Ben Pearson Archery 2009

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Ben Pearson Archery

It was here. Departure day. Mike, Pup and I were headed out to Alabama to do some bowhunting with Pearson Archery. It was the first time that we would be making this trip and to say we were excited was an understatement. A better comparison would be kids in a candy store. After making the drive to meet up with Mike and Pup, we loaded up the truck and headed south. Destination, Brewton, Alabama. From Mike's house it was going to be a 12 hour drive which meant we were pulling another all nighter to get there by morning.

Once in Brewton our first stop was to head to the Ben Pearson Archery plant and see Jon, Carolyn and the rest of the crew. For me, this was going to be one of the coolest parts to the trip and it didn't disappoint. Not only did we get to catch up with old friends, but also got a sneak peek at the 2009 lineup. All I can say is wow! I don't think I have ever been so excited to be part of the Pearson team.

After leaving the plant it was time to head to the farm. Word on the street was that quite a few folks were in camp and to date nothing had been put down. Mike, Pup, and I had pretty high expectations that we could change that. After arriving at camp we were introduced to a bunch of great guys. Everyone there was part of the Pearson team and it awesome to be with them. After grabbing a bite to eat and settling in, it was finally time to head to the woods.

Hunting in Alabama was something that none of us were used to. Camp procedure told us that before you left you scanned the map, picked your spot, and then signed out so everyone else knew where you had "laid claim". After a short discussion we settled on a piece of timber that looked promising. Seeing how we only had time for 3 hunts during this trip, there was no time to scout and no preset tree stands. It was just us putting our heads to it and coming up with the best option to roll the dice.

After putting boots on the ground and scouting on the go, each of us settled on a spot for the night. Never laying eyes on an Alabama whitetail before I was told that they were small compared to the whitetails we were used to in Ohio. Boy were they right. One of first deer I saw was a fawn that I would guess to go about 20-25lbs soaking wet. Tiny to say the least.

As the sun started to set that evening I caught movement in front of me. It was a mature doe and she was headed my way. As she moved in front of me I stood and grabbed the Z-34. At 15 yards she made a turn broadside and that's all it took. I pulled, centered the bubble, placed the pin, and the arrow was gone. She went down within 60 yards and I had an Alabama doe in the books. After a short drag to the truck it was great to find out that Mike had put one down as well. It was 2 on the board for the Ohio boys after being in camp for less than 6 hours. The rest of the hunts we found ourselves coming up empty handed, however all of us saw deer and had some very, very close calls.

In the end the trip to Alabama was awesome. We got to catch up with old friends, make new ones, and do a little hunting on the side. I would like to give a big, huge, special thanks to everyone at Ben Pearson Archery for their support, hospitality, and friendship. It was great to be part of this hunt and I am honored to part of the team. 2009 is going to be a great year!

C-bus(t)......

In my continual quest to train for the hunt, I toed the line Sunday for my last marathon of the year. The Columbus race was one I have had on my radar for awhile because it was my last chance to make the qualifier for the 2009 Boston Marathon.

The thing that makes Boston such an awesome achievement is that not just anyone can run this race. Boston you have to earn. For me, ages 18-34, I needed to run the 26.2 miles in less than 3 hours, 10 minutes and 59 seconds. Saturday in Columbus, I ran 4 minutes and 23 seconds too slow.

Driving down all I could think about was how this race was going to come down to 100% guts. I needed to cut 13 minutes off my last marathon time, of which was my fastest race to date. Plus I was coming off a training schedule that was anything but normal. I just wasn't quite sure where I was at and what to expect.

Race plans were pretty simple. I was going to get with the 3:10 pace group and stay with them as long as I could. It was all or nothing. Either I was going to make it or go down in flames.

5 am alarm sounds and race day is here. Clear and cool, it's a perfect morning for running. After making my way through the 12,000 runners to front, I found myself with the 3:10 group and waiting for the start of my 3rd marathon of the year. I love the moment just before the start. It's filled with a feeling of excitement and nervousness. Once the gun goes off nervousness turns to concentration and it's all about how quickly you can dial into your pace.

