Some years back I was invited to hunt whitetail deer out of a friend's hunting camp in north central Pennsylvania. Day one was great. I overslept and only got out the door about a half hour after first light. Some light snow had fallen the night before and there was about 2 inches of snow on the ground. I wasn't in my spot behind a huge fallen oak tree no more than 15 minutes before a group of six deer began grazing about a hundred yards away around a single standing oak. All were does except for one spike buck. The trail just beyond that open area was about 10 yards into a stand of tall pines. It was a very busy corridor. But, all I saw was legs, lots of legs.

Day two. Got up a half hour before first light while everyone else slept in. A couple more inches of snow fell and it was coming down light yet steady. I went back to my spot behind the big tree and saw nothing for a couple hours. So, I went back to the camp and warmed up a bit and headed in the opposite direction towards the swamp. By the time I got to the swampy area, the snowfall rate increased. So, the plan was to walk a couple hundred yards and just call it a day and turn around and go back to camp. After a few hundred feet the snow was coming down thick, actually about the thickest I ever saw. So, I did a one eighty turn and couldn't see anything but white. There were no trees, just short grass swamp with barely any grass showing through the snow. . Nothing to pick out as a reference point, nothing. In just under an hour the snow was up to my knees and getting deeper quick. I'm wishing I had a compass.
After about an hour of crossing my own tracks and sweating profusely trying to tromp through thigh deep (I'm six foot tall) snow I spotted a hollowed out stump that was shaped like a chair and decided to just take a break. That felt so good to sit in that rotten stump. It's almost like it was custom made to fit my shape. The snow was letting up a bit now. I could see 20 feet ahead. Waiting it out seemed like the best plan. So, I zipped everything up and got comfy.
Then I heard a dull thud. Then another dull thud. After I heard myself snoring as I awoke, I wondered 'where am I' for a second. Then I got my bearings and when I looked to the right there were 10 deer lined up in a row next to the edge of a pine grove just watching me from about 100 yards away. The tallest doe was stomping the ground. I wonder how long they watched after being drawn in by my snoring. After watching the does for 5 minutes I took my hat off and it had 4 inches of snow on it. Then, I heard a crunch sound like tires on snow directly behind me. . The road was only 75 yards away. Within 10 minutes I got a ride back to the camp. I was only 2 miles away and I was back inside by 3:45.

Been carrying a compass every since while hunting or hiking or scouting.

Been trying to get there my entire adult life. Finally found it this past year...

https://imgur.com/gallery/73pMq

No. But I have walked around Glade Mountain, in SW Colorado, twice in Dense Fog and snowstorm, because the first time was just so much fun.

As a man I can assure you that I have never been lost but I have been "temporarily misoriented" a few times!

I had to walk an extra 3 miles to the car after picking the wrong Ridge to follow back. When I was younger I wondered around for an hour due to a low fog day.

Custom:

Reminds me the second time I ever went elk hunting. Day one I was supposed to meet my brother at a pre-arranged spot to watch a meadow for the evening (had shot a 6x7 moving out of that meadow the evening of the first day of my first hunt). I got lost, and was worried I would be late to rendezvous with my brother. I remember thinking, "wouldn't it be wild if I ended up shooting an elk while trying to figure out where I was?"

Well, I finally figured out where I was and started moving quickly with my rifle slung over my shoulder. I then noticed an elk standing under a pine tree. He looked big, so I quickly took the rifle off my shoulder and shot him offhand from about 100 yards. Dead 6x6. Needless to say, I never did make it to the rendezvous spot.

AZ - And where exactly is this spot? Just curious.
I've yet to hunt elk. I'd be grinning for months if I ever got that lucky.

BTDT. I got "lost" but knew exactly where I was. Hunting elk in Oregon, I left my brother on a ridge with the truck and was hunting down through a watershed and would meet up in the next valley over. I was carrying a GPS (old model that gave direction and position) but didn't have a map of the area. Didn't realize there were two valleys in the direction I was hunting so ended up in the wrong one. Shot several times and my brother finally figured out what happened and found me.

