SITKA GEAR - Hunting and Archery Gear/blog/feeds/atom.xml Sitka Insight Copyright (c) 2013 SITKA GEAR - Hunting and Archery Gear 2013-05-20T19:29:32Z Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/05/15/Sitka-in-the-Khalarhi-.aspx 2013-05-16T23:21:45Z 2013-05-15T23:32:00Z 2013-05-01T23:38:10Z I had the opportunity to take my wife to Botswana on a 7 day bow hunt in the Kalahari this past October.  Just returning from a 70 day deployment to Afghanistan, I was so excited to share this hunt with my wife. This would be Jens first trip to Africa, and my 5th. In my line of work, mistakes can be very costly. This is true for hunting big game in Africa as well. I knew I had to be dialed and confident. In Africa, the hunting blinds are super hot, which added an element that I wasn't use to. Growing up whitetail hunting, the heat was never that extreme, and so I needed to be mentally and physically ready for opportunities that came. On one of the days, while approaching a choice blind, a herd of zebra were quenching their thirst.  It was an amazing sight.  As we were taking in the beauty that Africa had to offer, an old grizzled waterbuck suddenly came into view. Majestic. A veteran of many a hunting season stood fearlessly in front of us. At 40 yards with daylight slipping away I drew back. Cheating a quick glance at my wife, I took a deep breath and settled the pin on his front shoulder. As the string released the arrow flew straight and true hitting its mark.   Perhaps its my years in the military that make me appreciate these moments so much. The time spent in a blind with the person I love the most, and the anticipation of being a father, created a recipe that I will never forget. I will hang on to this experience for the rest of my life and look forward to one day sharing the adventure with my son. Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/05/09/Season-Ender.aspx 2013-05-09T20:50:36Z 2013-05-09T22:51:28Z 2012-11-28T00:54:25Z Montana's general hunting season was quickly coming to a close and I had yet to fill my deer tag. The bigger buck Id been after continued to stay just out of range. With the clock ticking I passed on some good bucks, however, it was beginning to feel like crunch time. This was my third year hunting this area and I had yet to kill a buck. Deer really have the ability to humble me. I made it a point to hunt a bit harder this year in an effort to kill a mature deer. I set my stands early in the year, focusing on a few new locations, and logged as much time in the stand as I could. As the rut heated up, I made a few all day sits and with the changing weather came an increase in deer activity. The bucks were active and my biggest predicament was which stand I should sit in. I held out on several decent deer with the hope of shooting a trophy. Just when I thought I was getting these deer figured out, theyd throw me for a loop. The deer I wanted always seemed to be just out of range or he picked the trail that went behind my stand. Treestand hunting is a patience builder, but as the end of the season approached, my patience was growing thin. With a little over a week to go, I really wanted to put some more meat in the freezer and I still had hopes of hanging a trophy on the wall, however,Id been hunting a lot and I was beginning to question my priorities. That morning, I snuck in extra early and I made up my mind that I needed to call it quits this year. 'One last sit and Im hanging up the bow', I told myself. Just a little before first light, the area started to come alive. I could make out several does and I knew that a good buck was nearby. Another half an hour passed and I saw him. He was following a few does. They crossed the fence and were moving directly towards me. I got everything ready and the next thing I knew, they turned and started feeding away. As they disappeared I got a little disappointed, but there was nothing I could do about it.  At that moment I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. It was a smaller buck and it looked like he had something tangled up in his antlers. As he got closer, I realized he had an arrow sticking out of his neck. My mind raced, but my bow was ready. He was certainly not the trophy I was after, but he was hurting. Would he make it through the winter with that kind of wound? He was getting closer and as his head passed behind a big cottonwood, I drew. He kept walking, never noticing me, and I stopped him on my left side. He looked up and Id already settled in for a 16 yard shot.   He jumped and ran about 60 yards. As I got down out of my stand, I was relieved to bring my season to an end and top off the freezer. Certainly not with a trophy whitetail, but I feel I made the ethical choice. Who knows how long he had been walking around with that arrow sticking out of his neck. Even though Im fairly new to archery hunting, I do know shots such as this are sometimes reality. To the former owner of that arrow I know that wasnt where you intended to place it, but Ill gladly use it to shoot gophers in the spring. Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/05/07/Full-Circle.aspx 2013-05-07T17:04:23Z 2013-05-07T17:04:34Z 2012-12-12T21:17:31Z Fires and extreme drought had taken a firm grip on Montana, and a blue moon with the early start to bow season made things even more challenging. I let the first few days slide by in camp with my wife and three-year-old daughter. We just took it easy, and I did a little scouting in the mornings. It was fun to have my wife and daughter in camp for the third year in a row. Nina, my little girl, was getting a good hang of her new toy bow and arrow. Watching her chase chipmunks around camp was as much fun as getting out hunting myself.   A few days later, my wife left camp and my buddy 'Big E' showed up for his first archery elk hunt. I know of a couple small springs that I hunted over the years. A friend of mine and I have done pretty well sitting near water when it's hot. The key to these spots, which are on different mountains about 12 miles apart, is that other hunters have to pressure the other side of the mountain in order to push elk into the secluded areas. Waiting for a good wind to go in and hunt is the real key to these spots. The elk have the advantage. Big E and I worked a couple spots with no avail. A couple days later we had the proper wind for spring number one. We hiked in at 4pm and let things get quiet. About a hour into our sit, a couple cows came racing into water. I got Big E set up and we waited for a shot as the cows and one calf shifted around and drank. Before Big E could get a shot, the wind swirled and the cows bumped off the spring. Big E and I had an agreement if a smaller bull or a cow came in it was all his, but I had first crack at a mature bull. Almost on cue, a far-off bugle echoed down from the ridge. I cow called and a rapid descent was confirmed by his increasingly loud, rank battle-cries. About 150 yards out, the wind shifted again and the bull turned and retreated. We had no choice but to get desperate. Circling to regain the wind advantage, I challenged the weary bull with a bugle of my own. He answered, but had seen enough. A close call an action-packed evening, but Big E would walk away with an uncut tag. I needed to back out and give the area a break, so I pointed the truck in a new direction. The following few days proved frustrating as I wouldn't see or hear a single elk. With high temperatures and perfect wind directions in the forecast, my mind raced back to bugling bull near the spring, now 400 miles away. The race was on. After an eight hour drive and a quick shower, I was hiking hard for my lower spring. 45 minutes into my set, a few cows came blasting into the water, but bucked off and pulled the rest of the cows with her. Seconds later, the bull screamed and he was crashing in fast, wanting to keep an eye on his harem. At 65 yards he offered a broadside shot, but I elected to let him come closer. He came into 30 yards, stopped perfect and looked directly into my soul. He'd detected my presence, but couldn't confirm it with his nose. Provoking a confrontation, he let out a raspy bugle. I cut him off mid-scream with a broadhead to the lungs. I knew my quest for a mature public land bull had ended the exact spot it started, 12 years prior, when I took my first bull from the same spring. I thanked God for my life and the life of this elk that would feed my family. I cried as I approached the beast. The following morning I packed my out my elk accompanied by my buddies Hector and Wolfy. We watched one of the most glorious fall days unfold before our eyes. I knew my quest for a mature public land bull had ended the exact spot it started, 12 years prior, when I took my first bull from the same spring. Things had really come full circle.  Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/04/30/Black-and-White.aspx 2013-05-03T15:28:11Z 2013-04-30T22:57:46Z 2013-02-22T18:58:03Z This photo essay appears with permission from the Wild Sheep Foundation in its entirety and was originally published in the Winter 2013 Issue of Wild Sheep Magazine.  Please become a member of the WSF and help to put and keep sheep on the mountain. I didnt go to school for photography. My college made it pretty hard for students outside of the major to get into classes.  I did, however, jump through the bureaucratic hoops and get up at 4 a.m. one fall morning to be first in line for any open slots in the Photography 101 class.  It worked, and I spent more time in the darkroom that fall than anywhere else.  It was the one and only photography class I could take, so I soaked up as much information as possible.  Back then you did everything yourself, digital cameras hadnt been invented.  I learned to love black and white photography and for the first time in over a decade, Im falling in love with it all over again. I had another epic adventure this fall with Tavis and Rebecca Molnar of Arctic Red River Outfitters in the N.W.T.s Mackenzie Mountains.  The sheep hunting was amazing (as usual) and my friends Kiviok Hight, Bobby Warner, and I all harvested great rams.  It was an especially cool experience as Kiviok harvested his first Dalls sheep with a bow, Bobby harvested his first Dalls sheep (also first ram) and I harvested my first ever WILD SHEEP. After looking over the nearly 14,000 photos from the adventure, the ones shared here really jumped out at me.  