The Canyon Buck

 Whitetail and Mule Deer hunt, early November 2022

It had been a few years since I'd chased whitetail deer. There's something especially alluring about the species. Harvesting a mature buck in Idaho is no easy feat. Unlike an old, mature mule deer, which may require covering great distances on giant mountains to find, a big whitetail buck could lurk in someone's backyard and only be seen twice a year. Their range is much smaller and they thrive on the edge habitats created by man. An old whitetail can be almost entirely nocturnal, only coming out in the day during the peak rut. The forests of North Idaho are thick, but crawling with deer. The sign is everywhere and it's only a matter of time before you catch a glimpse of a monster; and I definitely have. It's these sightings that keep me coming back.

Unlike archery elk, where I was practicing a new technique in a new area, my whitetail trip would bring me to familiar territory. Rick and Trevor would be joining me on this trip, along with their cousin and nephew, Alex. Rick and Trevor knew this area like the back of their hands and had names for nearly every ridge and valley. This area was also where I'd shot my first whitetail buck. We had 3 whitetail tags and 1 mule deer tag; an adventure would surely be had.

I reached our campsite first, with an hour of daylight left to hunt. I grabbed my rifle and went for a quick walk, hoping to catch a buck stirring before darkness. I had only gone 100 yards or so before I caught movement behind me. A doe stood between my truck and me. It was accompanied by two mature fawns. What a great start!  

The woods were covered in five inches of fresh snow; perfect for hunting. The problem was that camp was much lower than where we normally hunt. At those elevations, there was likely a foot or more of snow, making walking and traveling to the areas difficult. Luckily, we had a spot near camp we could try. Other than several does, nothing noteworthy was seen the first night. Alex arrived near dark, anxious to start hunting for a mule deer the following day.  

In the morning, Alex and I decided to head down low to an area we had access. We didn't spot any deer in the places we could hunt, but on the way back we found some on private land. We even found a mating pair!

It's always frustrating to find animals on private land you can't hunt, but that's part of the game in a lot of whitetail country. Alex and I decided to try high, where Rick and Trevor had killed mule deer in the past. As we suspected, the snow made traveling difficult and noisy. Rick and Trevor arrived and we set up a proper camp for the remainder of the hunt. That evening, Alex and I drove to a different area, finding more great mule deer bucks on private land.

The next couple of days were marked by futile attempts hunting the high country and frustrated spottings on the lower private lands. The area near camp had potential, though. Rick had been watching some of the openings morning and evening and seeing tons of deer; a lot more does and small bucks than we've ever seen. It was still early for the whitetails to be rutting, but that many does had to attract a buck eventually.

At mid-morning, Rick and I sat in camp pondering our next move after a few hours of sitting and watching more does and small bucks. 

"Maybe you can drop me off near the top and I'll walk that ridge behind camp all the way back here?" I questioned.

"Or you could try this canyon across from camp?" Rick added.

"I have been wanting to try that."

"Great, I'll watch from the truck and see if you get any deer moving my way."

I set off from camp over to the canyon. The plan was to walk the edge about a mile or so and then head back over to the road where Rick would pick me up. I knew I would find some deer, but would any of them be a mature buck? 

I reached the canyon edge and went into hunt mode; hoping to spot the deer before they spotted me. The canyon was deep and steep. The other side of the canyon was more open and I quickly spotted a herd of mule deer with a nice buck. Unfortunately for Alex, the other side was private land. I continued along as quiet as humanly possible. I had gone quite a ways before I flushed the first deer: a small buck. He bounded away with his bright white tail waving like a warning flag to all his friends. Darn! It's so hard to sneak up on these things! 

I flushed a few more deer a short distance ahead. Despite how slow and quiet I was moving, I was no match for animals born and raised on alert. I trudged on, though. I was just down from the top of the canyon and wrapping slowly around a finger-ridge, when I suddenly spotted a small buck 75 yards ahead on a little bench below the top. He was already staring at me. Then, another deer quickly stood up behind him. Big buck! They both bolted up the hill in an attempt to flee. I quickly blew my grunt call and sat down, using my knees to stabilize my rifle. The larger buck stopped just before cresting the top; something big whitetail bucks rarely do. This was my opportunity. I quickly found his vitals in my crosshairs and pulled the trigger. BOOM! He hunched and stumbled downhill right into a rosebush patch. I was ready, but he never came out. I could see the bushes shake for a few seconds and then go still. I waited a few minutes and slowly approached. 

The buck had dove into a wild rose bush. Luckily his hind legs were still within reach and I could easily pull him out.