Some years ago I hunted with a friend and got caught out in sudden white out conditions which these particular mountains are prone to. Very disorientating and without a compass we couldn't figure out any direction. "No worries"says my friend, "I have a GPS !" GPS navigation was fairly new in NZ at the time and he hadn't used it before. He turned it on, got a fix and said the GPS says camp is "that way". So we set off through country that seemed very unfamiliar, and the whiteout got even thicker. We crashed down through horrible thick vegetation into a nasty creek gorge and I knew our direction was wrong. But my friend insisted the GPS was right and would get us home. Eventually we ended up on some river flats when suddenly a gap opened above just long enough for me to realise where we were.... a long way from home..... I pointed to a very big hill and informed my friend that camp was on the other side and the only way to reach it was to bash our way up through all the windfall covering that hill. After a gigantic effort we reached the top and darkness was almost upon us. Now it was raining, the whiteout was now heavy again and we couldn't see a route down to our camp. We had survival bags and decided to stay overnight on the hill. That was cold and miserable and my head was pelted by water droplets all night. I consoled myself with thoughts of eating our chocolate biscuits as soon as we returned to camp. At the crack of dawn in improved weather we raced off downhill to camp and the waiting chocolate biscuits only to find that rats had raided our food cache overnight and had, of course, rendered inedible the lovely chocolate biscuits !!!
Happily, GPS technology has advanced somewhat since those days along with user skills.

Nutz. I've been turned around no further than a half-mile from the truck, in eastern woods. Give me a nice sage flat any day.

Get lost?

Funny...... It's a safe bet I'm lost now

Supposedly Daniel Boone said he was never lost but might turned around for a week or so.

I have not been truly lost yet. There have been a fewc times wherec I have gotten turne4d around even while drioving and came out somewhere I had not intended to come out at.

You haven't hunted unless you've been lost.

Grizz

I always know where I am.
I have at times, been less certain of where to go.

When I was about 13, I was scalloping on Tianna Bay using a lookbox which is a wooden box with a glass bottom and a burlap flap on top. You wade in 2-4 feet of water with your head in the box and the flap over to block light so you have a clear view of the bay floor. I found a good bed of scallops and when I pulled my head out I realized that fog had rolled in to the bay.

I knew where I was, but had no clue which way to go to get back to shore.

It was a long day.

If you mean getting lost and needing to have someone find you, no, never been lost

I got lost on Lake Winnebago .We were Sturgeon spearing and the winds picked up.We had a whiteout for over 12 hours from snow blowing.We had a shanty to stay in overnight and plenty beer and food.When it is blowing like that you have no idea where the ice bridges are and are better off staying put until the wind subsides.We waited until the Otter Street fishing club re plowed the ice roads.

As one of the mountain men in the movie said when asked if he had ever been lost before, replied "Well, I been fearsome confused for a month or two, but I ain't never been lost! "

...................

quote:

If you mean getting lost and needing to have someone find you, no, never been lost

I woiuld think that would be the qualifier.

If no one had to come and find you, you weren't really lost.

Define lost...

Sure thought we were going for a long cold swim and might end up LOST when I hulled the boat on a rock 3 miles from the ramp. I'd kept the bow up and threw a heavy wake.

Sure caught hell for not slowing down in the no wake area. Rangers met me: "why didn't you slow down in the no wake area?" "didn't think we could swim that far!" About 20" of water in the boat. Kid with me was getting scared.

Missed the trail once and came out fine, but, wasn't sure for quite awhile in a blizzard. By the time I got to the ranch house I had 2" ice built up on me and frozen my hands in my pockets, rifle under my R arm, face mask on. Could walk fine but, couldn't do anything other than bump the door with the muzzle. The guys took pictures first before starting to break the ice off.

Was snowing so hard Dad n Uncle couldn't see me when they were in the jeep planning to meet up. They saw my tracks though and knew I was headed right though they didn't know the trail dropped off the road. I beat 'em back by half hour.

Always been lucky knowing directions when out, even in new areas. Made many a big circle and always came out within a couple hundred yards of camp or truck. That's out here. I've never hunted the dense woods like back east. Fully expect that would be a whole different story.

George

quote:

Always been lucky knowing directions when out, even in new areas. Made many a big circle and always came out within a couple hundred yards of camp or truck. That's out here. I've never hunted the dense woods like back east. Fully expect that would be a whole different story.

I would believe that concept to be quite accurate.

I never really hunted in the Black Timber in Colorado but from what little I saw of it, I knew I really did not want to try it.

Never been lost where I had to be rescued, but I did spend an unplanned night out in grizzly country once.