Not sure what it is about black and white, but those beautiful Dalls sheep really shine in this format. Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/04/25/Athlete-Insider-Donnie-Vincent.aspx 2013-04-25T21:40:32Z 2013-04-25T17:29:24Z 2013-04-22T18:17:56Z On Tuesday , April 30th at 11am M ST we 're excited to host Sitka Athlete Donnie Vi ncent for a LIVE Q / A on our Facebook Page . Head over to hear a bout his latest film , why he hunts, what gear he uses and anything else you'd like to know. Until then, read up on what makes him suc h an intriguing personality, and why we're proud and honored to call him a Sitka Athlete . We regard our team of Si tka Athlete s as an extremely talented group of hunters and strive to share stories about their experience , the thrill of adventure in rugged places and complete immersion in the pu rsuit of wild animals. But mor e than just ability , there's something truly unique and remarkable about each and every Athlete , a ll with their own story to tell. Wit hout a doubt, Athlete Donni e Vincent fi t s the definiti o n of 'remar kable' and fully commits to sharing hi s beautifully told , intriguing and inspiring stories . His recently released trailer for "The River's Divide" el udes to a full length documentar y that is nothin g short of spectacular . But who is Donnie Vincent? What makes him so remarkable? Dive in with us for a brief look into the past, present and future of a man utterly and equally committed to his discipline of bowhu nting and storytelling through cinematogra phy.   Wi th a degree in W ildlife B iology from the University of Minnesota, the stage was set for a life traveling the world. Work took him to far away places like Bangladesh and Nepal, where he studied Bengal Tigers. He spent years researching spawning habits of native Salmon in Alaska, powering through f ive month stints in a two - person tent. B eing immersed in remote wilderness , regardless of the activity, is where Donnie felt most alive . O nce studies were completed for the year, Donnie wo uld fly himself to the A rctic C ircle to chase Caribou with his bow, DIY style . Attributing his passion for h unting to past generations, Donnie a b sorb ed his fa ther ' s ta l es of hunting in Northern Maine and Jack O' C onnor authored stories of epic mount ain hunt s. Horse pack trains and successful hunters taping out Dall's Sheep horns by la ntern were burned in his memory, and he quickly became determi ned and inspired to live out the adventures for himself. From Russian Snow Sheep to Yukon Moose , Grizzly Bear , and Dall 's Sheep , D onnie has no shortage of his own tales to tell. It was only natural that he beg an filming his hunts to capture and share his stories. Assembl ing a talented digital production crew in Sicmanta , Donni e and his team are striving to prod uc e ground breaking imagery and unparallelled story telling in the hu nting industry.    The team's first work, "The River's Divide", is a full length documentary encompass ing a n epic two year journey around Donnie's pursuit of  a single giant Whi tetail he notoriously named 'Ste ve ' . The film will be debu t on the Full Draw Film Tour this s ummer . With several projects in the works for 201 4 a nd a filming schedule chocked-full with new tales to be told , we're excited to follow along along in Donnie and his team's bright and busy future . Tune in to our  Facebook Page next Tuesday , April 30th @11am M ST for the LIVE Q/A . For more on Donnie, stay tuned to his website and Facebook Page . Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/04/23/Spring-Fever.aspx 2013-04-23T20:56:08Z 2013-04-23T20:49:00Z 2013-04-18T21:04:42Z The depression of the end of waterfowl season quickly subsides when preparation for S pring turkey season comes into full swing . The sights and sounds of the Springtime woods are unique, especially when they come alive with the gobbles of a wily Tom. Moments like a gobbler finally answering, the first peek at a multi-colored head or a fan at full strut always keep me coming back to the woods.   The day started like many others. I made my way to the parking area on a public land spot . To my delight, the parking lot was empty. I quickly gathered my gear and headed into the crisp darkness. After the hike, I set up my Dave Smith Decoy hens on an old skid road. I settled into the blind and readied myself for what the day would bring.  I'd hunted this spot earlier in the week and had seen a bunch of hens. B eing early in the season , I was surprised no Toms were accompany ing the hen s, but they'd yet to show themselves. I was prepared for the long haul and determined to have the day end only by success or the end of legal shooting time, which was 4:00pm. The woods were quiet and I'd yet to hear a gobble. About midday, I had a couple of hens start their way down the road toward my location . T hey had a big Tom in tow. Things were looking up and I silently hop ed the Tom would follow the hens to the decoys . The hens came right in and proceeded to beat up on the decoys , while the Tom hung up at 75 yards and put on quite a show. Once the hens were done abusing my DSD's they retreated back the way they came, taking the Tom with them.    As the afternoon wore on, I started to doubt whether I'd get another opportunity . Suddenly, something grabbed my attention. I trained my eyes on the grass and saw an unmistakable red, white and blue dot cutting through the grass backed by the familiar curvature of a tail fan.   I couldn't fully see the bird, but I knew he was mature. He made a beeline toward the decoys. As he came through the grass and stepped onto the road, I could see the beard and began to ready myself for the shot.  He sauntered up and bumped the decoy. I putted, he raised his head and I connected on the 22 lb., ten inch bearded bird. It made for a great end to a long day and a hunt I'll never forget. Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/04/18/The-Off-Season-Part-II.aspx 2013-04-18T21:19:58Z 2013-04-18T19:31:28Z 2013-04-16T19:38:04Z This is the conclusion of The Off Season . For Part One Click here .  Up first was one of my past clients, Larry Todd of Ohio. On the first day, we planned to check out some fairly easy country in the front range before packing in and spiking out. Right away, we spotted three different bands of sheep and a couple of shooters. Four hours later, we were lined up above two bedded rams, ready to strike.  The large ram decided to feed our way. At 178 yards, Larry made a well-placed shot, dropping the ram in his tracks and becoming just a Rocky Mountain Bighorn away from his Four North American Sheep (FNAWS). After the hunt, we returned to Cabo for a few relaxing days with Larry and the other successful Archery hunter, Sitka Ambassador Lonny Vannatta of Colorado. Lonny outfits Elk hunts in Colorado ( Vannata Outfitting ) and this Archery Sheep completed his FNAWS with a bow. He was pumped to say the least.     Next up was hunter Jay Curry of IL. Jay is a hunter that I might be the most proud of. He hunted hard last year in the same area right after receiving heart surgery and 15 stitches. He was unsuccessful, but came back this year and Cole and I had a great time sharing the mountain with him. After seven days of hunting, and seven miles walked, we got Jay an opportunity. This particular stalk was a hard, two day  trek using ropes and every bit of energy he had. An incredible feat. One step at a time, right Jay!   Making memories! Jay took a great ram at 3800 ft.   Hunt three was Mike Brownell from WY. Mike has hunted Stone's and Bighorns with us in BC and has hunted with Cole in Alaska for Brown Bear. This hunt was going to be a challenge... or so we thought. Mike was hunting in the same spot that Jay spent seven days hunting before seeing a shooter. His goal was an upgrade on his last Desert (155''), which would be lofty to say the least, as the Baja subspecies doesn't typically exceed 160''.     Right away we found three rams. Everyone was excited except for Mike. He didn't want the hunt to be over. We decided to pass, but within minutes we found three more. One of them looked to be the best ram we'd seen in the area this season. We packed our packs for an overnighter and hit the trail running. Four hours of hard hiking and lots of sweat put us 175 yards from the small band and Mike's crosshairs settled on a ram's shoulder.  One steep shot from way above and the beautiful sheep laid motionless on the mountain side. It was short but sweet! Mike's ram will score right at 160 and is one of the prettiest Desert Sheep I've seen. Typically in the Baja, you don't see lamb-tipped rams, but this one was perfect.   Back to Cabo for another seaside dinner and relaxation with the hunter and his other friend, Micky Fisher, who was also successful on day one in another area. Micky's sheep also finished his FNAWS so it was another great trip all around.   After Baja, I flew home to Canada for a quick three days, then I was off again. This time I was headed to Hermosillo to meet up with Richie L'Esperance of NY. Richie won the 1/2 Slam draw at GSCO and invited me to join him on his hunt. Richie is on a quest for the 700 club and wanted to take a 180 class ram so I suggested he pay the upgrade and hunt Tiburon Island. On day five of the hunt, one of our mutual friends Derek Blake of Alaska showed up to join us. Derek had just finished a Muskox hunt in Alaska and was was just in time to see Richie pull the trigger on his huge, 180'' Desert Sheep. Short lived for Derek, but worth it.      Right after Richie killed his ram we were told that Alcampo had one last tag for their Alamo Ranch about five hours north.   Derek jumped on it and we were off again! Derek took a great ram at 80 yards and quickly became a 3/4 slammer. Not bad for a 30 year old self-employed fisherman. Derek's Ram greens 170 5/8''.   Now, I'm finally home. I hope to get a bit caught up. Since December, 29th I have only slept at home three nights. I am living a dream!   Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/04/17/2nd-Annual-DIVERGE-Photo-Contest--Top-50.aspx 2013-04-17T22:13:36Z 2013-04-17T21:44:19Z 2013-04-17T21:40:55Z What does it mean to //DIVERGE//?              