1st Saturday - For opening weekend I selected an area above Lake Wenatchee that looked promising via outer space. Apparently it wasn't that original of a thought as four rigs were in my first destination and another truck was guarding my backup plan... So I abandoned common sense and started sliding down the steepest hill I could see.
I made it back to the road by dusk and was treated to the consolation prize of great views of Lake Wenatchee and Fish Lake, two past and future sites of the fishing diaries.
1st Sunday - So I knew two things after my introduction to Washington mule deer hunting: I need to be more creative to get further away from people and shin guards aren't just for soccer. So a change of scenery was in order and I found a trail that started with a ford or log jam crossing of the Chiwawa River. That sounded like a suitable barrier to the trucks and what simpleton would attempt dragging a deer across a pile of logs? I had one advantage and that was no expectation of success!
After sleeping at the trailhead, I was pleased to see the promised logs were still jammed. Nice, big, frost covered logs... It only took two falls to reach the opposite bank. From there it was a peaceful stroll through the woods. Plenty of time for pictures as the deer remained elusive although this time I told myself they hadn't migrated down quite so low yet.
2nd Saturday: For my second venison attempt I headed to the Entiat valley and then climbed into the hills above the Mad River. The weather was promising to be stormy and I wanted to make sure I stayed were the precipitation was white and fluffy. As I wiggled out of the sleeping bag and stumbled from the car the ground was dry but the first small flakes were falling through the dark.
Three hours in and things were quiet but beautiful with my first exposure to larches in transition! To help convey my excitement level- it fell somewhere on the continuum of a tweeny spotting an auto-tuned pop star with the hairdo and the hound's excitement for peanut butter. So please indulge my self-indulgent diversion into sub par larch pictures (had a little trouble keeping snow off the lens):
As the day wore on I decided to drive even further into the hills in search of that open country I had spotted the weekend before. Before I got very far, a promising set of tracks crossed the road and it was time to jump back into the woods. Within half a mile the deer led me across my own tire tracks and I started to feel a little, tiny glimmer of hope. Another half mile and I finally saw my quarry (from Middle English quierre or querre, the entrails of game given to the hounds). Fortunately for this deer but maybe not for my hound, mule deer does are off limits.
I wandered around for another four hours but never managed to catch up with anything except rascally rabbits. It got so desperate that I tried making a decoy to confuse the deer. No such luck but I am holding out hope that its a head scratcher for a few hunters.
2nd Sunday: The first thing I saw in the morning was such a confusing maze of sign coming and going that I couldn't even guess at how many deer had been feeding within range of my snoring. By a cruel twist of fate, I had parked for the night within 100 yards of the local hangout and never had a clue. They had emerged from at least five different directions but cleared out well before first light.
Flustered by too much of a good thing I started following the first couple sets of tracks but they were poor choices and eventually looped back to the buffet zone. A couple more took me to the mulee expressway but it was clear they were not meandering when taking the exposed ridge. Its a little tough to see in the picture but the trail was easily visible all the way over the rocks.
Circled back a final time and followed a group for about a mile before I convinced myself that I was tailing a couple does and their fawns. So it was time to concede total defeat while enjoying lunch and more consolation views of the Entiat.
