Its August. The colors are turning on the hillside here in Utah. The scruboak has gone bright red, and you can see splashes of orange. Soon the choke cherries will be ripe for harvest, and the elderberries not long after that.

These are some of my favorite things to do in the early fall climbing the mountain sides looking for the uncultivated crop. It is a wonderful family outing. My son John has always enjoyed it when he could do it with me. Often the most plenteous pickings will be alongside a road, which will require a thorough rinsing if the road is gravel or dirt. Roadsides provide a nice break from the shade where red choke cherries, and blue elderberries can ripen in the morning sun. So you don’t have to go far afield to find them, then again, you can. There are several recipes a person can find for both elderberry and choke cherry. Don’t eat them raw. People make jams from choke cherries. They are small, and need lots of sugar to make them edible. Elderberries

are made into all sorts of delicious concoctions. But really the best thing to do with either of them is to make wine. Again a simple internet search will land you with many recipes for wine, jams, and preserves. Pancakes with choke cherry syrup is quite awesome.

But here is a little tip. Buy yourself a steam juicer. You can crush and juice by hand. But a steam juicer is really the way to go with this stuff, especially if you are doing any sort of volume like that which is required to make a five gallon batch of wine. All of these things make great gifts for friends and family. Both make for a cheap family outing.

Another tip, bring small buckets for the children to fill, they can pour them into a bigger bucket when they have filled the smaller bucket. Bring a ho, or some other utensil for pulling high branches down to picking range. You can also bring loppers and hand pruners. Pruning will help you get to material you otherwise might not be able to reach. It is also generally healthy for the plant, encouraging new and vigorous growth which often produces even more fruit the following year. This is a great time to be out of doors, the scenery is spectacular.

Hells Canyon

Hell’s Canyon, This post not about Utah. Hells Canyon for you who don’t know is the Mecca for North American Chukar hunting. This is one of my favorite past times. And though Utah promises some very good Chukar hunting opportunities this year, an annual trip to Oregon to hunt Chukar in Hells Canyon is something I always look forward to doing with my friend Randy Schwandt. This year we brought along Kevin Jennings too. It was his first trip, and a relatively inexperienced upland game hunter, he was in for a treat. Hells Canyon, is heaven for chukar, and you would think this makes it heaven for Chukar hunters also, well, Chukar hunting is full of paradoxes. It seems the perfect environment for these birds, and on a bad day you see some where around fifty. But seeing isn’t shooting. The terrain is some of the roughest, steepest and hardest to maneuver. As they say, you hunt them once for sport, you spend the rest of your life hunting them for revenge. Some say a chukar hunter will walk an average of 10 miles for one bird. I don’t have much experience hunting big game, but it seems to me this is a tad tougher than what is required of the obese individuals I see shooting Big Horn Sheep on the outdoor channel, and for a lot less meat. This is hunting. Clichés aside you do it for sport, and the love of chukar meat. This isn’t about filling your freezer, or feeding the family. Calorie wise you burn more than you could ever get back from the chukar itself, hunting it. This year, Kevin and I took off to Ontario Oregon after church on Sunday, stopped at Cabela’s in Boise, to check off that store as one visited, and ended up in Ontario around seven in the evening. In the morning we headed out. It was a great two days of hunting. The first morning spotting a little draw in which to make our ascent, we parked, got the dogs ready, and began walking. Billie and Thistle set out to be the heros of the day, both German shorthairs that love to hunt. And it wasn’t 15 minutes into our hour long ascent up an incline of about 60 degrees, that Billie went on point. There isn’t much more beautiful than a pointer pointing. Slowly approaching the point a quail flushed out of the sage brush and met its demise. A second one took my momentary sense of accomplishment as opportunity to escape. God bless quail. They were thick in that draw and carried us up to the top as if we were flying on their backs. One hardly notices the effort when one is having fun shooting and watching his dog point and retrieve. Kevin managed to bag two of these Californians, I had five and Randy who remained aloof from the quail got one any way. At the top, after a final flush of quail, we watched two coveys of Chukar split for cover. Seeing, is not shooting, and this would for the most part be our lesson for the day. Chukar get frightful, and learn not to hold to long. We decided to chase one covey around a knob, sidehillling it. Sidehilling, is the chukar hunters forte. Some dedicated chukar hunters have even taken to cutting one leg shorter than the other, so as to accomplish this task more proficiently. This means to walk not up or down a hill, but across it. In Chukar country, there can literally be a foot to a foot and a half difference in elevation from one foot to another, and the terrain is most often made of loose rock, and grass slicked with snow, rain, or dew. People say the birds are defenseless, and this is hogwash. I think I have jeoporadized my life more in the pursuit of chukar, than in any other activity in my life. And that is saying something, believe me. They may not have tusks, great weight, or razor sharp teeth, but they should be classified as dangerous game if for nothing else, the terrain upon which they greet you with the temptation to shoot. Many shots are passed over for no other reason than that to shoot, would spell the shooters demise much more surely than it ever would the Chukar. Shooting strait while your feet manage uneven, wet, slippery and rocky ground, is something you can’t learn at the skeet range. On this particular day, most of the birds decided to flush well before we were anywhere close to shooting range. But a sixth sense told me, one stayed behind. See that is the thing about chukar. Rare is the flush when all the birds get up at once. There always seem to be one or two that hold tight just a little longer, hoping you expend your ammunition on the others, and they can have clear sailing while you reload. Always reload quickly. Guessing that this would be the case, I scrambled. I knew where I wanted to be so the bird would be within 30 to forty yards, when it did flush. I was ten yards short, and took the shot with the bird at 50. Thinking I had not hit it, I was about to unload my second barrel, when the bird did a swan dive and crashed into the hillside on the other side of the canyon. It was a long shot, but this is the nature of chukar hunting. They are not quail. Load appropriately. I don’t hunt for much shooting a shot size smaller than 6. The quail I shot on the way up were hit with sixes, I loaded for Chukar not expecting to see quail. I often shoot 5s. It’s just the humane thing to do. Sevens and 8s are fine for the orange disks made of clay in controlled conditions. You are likely to do nothing but injure most birds with them. I just let the quail get out a little further, gives me a bit more time to take the shot if nothing else. The rest of the day, we followed the dogs, and watch chukar flush at distances even I am not comfortable takeing a shot at. By the end of the day, we were so far skunked that when the dogs went on point and the birds flushed a hundred yards out and down from Kevin and I we decided to unload our weapons by firing in their general direction, and to our surprise, two actually fell. One started running and Billie retrieved him about three hundred yards down the draw. Man’s best friend.