The first few miles went quick and we were moving well through mile 12. By that halfway point at 13 we were 30 seconds ahead of schedule and on pace to finish at a 3:09:30. That is until at 18 when the wheels started to come off. It was at the point that I began to realize I was in trouble. At miles 19 and 20 we hit a gain in elevation that hurt bad. I pushed with everything I had and gutted it out until we crested but it was too late. I had spent everything I had staying with the group during 18, 19, and 20. All I could do was watch them go.

Believe me when I tell you that is a moment I won't soon forget. In fact, it will pretty much stay with me for the next 7 months. I spent the next 6.2 miles in agony, doing everything I could to salvage the race. With each stride came a step closer to the end. The only thing that got me through was knowing I had been there before. From hauling meat in Colorado, to running the 50K. Each had points when finishing seemed almost impossible.

I look at experiences like this as a gut check for the soul. In my opinion, that's why long distance running is such a draw for me and why I feel like its such a great training tool for DIY hunting. In the end I crossed the finish line at 3:15:22, 8 minutes faster than my last marathon, but, 4 minutes and 23 seconds over the Boston qualifying time.

So now it's back to the drawing board. I have said it once and I'll say it again, failure is not an option, it is only a temporary obstacle. I'll take the next 7 months and focus on the vision of that group slowing pulling away from me which is now so clearly etched in my head.

Back to Basics.....

Fall is here. Leaves are changing, mornings are cooler, and lately I have been feeling a tingle that tells me the November rut is right around the corner. Yes, soon it will be that special time of year. The time to be in the stand all day trying to catch that bruiser buck on his feet.

For me, bowhunting whitetails runs deep. It is something I grew up doing and where I cut my teeth. Some of my most cherished memories in life were made 20ft up, standing on a 24X30" platform, hanging from a tree.

Although Whitetail season here in Ohio opened the last weekend in September, I hadn't had a chance to get out until this past Saturday. The area I bowhunt requires me to take 2 does before I can take a buck. In order to stay on pace before the rut hits, the pressure was on. I had to fill at least one of my tags.

Sitting there that morning and rolling into hour number 2 I heard the ever telling sound of a deer walking. Two does were coming my way. Instantly the blood is pumping and my heart started to race. Believe me, when you are required to punch 2 doe tags before you can think about arrowing a buck, every doe you see becomes a "Booner".

As I turn to get into position the lead doe hits 20 yards and holds up. There is something she doesn't like. Although 20 yards is definitely "in the zone" she is coming directly at me, which gives me no option for a shot. After a short stand off, she decided she has had enough and walked away the exact same way as she approached. Again, no shot and agony sets in. She might as well been a 150" 8 point walking away. All I could think about is blowing what could have been a great opportunity at #1. As I stand there trying to figure out where it went wrong, I turn and notice another doe, standing at 15 yards, quartering away. Perfect.

I raise the bow, put tension on the string, and the Pearson comes to full draw. After centering my bubble and placing my pin, I squeezed the release. In a split second the Carbon Express shaft was off, full steam ahead. The arrow found its mark and a short 80 yards later Doe number #1 was in the books.

Next up after the Columbus Marathon on the 19th will be a much anticipated trip to Alabama. Pup, Frasca, and I received an invite from Pearson to come down and bowhunt some bama Whitetails. Stay tuned, because once again we will be loading up the truck and heading out for another epic adventure.

Colorado Elk - 2008

"The difference between the impossible and the possible lies in a man's determination." -Tommy Lasorda

I have always been told that if you believe in something enough, you can make it happen. Through hard work, determination, and a "failure is not an option" attitude, anything is possible. I can tell you first hand this is true, I just lived it in Colorado.

The trip to Colorado was something that really cannot fully be explained. Pictures and stories give a glimpse, but until you live it, it’s hard to truly understand.

On September 18 I picked up Pup in Columbus at 12:15am. We loaded the truck and it was off to the mountains of Colorado. The map called for a 22 hour drive to Grand Junction and then another 2 ½ to the trailhead. Running on Mountain Dew and Starbucks we drove straight through and arrived at our destination at 2:30am Colorado time. Stopped the truck, set my watch alarm for 4am, and grabbed 1 ½ hours of much needed sleep. Alarm sounded and we were up, shouldering our 45lb packs we turned into the darkness heading for elk.