diverge  [dih-vurj]                   verb                  1. to move or extend in different directions from a common point; branch off.                   2. to differ in opinion, character, form, etc.; deviate.                   3. Mathematics: (of a sequence, series, etc.) to have no unique limit; to have infinity as a limit.                   4. to turn aside or deviate, as from a path, practice, or plan. The earth lies somewhere beneath all that autumn snow, and you have two choices: 1.) follow some other guy's bootpack, or 2.) start breaking trail. Option one, some would argue, is clearly preferable. Youll have solid footing. You'll see where the other guy stumbled or slid or sank in deep. Where he had to backtrack from some insurmountable obstacle. And if you end up in a place you don't want to be, you can always blame the other guy. Following the beaten path is easier and far safer.  And yet to //DIVERGE// means freedom. It means solitude. It means challenge and self-reliance and, at times, danger. It isn't the path of least resistance. It's the path of risk and determination. Sitka Gear was born from this second path, from choosing to //DIVERGE//. Today, we build gear to keep you alive, comfortable, and agile in the most demanding conditions imaginable so you can focus solely on the pursuit. The Sitka //DIVERGE// Photo Contest was made for hunters who go their own way. Not all of them pursue game in uncommon places, but they all see the world in uncommon ways. That's what makes their photos so captivating, and so inspiring. They don't just tell their buddy to hold an animal out at arm's length, say "cheese," and then snap the same old photo we've seen time and time again.  No. They capture the the fullness of the hunting experience. One look at their photos and you can smell the rain on the wind, feel the heat of the rising sun, or hear a leaf fall in a dead silent wood. Their images draw us in and refuse to let go. They fuel our passion and our ambition, inspiring us to get out, go farther, and do more of what we love. We received more than 650 images like this from Sitka Tribe members across the country and around the world. Below is a selection of our favorites from the 2nd Annual //DIVERGE// Photo Contest. You can see ALL 50 of our favorites here . Tomorrow, you will be able to vote on the top two, and decide once and for all which photo will grace the pages of the 2013 Sitka Gear Catalog.   You can see ALL 50 of our favorites here . Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/04/16/The-Off-Season-Part-I.aspx 2013-04-16T21:17:52Z 2013-04-16T17:25:50Z 2013-04-02T17:38:18Z Editor's Note: Sitka Athlete Dustin Roe may spend more time chasing sheep than any guide on the planet. Already in 2013, he's successfully guided five Desert Rams and attended as many tradeshows, while others don't have sheep on the radar for another six months. This is Dustin's account of his "Off Season". My 2013 trade show schedule included Dallas SCI, SHOT Show, GSCO, SCI and Wild Sheep. Getting to work the Sitka Gear booth at SCI was fantastic. I had the opportunity to learn about the Waterfowl and  Elevated Forest lines, which include some awesome pieces and the positive feedback we received from fans and professionals was amazing. It goes to show how well the brand has taken off in the industry. The cold beers at SHOT and SCI at the end of each day were a big hit, and people couldn't stop talking about the stainless steel Sitka cups. If you didn't get to join us... you missed out, and thanks to everyone that did.  How about the Guide/Outfitter appreciation party in Dallas, put on by Sitka's Jeff Sposito? The turnout was about five times as expected. I guess when you offer FREE beer to a bunch of Guides and Outfitters, they will come!    Between the rush of trade shows, I managed to sneak away for a little hunting with Jeff Sposito in California at his family's ranch. It's an amazing place, and Jeff was an outstanding host. We pulled out the recurves and chased some pigs and feral goats. Some great times were had by all. Our friend Chris killed a pig and a goat, although Jeff made fun of him for the training wheels on his bow. Jeff had tag soup, again, and so did I.   The Auctions were probably my favorite part of the shows, and this year some huge records were broken. The Montana Bighorn Tag raised $480,000 for Wild Sheep and the BC tag brought in $275,000. Some great trophy rams were taken this year which shows the hard work and efforts of supporters and conservation organizations like the Wild Sheep Foundation . A little shout out to my buddy Jim Hens for his two new World Records, Archery Stone Sheep, and Bighorn Sheep. He is also receiving the prestigious Hoffman-Frost Award for most outstanding Archery Sheep, which is well deserved.  It's a pretty rewarding feeling to sit on the stage with some of the greatest sheep hunters today. I also received awards for harvesting my Four North American Sheep. As a sheep hunter, completing a goal like this is something that I will never forget. So all in all, the trade shows were an A+.  Some awesome memories were made and it is great to see what our money is doing for the wildlife we all enjoy so much. From the shows, I was off to guide my first hunt of 2013.   Check back tomorrow to read how Dustin's Desert Sheep hunts went in Part II of The Off Season. Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/04/10/A-Spring-Day-Cleanup.aspx 2013-04-10T19:38:17Z 2013-04-10T16:38:58Z 2013-04-04T17:48:49Z Waterfowl season had come to an end and it was time to put the equipment away for another year. To all of us hunters both experienced and new    its a time of year we all know is coming, regardless of how much we put it off. I have to admit, in some ways, I look forward to this time as it helps me reflect on the special memories of another season. As I paused to reflect, I couldnt help but remember my favorite weekend; a once-a-year tradition with my three sons and family friends.   Though it's not the most productive, the traditional Christmas Eve hunt trumps all others because of the precious time spent in the blind. Living an extremely busy lifestyle with my three boys makes those times rare, and I truly cherish them.                                         For more years than I would like to admit, I've been blessed to have a small group of friends invite me to their goose pit. My buddy Adam, his wife, Melissa, and Dad, Gary, certainly fit the definition of friends, but have become more like family. The tradition started out as just us four bringing donuts and coffee to satisfy that morning lull between flocks. But as the years ticked by, it became less about filling limits and more about the hours in the pit sharing stories and a full brunch spread worthy of the Food Channel. It never takes long before the sound of the gas stoves roar and the smell of pancakes, sausages, eggs and venison fill the blind. The only downside of these pit festivities is that it often leaves little attention to the flocks of geese that are trying to land in the decoys. We've become pretty good at scratching out a few birds between passing the maple syrup and pouring fresh coffee refills.                                   As I put away all the equipment from this past season, I can't help but smile and think about all that was shared and experienced. I'm counting down the days until next season. Alex Tenenbaum http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/04/04/2012-Stormfront-Clearance.aspx 2013-04-04T23:24:14Z 2013-04-04T22:26:06Z 2013-04-04T23:18:30Z 2012 Sitka Stormfront Gear (discontinued) is some of the most abrasion-resistant, breathable rain gear on the planet. It's completely sold out in GORE OPTIFADE Concealment, but we still have a few sets in our solid color option... Forest Green! While it lasts, use the PROMO code below to get 30% off. Redeem here: http://bit.ly/2012Stormfront Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/04/03/The-Closer.aspx 2013-04-03T15:41:18Z 2013-04-03T15:22:31Z 2013-03-19T16:39:32Z T he long, warm afternoons of spring have been stirring a change within me. Thoughts of strutting long-beards, shed antlers, spring chinook and spawning bass are sparring with remembrances of this past waterfowl season . Waterfowl is my first love , and even in the midst of spring, I 'm dra wn back to the sights, sounds, and smells of the goose blind. On the las t week e n d of the season, I had the pleasure of hunting with Sitka Athletes Dave Smith, Brad Cochran, Matt Brimmer and Super Athlete (my brother in law and Sitka Marketing Leader) David Brinker. We were hunting on the legendary Sauvie Island, which is in the Northwest Oregon permit zone. This permit zone is the most highly regulated goose hunting area in the world. The reason ? Ther e are seven different sub-species of Canada geese, from the Mallard - sized Cackler to the 10+ pound Western (commonly known as the honker). Due to low numbers, the Dusky Canada goose sub-species is protected. That means we are required to take a test to prove we can tell the differences between all the sub-species in flight. And we have to go to a "goose check station" after hunting, where a biologist takes measurements and records information on which sub-species were shot that day. We got an early start to ensure that our feathered quarry wouldn't beat us to the field. Once the blinds were brushed and the Dave Smith Decoys set out, we settled in to wait. Would they come? Would they want to be in our field?  The first few flocks to fly over showed little interest in our spread, likely a result of being hunted for six months. It was sunny with almost no wind, tough conditions for decoying educated birds. Soon, another flock was on the horizon. A few notes from our calls grabbed their attention and the DSD's did the rest of the work. The familiar smell of burnt powder drifted on the slight breeze as we handed out high fives. This scenario repeated itself a few more times. The next flock was huge - 500 or so birds. Even though it was the last weekend of the season, they fully committed to our spread. As I watched them, I noticed things were different. They weren't as obsessed with feeding, but rather in establishing mates before heading North again. With any luck we'll be here to greet them when they return next Fall. The late morning sun was warm and we were just a few birds short of our limit. I began to accept the fact that goose season was rapidly coming to a close. With a birthday party to attend, and very few geese in the air, we decided to wrap it up. I'm sad it's over, but at the same time, I'm already excited for next season. Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/04/02/A-New-Spot.aspx 2013-04-02T22:57:04Z 2013-04-02T15:31:35Z 2013-03-22T16:32:47Z I'm always into new spots, but find myself going to the known ones more often than not. For years, I've had a feeling about one particular area, but I never took the initiative to check it out due to the large amount of private land in the unit. This year was different. I purchased a new GPS, loaded it with a Colorado GPS card with landowner maps, and went for it! The first day my buddy Sam and I went to check it out, and this street sign was one of the first indications of a good spot. We ended up finding some white horns that had been lying in the elements for several years: another good sign. One doesn't find chalky antlers very often these days. We also found lots of fresh sign, just not fresh enough. The second day was Dj vu of the the first, but I felt I was getting closer to what I was after. The third day started out much the same until I received another sign, a fresh lion track. Another predator was looking for the same elk I was. After miles of hiking, I finally cut two fresh sets of elk tracks. It appeared to be two good bulls traveling together. After tracking them for some distance, I came across a nice brown set. I tracked the second bull for some distance and came across a single horn and then, finally, its match. A second awesome set! This spring, a new spot became a known spot, and I'll probably find myself drawn back here for many shed seasons to come. See more of JD's adventures at his blog, JD Goes Outdoors . Alex Tenenbaum http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/03/28/DIVERGE-Photo-Contest.aspx 2013-03-28T23:09:18Z 2013-03-28T23:06:13Z 2013-03-28T23:09:18Z T he Secon d Annu al Si tka //DIVERGE// Photo Contest is ON! //CLICK HERE TO UPLOAD PHOTOS AND VOTE// The hunting industry is stuck in a photographic rut. You've seen it. The "Grip and grin." The "Stop packing your bull out for a sec and pretend to glass." The "Doesn't everybody carry bleached skulls in the woods?" //YOUR ASSIGNMENT// Be authentic. Get out of the rut. DIVERGE. Submit your inspiring, original and authentic hunting photos as many as you like by April 17. Then you and the rest of the Sitka Tribe can vote for your favorites. We'll pick two finalists, pit them head to head, and the tribe will vote to decide the winner. //THE PRIZES// WINNER: The top finalist will get their photo, name and caption in the 2013 Sitka Gear Catalog + a full Sitka System in their choice of GORE OPTIFADE Concealment. RUNNER UP: The other finalist will get a Sitka Jacket of their choice. FAN FAVORITE: The non-finalist with the most votes from round one will get a Traverse Hoody in their choice of concealment. Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/03/27/Brutus.aspx 2013-03-27T19:45:27Z 2013-03-27T06:13:44Z 2013-03-19T07:10:59Z "Expect significant accumulations of snow and strong winds tomorrow through Sunday morning." The warnings were out and Brutus was charging through Montana.  This was the first winter storm Id ever heard named, and although it had potential to be significant, I translated the "travel on the side of caution" warnings as, "the deer rut is about to blow open...start packing." The night was still young. Phone calls were made, gear dialed, and I had no doubt in my mind we could make it to our destination in eastern Montana by sunrise. Friends, Steve Vedders and Jess Patrick, had seen the forecast too and would be joining me on the trip.   Fueled by a little Red Bull and lots of excitement, we cruised across the state. Deer eyes glowed like beacons in the ditch. Every posse of does was being courted by a buck, but many were young. I had hunted this area two weeks prior, and although bucks were plentiful, finding a mature representative of the species had proven to be as easy as drawing a Missouri Breaks sheep tag. We had our work cut out for us. I talked to several locals earlier in the fall and it was apparent that drought had hammered the area, killing many bucks in the process. I had faith in the region however, and knew the low hunting pressure and superb genetics made for great potential. Morning came quick and Brutus was late to our date, but an impenetrable foggy mist had set in. Optics were fully multi-coated in layer after layer of ice. Glassing proved ineffective, and the decision was obvious: wed have to sneak through their bedroom. Unaware of our presence, silhouettes of deer began to appear in the mist. We saw five bucks in the first thirty minutes. Necks were swollen and antlers barely visible through the ice that encapsulated them. The hunt was young and we were confident the area held something more. It was time to spice things up. We had heard rumors of mule deer responding very aggressively to the sounds of a distressed fawn. Jess had a handheld predator call stashed away in his pack, and well, the rest is history. Within seconds, deer were beelining through the fog headed for our perch. Incredible. It worked so well that a herd of eight does were about to swim the small river and scale the 75 foot bank that separated us. The ladies had brought nothing but young bucks with them. It was time to relocate. After a quick bite to eat, we fueled up and headed further east to check out some new country. Whitetails dominated this area. A small creek swept through the corner of the parcel, and the inside edge brushy and trashed by some love-sick buck. We split up to cover as much ground as possible. Less than two hours of daylight remained, the mist was thick as ever, and our significant snow accumulation was a mere hazy dream. That was OK. Steve and Jess didnt need Brutus' help to notch their tags. By nightfall, they had each taken a respectable buck. Moments like that only happen once or twice a season and when they do, I do whatever I can to soak it up. Camera flashes illuminated the timber. Laughter rang throughout the river bottom, and Brutus had arrived. The snow had set in, and we quickly pitched our three season tent on a small chunk of BLM land. Would the tent withstand the wind? How much snow could it hold? These questions had the volume turned down. All I could do was replay what had just transpired and anticipate the mornings hunt.  Dawn was clear and cold. Snow shrouded the sage flats around us and capped the towering buttes in the distance. With the snow, lack of wind, and a predator call in hand, we headed for the buttes. Deer scampered around the rimrock as we glassed from the sage flat. We snuck around the backside and Jess lit up the ponderosa-studded basin with the notes of a distressed fawn. 15 minutes later, from the rolling sage hills adjacent to the hollow came ten does. They had committed, and so had the buck with them. The herd paused at two hundred yards trying to locate their distressed young. As the buck lip curled and courted his ten girlfriends, I pulled the trigger. The does were oblivious to their fallen mate and quite surprised when their distressed fawn turned into three Optifade clad hunters. Brutus had coated the buck's antlers in a shield of ice. He was old. One tooth remained, and I wondered how he achieved his stocky build. Above all else, sharing the experience with great friends was what made the hunt memorable. Two days, three bucks, and a visit from winter storm Brutus made for an experience I wont soon forget. Photography: Steve Vedders and Isaac Nelson Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/03/21/The-First-Family-of-Elk-Calling-.aspx 2013-03-21T22:00:45Z 2013-03-21T07:12:14Z 2013-03-19T07:14:18Z The Jacobsen family speaks two languages, English and Elk. From seductive mews to growling bugles, they are fluent. You might be familiar with Corey Jacobsen, Sitka Athlete and seven time Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation World Elk Calling Champion, but speaking elk runs deeper than just Corey in the Jacobson Family. H is father, Rockie, sister, Misty, and sons Sam and Isaac compete just as fiercely in the elk woods and annual competition. Known as the First Family of Elk Calling", the crew enjoyed great success at the 2013 World Elk Calling Championships in Las Vegas. By the time the last bugle echoed through the room, the group had secured three first-place finishes, two seconds, one third and a sixth. For Corey, the highlight of the event was watching his sons compete on stage. Isaac was the Peewee Division Champion while his younger brother Sam, just six years old, finished in the finals too. Each caller was given 45 seconds for cow sounds and 45 seconds for bull sounds. Seven judges listened, and then awarded each sequence a score from 1-20. Of these seven scores, the highest and lowest were omitted, allowing a maximum of 100 points per category. Points were tallied for both categories, and a final score out of 200 is given. The annual event is enjoyed by elk enthusiasts of all ages and has been positive in promoting the conservation efforts of the RMEF. There wasnt a lot of room left in the finals after the Jacobsen Family performed. Were equally proud to say Sitka Athlete Matt Brimmer and Sitka Prostaffer Joel Turner qualified for the finals in the Professional Division, Sitka Prostaffer Dirk Durham went on to win the Men's Division and Brimmer's daughter Kailee finaled in the Peewee division. This year, being the 25th anniversary of the Calling Championships, the RMEF decided to add a special event; the Champion of Champions. All Professional World Champions from the past 25 years were invited to participate. The six Champions consisted of Bryan Langley, Corey Jacobsen, Walt Ramage, Sitka Prostaffer Joel Turner, Al Morris, and Rockie Jacobsen. It was difficult to determine a herd bull in the bunch. Corey Jacobsen, Al Morris, and Rockie Jacobsen came in a three way tie after the first round. Morris was eliminated after the first tie breaker round, while Corey and his Dad remained. After another sequence of authentic elk calling, the judges awarded Corey the winner.  