Nothing makes me appreciate home more than a little time away. Each time I leave Jackson I am reminded how much I love it. My friends and the community feel like family. The views and forests have a familiar feel and smell. Back from Denali but pre-Philippines, my plan was to soak this in as much as possible.

Priority #1 - kick it with friends ASAP and as much as possible. Priority #2: harvest spring’s bounty.

We came back to spring time. A brief but special season in Wyoming. The grass is exceptionally green, the wildflowers burst with color, new birds arrive from migrations, bike trails are perfectly tacky, and bears are out. I could keep that list going. Can you tell I like spring? Damnit I love every season here.

Returning earlier than planned let us overlap several things I expected to miss. First morel mushrooms. Think “North America’s truffle”. With a brief growing season and secretive nature, they run $30/pound. But we don’t sell them. They are too damn delicious. I don’t know if searching for them or cooking them is better. Picture an adult Easter egg hunt amongst a maze of cottonwoods plus purple and yellow blooms of lupine and arrowleaf balsamroot.

Finding each one of these gems is a little momentary high with a dank after taste. Don’t worry about mistakenly eating the last meal of your life. They look like yellow and black brains making them easy to identify.

The next spring event I was pumped to get back for - black bear season. One of my all-time favorite animals. Hunting them lets you dive deeper into their lives than most will ever get. Pre-hunting I used to appreciate all bear sightings but didn’t always understand why they occurred. I’d see them randomly some days while not others and just feel lucky the days I did. A hunter, however, must know the animal inside and out. Understand them so well that sightings don’t just happen, they are created.

Over the last 5 years I’ve hunted bears each spring. My sightings and knowledge of these special animals increase each season. The days it takes me to harvest decrease. It’s incredibly satisfying to understand an animal so in depth that sightings slowly become the norm. We hunters love the animals we pursue. We probably want them around more than anyone else. Hell, we feed ourselves on them! If we didn’t care for their conservation we’d have nothing to eat.

Now I love bear meat. But I know it shocks people to hear that bears are one of a couple critters the state doesn’t require you to keep the meat. I won’t even begin to dive into predator/prey dynamics and management. But let me share a short anecdote to understand bear hunting.

I walked into college in Montana a city boy. I picked up deer and elk hunting my sophomore year but figured I’d never chase the furry, black predators I loved to see growing up in the Sierras. Then for college credit I worked at hunter check stations. This was a weekend gig where I sat with biologists along highways during hunting season. Every hunter, successful or unsuccessful, must stop. We’d check for legal harvests as well as gain valuable success data.

One particularly slow morning I was chatting with the biologist. He asked if I was a hunter myself. I replied “ya just starting, deer and elk mainly”. He proceeds, “do you hunt bears”. “No, no real interest”, I said. His response shocked me, “could you please?”

The biologist proceeded to explain how Missoula, MT isn’t like the big city I grew up in. Black bears are numerous enough that populations reach carrying capacity. What results is over-flow from the woods crawls into town. Bears and people don’t always mix well. Problem bears threatening children and pets or becoming food-conditioned must be euthanized.

In fact, that biologist had to put down several that year just himself. When euthanized in a backyard by a state agency, the bears can’t generally be put to use. The meat is not kept and the skull and hide may be used for education but not always.

The state wants to see hunters harvest a “wild” bear deep in the backcountry, help with the necessary population control, eat all its meat, and keep the hide and skull to give honor to the animal. Plus the tag sales raise money for bear conservation. That’s way better than a game warden shooting an “urban” bear in someone’s yard and disposing of the animal. Hunting is a proactive, as opposed to reactive, solution to the problem.

Did I sell you? I’m not saying you should go bear hunting. Not many people do. But I at least want you to be okay with it. If you’re not - dope, stop reading. You probably already stopped following me. All the better.

This bear season was extra special. I’ve harvested four other bears but this year’s offered two firsts. #1 I wasn’t alone. I got to share the highs and lows with Emma which was so much fun. #2 I harvested in the morning. My other bears were at last light. Skinning in the dark, usually rain too, under a headlamp alone is never ideal. This year a 7am harvest allowed for a beautifully well-lit, warm, and comfortable butchering under the sun.