Once out, I was able to truly admire him. The first thing I noticed was just how big his body was. This was a fat, healthy and mature deer. I've shot a few whitetails and this deer was easily the largest in size as well as antler size. His antlers were nothing extraordinary but they were wide and heavy. I stood smiling and admiring him. It was safe to say I was quite happy with my deer.

I notched my tag, dropped a sweatshirt over his body and hiked over to the road to meet up with Rick.

"Well Rick, you ready to pack out a deer?" I said with a wry smile.

"Did you shoot a big one?" Rick asked, opening his eyes wide, eager for my response.

"Big enough to get me excited!" 

"Oh, goodie!"

Rick and I made the short hike over to the canyon edge where my deer lay. I imagined this buck had made a living seeking daytime refuge on the steep, thick hillsides where the canyon terrain gave him an advantage. Today I was able to sneak close enough and with the grunt call, peak his interest just long enough for a shot. 

Rick helped me take some photos of the "Canyon Buck" as we were now calling him. We then quartered the deer, loaded the meat on our backs and hiked over to the truck. 

It had turned into a very pleasant afternoon with full sun, calm winds and mild temps. Tomorrow however would not be the same. The forecast called for rain turning to snow as the day progressed. I would hunt with Alex in the morning, trying one last time to find him a mule deer buck.

We hunted half the morning before the snow came in too heavy to see anything. We did see a great buck that morning, but it was a whitetail; go figure. 

We returned to camp to pack our things. I had lucked out on this hunt and been in the right place at the right time. I could have just as easily chose to walk somewhere else that day. Sometimes I believe we are meant to cross paths with certain animals, That day the Canyon Buck and I were meant to cross paths. The elusive nature of mature bucks, giving you those rare encounters are what keeps me coming back.   

BWCA Days 4 and 5- Paddling Home

The previous 3 days had been rainy and misty and our gear was starting to get soggy. We all hoped the last couple days would bring some sunshine. On the 4th morning, we awoke to thick fog and dew covering everything. The sun had to be up there somewhere!

We broke camp after breakfast and loaded the canoes up. We began paddling up Crooked Lake towards the falls. Once at the falls, we fished hard for a couple hours, hoping to find some walleye or large pike. We caught a few nice bass and small pike but no luck on the walleye.

After lunch, we began our paddle up the Horse River. The sun finally shone through the clouds, replacing the wet fog with uncomfortably hot and humid conditions. At least we were drying out! We took our time fishing all the spots we missed on the way in. The Horse River had plenty of nice smallmouth bass.

By late afternoon, we made it to Horse Lake. We fished hard at the river's mouth, hoping to tie into another monster pike like the one Camron had caught on the way in. But no such luck was had. A couple of bass and pike were all we could find before it was time to find a place to camp for the night. Already we could tell finding a camping spot could be challenging. Several other parties paddled about and 2 of the designated campsites were already occupied. We met in the middle of the lake and studied the map for locations of campsites. To save time and energy, we would have to split up and radio the other if we found an open campsite. My canoe paddled north to the end of the lake, finding all the campsites occupied. Desperate, we found an island that would have to work if the other canoe couldn't find a spot. Daylight was fading when the other canoe radioed, telling us they found a campsite; the last one on the lake! We paddled hard in their direction, making it to camp with a half hour of light left. 

The following morning, we awoke to sunshine. We quickly broke camp and began fishing. We'd spend the entire day slowly fishing our way back to Mudro Lake, where Zach would meet us at 5 pm. Horse Lake produced a couple of dandy smallmouth bass, including another 20 incher.

Next we fished Tin Can Mike. More pike were caught and Tin Can produced our first largemouth bass of the trip.

Then we fished Sandpit. Several nice pike were caught here, as well as a couple more largemouth. 

By the time we reached Mudro, the wind had picked up and paddling become a chore. We quickly realized how lucky we had been on the trip with the lack of wind. Still, we fished as best we could, catching a few more pike and bass. By 4:30pm, we were paddling up the winding creek that led to the take out. Zach was waiting for us with a big Minnesota smile.

We loaded all our gear into his van and slowly drove the sobering dirt road back to civilization. It had been a fantastic trip! That evening we ate a hot restaurant-cooked meal and talked about our plans for future boundary water canoe trips. A repeat was a must! If you haven't considered a BWCA trip, you're missing out. Give Ryan a call at Cliff Wolds and plan your trip today!

Photo's credit : Chase Christopher 

BWCA Day 3- Jackfish Lake

We awoke the third morning to low clouds and mist. Not the most comfortable weather to be in, but we hoped it would clear by mid-day. As we finished breakfast, we studied the maps for the best route into Jackfish lake.
"Looks like a moderate portage out of this bay here, into Wabasons Lake, then a short portage into Jackfish. Hopefully we'll be able to find the trail and there won't be too many trees across it," I said, folding the maps.