Check out a few clips from the Professional Division Finals. For more videos and information on the calling championships and to keep up to date with Corey check out Elk101.com . Congratulations to all the participants! Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/03/19/Partners.aspx 2013-03-19T23:02:38Z 2013-03-19T23:21:43Z 2013-02-21T00:49:51Z In years past, I'd been able to count the number of people I regularly hunted with on one hand - two fingers to be exact. Not only did I love spending time with my Dad and brother, but they seemed to enjoy pushing their limitations as much - or more - than I did. Blindly committing without regard, almost to a fault, to the thrill of backpack bowhunting deep in the backcountry. This past season, new opportunities presented themselves. Through the tight-knit Sitka Tribe, I was lucky enough to get invited on adventures that took me out of my element and after a whole new species. Best of all, I got to share a passion for hunting with new friends in wild places. From the ups and downs - literally up and down mountains - to the "What the hell are we doing?"s, people that are passionate for backpack hunting are a pleasure to be around. To all those I was lucky enough to share a campfire or split a Clif bar on the mountain with, thank you for sharing the adventure. Alex Tenenbaum http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/03/14/Colorado-Elk-Hunt.aspx 2013-05-07T15:31:02Z 2013-03-14T21:19:36Z 2012-11-19T22:24:23Z Prior to our elk hunt, I told Ryan and Sean, my two friends, that the hardest thing about a hunt like this is keeping your head in the game. Living off your back for nine days is not for everyone. It was their first backpack-type hunt, and it took a lot of coaxing and prepping to get them the right equipment and in the right mindset for the trip. Anyone who has hunted this way knows what Im talking about. Working through the fatigued muscles, homesick feelings, and just plain being out of your comfort zone is all part of the backcountry experience. My buddy Sam and I have hunted many years this way and know our abilities and limitations well. Having him along was a huge relief.    Day one of Colorado Elk hunt was the most difficult, as the route we chose to enter the unit was straight up with nothing but elk trails to follow. By day two, I could see that one of our group members was beginning to experience the mental and physical challenges I was talking about. However, things started to look up after a few pep talks and encouraging words.  That  evening, we found a bull worthy of pursuing. We made a game plan, but in order for us to be in position for the morning hunt, Sam and I decided that moving camp was a must, to our teammates dismay. Our game plan worked, and on the morning of the third day we had a bull on the ground. Ryan was the first to punch his tag.   The bull was a great specimen for the unit; it gave everyone the second wind they needed. After a long day, we had his bull back to camp.   After hunting the fourth day and the morning of the fifth, we decided to pack Ryans bull off the mountain and go to town for a much needed shower, something other than Mountain House Meals and Cliff Bars. On our way off the mountain, it started to snow, exactly the weather we needed to push the elk out of the high country.   We regrouped, and on the morning of day six we headed back to our spike camp, trampling through the newly fallen snow. We could hardly wait to see what the weather would unfold for the up coming hunts. By the time we got to camp, visibility wasnt great so we glassed what we could and saw elk on nearly every ridge around us.  At that moment, everything changed. They werent in the same mind set as Sam and I. They were very discouraged by the amount of snow, our wet gear and the new challenges that we faced. The tents were weighed down with snow and our sleeping bags were a bit damp, but the conditions were nothing we couldnt handle. Even if we spent the entire night in front of a warming fire, I felt it was doable. This was just what we needed to get into the elk even more! Sean and Ryan wanted to go.  They told themselves they were done. Sam and I helped them get out of the mountains. Once out, we spent that night drying out our gear and getting prepared for the last few days of the season. It was a long night, with little sleep.  All I could think about was getting back out there to try and score another opportunity at one of those bulls. At the last second, We chose to head into an entirely different area. It was closer to home and a little easier to access. We knew very little about the area but it cut a lot of driving time which meant more hunting! Sam and I found ourselves back in the element that we truly live for. To us, this type of hunting isnt all about the kill but the spiritual connection we get to mother nature. We spent the rest of the day just trying to find any sign of elk. The day came to an end without cutting one set of elk tracks in the freshly fallen snow. At this point we were discouraged at our choice in trying a new area. The burning memory of the area we pulled out of was fresh minds. In the darkness of day seven we decided to set up camp and make the best of it anyway.   The morning of day eight we really had no clue what to do, so we took off from our tents and headed for the end of a ridge to glass several different canyons. From this vantage point we could see lots of promising country.  We sat there in a stupor with really no confidence at all and glassed. As the sun was breaking the horizon I glanced to my left and spotted a line of cow elk working straight away from us. They were only about a hundred and fifty yards across the canyon and following at the end of the line was a nice six-point bull. I set up for the shot but the bull never would present me with an ethical angle. As soon as the small herd entered the timber we took off after them. We made it a short distance when I spotted another bull to our right. He had us pinned so I dropped to the ground and steadied myself for a shot. He was slightly quartered to me and I didnt have a lot of time to hesitate. I could tell he was good enough so I settled the crosshairs on his shoulder and squeezed the trigger. At the shot he disappeared and I wasnt too sure what had happened until I looked back at Sam and saw the expression on his face.    We got ourselves together and went to have a look. When we got to the pine tree where we last saw the bull, I did a loop to the downhill side of it and there he lay. It was an emotional moment for the both of us. Two trips of meat and gear later, we had our bull hanging at our camp. As soon as the meat was taken care of, with Sams tag still in his pocket, we got our gear in order and headed toward the canyon that we last saw that big six point in. The last day of the season we saw and pursued elk but didnt end up filling Sams tag.  It was still a great end to an amazing season. I just want to thank our team members Ryan Nelson and Sean Lytle for such a memorable trip. I especially want to thank Sam Hadden for being my right hand man on all of our outdoor adventures. Finding a teammate that sticks with you through thick and thin is hard to come by. Until next time, cheers and shoot straight. -Sitka Ambassador J.D. Magee Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/03/12/First-Archery-Turkey-.aspx 2013-03-12T23:54:02Z 2013-03-12T19:29:26Z 2013-01-04T20:43:21Z My son and I had a great Christmas vacation.  After all the festivities, Daniel and I left my wife and daughter to do all that shopping stuff they do and started on our 10 hour drive to Buffalo Co. Wisconsin.  A good friend from The Professional Bowhunters Society had found a 900 acre property for a group of us to hunt during the late archery season. The long drive gave us plenty of time to discuss our hunt strategy, shot placement, and safety.  Your life and health are more important than any Boone & Crockett bucktake it seriously! We arrived at the farm, did some quick scouting, and decided our best plan would be to set tree stands for deer in the evening and a Double Bull Blind for turkeys in the morning.  We refined our set up every time out and eventually got Daniel in perfect position to kill his first big game animal. The 13 year old boy made it look like he had done it 100 timescool and collected.  His 50# TallTines recurve drove a 250g Wensel Woodsman Elite thru both wing butts of a beautiful hen midway through our hunt.  The hen crumpled and we had a tremendous accomplishment with some fine eating to come! The temperature was -4F when Daniel killed his turkey.  Temperatures ranged from -7 to 20F the entire week we were there.  We sat in the ground blind until noon each day, broke for a quick lunch and then were in the tree stands until dark.  When I was 13, there is NO WAY that I could have spent that much time on stand in those temperatures. I would have froze!  Both of us were warm and cozy the entire time with Fanatic Jackets and Bibs as our outer layer, Merino base tops and bottoms and Traverse tops and bottoms inside.  That is it; other than a small chemical handwarmer in the built in muff of the Fanatic.  Fantastic! Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/03/08/White-Gold.aspx 2013-03-12T18:58:12Z 2013-03-08T18:05:11Z 2013-02-14T18:08:24Z It was n't that long ago that any warm feelings I held toward winter were very one-sided. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, I viewed the winter months as a long season of cold weather and fighting treacherous road conditions. To me, the months of white were only enjoyable if a chair ride to the top of the mountain was involved. At some point, I had an epiphany which helped to change this viewpoint and broaden my scope. I can credit bowhunting for changing the way I view many things this time of year.   