Pictures Stansbury Island Petroglyphs

The Petroglyphs of Stansbury Island

I first heard of the Stansbury Island Petroglyphs after a failed chukar hunt on the Island. I just happened to notice some pictures of them at Applebee’s in Tooele. I then forgot about them. It wasn’t anything that was high on my list of things to go see. That is until I stopped at the Freemont Indian Museum by Richfield on my way to visit with the wonderful folks of Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Richfield. Something about the petroglyphs there ignited a bug in me. Since then I have been stopping wherever I hear there might be some examples of this art. I find them truly fascinating.
I was reminded of the petroglyphs on Stansbury Island a few weeks ago when I was killing some time with John. We stopped out there to find ooids, a sand formation as peculiar as its name. We stopped to help some people with a flat tire, and they told us they were looking for the Petroglyphs. The treasure hunt was on.
I looked online to find what information I could. All it said was that they were out there. There was no indication of where. It took three attempts to find that information. Laura and I spent one afternoon Jeeping and glassing the hills for any indication of them. John and I spent an afternoon hiking. On our way back we stopped and asked a man who was camping and he knew where they were and gave us directions. We had to comeback to make the attempt though as we were both too tired, and almost late for supper.
We found them yesterday. They are incredible. I do think we only scratched the surface of what is out there. We will be returning again. In all honesty, I do think there should be a museum or something showcasing these cultural treasures. Perhaps I have developed such an affinity from them because they are in my backyard, but I do believe they are incredible specimens of the art.
Getting there is a bit difficult though. Just as well I suppose. You don’t exactly need a truck or Jeep, but it helps as the roads to the “trail head” are not what one considers to be improved. One could make it there in a car though, It just requires driving very slow.
Basically, you take the second exit for Grantsville as you are coming from Salt Lake, the first if you are coming from Wendover for some reason. But rather than heading for Grantsville you go north by northwest over the railroad tracks and take the causeway out to Stansbury Island. As you get on to the Island you will come to a sign explaining all the rules of BLM land etc. It gives no information. The road forks there, take the right fork. The road is horrible. Take the first left that crosses the manmade creek. You want to be on the north side of that creek. Then take another right. Just keep making your way east until your way is blocked by boulders and a gate. Get out and walk.
The gate marks the “trail head”. Duck under it and follow either of the two old roads that make the path, either one will do. The one to the right follows the ditch to the other side of the canyon mouth, where it forks and goes north. In the canyon, you see a sub canyon, so there are three points. You really want to go to the one in the middle. There is the point at the trail head, this one in the middle, and then the one at the other end that reaches down for the creek. When the trail that follows the creek forks you want to follow it north. You will see a cave, start looking at the rocks below the cave. They are covered in Petroglyphs. It is incredible how many there are there. You can take the other way back to your vehicle if you like.
I think this would make a fun family outing for anyone really. The hike is a mile or so, maybe less. The terrain is fairly flat, and it took John and I less than 20 minutes walking to get there. Some have carved initials and dates in the rocks. Don’t do that. You are an idiot if you have to be told. Thankfully, I didn’t see any of that which actually vandalized one of these ancient artifacts. Be mindful of where you step too.
At the far end of the Island there is an interpretive trail that marks all the different levels of Lake Bonneville. That too makes for an interesting family outing.

