(4 minute read)

Setting up the tent in a hailstorm was a first for me. I’m typing this on my phone while curled up in a sleeping bag wearing three layers, a merino wool beanie, and two socks. It’s snowing outside. The walls of my tent won’t stop flapping in the wind. It’s loud. The weather forecast on my Garmin says it’ll get down to 21 degrees tonight so my water filter is stashed at the bottom of my sleeping bag so it won’t freeze and crack. My feet are cold and damp. I guess this is part of the experience I came here for. 

It’s a bit nerve wracking knowing that a thin tent shelter, sleeping bag, and one set of clothes are the only things keeping me from the frigid elements outside. I’ve been alone for two days. Thoughts of waking up to the sound of my tent poles snapping followed by tent walls caving in under the weight of the snow and wind creep into my mind. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. That might sound a bit dramatic, but I’ve never backpacked in a snowstorm, even a light one.

After reading Tim Ferriss’ blog post on mini-retirements, I’ve always wanted to take time off between jobs. I’m a fan of his idea of “spreading out your retirement” by taking extended time off every few years, rather than waiting to do it all at once at the end of your life. Plus, after 65 I might be too old for some types of adventure, like the one I’m on right now. 

I’m currently between jobs and I’ve got five weeks for the most epic adventure I’ve ever planned. I’m bowhunting for a just over a month: three days of pre-season scouting for Elk, a week long Mule Deer hunt in Nebraska, and then 25 days of (mostly solo) Elk hunting. 

It almost feels like a vision quest. You know the journey where you go into the woods alone with nothing but a spear and don’t come back until you’ve slayed a dragon? It’s the initiation every boy went through to be recognized as a man in their tribe. Yeah, that’s the one. 

Being a young man is a strange phase. You haven’t built a kingdom yet and it’s glaringly obvious to not only yourself, but to others. You’re not even entirely sure what kind of kingdom you want to build. You feel a bit lost at times, unsure of yourself, and yet you’re supposed to maintain some semblance of confidence as you’re surrounded by posturing and the beating of ones chest. 

Traditionally in a tribal system there was a hierarchy amongst men. Those who were strong and skilled could provide and protect themselves (and the rest of the tribe) found themselves higher on the totem pole. This might be why there’s a stereotype that men don’t ask for directions, read instruction manuals, or seek help. We’re supposed to be self-reliant and self-sufficient. 

If I’m honest with myself, I didn’t grow up seeing these values in myself. It’s an insecurity that has driven me all my life. Whether it’s sitting on ten day silent meditation retreats, attending Tony Robbins conferences, running a 24 hr ultramarathon, solo backpacking or learning a new skill like rock climbing, archery, or bowhunting; it’s all in the pursuit of one thing. Building character. Becoming. 

So here I am, attempting to slay another dragon. Or in this case, an elk. Although there isn’t one biggest baddest dragon we slay once and for all, each one contributes to our journey of becoming. 

I’m not sure if anything else makes me feel more human at its core than spending time in the nature chasing wild game with a bow and arrow. It’s mankind’s oldest pursuit. That and picking berries. Hunting and gathering are quite possibly the most immediate ways to connect with nature and our place in it. The word “spiritual” wouldn’t be too far off as a descriptor.

It’s heavy that an animal dies in the process. But the meat will feed myself and those around me. I suppose it’s better than a cow fated for nothing but a life of torture. Perhaps an arrow through the heart and lungs is more merciful than being eaten alive by a wolves – who usually start with the guts. Animals in the wild don’t die from old age. It’s heavy that blood is shed by my hands and I hope to honor its life. 

Last week my friend Tom found an arrowhead while bowhunting in South Dakota. As I felt each groove and cutting edge it in my hand, I noticed the tip was broken off. I couldn’t help but make the connection that thousands of years ago humans were on the same pursuit in almost the same way that I was. The difference though, is they did it to survive. I’m doing it as an attempt to connect with a part of myself that I’ve neglected. Computers, heaters and cars make it easy to forget where we come from.