What we carry
Late season baggage
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Jesse
Preoccupied is a good way to describe it. Perhaps “preoccupied” is not the most accurate word, however. Compelled to hunt or having a compulsion to hunt are better descriptors. What is a word for doing something despite knowing of the potentially negative consequences? Consequences you’re fully aware of? I won’t be surprised to enventually realize the neglected house chores & projects, sidetracked writing, and missed deadlines—all bystanders to my lack of attention to non-deer-hunting things.
The compulsion is the activity itself, not necessarily thinking about it or ruminating on it. Plenty in the modern hunting crowd are as obsessed or more so than I am. My anecdotal observation is that more and more passionate hunters now spend more and more hours “screen hunting” in chat rooms, Instagram, Facebook, and other digital spaces than they do in the field. That’s not an unusual development since this behavior now parallels most any topic or endeavor, especially politics and pop culture, where our experiences, our views, our lives get filtered through the digital tools in our hands, curated (un)knowingly by private interests, which encourage us to keep looking at the things we love through their prism.
I may obsess where to go the night before a hunt, looking and re-looking at maps, but I’ve intentionally veered away from the digital hunting experience thats grown to a point of simulacrum, where reality and imagination blur, an exercise in armchair outdoorsmanship, not unlike the conceptual chasm between an in-real-life relationship and porn– unreal expectations, envy, shortcuts, simplicity, fantasy. Hunting or intimacy– you can imagine both from the comfort of your screen, though neither exists, in that form, outside the frame of our iPhone or Android.
Wool Green Shirt, Lined
Warm and silent. It’s now faded with a few holes, but it’s my go-to for all gun seasons. I never have to think about it, which in the end says a lot about a piece of gear. If it snagged, was itchy, or ripped easily, I would find a replacement.
While wearing this shirt, I’ve experienced the highest highs and lowest lows; this pretty much sums up all deer hunting for me. It’s hopeless until it’s not. The shirt’s kept me warm and dry, which in turn has enabled me to have these thoughts about the pursuit and philosophy that grounds me in it— perhaps the most valuable attribute a shirt can have.
Boots
It’s taken nearly ten years to find a boot that suits me. The funny thing is that they work perfectly when I’m hunting in the environment I love: snowy, hilly, wooded areas. When I need to walk on a road to get back to my truck, they are uncomfortable.
What does this mean? Getting your feet on the ground is different from trying them on in the store or in the living room. Taking this further: looking at a picture of a place or of deer is a form of digital comfort and safety. Placing feet in situ introduces an entirely new scenario. How will your feet respond to an icy rock ledge when all we’ve done is wear the boots around the house? The digital hunter feeds the ego, while the in-real-life hunter feeds the soul.
Bag
How much can we carry before the weight and complexity become useless or even harmful? I used to take only what I could fit in my pockets, and then I brought so much that I exhausted myself. Where’s the balance? If we let the “what-ifs” distract and consume us, we’ll pack so much we can’t go very far.
I settled on an 835-cubic-inch bag that fits within my torso profile, so it doesn’t snag on branches. I’ve considered switching to a hip-style pack, but haven’t found one I like yet. This bag accommodates a water bladder that requires insulation when temperatures are below 20 degrees Fahrenheit. I carry a gallon Zip-Lok bag of food, extra ammo, extra gloves, and other random items that might come in handy.
The real baggage is in the mind, and it manifests in what we carry. Never go, but only think about it? That’s easy; there’s nothing to carry, but your mind bears tremendous weight in anxious thought.
When I started hunting, a big draw was that it was an un-Google-able endeavor; I loved that component. Today, it still is that way, but the internet is crafty in making you believe that with enough of the right gear and oogling at freakshow bucks, you can scroll your way to a trophy, all the while lining the pockets of sponsors, celebrities, and platforms.
I can’t help but wonder if there are parallels here with other pursuits that require some preparation, but lead to too much research. Where is the balance between carrying enough on our backs and in our heads to be prepared, but not so much that we’re encumbered by unnecessary thoughts and poundage that ultimately limit how far we can go?
Where____is____that____line?
The only way I know to find this seam between a calculated life and a passionate one is subjective. Our gut, our voice, our soul tells us when to stop and go, lean in or retreat. That voice has always been corruptible by us. Yet never before has the panopticon that is our smartphone and the world it unlocks been so effective at sidelining us from listening to it.
Look at what we carry. Feel it. Go somewhere with it. The kinetic meets the hypothetical, and the feedback tells us whether that voice is our own.
Voile straps! They are the piece of gear that is infinitely useful but not many hunters have heard of or thought to take out of their ski pack!
Fantastic piece! The boots analogy really lands. "Digital comfort and safety" vs feet in situ captures something most people miss about any real pursuit. Testing gear in the living room tells you almost nothing compared to that icy rock ledge moment. Same applies to so many things we think we undrstand from screens alone.