My partner and I had been elk hunting in the Whitefish Range north of Kalispell, Montana. We had driven up a canyon in the middle of the range and up to a Forest Service Fire Lookout on top of one of the mountains. I killed a 5x5 bull a mile or so down the ridge from the lookout. Instead of trying to pack back up to my pickup, I told my partner to walk up to the truck and drive it down to the bridge on the road below us and we would meet there.

I strapped a hind quarter and the antlers on a cheap aluminum pack frame that we had and started down the mountain. It was pitch black at night when I reached the valley floor which marshy with numerous beaver dams. The sky had also clouded over and there was a light drizzle of rain.

I was close enough to the bridge that my partner and I could shout and barely hear each other above the roar of the river. Also with the darkness I couldn't see well enough to cross the marsh and beaver ponds, so I yelled across to go home and come back the next morning.

I then found a dry spot under a spruce tree and built a fire to keep warm and to cook slices of meat off the hind quarter that I had carried off the mountain. I kept the fire going all night with the small dead branches at the bottom of the trees around me.

At daylight the next morning it took me less than 10 minutes to find a dry route through the marsh to the bridge where my partner and a co-worker were waiting for me.

Late May I punched through some corniced snow coming off of Tabeguanche peak in Colorado. For the most part, I was able to self arrest with my ice ax. I was nearing the bottom of the couloir when the the ice ax caught on a buried rock and popped out. That was the last thing I remembered for a while. It hit me clean in the forehead, knocking me out. Other then the giant lump on my forehead, I was otherwise ok. Rather then hike back up the mountain and head down Jennings creek, I decided (in my woosy state) just to head down McCoy Gulch. In hindsight, it was definitely the wrong move. I had to navigate around avalanche damage, boulders, and nice sized waterfall right at the end. It took much longer then expected and so, my wife called search and rescue. By the time they showed up, I was a mile up the road walking down to the trail head.

Never been lost in the woods though.

Lost is when you are in unfamiliar territory and suddenly you say....oh sh!t - Where the hell am I?

Lost, turned around...
You have not been hunting long enough not to...

Never lost, but didn't know exactly where camp was..I did know how to get to the ranch house, by following the riverm but that was a two day or better ride. I wasn't lost, camp was..It wasn't a bothersome experience I just kept on hunting, built a fire and went to sleep, had food and water on my horse. heard a shot about noon the next day and found my dad, brother and uncles coming up a goat trail..

Said Hi, Ive been lost, they just rode on past me..Nobody believed it, I mean I was raised there, so they were not even concerned.Uncle said did you see any good bucks, brother said "Dad said you'd show up today or tomarrow, not to worry until tomarrow" I asked dad what if Id broke my damn leg, Dad said nobody ever died of a broken leg, its too far away from your heart..That made since..

I had an old friend once tell me...

"If you ever get lost out in the wild, find a really good hiding place and start masturbating...sure as Hell, someone will come along and see you!"

I've been places I found out were not where I intended, but never truly lost. The time I really thought I was lost, in a whiteout blizzard somewhere around Lake Beverly in AK, it was too dang cold to take his advice. Found my way about 12 hours later.

My wife has been praying for it for decades now! I suspect she'd wait a few days (several+) before the authorities were notified!

Zeke

disoriented: always, lost never ....

Years ago, I lived in Reading, Pa and hunted up along the Appalachian Trail near Stroudsburg. I was pretty familiar with the trails so didn't bring my compass. Sure as heck, it started to rain- hard. Hard enough I parked my carcass under a thick Hemlock and sat awhile. Later, I ended up in Shartlesville, 6 miles from where I parked. Got a ride back to my car from a couple of guys.

Never went without the compass and never got disoriented again.

I always know where I am. Sometimes, I just don't quite know were that is. Once, I got totally lost elk hunting in CO, even though I had my Garmin with me. My problem was that I didn't trust it. When I finally decided to go with my Garmin's data, I worked my way back to camp. I was never so happy to see our "guide" chasing down one of our horses that had a feed bag stuck on it's head.

Being lost is walking and taking a wrong turn and ending up in a Chicago gang area with only nine rounds in you gun. That scares me, the woods don't!
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One time, archery elk hunting in Arizona unit 9, I was checking tanks mid-day in a flat area of juniper jungle, when a herd of elk ran across the road in front of me. I pulled over, grabbed my bow and took off after them. I left my fanny pack, which held my compass and gps, in the truck because I wasn't going far. It was totally overcast with shifting winds. Well, I then heard 2 bulls bugling a lot farther away and took off after them. It was thick, less than 20 yards visibility. I got in close to the bulls and slipped out of my tennis shoes to make the final sneak in my socks. I got in close but couldn't get a shot, the wind swirled and the bulls crashed off. I went back to put my shoes back on, but couldn't find my shoes!