Trip to Topaz Mountain

Topaz Mountain.
The rockhound, also known as Johny Oohta, loves to go to Topaz Mountain. I am fairly sure this forsaken mountain occupies his day dreams at school. John doesn’t care. It makes no difference to him that it takes two hours to drive to this mountain, if he can spend an hour there he wants to go. He loves it. It might just be his most favorite spot in the whole world.
So when he came for the weekend this last time I packed up the Jeep: Battery Jumper, Water, two strap, food, and gas. The west desert is a place you don’t want to be stranded in. I know. You prepare for a trip out there, because what can go wrong will go wrong if you haven’t planned it.
The easiest way, and you don’t NEED a jeep or four wheel drive to get there this way, though it is still recommended, is to take Highway six to Brushwellman Highway, just north of Delta UT. Go west until you see the sign that says Topaz Mountain this way. You can get there by using back roads through the west Desert, but have a GPS, or something, it is amazing how turned around you can get in the desert, especially at night. Those roads are more fun though, and if you are coming from Tooele, can save a few miles, but not much time.
John likes Topaz Mountain, because he thinks he might get rich. It could happen I suppose. I like it because it is peaceful, and a fun way to spend time with a boy. We do find some nice Topaz from time to time, fragments and whole crystals, with some beautiful color.
Beware though. I have taken to carrying when out there. The first time John and I were there John ran into a Mountain Lion, as he ventured around a rock he scared it. He was by his description no more than 10 feet from it. I tell him he is the luckiest boy alive. When he asks why, I tell him: “First, because you saw a Mountain Lion. And second, because it let you live.” I covet that experience. I have always wanted to see one in the wild, and never have had the opportunity. The lion was long gone by the time John made it back to where I was digging in the rock to tell me. I’ve known people spend their whole lives in the wilderness and not see one. I suspect he took it by surprise, and was very lucky. Perhaps though our dog had something to do with scaring the Lion, as she, Cecilia, was not far off, and tends to keep an eye on the adventurer. The other hazards are snakes. I haven’t seen one out there, but they are there. Another reason John wants to go there. He has an ungodly fascination with snakes, and I do mean, ungodly. Bring water and food too.
Once there, the trick is to climb. When you find a spot, and there is not real good trick in finding one spot over another, hit the rock with a hammer to expose fresh dirt. Start poking in the crevices etc with a screw driver and find the vugs, then dig them out. Repeat the process. The mountain seems full of Topaz. Don’t bother with the clear stuff you see laying around. People say if you expose it to radiation it’s color will return. I find it will blow up a microwave. Someone suggested putting it in the oven, but I don’t know. It is fun though to dig in the hill and find Topaz. There is also Red Beryl out there, worth more than diamonds. But good luck. None of it is easy. It takes time and patience. But it is an easy outing for a family costing not much more than a tank of gas.

Transfiguration Ceremonies

Transfiguration Sunday and the glory of heaven shines on the hills of golden grass. We ascend the mountains for reasons not quite unlike those of the disciples. Yes, differences there are, but it is our hope too to be witness the glory of God in his creation if not to hear his voice thunder from shimmering clouds. To strengthen our souls and refresh our spirits for the weeks ahead. The last day of Chukar Season will be marked by solemn ritual, the dogs scouring the hills noses to the wind, the incense of cheap cigars wafting in conversation anticipating the joyful song erupting from the swinging pipes of handheld organs. Yes in its own way perhaps, a religious event. If not quite the worship of God found in scripture, it still retains its connotations.
The season started slow, months passing by consumed with office work and conflicting schedules. November came and went with nary a shot fired, a man’s soul grows weary, his spirit anxious. December fell in with weather awry, in-conducive to the hunt, edging out the pastor’s coveted time. But Aquarius smiled on the sportsman’s soul, and the sky cleared a canvass for the wingshooter’s art.
Amidst the limestone cliffs cathedral walls of gray, one could hear nature’s hymn sung, the round of covey choirs calling from balconies above. No worries, the dogs hold them tight suppressing their clucks with nervous anxiety. The tension builds as you push for the flush, cautiously moving, anticipating ambush. Signals of the hand motion for position directing you forward as you step slowly, treading quietly planting firmly each foot, waiting for the eruption of flight. Brush and grass, stone and bush morph to form of partridge silhouettes flying against the sky. Cheek to wood, nature’s hymn finds punctuation as the birds fold in flight, tumbling to the ground.
Four to eight mile hikes broken with intermittent opportunity for sport, sometimes unexpected. The chukar makes a break taking off from the rocks above it howls down the canyon for cover below. The first shot misses, but pulling forward by ten feet the bird begins to fold at thirty five yards where the number fives hit home. Yes life is good, the season a success if you don’t see another bird.
Yes we ascended the mountain for reasons not entirely different than those of the disciples. Perhaps the expectations were not entirely met on this Sunday of the Transfiguration, but what more could a sportsman do with such a beautiful afternoon? The chukar evade detection, but the souls found rest the spirit comfort in the seasons closing ceremony. And we then descend to put the guns up, and pray to enjoy another season next year.

