Author Archives: G.T. Rees

About G.T. Rees

G.T. Rees considers himself very lucky to live in northern Idaho with his wife and two children, where he’ll never run out of wild places to explore. Since his earliest memory, he has been captivated by the outdoors and everything wild, and he hopes to convey that joy to others through his humorous outdoor adventure stories. His work has been published in numerous magazines. Find out more at: authorgtrees.com.

They Know, Somehow

I poked my head above the sagebrush and cursed under my breath. Forty head or more of antelope had just vanished somewhere on the rolling range. Where the hell could they have gone?

The valley wasn’t wide, maybe a little more than a mile from where I was at the root of the snowcapped Sawtooths, which climbed several thousand feet from where Highway 28 cut through the lonely Lemhi Valley.

I got up on my knees, thankful for the kneepads and leather gloves I had almost neglected to bring. About ten of those “speed goats” were grazing far down toward the highway, but there was no sign at all of the large herd I’d been stalking for more than an hour, belly-crawling through what slight cover was available. This was my first antelope hunt, and it was a lot harder than I had planned on it being. It was the second day of my hunt, and the umpteenth failed stalk. Get within five hundred yards, and the critters would just take off.

It was easy to locate them. I just drove along the lonesome highway south of Leadore until I spotted my quarry. But then I tried, and repeatedly failed, to put a stalk on them. It wasn’t working at all like they did it on the hunting shows. Continue reading

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Bipolar Season

I climbed over one last deadfall on the long-neglected trail and pushed myself up the final step to the saddle on a commanding mountain ridge.

It was cold, the temperature dropping as the sun began to break over the Cabinet Mountains in late September and let out a puff of breath to test the wind direction. I’d hiked an hour in the dark to get to this spot overreaching a remote mountain meadow where I was certain elk would be bunched up like cattle with at least a dozen bruiser bulls competing for dominance of the airwaves with their primordial screams. Just then, a bull confirmed my thoughts with a mighty bugle from somewhere across the forest. Ah, it was going to be a good day. Continue reading

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Go Ahead, Camp with Kids

It’ll Probably Be OK

Story and Photos By G.T. Rees

Last summer, when I took my then eight-year-old son Dylan on his first real backpacking trip along with two of his buddies and their dads, I fully expected trouble from the little twerps, and worked myself up to withstand a barrage of complaints.
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Killer GPS

I think my Global Positioning System is trying to kill me. I’ve noticed a troubling trend over the last few years in the electronic doohickey I carry around to keep from getting lost.

It seems every trip into the mountains has become a rigged game of roulette with my electronic gadget, which tries to strand me by delivering faulty information.

Take the time I went hunting in the Coeur d’Alene Mountains, and on the way back missed my truck by no more than a hundred yards. The screen showed right where my truck was, but that tiny shot didn’t match up with the terrain, and I quickly wandered off course. As a result, I spent an entire day slogging through a foot of new snow, running out of water, and puking my guts out in the shower from dehydration when I finally did get home. Before you think, What an idiot, why didn’t he just eat some snow? I did. It doesn’t provide enough water when you’re really hoofing it, hence the puking in the shower. This entire misadventure could have been avoided if I hadn’t relied on my GPS for directions.

There’s another dimension to this problem. My wife is convinced I’ll get lost in the mountains and die. Given my recent history, she might have cause for concern. I always try to soften my stories of wilderness adventure just a bit, so as to protect her nerves, but it never seems to work. She eventually gets the whole story out of me, and then it’s all that more difficult to get out for a hike or some hunting the next time. It’s almost enough to make a guy wish for simpler, more unfettered, times. Almost. Continue reading

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