Tradition in the Mountains.
by Dean Growdon
With the relentless heat we’ve been enduring, it’s hard to believe that one of our most cherished traditions is already knocking at the door—a time when camouflage emerges from the closet, archers are tuning their bows, rifles are being sighted in at the favorite range, and caravans of ATVs and UTVs are rolling into our area from all across California. Of course, I’m talking about deer season.
As a kid, this time of year felt almost magical. We mainly hunted X4 and were lucky enough to hunt both archery and rifle seasons with the same tag. Deer were abundant, and we spent endless hours hiking ridgelines, sitting in blinds, and, naturally, doing a little road hunting along the way.
The hunting itself was exciting and challenging, but it was the people that made deer season unforgettable. We had a big deer camp filled with close friends from near and far, along with family. Mornings and evenings were dedicated to hunting, while the middle of the day was for visiting around camp, riding dirt bikes, or finding whatever adventure came our way.
It was a season I waited for all year with unmatched anticipation. Sadly, many of the people who first took me hunting and shared those deer camp memories are no longer with us, but I treasure the influence they had on me and the lasting memories they left behind.
Things look very different today. Deer herds have been hammered by drought, fire, and predators, and drawing a tag in our area has become far more difficult. There are still a few zones that offer plenty of tags, and often, that is where many of us end up with our second choice on the application.
It can be hard to feel excited about hunting those zones, but it remains the only way to take part in a tradition that is woven into who we are.
Over time, I’ve adapted both my approach and my priorities. In years when I’m fortunate enough to draw a good tag, I invest plenty of time in scouting and planning, doing everything I can to make the hunt both successful and memorable. In years when I draw one of the tougher zones, I lean into the simple joy of being outdoors. I hike to the most remote places I can find, glass the mountains, watch the animals, and let my mind drift back to hunts from years gone by.
Depending on where I’m headed, I’ll often tuck a small fly rod and a few flies into my pack. I hunt hard in the morning and evening, then spend the midday hours catching little brook trout, rainbows, and anything else I can find in remote mountain waters.
Broadening the way I approach these seasons has changed the way I think about reward.
For everyone preparing for the season ahead, I wish you luck. Be respectful of others, stay safe, and savor your time in the woods, the desert, or wherever your hunt leads you.