Chukar Hunting, Reason to Stay in Shape.

The old saying is you go chukar hunting the first time for fun, after that it’s for revenge. I’ve had good days hunting chukar, but my thirst for revenge is never satiated. See, every time you go you find new reason to want revenge. These birds are brutal. You need to be in shape or it is miserable. Chukar’s get me up in the morning to go running, or hiking. So now I blame them for my shin splints. Next Sunday they aren’t getting away.
Chukar hunting can be a lot of fun, and quite challenging. Chukar, if you don’t know, are in the partridge family. They are a midsize birds, larger than quail, even Hungarian Partridge, but smaller than a Grouse or Pheasant. They come from the Middle East and as such they like barren hill sides littered with rocks, sage brush and cheatgrass, which is their favorite form of food. This makes for some spectacular shooting if you get into them.
Chukar flush almost as beautifully as they fold. But they are an amazing bird for their ability to blend in, in such surroundings. They are gray, black and white with a little coloring on their eyes. And despite being the size of a small chicken, a little larger than a banty, yet I’ve watched them flush from five feet away on all but bare ground where they were completely concealed, making dogs an almost must if you want to get into them.
I have rarely, actually only once, had success hunting chukar without a dog. That was by pure chance, my friend and I happened to have shotguns, and happened to see chukar flush from the roadside. We were able to circle around them on foot while they were coveying up. We got above them and started down on them as they were clucking at each other. Unfortunately my friend was using 7 shot. I don’t use anything smaller than six anymore, I like fives. If I hit a bird I want it to drop, preferably right where I hit it. I was able to retrieve the one bird I saw because I hit it with fives. The bird with sevens escaped our half an hour search.
But dogs make it a little easier. The chukar still have the advantage. But one or two good pointers is a great boon. You don’t want a flushing dog, you want a pointer. The pointer’s job is to climb up above you seven hundred feet and tell you yes there are birds up here, now run to where I am. And when you get there the birds flush if they haven’t left. A good pointer will readjust and follow the birds, making you climb another couple hundred feet. Then he will make you go down, then up, then down. A good pointer is like a coach. But they find birds you otherwise wouldn’t. And they are beautiful doing it. It is exhilarating to see an English pointer go on point on the ridge line as the sun sets behind him. But then it’s time to run, and run up hill.
No, you don’t actually run, you walk very fast and get there as quick as you can without dropping your gun or yourself. Chukar live in tortuous terrain, and so tripping or otherwise falling is always a problem. This is why chukar hunters run during the week. Hiking the hills is tough business. Straight up, and straight down, it’s cold, it’s wet, its dry and warm, you get tired. Rocks give out under your feet, sage brush gives way. I remember once the sensation of skiing as I descended amidst a small rockslide to get where the dogs were pointing. Staying in shape, helps. The better shape you are in the better your shooting is going to be when you get there too.
I’ve had years when for one reason or another I just was not able to stay in shape for chukar season, knee injuries, or laziness. I once thought I was in shape as I spent hours a day on an elliptical machine. Only to find out in my annual hunt to Hell’s Canyon, chukar hunting Mecca, that elliptical machines are liars. You have a choice when you get to the dogs, catch your breath or shoot. If you are trying to catch your breath when you are shooting, your accuracy is going to be affected. It’s just better to stay in shape.
But the there are those days when everything is perfect, perhaps the last day of hunting in Hell’s canyon last year. The weather was nice, the shotgun loaded with six and five, the dogs go on point amidst a flat piece of terrain overlooking the Snake River. You slowly approach the point, getting into position, and walk in for the flush. The bird’s take off, you find one in the flush of 30, and follow through to fold it with sixes just as you see one a bit closer to take with the next barrel, and watch the fives tumble it to the ground. Two birds in the last flush of the season, and well, it puts you in a good mood, and gives you reason to start running again when you get home.