We readied the canoes and took off. By 8:30 am we were paddling into the back of a bay looking for a noticeable trail. After some searching we found it. Chase and I scouted ahead on the trail to find several downed trees and large puddles of mud to slow our travels. I pulled out my leatherman saw and went to work. Many small trees and bushes needed clearing. Another set of boot tracks told us we weren't the first people to hike this trail this year. A fresh set of moose tracks over top of the human tracks also told us it had been some time since the last humans were in here. The trail would be difficult, but do-able. 

We began the portage. It was slow going and we had to make momentary stops to adjust our grips and rest our arms, but soon we were at Wabason's Lake. 

Wabason's was small and before we knew it, we were at a beaver dam marking the creek that flowed out of Wabason's and into Jackfish. I looked at my map again to confirm we were in the right spot. Sure enough, a faint trail could be seen ahead. I parked the canoe and began walking the trail. I only made it a short distance and found a bunch of large trees blocking the trail. My Leatherman saw was no match for those. There must be another way... I looked down the hill toward the creek. If we could just get to that creek we could paddle down it into the main lake... I saw a do-able path and began cutting limbs that would interfere. In short order we had a way down to the creek.

I walked back to where our canoes were parked to find almost everyone fishing and pulling in small pike left and right. 
"Ok, I've got a path that'll work. Follow me." I said, grabbing one end of a canoe.

My make-shift path worked and soon we were launching the canoes on the small creek channel that meandered into a beaver swamp, opening up into Jackfish Lake. As we came around a corner we saw a large pine tree that had fallen all the way across the channel blocking the opening into Jackfish. As luck would have it, a small opening at the end of the tree made passage around the tree possible. We cut several branches to aid our departure later in the day, but we had made it to Jackfish! 
"Let's hope all that work was worth it!" Jordan said, shaking his head.
"That was quite the adventure," Camron responded.

Together in the two man canoe, Wallace and Camron took the east side of the lake and the rest of us took the west. Immediately, Wallace hooked up with a scrappy pike. Camron quickly followed up with another. In less than 10 minutes they had brought numerous pike to the boat and every cast was getting chases or hits. Jordan tagged a nice pike and we were on the board. As the lake opened up, the hoots and hollers of Camron and Wallace faded as we paddled further and further apart. Chase began to pick up a few fish as well. Jackfish was not disappointing us!

So far the fish had been small-ish. The lake was fairly large, so we knew there had to be some monster in here somewhere. It was wonderful knowing we had the entire lake to ourselves. The mist continued to fall, but the low cloud ceiling had to be helping the fishing. Topwater flies were producing lots of fish. There's nothing like the explosive takes of pike on topwater; they put bass to shame!

We worked our way into a large shallow cove, catching pike almost every cast. A small rock island sat in the middle of the cove. After fishing most of the water on the edges, we paddled out to the rock island. Jordan and Chase were catching small pike nearly every cast. I made a cast well beyond an isolated rock. Immediately, I connected with a fish, only this one was different than the rest. It was not acting like the babies we'd been catching all morning. This fish just started swimming to the right. I heaved back on the rod and felt powerless to control this fish. Then it surged to deeper water pulling line out of the reel.
"Guys, this is big fish!" I exclaimed with a huge smile. 
After a long fight and dancing with the small net, we landed the big fish. No doubt my largest pike ever! We didn't measure it but it had to be close to 3 feet. 

Sure enough, down its throat you could see the tail of a small pike. We set the beast free and continued fishing. 

Camron and Wallace had worked their way into a large cove with a couple large rock islands. It was nearly lunch time, so we paddled that direction to meet up with them. We all enjoyed our lunch on a rock island while taking turns casting and catching pike. We had caught countless pike and the day was only halfway through. Determined to see another monster pike, we split again after lunch and paddled toward some promising water. Once again, we found catching pike was no problem. 

I even caught a small yellow perch in one of the bays; no doubt a nervous fish! The pike were so aggressive that most of them would swallow our 6 inch flies, leading to several bleeders that ended up on the stringer. Pike are very delicious so we didn't mind bringing several back to camp for dinner. 

By 4 pm, we had had our fill of scrappy pike and it was time to make the paddle back to camp. After all, we still had 2 portages to accomplish on the way. Once back at camp, we enjoyed a dinner of beef stroganoff and freshly fried pike. I made a few casts with the spinning rod at camp and stumbled into a small walleye. A fluke catch for sure.

As the sun set, we planned our remaining 2 days. We would spend the morning paddling back to Basswood Falls, where we'd stop for lunch. Then the afternoon would consist of making our way back up the Horse River; fishing along the way of course! Then we would stay the night at Horse Lake and fish our way back to the launch spot the following day. Hard to believe the trip was already half over. I fell asleep dreaming of more monster pike. 