I'll never forget my first season spent with a bow in hand. It seems like an eternity ago, however it remains clear in my mind like it was yesterday. By my second weekend of tromping the deer woods, two feet of fresh snow covered my valley. It was exciting to see the sign of my quarry's passing seem to float up from the ground and reveal itself to me. It was an entirely different world from the week prior; the woods seemed silent, yet filled with new sounds. The veil had been lifted from my eyes, and a new awareness was revealed. It was no longer just an endurance race in the cold followed by a quick descent down the mountain. This was new, and something that I'd learned to savor. The first snow of the season is very special to hunters and something I greatly look forward to. It's a time that the animals change their patterns,become more predictable, and trackable. Their hooves and paws leaving a story within the shroud of snow, a story that I read, embrace and follow.  Before I discovered snowshoes, I viewed the deep snow as a limitation. To me, the deep snow opens up new avenues of travel that may not have been accessible earlier in the year. Just pick a line and go! Push deep and follow that herd of elk. Strap your camp to your back and access those now hard to reach areas. Do the ungulate populations a favor and take a trapping class. Predators are more vulnerable at this time of the year than any other. They are hungry, prey is concentrated, and they're much easier to glass on the white landscape. The possibilities are endless: you just have to be open and embrace them. I see things with greater clarity these days and yearn to test mother nature on all her fronts. A tear of sadness almost forms at the corner of my eye when the warm air currents of March sweep in, taking my White Gold away for the next seven months. Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/03/05/Christmas-Geese.aspx 2013-03-05T22:52:18Z 2013-03-05T18:01:26Z 2013-02-04T18:28:22Z I consider myself to be an avid water-fowler.  I have to admit, theres just something about being in a layout blind on a frozen, snow-covered grain field when that familiar sound of a Canadian Goose breaks the cold silence. It was the day after Christmas in Northeastern California. Temperatures were in the teens, and the off-and-on snow had me anticipating that the geese would be on the move. I was setup between a refuge and the field that most of the geese in the area were using. I was hoping that I could traffic a few birds, and convince them that my field was just as appealing as the one with 500 honkers busily feeding away. I was trading text messages with a good friend and lamenting to him about how the geese werent paying any attention to me with the large spread of live decoys a quarter mile away.   He responded, You only need a pair of them to give you a chance .     Scanning the horizon with my binoculars I caught a glimpse of a distinct shape in the distance.   It seemed as if it took them forever to make their way to me. After a few clucks and moans with a well-timed wave of the flag to get their attention, the pair of birds slowed their wing beats until they cupped up, and headed toward the decoys.   As I popped up out of my blind to take the shot, the birds begin to backpedal furiously. I connected on the first shot and I turned my gun to the other goose, which was still well in range and promptly missed.   Now panic began to set in. My chance to limit was fleeing, so I bore down, and connected with the third shot on the final goose of my two-bird limit. I jumped out of the blind to retrieve the geese, and when I flipped over the second goose there was an extra surprise attached to its leg. I had received a late Christmas gift of jewelry. I immediately snapped a picture with my phone and sent it my buddys way with the caption, got the pair and promptly received a congratulatory text back.   Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/02/21/Free-Range-Public-Land-Bison.aspx 2013-02-27T22:50:07Z 2013-02-22T00:31:12Z 2013-02-22T00:37:06Z It's not every day you get a phone call from a buddy asking to be part of a bison hunt. I happened to get that call this past November from my good friend, Christopher Yankers, of Bozeman, Montana. Chris was fortunate enough to draw a tag in the unit outside West Yellowstone. Prep work and scouting for one of these hunts is pretty straightforward: Pray that it snows... A LOT And gets bone chilling cold.  Then just sit back and wait for the buffalo to move . I put out a phone call to friend, Matt Clyde, who was with Randy Newberg of On Your Own Adventures when he harvested his bison. Matt generously pointed us in the right direction, giving us a game plan for the morning. He also informed us that 60 head moved out of the Park the day before. Saturday, February 2nd would be our first day to try and find a bison. Four of Chris friends ; Trent, Cliff, Ben, and myself were along for the hunt. At first light, we all jumped on snow machines and headed to where Matt suggested. After a mile walk, we made it to the Madison River expecting to find the 60 head. That wasn't the case as the entire herd crossed the river the night before.  Chris, Trent and myself decided to wade the river not the best idea while Cliff and Ben picked the snowmobiles up and looped around to the other side. Once across, we found two herds. One with about 20 small cows and calves and another herd of about 40 with a broader age class. Unfortunately, there were no bulls in either group.  Regardless, we were bison hunting and we were stoked! We eagerly started to pick the herd apart hoping to find a mature cow with good hair and unique horns. This was when things got confusing. Trying to tell the guy next to you that the big brown one with black hair looks good" or "that one right there looks cool," when they all looked about the same was a head ache, but part of the fun. After two hours of looking the herd over and enjoying the company of wild buffalo up close, we decided on one particular mature cow. She had great hair, neat coloration and a unique set of horns that set her apart. After a fifteen-minute wait, she moved into a clear shooting lane and Chris pulled the trigger on his .450 Marlin lever action. The rifle roared and the herd split. Chris made a great shot quickly putting her to rest. Emotions were high as we took in the beautiful sight. We were in awe of the pure size, beauty and character of this unique animal.  Once a quick prayer was said and pictures were taken, it was time to get to work! Time was of the essence since it was already 4:00 P.M and we had a 1,000 lbs. animal to deal with. After a couple hours of cutting and pulling and reflecting on the day, we had her broke down and ready to head to the snowmobile trail. Our last trip on the sleds was right at 8:00 P.M. It was hard to fathom that we all had taken part in such a special and rare experience!  One day, I hope to draw a free-range bison tag for Montana. But if not, I will always have this memory. A huge thanks to Chris for inviting me along, (Im still positive it was because I'm 23 with a strong back) and to Matt Clyde for all the help and information he provided us. A quick side note, please disregard Chris's bright blue ski helmet. There was something about being in the moment and forgetting a beanie that caused him to wear it all day. Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/02/21/Passion-and-Success.aspx 2013-02-21T23:14:17Z 2013-02-21T18:20:05Z 2013-02-07T18:55:38Z For me, hunting is not limited to just one species. Like many hunters, I've been blessed to grow up with a father who instilled his love for the outdoors in me. Memories of hunting waterfowl with my dad started when I was just 11 years old, a tradition that stands strong today. Hunting waterfowl in my home state of Colorado is relatively productive, considering the dry climate. However, it's no comparison to the waterfowl mecca of North Dakota. Every year, we make the 12-hour trip from Denver to the family farm in northwestern North Dakota, a farm that was homesteaded by my great grandfather in 1915.  Upon arriving at the farm, we let my cousin and fellow GORE Hunting Tech, Cody Tangsrud, put us on the birds . Cody is a great guy to share the blind with and a master behind the call. For years, he has hunted every day of the open season, an opportunity and lifestyle that many hunters envy.  This year, we had our new SItka Waterfowl gear in tow and the anticipation towards our traditional North Dakota waterfowl extravaganza had never been greater. After a long drive North, we caught a few hours of sleep and immediately began crafting a decoy spread in the illuminated stubble. As in years past, the action had been phenomenal. However, as our hunt progressed, we were able to dial in on the birds even more, and on the last night of the trip we scouted a wheat field that was absolutely teaming with ducks and snow geese. After watching the birds pile in for over an hour, it was apparent that we had to be here for the last morning's hunt. Unfortunately, we weren't the only hunters watching the field.  To make the most of this opportunity, Cody staked our claim on the field by spending the night in the stubble with his truck and decoys. The plan worked, and the field was ours. We were set up no more than a quarter mile from the roost and even before the sun crested the horizon, birds were committing to our spread.  Within no time, legal shooting light was upon us and I was immersed in the best hunt of my life. Our gun barrels were hot and feathers shrouded the wheat all around us. By morning's end, we had a limit of 25 mallards as well as a mixed bag of three other birds. It was an extraordinary hunt and a memory that I will cherish forever.  Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/02/15/Wild-Sheep-Foundation--Mission-Video.aspx 2013-02-16T00:22:53Z 2013-02-15T23:27:06Z 2013-02-15T23:38:03Z Since inception, Sitka has stood behind conservation organizations that make a difference. We believe in them and support them actively and wholeheartedly. There are very few conservation organizations, or maybe none for that matter, quite like the Wild Sheep Foundation . It's a wildly diverse group legendary yet humble sheep hunters, mountain guides with the thrill of pursuit in their DNA, volunteers who may never hunt sheep or even plan to hunt sheep all coming together for a single purpose: "To put and keep sheep on the mountain." That is their mission, and they've been carrying it out steadily and valiantly. Their camaraderie, passion and generosity combine to form an efficient, effective and necessary conservation organization. Adam Foss, Sitka Athlete, has said, "Im proud to be a member of an organization like the WSF. Speaking for the younger generation of hunters, I'm indebted to the commitment of past and current WSF members and their efforts." Organizations like the WSF rely on their members, and flourish with the help of companies in the hunting industry. Sitka Gear has been committed to conservation organizations including the WSF from the start. It's important to us because hunting is important to us. The health of wildlife and their habitat is important to us. We recognize our place in history as a small part of something much bigger: the conservation of the world's natural resources for future generations.    