I wandered around, looking for my shoes for a while, realized I had no idea where they were or where I was; so I headed back to the truck but soon realized I didn't know which way it was. I spent a couple hours wandering in different directions and walked about 2 miles in my socks, even though I was never more than about 1/2 mile from my truck. I spent some time picking cactus spines out of my feet. Here's the punchline...

Several years later, I was hunting elk with outfitter, John McClendon. We were talking about getting turned around and I told him that story. He looked at me kind of funny and asked "Those shoes weren't white leather Nike's were they?" He found my shoes!

During WW2 my father got lost on patrol in New Guinea. He had a map, they were only going a little ways up some valley, and he forgot his compass. His sergeant was not so careless and remembered his compass. Lesson learned and not lost on me.

When I was about 10 I got a USGS map of our ranch, nicely contained in one quadrant, and a real compass. I was allowed to wander where I pleased, accompanied by the map and compass on "pain of death" so to say. By the time I was 18 I was very good with it and I still will not venture off the pavement without at the very least my compass.

GPS is fantastic, until the batteries die, happened twice so far, no problems, map and compass in hand.

Get lost? Yep, usually a couple of times a year. But I "found" myself every time. Fell down a mountain once, lost my GPS unit and busted my rifle stock, map and compass came through. Got lost on fairly flat land (no mountains on the skyline) in heavy forest, in a snow storm, GPS "didn't make sense" compass set me straight (GPS was fine, brain needed convincing). Got lost in northern Rosebud County Montana (endless prairie with innumerable coulees going every which way) on a dark and stormy night, compass easier to use than the GPS, doesn't have to reacquire satellites every time you take it out of your pocket.

Oh and then there is the fact that you probably don't need every part of the map, the not so vital parts make good fire starters.

Situational awareness. Knowing where you are depends on remembering where you've been. When I was guiding marginally familiar territories I'd stop and turn around every few hundred yards. Clients would ask what I was doing. Well, I wanted to know what it looked like on the way out.

My favorite story was when I had two clients ask what I had in my backpack. I said "Everything for my comfort and your minimal survival." Client says "Shouldn't that be the other way around?" I say "Sure, just tell me which way is camp? Where exactly did we leave the horses? Which way is the nearest forest road? Water? A really neat little cave to wait out a sudden storm?" The clients look at each other and the other guy says, "Maybe we should give him his tip now..." Amazingly neither one had a compass or GPS.

Great stories gentlemen. Keep 'em coming.

I have never been lost but have been with three friends that did. One was in a late Archery hunt.It was in Washington State in early December. We hiked two different ridges to the top of the mountain. We met up and a Blizzard hit and the Fog rolled in.Our track's in the foot of snow were quickly buried and we got in an argument on which direction to go. We could only see about 10 feet. I knew I was right but I couldn't convince him.He went north and I went south. I finally made it to the bottom and drove up and down the road honking the horn. After 3 trips up and back down I was ready to call search and rescue. He stepped onto the road in front of me. He was SOOOO Sorry for not trusting me. Leaving him in that Blizzard was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do.I was just glad he was alive!!!

I got turned around tracking a bull I missed a shot at. Right before dusk I finally saw ridges I recognized and knew I was not TOO far from the cabin. I was a little nervous trying to find the trail in the pitch black. Got back eventually though. Started walking about 8am, got to the cabin around 9pm. I took the next day off

Here's a little story about not being lost but not paying attention.

There is a block of woods 7 miles east and west 4 to 7 miles north to south.

I parked on the south road one nice late winter day strapped on the snow shoes. It was one of those late winter days when the snow crusted at night and one could walk any where.

I decided I would wander around till noon build a fire cook my lunch. I started at 8 am.

Then take a compass heading due south and hit the road I went in on.

So about noon I was getting hungry and found a nice grove of pines with plenty of dead wood I took out my small hatchet wacked some fire wood.

I just finished eating my lunch drinking my tea. Packed up put the snow shoes on thinking to myself how nice it to be a good ways off the road.

Just as I took my compass heading I heard the loud roar of a diesel engine. Then about 75 yards away a logging truck goes by on the road I was came in on.