Photo's credit: Chase Christopher

BWCA Day 2- Thunderstorms on Crooked Lake

We awoke the next morning to the sound of loons and song birds excited for the coming day. We made breakfast and decided we'd head further into Crooked lake towards another pinch point and try for walleye. Nearby were several shallow coves that likely harbored pike and bass. After a hot breakfast of bacon and blueberry pancakes, we were ready to set off in the canoes. As trip host, I wanted everyone to have an opportunity to fish with everyone. Today, Jordan and Camron took the 2 man and I joined Chase and Wallace in the 3 man.

Of course it was hard to not stop and cast at every good looking spot. A couple fish were caught along the way and by 10 am were at our destination. Strong current pushed through the narrows with eddies around large rocks. I tried the jig-spinner on the spinning rod but kept snagging and loosing gear. After an hour or so with no luck by anyone, we moved on to a shallow bay nearby. Wallace and Chase casted away as we worked one side of the bay. A fish or two were caught, but nothing too exciting. Every once in a while we'd hear Camron or Jordan hooting and hollering from the other side of the bay; the obvious sign that one of them had caught a fish.

We worked our way towards a small, shallow finger bay lined with grass; a sure hiding place for a big pike. Chase had almost retrieved one of his cast to the canoe when he saw it.
"Big pike, big pike!" Chase shouted, working his lure in a figure eight pattern near the canoe. 
The fish was long and fat. It slowly swam next to the canoe eyeing Chases lure before it spooked. 
"Darn it!" I said trying to back the canoe out of the cove. "Someone throw this fly rod with this big pike fly. I'm going to back us out of here and hopefully the fish will return hungry."
Chase and Wallace hemmed and hawed, so I grabbed the rod. "Fine, I'll throw this."
The canoe had drifted back toward the cove and I looked down in the water in time to see the big pike swimming past the canoe.
"She's right here. Shoot!" I said as the big pike swam past the back of the canoe on its way to deeper water. "I think we spooked her again."
Not ready to give up, I quickly threw a short, no false cast, back hand lob over my right shoulder trying to place the fly in front of the fish before it got away. I spun my head around and popped the 7 inch flashabou fly twice. Instantly, the pike charged the fly, inhaling it. I set the hook and the fight was on! 
"You guys should have taken this rod..." I said as the fish pulled line out of the reel.
We wrestled the big girl into our tiny net. Although not quite 36 inches, this fat girl was a dream fish for me. 

We released the fat girl just in time to meet up with Camron and Jordan for lunch. They had caught several pike and bass a piece. As we ate our lunch, we could see storm clouds building. The wind began to pick up and white caps could now be seen on the main lake. We sat debating on what we should do; get back in the canoes and fish or sit the storm out. As soon as we saw the white caps subside in the main lake we got back in the canoes to paddle back towards camp. As we paddled it began to rain. We made it about 3/4 of a mile before lightning began to flash around us; It was time to take shelter. We pulled the canoes onto shore and found some small trees to shelter under. It was now raining hard and the storm was directly over top of us. Lighting flashed and thunder sounded; we were glad we weren't on the water. Despite the storm, Camron and Jordan continued to fish from shore.
"Guy's this lighting is perfect for photography! I don't care if I ruin my camera, it'll be worth it!" Chase said as he snapped pictures left and right.
Jordan hooked into a great bass on a rock point and I tagged a nice pike just feet away while Chase took "model" photos of Camron and his companies fly rod, Streem. 

After a couple hours the storm subsided and we got back into the canoes to work our way closer to camp. This time, I hopped in the 2 man canoe with Jordan, while Camron, Chase and Wallace paddled the 3 man. We went our separate ways, fishing several coves on the way back to camp. We decided to keep a few bass for dinner as well. Jordan and I had plenty of action as we fished large streamers for pike and bass. I had a hard time connecting with some of my takes but Jordan did not. 

Near 6 pm we finally made it back to camp. The clouds still threatened to storm but we had lucked out with little wind and rain for the remainder of the afternoon. Dinner this night was Chicken a la King and fresh fried bass; Hard to beat. 

That evening as we laid in our sleeping bags, we discussed the following days plan.
"Should we try Jackfish Lake," Camron questioned? "I read two blogs on it; one said lots of pike and the other said big pike."
"The outfitter said he's never been there and that the trail is not maintained. It could be a gamble," I replied.
"I think we should try it! Could be a fun adventure." Jordan said from the other tent. "You know what I always say, 'gotta risk it for the biscuit'!"
"Sounds good, Jackfish Lake, here we come!" I shouted as we all went to sleep.   

Photo credit - Chase Christopher