Emma and I had a textbook 24-hour hunt. The highs and lows were real, exactly the emotional rollercoaster we chase. She and I started hiking at noon the first day. We reached my glassing spot around 3pm.

I’ve averaged seeing at least one bear a night at this spot since I found it last year. Emma and I proceed to sit until dark with our binoculars. Seven hours and one single deer to show for it. It was very enjoyable to chat and watch dusk settle in. By dark, however, we were a little bummed.

I’ve never seen a bear at this spot in the morning. But we fell asleep under the stars hopeful and, at the very least, it would be a rad camping trip.

At 5am I began half-ass glassing from my sleeping bag. With expectations low the momentary high of spotting a bear at 6:30am was immense. It was the same bear I watched for three hours two days prior. I woke up Emma. She stayed back watching as I put the stalk on. By 7:30am we had a dead bear and by 9am we were ready to pack out. Wow things can turn fast. It was a solid reminder to stay positive on slow hunts. Anything can happen at anytime.

Game and Fish aged this boar at 10-15 years old. His teeth were worn plus he had a broken nose and five-inch scar on his back. He’s been a fighter twice as long as I’ve been in Jackson. We were pumped! Game and Fish also told us the average age harvested this year was 2-3. Ours had lived a full life doing bear things. He likely was on his downslope since his fat and body condition weren’t optimal.

Bear steaks with morel mushrooms on the menu. Hard to ask for a better spring bounty from the outdoors.

With bear tag filled it was time to mountain bike. This last week was beautiful. I’d wake up and have to make some tough decisions - mountain bike or mushroom hunt or both? And then not if, but when and where do I get beers with the squad after? First world problems at its finest.

Recent rains have left the trails tacky and pristine. The last two years I’ve switched from predominantly all-mountain riding to mainly downhill. I can’t thank particularly Andrew and also homies like Pat for teaching me. This year especially I’ve never felt a faster progression in the sport. Each day I am more confident in the air with my bike. Sure, I’ll still climb and love it but “why” when I can hitch-hike?

I sadly never got the camera out this week while riding so here’s a shot of Andrew from last year on Teton Pass.

This brings me to a pattern my buddies and I bring up regularly. There’s a plethora of outdoor sports. Generally each induce a sense of nervous excitement or fear that comes from one of two things. Heights or speed. Some sports contain both but usually one predominates. It’s interesting how everyone is more comfortable with one over the other.

I personally feel more at ease free solo rock climbing than I do riding 30mph over rocky single track. I love heights. Andrew is the complete opposite which is money because we can each push one another. Pat - well, he excels at both as a savage paraglider and mountain biker.

Mountain biking is grabbing me right now. The XC riding I did all through college was fun. But the fast downhill jump lines are providing me with more nerves than I get from any other sport. And nervous is what I want. It’s the only way we get better at something.

Why “beers” in the title? Well to be honest I needed a third “b” word. But beers were a part of every day this week as we rejoiced being back from Denali and relaxed after bike rides.

Interestingly, this week was a transition period in beer consumption for the summer. We just got off Denali where dragging the weight of alcohol up 1000s of feet seemed foolish. Additionally, Tanner and I will likely not drink the next month in the Philippines. Beer can clog sinuses making ear-equalization impossible. No beers are worth destroying our ability to freedive. So don’t drink at all, smash beers in Jackson, don’t drink again for a month.

Wow, that was a long-winded, bullshit excuse for me to feel ok about putting “beers” in the title.

18 hours in the air and 4 flights later. More time zone changes than I care to keep track of. A hilariously inefficient transfer system that left us sprinting through a busy terminal, barely making a connection by 2 minutes, and my dive fins being taken and thrown under the plane because somehow they are a weapon. After all that, Tanner and I have made it to the Philippines.

Our home for the next month is Panglao island. Goal - freedive every day. Get as deep as we can on one breath and swim with some cool critters. More specifically, I want 40 meters (132ft). We’ll see on that. Goals are fun. They help us push ourselves. But when not training, the plan is just relax and enjoy paradise.

beers, bears, and bikes

Apnea

20,310 ft