Murphy’s Law or A Hunting Trip to Remember

Everyone knows Murphy’s Law: Anything that can go wrong will go wrong. I found that out this year.

I’m back from our yearly deer hunting trip. I wish I could say it was successful. Well, it wasn’t. I guess after so many successful years it was bound to happen. The signs that things would be different this year were there, but we ignored them.

At first it seemed we may have to cancel our trip this year because of a tragedy in our extended family. We decided to go anyway. There was nothing we could do here. It would be good to get away.

Usually there are six in our hunting party, but one of our friends had an operation on his shoulder and couldn’t come. He was the one with the three-wheeler we used for dragging the deer out of the bush. No three-wheeler meant heavy physical labour, but we had done it for many years, so no huge problem, albeit inconvenient. Another one of our party couldn’t bring his 4-wheel truck. It  broke down and needed repairs. That was not a good thing, because we relied on his truck to pull us out in case we got stuck. It happened many times in the past. No big deal when you have the proper equipment. Just part of hunting when in rough territory.

The next sign was also clear. The weather people forecasted a major snow storm. We hoped it wouldn’t come as long as we were hunting.

Three of our friends left Wednesday morning. When I talked to one of them in the evening I said, “You sound so close. Are you at home?” He answered, “I wish I were. We got stuck in the mud at around 1 o’clock and we finally got the trailer out. We couldn’t  make it to the old camp site. We are at a different spot.” This was at 7 pm.

Another sign to stay home, but we didn’t heed it. We were not to be intimidated by these little mishaps.

My son and I left Thursday morning, November 8, 2012, and headed west...in my van. Not a 4x4 either. We took a portable winch along, just in case.

The trip there was uneventful, the highway was good, no snow, and we even made it to our old camp site with too much trouble. We avoided all the deep ruts in the road that led into the bush and drove across the field. The previous night had been cold and the ground was firm.

By 4 pm I sat in my deer stand and waited for deer to come.

When I got to my stand I got another sign that things would be different. My stand was in poor shape. The first rung of the ladder broken, a busted floor, the shooting rest I used to steady my rifle ripped loose, but I was not deterred. I was happy to be here and I would shoot a deer. Never got a chance. I saw no signs of any deer, only one coyote, crows, and chickadees. And lots of geese flying in the sky, probably heading south. Smart birds.

When I got back to camp my son was already there. He said the area around his stand was flooded and he suggested we join our friends. I agreed, so we left in the dark, searching for them. Something I had wanted to avoid. Driving in the dark on a narrow, bumpy trail through the bush is nerve wrecking and crazy, definitely not recommend, but we managed to get back to the main trail without getting stuck and finally found them.

The next morning we all went out hunting. My deer stand, which was always the closest to our camp, was the farthest away from the new camp, which didn’t make me too happy. I’m the oldest member in the party and it is getting harder for me with every passing year to walk through the bush with my backpack and a rifle in my hands, but I’m not ready to give up yet. I didn’t bother fixing my stand. It would have taken too much time away from hunting and made too much noise, anyway. The seat was still safe, and so I sat waiting for deer that never came.

Nobody shot a deer that day, but we weren’t discouraged. This was not the first time. 25 years of hunting the area had taught us to be patient. We knew the deer would eventually come. We had a good time, ate barbequed ribs, drank beer, and played cards.

The next morning we woke up to a foot of snow and it was still snowing. The predicted storm had come sooner than expected.

We all decided to leave and set up camp in a local farmer’s yard and then carry on hunting.

It didn’t turn out that way, and by this time I wasn’t surprised.

We barely made it out of the bush. The dirt-roads were covered with deep snow. It was impossible to see what was underneath the snow, but we drove on. We didn’t stop at the farm for fear of getting stuck. We were happy to be moving and finally ended up on the highway. Our next plan was to stay the night on a gas station lot. We abandoned that idea when we realized we couldn’t just set up camp near a gas station. So we drove in the storm on a treacherous highway back toward Winnipeg. We didn’t plan to drive all the way home. We would camp on a campground past Brandon. According to one of our friends it would be closed, but they didn’t close the gate.

His information was wrong. The gate was closed, so was the restroom. We had no choice but to set up camp anyway. Right in front of the gate. Not the ideal camping spot, but we were happy to be comparatively safe, out of the bush and off the highway.

They closed the highway around midnight, but we were prepared to wait out the snow storm until conditions were right. We had enough food, a warm place to sleep, and good company. What else did we need? We fired up our generators and life was not bad.

Except no deer.

The next morning we checked out road conditions. The snowplows had cleared the highway and it was open again for travel, so we packed up and left. It had snowed more during the night and we promptly got stuck in the snow which the snowplows had piled up at the edge of the highway. Out came the shovels. After shovelling the trailer out of the snow we headed back toward Brandon, because there was no way to get into the eastbound lane. The crossing was still piled high with snow. We finally found one that was halfway cleared and got stuck again. Out came the shovels...again.

The rest of the trip was okay, considering conditions. Even though cleared of snowdrifts, the highway was still snow-covered and slippery. We came across two jack-knifed semis in the ditch. Just before we came to Portage La Prairie one of the stranded semis caused the highway to be closed. Semis, trucks, and cars were lined up in a double row at least two km long, waiting to drive on. We were lucky it had happened on the side with traffic heading west, otherwise we would have had to set up camp on the side of the highway. Nothing would have surprised me.

We arrived home safely. Disappointed but happy to be home.

Certainly a hunting trip to be remembered. Unfortunately not fondly.

Curse that Murphy and his laws.

We're set up in front of the closed camp ground where we spent the night

Inside my van. Primitive but perfect on a hunting trip and warm and cozy on a cold, blustery day

Semis waiting for the Trans Canada Highway to open up