This past weekend I made a short drive down to Palo Duro Canyon to participate in the first race of the TMBRA Marathon series. I had big aspirations to train hard and do more racing following the Vapor Trail 125, but I have allowed my new business to consume more time and energy than I originally thought I was. I’m not upset about this, because I love what I’m doing these days, but now that the dust has settled, so to speak, I’ve got some serious catching up to do. My return to racing actually began two weekends ago when I jumped in a local cyclocross race and got absolutely destroyed. I had that coming, so no surprise. I knew going down to Amarillo would be a pretty good ass kicking too, and it didn’t disappoint!

The weather was awesome, mostly. Sunny skies, temps in 60-70’s, and windy. Very windy. Even though I was mentally prepared to do battle with the  50 mph gusts forecast for the day, my body was not. My body was just not really prepared for a race like this period. Getting back to this level of racing doesn’t happen overnight. Nonetheless, I rode my guts out, overcome tremendous physical pain, and finished in an ok time. Finishing in the money would have been nice, but this was not my goal. I knew it was a longshot anyways with the amount of talent that the large payout attracts. I tell you what, when you set your goal to beat the living crap out of yourself and use a ride like this to kickstart your training again, not only can you enjoy the experience a little more since results aren’t relevant, but you sure as hell can surpass that goal!

The race consisted of three 17 mile laps. At the starting sprint, I got into a nice position before heading into the singletrack and boy were the lungs burning! This lap was blazing fast. A few racers passed me, but I also passed a few more. I was hurting, but feeling good about how things were progressing. Then came lap 2, the lap from hell. The field was spread out by this point and I had no one to trade turns fighting that ridiculous wind. I was exceeding my redline and felt leg cramps coming on, so I had to back way off and let quite a few people pass. No worries though, I know I am a 2nd half fighter. I just needed to reach that nirvana point when enough adrenaline kicks in to overcome the pain. I was cruising along and on one of the descents my front wheel slid out in a loose turn and I went down hard, in a cactus no less. All of those little barbs sure did hurt, but not nearly as bad as the leg cramps that resulted from the impact. No big deal though. Pick those barbs out of your palms with your teeth, do a little stretching, get back on the trail.

I rolled into the pit limping. I stopped to eat some food, hydrate, and massage/stretch the legs. Some lady saw me hurting and brought me some pickle juice, which I downed in a second. That stuff is awesome, and probably saved me. After quite a few people blew by to start lap 3, I mounted my trusty steed refreshed and the real fun began. I like being a wolf chasing down rabbits, and chase down some rabbits I did. I pushed through tremendous pain and demoralizing winds to pick off about 12 riders all the while not getting passed by anyone else. Although nowhere near the ranks or prowess of my former TMBRA days, that third lap was a great moral victory and this trip to the canyon was exactly what I needed to get my butt back on track.

I am looking forward to a few more cross races this year, hopefully a few more of these Texas marathon races, and some hardcore training over the winter. My long term goal is to be in good shape for 24 Hours In the Old Pueblo Feb 15, and to be in exceptional shape come June 15 for 24 Hour Nationals. It will be tough to balance my racing desires with my workload, but it can-and it will-be done.

I really enjoyed being back in Texas and seeing some familiar faces. I want to thank the old captain, James Webb, for letting me pit at his tent and still being one of most generous, laid back persons I know. Thanks to Team Kordestani and all the volunteers for putting on this awesome event.  The next adventure awaits!

Back in September I bought an archery elk tag and for three straight weekends wandered out into the woods in search of these elusive creatures. The first two weekends were very unsuccessful. I battled the elements and left the woods with only a huge appetite and a tired body. I only saw a few signs, and no animals. The last weekend of the season was better. I drove up the very bumpy, tight, and slightly snowed on Lewis Creek road to the base of Eagle pass between Lewis and Silver mountains. Here, at the parking area, I met a fellow who had his camp setup out of his old Toyota pickup. A very interesting fellow, he was. He was getting his gear ready and putting on black face paint. He seemed extremely old school by the looks of his garments, and the way he spoke, yet, I could tell he knew a lot more about hunting Elk with a bow than I did. He was wanting to know my plans, so that he could keep a distance from me so we could avoid making calls to each other and not spook each other’s animals. We wished each other good luck, I mounted my backpack, and off I went, trudging through the 4-6″ of fresh snow that had fallen that morning.