We want to thank all those currently involved with the Wild Sheep Foundation. Your efforts do not go unnoticed. To those who arent yet members, we urge you to join. Please support the WSF and the companies that support them. The opportunity to hunt wild animals in wild places is not something to be taken for granted. Please watch and help us celebrate the launch WSF's new Mission Video. Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/02/12/Influence.aspx 2013-02-12T21:54:25Z 2013-02-12T23:30:48Z 2013-02-11T23:54:41Z The first weekend of the New Year, I headed back to my friends' place in Mississippi where I harvested a dandy nine-pointer just two weeks before (read that story here ). This time, I took my dad, sister, brother-in-law, and most special of all, my eight-year-old nephew, Bishop. Bishop asked if I would take him on his first deer hunt. Of course, I couldn't wait to get him into a box stand and try to keep his attention long enough to see some deer. The challenge was to see if he would enjoy sitting and waiting, as he wasnt ready to shoot a large enough caliber for whitetails. I didnt want the heavy recoil of a rifle to ruin any future hunting my little buddy may want to pursue. Bishop made it two and a half hours into the first afternoon before he'd had enough. Still, that time consisted of no video games, giving us the time to talk and enjoy each other without distraction. With no luck that evening, I made my way back to camp for our typical night of fried backstrap and fun with the crew. Bishop decided a few extra hours of sleep sounded better than a predawn wake-up call, but I'm not one to miss a morning in the woods, especially when there's an opportunity to help out the herd. Whether filling a doe tag or harvesting a cull buck, doing my part to help actively manage property capable of growing potential trophy whitetails is something I take pride in. I woke my dad and we made our way out to our different stands. I dropped him off in a box blind he hadn't yet hunted. With strong rutting activity the week before, I felt he might have an opportunity to shoot a nice buck that had been frequenting the area. I elected to go back to the same tripod that had proven successful two weeks prior.  Early on, a young buck stepped into the food plot at about 30 yards. I n case a doe or cull stepped within range,  I had my custom, built-for-hunting Lone Wolf Distributors Glock .40 SUPER with me. This was within "chip shot" range, but he didn't fit the "shootable" criteria. Though disappointed would have been an understatement, I knew this main travel corridor would produce another opportunity. A couple days prior to arriving at camp, my buddy saw a buck with a unique, mangled rack and injured front right leg. He told us if we saw him, he was fair game . I hoped he would cross paths with my dad or one of Steve's daughters or their boyfriends. About an hour after the young buck came and went, a deer emerged from the pines a shade over 200 yards out. I knew he couldn't see me, but something grabbed his attention just long enough for me to get him in the scope of the .300 WSM I had brought for longer shot opportunities. The instant he started to move I saw his busted up leg and odd antlers. I squeezed the trigger and he dropped in his tracks.  I waited a few minutes before retrieving my cull buck.  I've seen some unique racks in my hunting time, but this one was different. Wild, twisted, and thick. The bases of his antlers wound up measuring 6 1/8" on the right side and 5 3/8" on the left. He was a six point with great character, and I was very happy to have taken such a unique buck.  I made my way back to camp to get some help loading up my buck. I wanted to bring Bishop along on his first 'recovery' of a whitetail.  After I got done cleaning him up, I cut out his jawbone so that we could get him aged properly. He was definitely a mature whitetail. He had a rusty top on his head and a round roman nose. His teeth were black and worn, but seemed to be in pretty prime condition. After sending some photos of the jawbone to a  Louisiana Dept. of Wildlife biologist friend of mine, it was determined that the buck was  five and a half to six and a half years old.  It was a memorable weekend with Bishop, my dad, my sister, my brother-in-law, and my buddy Steve. Though I usually enjoy heading into the timber alone, this weekend meant more because I got to spend it with my family. I hope I was able to influence Bishop to want to come back into the woods with me next season. Alex Tenenbaum http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/02/07/Snow.aspx 2013-02-07T21:28:05Z 2013-02-07T21:23:25Z 2013-02-07T21:28:05Z Snow. from Arctos Collective (formerly F2) on Vimeo . Each year we spend a couple days in late February on the Central Fly-Way chasing the migration of the snow geese from the southern states headed back to the north country. It's an impressive migration and a great time as we participate in the conservation efforts to preserve balance in the tundra. Alex Tenenbaum http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/02/06/Long-Live-the-High-Stand.aspx 2013-02-07T00:16:33Z 2013-02-06T23:13:05Z 2012-12-11T23:30:01Z I've been in epic battles with some great bulls over the years, but that wasn't the case early on in this fall. I got into elk early, but things began to dry up. Because I live within striking distance of a larger city in western Alberta, Canada, some of my traditional spots had been busy opening week with other hunters. By September 8th, I was literally no better off than I was August 8 th , in scouting season. So I did the only thing I could do; make a mile. I focused on the farmland bordering big timber. After walking a series of interconnected fields, I spotted a lone bull crossing a cut canola field making a beeline for the far west end. This was a very well known area to myself and the crew I hunt with. Typically, the elk follow the cutline and hook north off an overgrown seismic line, bedding deep in the muskeg.  I had to make a decision. The east wind made pursuit of the bull difficult. I figured he'd probably return to feed that evening with the wind in his face as he was unpressured and alone. After much deliberation with my hunting partner Adam, we both came to the same conclusion... the "High Stand. The "High Stand" was hung ten years prior by Adams dad Kurt - a bowhunting legend - and had seen plenty of success over the years. However, it'd recently become somewhat overlooked as we tried to carve out our own spots. True to its namesake, the "High Stand sits 35 feet up a large poplar tree, providing a wide range of shot options and, in certain situations, takes wind direction out of the equation. Ten hours later, I found myself perched, waiting for an opportunity. I could hear cows mewing deep in the jungle to the west. I mewed back several times and they answered immediately. The lead cow walked directly to the foot of my tree stand and began sniffing the pegs. After scanning the thick brush for the source of the mews, a spike bull and another cow began browsing around the base of the tree and slowly worked their way toward the canola field which was located 100 yards to the east. However, the lead cow stood motionless at the base of my tree, staring back in the direction from which she came. After a few minutes of nervous anticipation, I could hear crashing through the bush. I distinctly remember seeing his dark antlers for the first time as he tilted his head to maneuver his huge cage through the dense bush.  Suddenly, the bull caught the movement of the cow and spike and started to veer toward them, which wouldve taken him well out of bow range.  It was time for another quick decision, and I let out a single, soft mew. That was all it took and the bull stopped dead in his tracks. The cow beneath me snapped her head straight up, locked her gaze on me and nervously stepped away. As soon as the bull heard her movement he was on his way. He bugled, curled back onto the line, and trotted in directly under the stand. I zeroed in on the kill zone. Now he was right on the cows heels and she had bigger things to worry about than me. Their sudden movement gave me a chance to draw my bow and settle in. Because of the sharp downward angle, I knew I needed to be ten inches off the spine and in toward his far shoulder. With his nose right on her rump, the big bull followed the cow through the brush right into a small window at 12 yards. With a gentle squeeze of the trigger the arrow was on its way, sizzling through the willows and punching down into his heavy chest. The bull took off like a jet right through the cow.  He eventually piled up 86 yards from the point of impact. After taking several minutes to compose myself and climb out of the nose bleed section, I made my way over to the giant.  With 11.5 bases and a green score of 347 5/8, he is definitely one of my better bulls. Things rarely run as smoothly in real life as they do in my head, but when they do it's all the more sweeter. Later that fall, I was talking to the landowner about continued trapping permission for the winter. He agreed and informed me that he'd be logging the remaining timber portion on the property I was hunting. This meant the fall of the High Stand and ia likely impact of the elk behavior in the area. Long live the "High Stand" and the challenge of a clean slate for both the elk and the elk hunter next fall. I'd like to thank Adam, Kurt and Michael for their help, especially during the pack out. Its greatly appreciated.   Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/01/28/Tripod-in-the-Pines.aspx 2013-01-29T21:05:45Z 2013-01-28T19:48:19Z 2013-01-23T19:52:23Z I'm blessed to have close friend, Steve Sceroler, share his recently purchased Mississippi whitetail property with me. Over the year, he spent countless hours on his dozer and tractors getting the place groomed. Steve reserved the private piece of heaven for his family, daughters and their friends, and whoever else was lucky enough to be invited to hunt Yep, me! I spent several weekends at the camp with him this summer building gates and barbwire fences. Of course, there was a little fishing in between. The fourth weekend of December started off like any other since whitetail season opened. With gear loaded, I drove north on Friday after work. I decided to press my luck on fuel and ending up running out 20 miles south of camp. A 10:00pm phone call rustled Steve out of bed to come get me off the road. The lack of required sleep caused a change in plans. We would stay on the property for the morning hunt, rather than check out another area. I chose to hunt a tripod stand situated on the crossing of two lanes in the middle of a gorgeous pine plantation. Behind the stand, ran a creek with a bit of water in it. In front, a green grass strip that always seemed to spark the interest of a whitetail cruising through the pines.   Early the next morning, a nice 8-point stepped into the bend of the food plot and stood for a minute. I struggled to get a look at him. He very well may have been a shooter, but I couldn't make myself squeeze the trigger without being 100% sure. For the next hour and a half, I was kicking myself thinking I made a mistake for passing on the buck. Suddenly, I heard twigs snapping and the distinct sound of whitetails slipping through the pines. I looked to my left and noticed a young back standing at just over 100 yards. After eyeballing him through the scope, I knew he wasnt a shooter and I set my rifle back on the rail. Less than ten seconds later, another head popped out behind him. I knew it was unlikely that a doe was following a young buck. My heart raced as the scope revealed great tine length and solid mass. When he stepped into the middle of the lane, I gave him a ''blah" with my mouth and he locked up, looking my way. His impressive headgear and huge body were exactly what Id been holding out for. I squeezed off the shot, he bucked and lunged forward. Once I made my way to where he was standing, I found the torn up dirt in the food plot where he lunged. Two steps into the woods, I found great blood and knew it was going to be a quick track job. The bloodtrail led me to the creek. When I got to the edge of the creek and he wasn't laying there, I got concerned immediately, thinking he had made it up the other side -   a 12 foot embankment. Perhaps a short track job wasnt in the cards. Fortunately, I couldn't have been more wrong! One step into the creek bottom and I saw his long tines and massive body breaking the surface of the water less than 40 paces to my right. I was frozen in awe. The image of him laying in the running creek water, rack up, was unforgettable. I was so lost in that moment, all I could do was snap a photo to capture it forever.   I went back to camp and Steve's daughter, Sidney, and her boyfriend, Harris Schwing, helped drag him out of the creek and load him up. I couldn't have asked for a better morning than to spend it with my friends.           Photo: Sidney Sceroler.           Photo: Sidney Sceroler.   Thanks to Steve, Rhonda, Sidney and Mallory Sceroler for their unbelievable hospitality and friendship. Many thanks as well to my newest hunting buddy, Harris, for letting me be a part of their lives and their family hunting ground. I've got some special memories for life that we captured and shared together. Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/01/25/The-Golden-HoneyHole.aspx 2013-01-28T16:35:09Z 2013-01-25T20:23:26Z 2013-01-22T20:43:37Z Still on a high from my two year journey, after finally taking the Saskatchewan legendary whitetail I had named Hugh, (read here:  http://bit.ly/Y1eFsm)  I packed my Sitka Incinerator suit with the rest of my whitetail hunting gear and headed over to meet my Dad and our crew of whitetail fanatics deep in the Northern Alberta forest.  I arrived to cold weather and snow. With the northern whitetail rut just taking off, I began my pursuit for an elusive double on monster whitetails; a feat that I had only managed twice before.  My days were numbered as I only had a three-day weekend to try to make something happen.  As the first two days blew by uneventfully, I came to the realization that the chances of my whitetail double were fading as quickly as the setting sun dipped below the tree tops. With the thermometer in my truck reading a brisk -26 Celsius. I layered up for the last morning ride deep into the whitetail woods, very thankful for my Sitka Incinerator.  I knew if there was anywhere I would cross paths with a big ol rut-crazed buck it would be along a small cut where I had found a scrape-line along a ridge. I was very familiar with this area, as Id been fortunate enough to take my three biggest Alberta whitetails within eyesight of this golden honey-hole. I had only been there for a couple of hours when I looked to my right to see a gorgeous, heavy, chocolate antlered whitetail making his way across the cut, one grunt stopped him in his tracks and I had finished my DOUBLE with another giant whitetail. I could hardly believe it! This gorgeous buck grew with every step I took towards him. As I picked his massive antlers out of the snow to study every inch of bone, I was overwhelmed.  Im so thankful for this amazing trophy and yet another that my favorite spot in the whitetail woods had produced.  My Alberta giant had grown a set of perfect 6x6 typical antlers, plus a few added stickers and combined with all his gnarly character, I couldnt have asked for anything more as the stars had aligned. The Whitetail Gods had blessed me once again. Adam Foss http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/ http://www.sitkagear.com/blog/2013/01/24/Hugh.aspx 2013-01-24T17:30:35Z 2013-01-24T17:47:28Z 2013-01-22T18:14:47Z Never has a buck consumed as much of my time, my thoughts, my dreams as the gigantic Saskatchewan whitetail I called Hugh.  I first crossed paths with this giant whitetail when I checked one of my trail cameras early in the Fall of 2011.  From that day forth, I vowed to spend as much time as it took to notch my tag on this truly tremendous whitetail.  I spent upwards of 40 days in 2011 in Hughs hideaway checking my strategically placed trail cameras, sitting in stands along game trails I knew, and sitting in ground blinds, but never once seeing this elusive monarch with my own eyes.   I began to lose hope when he vanished in late November, sure that some lucky hunter had taken him.  I continued to cover the area searching for any sign of him, but had no luck.  Even after hunting season was over my heart would climb further and further up into my throat each and every time my trail cameras came up empty.  It was mid-December, still too stubborn to give up hope,  I headed out to check my cams for what would likely be the last time until the New Year.  I couldnt believe my eyes HUGH He was alive and posing for the camera in all his majestic glory!  The game was back on! I continued to plague the area hoping to pick up his sheds, never once catching a glimpse of this colossal whitetail.  It was the first Sunday in February 2012 when my camera captured pictures of Hugh minus his majestic crown.  My eyes were peeled like a hawk and my feet never touched the ground as I tore up the woods looking for these monster antlers that were lying in some hiding spot on the forest floor.  I rounded a corner on the deer trail and spotted Hugh's gigantic left antler lying before me, I could hardly believe it.   It was incredible feeling as I ran my fingers over every contour this chunk of brown gold had grown.  I put in over 100 hours trying to find his other side, but was never able to locate it. I had my trail cams out earlier than ever, placing them in the woods by mid-July hopeful to see what Hugh had grown. I was excited to get the first glimpse of him, but the weeks flew by without any sign.  I was like a little kid at Christmas when I finally got a trail cam photo of him! His antlers were incredible!  Only one problem, he had looked right at the camera, with a petrified look in his eyes and vanished like the ghost he was.  I knew I had no other choice but to sit in my blind and hope for the best, but each evening faded into darkness and each check of my trail cam resulted in nothing but my frustration. After I had sat over 20 nights for this buck, I started to wonder if I would ever see him with my own eyes.  I was down to the end of October and encountered another strike that would put most hunters over the edge.  I had vowed to kill this giant with my bow, but when I took my bow out of the case, I looked down to see a broken string. This left me with no other choice but to disappointedly pull out my muzzleloader. Two days after my 40 th birthday, I was sitting yet again for an elusive buck that Id never actually seen. I hadnt even been hunting for an hour when I caught movement off to my right. I slowly turned to see Hugh materialize out of nowhere like an apparition, only eight yards away!  He was extremely nervous, cautiously walking down the trail, pausing with every step, knowing he shouldnt be there in the daylight. He finally gave me a quartering away shot at 14 yds.  At the sound of the shot, he vanished into the cloud of smoke from my muzzleloader like he was only an illusion of smoke and mirrors.   I gave myself some time to calm down and walked out of my blind to find him laying a short distance away.  I approached the colossal Saskatchewan whitetail with mixed emotions.   As I knelt beside him, I was so proud of what I had accomplished, all the time it had taken me, yet sad that it was all over.  I had spent upwards of 100 days in his turf, yet never seen the magnificent whitetail until that night.  It had been a roller coaster ride and I had poured everything I had into the elusive deer.  I will never forget the epic journey with the legendary whitetail named Hugh.