Yep I made a long ways back in the woods in 4 hours.

This is my "lost" story although we were never lost we were really disappointed when our shortcut back to the truck was 5 miles off.

The Skookum Creek incident


My buddy Bill and I decided we were ready to strike out on our own for our first elk hunt without adults that snowy weekend in late November. We were, however young (16 years old each) ready for the rigors of a snow packed high country wilderness elk hunt, or so we thought.
Our planning consisted of raiding our parents refrigerators and pantry's for whatever wouldn't be missed, grabbing our guns, knives and bullets, topping off the gas tank and throwing the snow chains in the 2 wheel drive 1966 Ford camper special and heading on up the pass to the Cascade Summit.
We had a trail map and made plans that would take us into Irish Lake and possibly on into Irish Meadows, a long haul on foot in the snow but we were hardy experienced woodsmen, Oregonians, from a long line of loggers, completely qualified for the trip.
Everything went per plans from the kickoff at the trailhead and on into the wilderness until we had Irish Lake in sight where we cut a fresh set of lone “bull tracks”, better yet they had an occasional speck of blood in them!
We had a quick discussion right there and decided we were fast and strong enough to out walk this “wounded” elk and make him ours. The elk meandered all over the high country leading us on a grand chase, never finding a bed and never jumping him we assumed he was nearly dead on his feet and afraid himself that if he laid up he would never get up. We knew if we could just pick up the pace he would be ours for the taking.
We kicked our pace into overdrive working up a drenching sweat in the 15 degree heat, soaking our shirts, coats and wrangler jeans. By now it is approaching early afternoon, the sun is getting lower and “our” elk heads straight up and over a ridge and begins his decent into the next drainage, in this drainage we are on the shady side and the snow is now crotch deep and full of 3 -6 inch blowdowns under and over the snow. The temperature takes a deep drop and our spirits fall with it. The elk leads us to the bottom of the tangle of blowdowns where we stand in the middle of Skookum Creek. At the end of the tracks lies “our elk” or what is left of him. Someone has gotten to him first, killed and butchered him and left with the meat!
Damn the luck.
We quickly get our map out and plot our retreat deciding that the swooping trail leading down Skookum Creek is adding too much mileage and we can shortcut our way back up the tangled blowdowns to the ridgetop on to the junction of trails halfway down the trail from Irish Lake to our warm truck.
The blowdowns were bad enough to come downhill through but going back up was insanity. By the time we topped the ridge it is nearly dark we are completely soaked from sweat and snow melting on our jeans and so spent we are in near delirium. Stumbling and rolling around in the snow isn't helping matters. From the ridgetop we bushwack our way to what we assume is going to be an easy 3 mile jaunt to the truck from the intersecting trails however somewhere we mis-calculated and we have come out at the lake..yikes!
Now it is really cold, our pants are frozen and stiff and rubbing our legs till they are bleeding, we are down to one candy bar and out of water and we can see the stars coming out and the clouds blowing away..you can almost hear the temperature falling and only 8 miles to the truck!
We stop for frequent rests usually when we have fallen down in the snow and eat snow to quench our un-quenchable thirst, Bill tells me through fumbling lips that the longer he lays there the warmer he feels, funny thing I'm feeling it to.
Suddenly I realize we are in trouble, real trouble and I plead for Bill to get to his feet and he won't so I have to drag him on his knees until he gets up. We go on like this for hours, no longer able to sling our rifles over our numb shoulders we just loop the slings over our necks and rest both arms on the rifles, teeth chattering and mumbling incoherently about how warm the snow feels when we lay in it.
The trailhead is a welcome sight as is the Ford pickup. When we get to the truck I have a new problem, my hands are so numb from the cold that I can't get my hands in my pockets to retrieve the keys! Bill helps by holding on to my pocket while I try to drive my numb fingers in but to no avail. I am almost ready to hike up the road where I can hear a guy loading a horse in a trailer to ask him to help get my keys out of my pants but embarrassment keeps me from making the walk. Finally I am able to fling the keys out of my pocket and into the snow it only takes the 2 of us about 10 minutes to find them and with 2 numb hands, no fingers and 4 tries I get them into the lock. Safe in the truck we are spent!
We start the truck and get the heat going and let it run all night sleeping upright in the cab of that truck in our sleeping bags, trying to heat canned chili on the manifold and warming smoked smelt on the trucks defroster.
True story.