The signs were more abundant, and I could even hear some bulls bugling in the vicinity. The terrain just felt more like Elk habitat, and the fact that it was so hard to get to had my spirits high that I would at least see something if not have the chance to let loose an arrow. I spent Friday getting my base camp set up and scouting a good place to hunt. The signs were ok, but I felt I could find a better place. After combing several different ridges and valleys until sunset, I decided to get back to camp, eat some dinner, and hit the hay in 20 degree temps.

I don’t know if it was the altitude, the cold, or the hard effort from the day before, but, the next morning I just couldn’t get myself out of bed at sunrise to start the hunt. My body needed rest, and so I slept in a little. My instinct told me the elk were over on Wild Oat Mesa, a good 4-5 miles away on very rugged terrain. I had to make a decision whether to make it a day hike and return to my base camp, or pack a mini camp with me and rough it up on the mesa. I decided to go the latter route and took only the bare necessities with me along with my bivy and sleeping bag strapped to my day pack. I started out on my hike with my senses on full alert for any animals because it was still morning time. I was contouring around one of several ridges that I would have to cross this very day. I happened to look downhill a little bit, and there he was, the man in the woods, the same guy I had met at the parking area the morning before.  I honestly can’t believe I saw him, for one, there is a huge amount of wide open wilderness out there and for two men to randomly come across one another at the same moment in time isn’t likely, but also, he was extremely well camouflaged and standing as still as tree. In fact, I thought he was a tree upon first glance. He was so still and focused, that I feared he was locked on to an elk and had just scared it away. I gave him a slight “pssst” to which he gave me a slight acknowledgement. After a few more seconds, he kind of whispered loudly, “I got an arrow in one. I’ve tracked the blood trail to this point and I’ve been looking for him all morning. I was super excited for him, and also for me, because that meant I was in a good spot!

He motioned for me to come down to him and have a talk. He was hunting with a very burly old school long bow-just as much a piece of art as it was a weapon. His camo was anything but the modern mossy oak or real tree stuff you see gung-ho hunters wearing these days, yet, he blended into the environment much better than anything I had ever seen before. He wore a mixture of old army camo, wool, a black hunting pack, and used black facepaint. It was so simple, yet so effective. We spoke in a low whisper about his situation. He knew his shot was questionable, most likely out of the kill zone, and not very good penetration. “He’ll probably just shrug this one off” he said. I told him I was heading over towards Wild Oat, and that if I saw his bull in the next few minutes that I would let out three quick cow calls. I bid the Man in the Woods farewell once more and continued my journey. I was really hoping to see that bull on the ground, but didn’t.

I spend the rest of the day criss crossing lots of rugged mountain terrain, all the time, the signs got better and better. I found a place close to the top of Wild Oat mesa that was full of fresh signs and knew this would be my hunting spot for the morning. I still had a few hours of light left so I continued south down to the mesa where I found a really nice saddle separating the mesa from the area I would hunt in the morning. I decided to wander down the mesa a little and set up my mini camp for the night, before returning to that saddle to wait out the night. After stalking the saddle for a while, I heard a bull let out a big bugle to the south of me in the direction I had just set up my camp. I sent out a cow call to entice him in my direction. He never spoke back, but I should have still taken that first call as a sign to head back to my camp a bit more carefully. While en route to my camp a few minutes after sunset, I spotted this monster of a bull at 70 yards or so. I tried to quickly take cover behind a tree, but it was too late, I had spooked him and he was gone. My best chance of the entire season, I and blew it. Nonetheless, I knew elk were in the area, I would just have to endure a night of temps in the teens and try to find them at daybreak.

The next morning I got up early, packed up camp and header over to my secret spot. I waited there for quite some time, but nothing came by, plus, I could hear bugles coming from the direction that my base camp was in, so I decided to start heading back and see what I could find. The rest of the day I began finding fresh tracks, fresh poo, and lots of communication. I was hot on the heels of one or two bulls but I just couldn’t keep up with, despite my efforts to call them to me with my cow mew. I eventually had to call it a day, get back to my base camp, pack it up, and hike back over the pass and down to the car, which I was barely able to do before sunset. The result of this trip was much the same as the others: no meat and a very tired and hungry body. However, I learned a lot from this trip. Even though my encounter with the Man in the Woods was brief, I felt like he taught me some very important lessons. Not only this, he inspired me to go out and buy a long bow. I’ve been practicing diligently this fall and getting pretty decent at it. I don’t even shoot my compound anymore, and wonder if I’ll ever go back to it. Who knows?

Any how, this Man in the Woods has just been on my mind a lot lately. I hope that someday I can be as skilled and as awesome as he is. Perhaps someday, we shall meet again, and I hope we do.