A day had passed and the 2nd morning arrived. As we awoke and were packing up camp a bugle came from above. After a strategic 2 hour climb we closed the distance to 80 yards only to have a swirling wind and keen nose put a complete halt to our efforts. Elk 1, Shoe & Pup 0.

As we sat there and discussed our approach and what we could have done different, a second bull approached, a beautiful 5x5. With the 5x5 covering ground I made a quick move while Pup stayed put watching from above. Later Pup told me as I moved down the mountain trying to gain a position on the bull he simply disappeared. You wonder how an 800-900lb animal can just vanish into thin air.....let me assure you they do. Just as quick as he was there he was gone. Game over, Elk 2, Shoe & Pup 0.

Fast forward 2 days through more failed attempts (Elk 5, Shoe & Pup 0), lots of miles, and even more elevation gain/loss up and down the mountains. After chasing a bull, we had made our way to the top of a canyon wall where we set up camp for night. That night I drifted asleep listening to bugling bulls all around me. As I lay there listening, I try to pinpoint their location for the morning.

Alarm sounds 5am and we’re up. Spark the lighter and the esbit stove comes alive to heat up my morning treat, 8oz of instant coffee. Today we decide to leave camp and pack only with us the necessity items, 3 granola bars, water bladder, knife, headlamp, and bow. Today we’re mobile, light and fast. As we discuss plans for the day a bull sounds off in the bottom, exactly where I heard a bull the night before. After a short discussion we decide to go after him.

In order to make time, we elected to stay on top and work the oak brush. With each step comes a better opportunity to key in on his exact location. The greater distance we cover the louder the bugle. At 1 mile we near a cliff and a decision had to be made. We can keep our elevation and approach from the top or drop to the bottom. After looking at the terrain and testing the wind, we decided the safer bet was to drop to the bottom. Off the rim we went trying to cover as much ground as possible and close the distance before he stopped bugling.

Making it to the bottom we switched gears and cautiously trailed the bull. Each time he would bugle would tell us his location and we made a move. We would cover as much ground as we could until we thought we were in the zone and then stop to listen. The bull would bugle, give us his location and we were off again. After another mile we thought we had him pegged and the last move came. We stopped to set up. I was moving in front of pup at about 20 yards to get in position when I heard the bugle. He was behind and up on us.

As I turned to move to another position I spotted him. He was up above and moving away from us at about 60 yards. Pup hit hard with a bugle and that was all it took. On a dime he turned, swung around, and started down the mountain to us. As the bull moved I moved, until I found myself sitting right next to Pup in the only clear opening available getting ready the moment I had been waiting for.

The next few moments were a blur. Quite honestly, the only thing that I really remember is pulling, centering my bubble, and putting the pin(s) on him (shoot an elk at 20 yards and just about every pin you have is in the body). As the bull moved behind the trees I came to full draw. He emerged in the opening, immediately spotted us and stopped. It was too late. I centered the bubble, placed my pins, and hit the release just like I had done 1000 times before at home in the backyard and in the basement. The 100 grain Montec tipped Carbon Express shaft vanished behind the shoulder.

To me, everything happened so fast I couldn’t pick up my arrow flight but Pup saw it all. I looked at him and he looked at me and he told me I had just pin wheeled my first elk. At that moment all of the hard work over the past 3 years came out. All I could do was just sit there with my bow across my lap and cry. Everything I had worked for, every 4am morning run, every ounce of energy I had put in shooting & training had just paid off. I had done it, I had just arrowed my first elk and reached a destination to a journey that I had once thought only a dream. Elk 5, Shoe and Pup 1.

The rest of story is too long and too detailed to write about here. From bear encounters both in the tent and at 5 yards, to packing out (absolutely no exaggeration) well over 100lbs of meat on each of our backs for over 6 ½ miles. The rest of the week we worked hard and came close but did not get a bull for Pup however the journey to Colorado was, just as it was planned to be, epic. I owe much gratitude to Pup and the elk of Colorado, both had given me something that I will carry with me forever.

