There is always a degree of caution that comes from sharing information with “BB”. We had arranged to meet up in the White Mountain Reservation around the Maverick Camp. For some unexplained reason “BB” had sent me a text stating that plans had changed and that we were to now meet along the border of 3C and the Reservation along the fence line at a spot that we had met previously. His text was terse and I was curious for the reasoning, but I figured that all would come out during the interview.
I hauled the Tundra out of mothballs and headed up to the high country. I also had a little news for “BB”, since I had
received in the mail just the previous day, a bull elk tag for unit 3A-3C for the early season archery hunt. I was confident that just the news of my getting another tag would throw him into fits of fear, but hey, you never know with “BB”. Continue reading
By previous agreement, I headed up to meet “BB” at Maverick Camp in the White Mountain Apache Reservation. I had borrowed my Tundra from the new owner for one last ride in the mountains. I came through Globe and headed up to the turnoffs along the way, climbing higher and higher until I crested out several miles from the camp. It was getting towards dusk and I was somewhat surprised at the lack of activity on the Reservation. The beauty of the White Mountains never ceases to amaze me and I savored all the sights as I made my way the last few miles to the Maverick Camp. There are several open meadows around Maverick and I pulled off the road and headed for the dark timber where we’d agreed to meet. I “felt” rather than saw “BB” as he slowly emerged from the lengthening shadows. Since there were no hunts going on, I shouted out a greeting to “BB”. He simply stared at me and waited until I was virtually right next to him.
“BB” whispered, “Do you hear that boy?” I strained in the quiet to hear what “BB” was talking about and then shook my head. “Nope “BB”, I can’t hear a thing. What’re you talking about?” Continue reading
I was heading through Christopher Creek when my phone beeped that I had received a text message. The surprise was that the text was from “BB” and as usual, the message was brief and to the point. “No go on meeting at Bugle Inn. Meet at the boundary fence line across from Deer Springs Lookout.” We had previously scheduled our meeting to be at the Bugle Inn, but for some unknown reason, “BB” had changed plans at the very last moment. I was curious but not concerned with the change and late that evening I headed out from Forest Lakes to the meeting spot. This year the archery bull hunt was held without the benefit of any moon and it was absolutely pitch black when I arrived and shut down the Tundra. I clicked on my hat lights and headed for the boundary fence. The night was alive with all kinds of screaming bulls and the bugles, chuckles, grunts and drumming were all rising up from various canyons around Deer Springs. I had archery hunted for deer in this same location a few weeks before and had done plenty of canyon exploration that showed me just how many elk were running through there each night. I easily found the fence line and snapped off my hat lights to absorb the sounds and take in the magnificent star-lit sky. Continue reading