I’d never forgive myself. Sweating through my layers, I took to eating snow to rehydrate and cool down during rests.
Eventually I got to Sam and he told me what I already knew, the buck had gotten up and headed over the saddle. When he arrived, the buck had already been standing, but he had slowly been stretching and feeding for about 10 minutes before leaving. Had I got there with Sam, I would have had a shot.
All was not lost, though, and there was a chance the buck could have bedded just over the saddle, giving me an undeserved second chance. So I ate some more snow, slouched over my trekking poles, and followed Sam’s tracks because I couldn’t keep up with him again.
When I finally got to the top, Sam was smiling ear to ear, the buck had bedded not too far away and was in a killable spot. I was so broken that I couldn’t be as excited as I should have. I knew there were two points of failure for this hunt - my gear and body – and despite my efforts, my body failed. Then, while taking a break and deciding on our next steps, the buck, for whatever reason (probably sensing my self-loathing), got up, started walking, and headed into the tree line almost a kilometer away. One plus side to being at your worst is that you can’t get much lower, and that buck sauntering out of my life seemed like the more deserved ending to this stalk. And so with the buck gone and me in shambles, we glassed the river valley from the same peak I had made my La-Z-Boy days earlier. Sam, with his superior game eye, spotted dozens of deer on the neighboring mountains. Although they were all too far to hunt this day (thank Jesus!), he said it was one of the best days of glassing he’d ever had.
Remember that opening with the heavily used game trails that was within shooting distance? Well, not too long after setting up, several deer, along with a spike, walked into it. Sam urged me to get my rifle ready, but all my sweat had long since frozen my hands solid and I was a shaky mess. I still managed to get the rifle up and the deer in my crosshairs, but it was too unethical a shot given how shaky I was, and I opted to pass. The rest of the day went on without anything of note, other than us glassing a new set of tracks, following them, only to find another hunter. He had actually set up camp where we encountered the curious does and Stone Sheep the other day. It takes a certain level of grit to go solo into a spot like that, and this guy had it in spades.
Eventually the sun went down, and we headed down the mountain. With some time to absorb the disappointment and reflect on the day, my enthusiasm returned, and I asked Sam if, given the opportunity, I could go after a deer the following day. Given that I could only hunt for half of our last day, I could only go after a deer if it was huntable from camp. Another bonus was that I was flying down the mountain only slightly slower than Sam. Small victories, my friends, small victories.
Day 7
I’d love to tell you I saw a buck this morning and I sprinted up the mountain to put the ultimate stalk on him. In fact, I didn’t even bother with any positive mantras this morning as I somehow knew this trip was over. Not to say I was feeling negative about the trip, but I just felt as if it was over. I glassed up some does, and although they were in the same spot I had seen them over and over, being behind glass watching them slowly feed into the tree line was a fitting end.
When we got back to the truck, Sam busted out a case of fruit cups. I’ve never been a fan of fruit cups, so when I saw them on the way up, I completely discounted it. But after six days of hunting, I crushed seven cups in about 10 minutes. I still don’t think I’ll ever buy them, but I’m now on team fruit cups.
Being back at civilization and it being my first trip like this, I loved the juxtaposition of obviously being a hunter checking into a nice hotel, and the sight of my filthy gear in their shiny baggage carts gave me a smile. At the hotel I drank at least 2.5 liters between checking into the hotel and going to sleep, yet I only went to the bathroom twice before checking out. It stands to reason that I was a bit dehydrated.
This trip was years in the making and is a story I’ll tell anyone who’ll listen. Am I upset at myself for not going after that 3x3? Yes. And even though I’m considering it a lesson learned, it still stings every time I look at the pics of him on my phone, which will be daily for the foreseeable future.
As far as my breakdown, I honestly don’t know if it was due to overheating or being unprepared. The answer probably lies somewhere in between, but hopefully more on the side of overheating. One thing is for sure, it’s that I’ll be upping the intensity of my training for next time, because there will be a next time, and a time after that, because along with having a score to settle, that mountain beat the crap out of me and it was one of the best experiences of my life.
An Eastern Whitetail hunter's first experience hunting in the mountains of Alberta
Hybrid Mode