The Man, the Myth, the Legend

Happy Birthday Dad. Today is a special day for a man that I owe my success in life to. Not only for planting in me the passion for bowhunting, but for being my role model. For those of you who don't know my father, you should. He is what a father should be. He is, what I hope to be for Owen. A teacher, a supporter, and a best friend.

Thinking back to where it all started, it doesn't get much better then the days of hunting squirrels together. I was probably 5 years old at the time. Our weapon of choice was a single shot .410 with about 5 pairs of socks on the end. I was deadly, or so I thought. I can remember sitting there in the woods with dad beside me and wanting to shoot every red jimmy that ran by. Dad would tell me to be patient and hold out for a fox squirrel. It would drive me nuts. I guess when you're 5 years old patience is hard to come by.

From squirrels it went to Whitetails. Whenever dad was out bowhunting the hours seemed like days. I can remember being up in my room and looking out the window just waiting to hear him come home. I was so anxious that I would have my "tracking" clothes out ready, just hoping for that chance to get to help dad bring home that big buck.

When I was in the 5th grade, I was finally old enough to try and take a Whitetail so we geared up for my first Ohio gun season. Before the hunt I can remember sitting in our house and looking at picture after picture in the pages of Deer and Deer Hunting magazines. Each picture that we flipped to dad would quiz me on where to aim. The plan was for this hunt I was going to be on my own. He was putting me in the old faithful stand, a stand where he had taken numerous whitetails with his bow. Dad was going to be on the other end of the woods. He told me that when it was time or he heard me shoot he would come to get me. That cold December morning was one that will live forever. I was lucky enough to take my first deer, a 3 point. I'll never forget dad coming through the woods and seeing my 3 point laying there. Neither of us could hardly believe it.

To me, this passion for bowhunting isn't about what you take or how big it is, as I said before, it's about the memories that are created. Besides being married to my best friend and my son being born, times spent with my dad together in the woods are as good as it gets. I can never repay or say thank you enough to him for what he has given and created in me. For all the times he took me out and we got to spend time together just sitting there, enjoying life and passing up red jimmies together, I say thank you. That's the journey and in some ways, that's the destination. That is what hunting is about. I certainly do not want to wish time away, but I cannot wait until I get to go back to where it all started and sit beside my Dad, 5-socked .410 in hand, having Dad and I create those same great memories with Owen.

So on this special day I say Happy Birthday and thank you to my Dad. I am what I am because of him.

Thursday, August 28

What would a journey be without a few bumps in the road? Early last week when I was knocking out some miles the IT band flared it's ugly head, again. If I were to try and describe the situation "disappointment" would be sugar coating it. Helpless, mad, and pouty would be much more appropriate. And if you asked the right person, you will find I replaced Owen as the baby of the family.

After figuring I was forced to take some time off I went up and became a month member of the Bwick rec. I finished the rest of last week taking a rest and started in this week on the bike. In this situation I know riding serves a purpose, but quite honestly I hate it. My plan was to take 2-3 weeks riding the bike and hitting the pool in hopes the time off would heal the band. Plans have changed however.

From a referral of another runner I visited a sports doc and according to him I can run through this. In a nut shell, the solution to the problem is working hard to break up the scar tissue that has formed to allow it to heal correctly. Doc did some major work on the IT band and turned me loose over the weekend to see how it does. From his past experiences (I trust him, the man has done 3 IronMan) he thought 1-2 more visits and I should be good to go and back to normal. Let's hope so. I'm right on the heels of Elk and C-bus. First test tomorrow 4am.

Hunt wise I feel I'm right on track. The pack is complete. It's been packed and re-packed and finished weight settles in right at 40lbs. Arrows are fletched, spun, and are ready for launch. To this point I feel I have done pretty much everything I can to prepare. The next 21 days will be spent rolling on miles and thinking over every last detail. Bugling Elk and fresh mountain air are just over the horizon...........