By John L. Moore
When I was about 12, I trekked into the Beartooth Mountains with my outfitter uncle, Al, a pack train of a dozen mules, and his well-heeled clients from Minneapolis. The alpha male of the dude family was about 40 and had been an All-American quarterback for a large Midwestern university.
My uncle, at that time, was nearing 50 and in good shape, considering he'd broken nearly every major bone and had died briefly on the operating table as the result of a WWII glider accident.
The businessman was competitive and with considerable pressing finally got Al to accept a race up a mountain, through a pass and down to a crystal-clear lake where brook trout savaged anything that rippled the water's surface.
The morning of the race, the client - wearing tennis shoes and shorts - took off on a brisk jog, while my uncle tended to his Dutch oven cooking. Finally, he grabbed a fishing pole and set out in old cowboy boots, Levis, a blue denim shirt and his crusty black hat. By then the client was already disappearing into the distant tree line.
Those of us in camp watched anxiously to see which man would first crest the mountain. From there it was a short downhill jaunt to the lake. There was no mistaking the first man who appeared. It was my uncle's dark, distant form traveling as the same measured pace with which he'd left. The dude was several minutes behind him. No doubt, Al filled a stringer of fish before the challenger even reached the lake. The businessman, honed and tanned by many hours on the tennis court, was fit, but he was not fit for an alpine environment.
My friend Mike came to Montana from North Carolina to hunt mule deer. Slim and seemingly fit, he'd trained by taking his dog for brisk evening walks. The walks had not prepared him for the badlands in 9 inches of snow. The last day of the hunt, he settled for a wide Western-count 4-pointer, but it was less of a deer than either of us had hoped for.
Friend Ken came from Tennessee. He'd trained by walking through airports on his business trips rather than using the escalators and moving sidewalks. He was not prepared, though, when a twilight chance at a large buck meant racing up a steep gumbo butte. He made it to the top, but his breathing was too labored to settle the crosshairs. The 100-yard shot sailed high, and the buck melted into darkness. Ken, too, later settled for a buck we'd passed on early in the hunt. A few years before, having spent more time in the saddle than on foot, the same had happened to me.
Another friend, Steve, came from Florida for a November hunt. He walked for hours without complaining, and when his split-second opportunity arose, he took two running steps, fell purposely forward against a cut bank, leveled his rifle and fired. The big muley dropped from a spine shot. Proper practice had produced a quick and polished response, and the mounted head adorns his office wall.
It is, as athletes say, not practice that makes perfect, but perfect practice that makes perfect.
Benchrest shooting can tell us much about a rifle, scope or load, but it doesn't tell us enough about the shooter. For one thing, recoil is harder to absorb from a bench, so shooters using larger calibers develop habitual flinches. Secondly, unless one is shooting from a blind or stand, it is hard to replicate real situations from the bench. Resting a rifle on a daypack might be similar were it not for the 5-mile uphill walk that preceded the shot opportunity. Stand hunting requires tremendous patience, perseverance and concentration, but it prepares no one for arduous hikes.
There can be a difference between "training" and "practice." Training might stress physical conditioning while practice is the repetition of particular skills. Perfect practice requires both.
In basketball, there are "shot doctors," coaches who can analyze and tweak any player's shooting style. First, the shot doctor stresses proper mechanics. Next, he requires proper mechanics under stress. It is one thing, he knows, to methodically knock down three-pointers while stationary. It is something else altogether to sprint from the far baseline, take a pass at center court, dribble to the top of the key and pull up for a jump shot. It's harder yet to do this when one's lungs are burning and the legs are jelly.
Hunters too often think they can "hunt themselves into shape." Perhaps that's true when we're in our trim 20s, but most of us are betting against a middle-age spread. The hunt also might take place at an altitude to which we're unaccustomed. It takes many miserable days to hunt one's self into condition, and trophies can be lost in the process.
And there is more to conditioning than aerobic exercise.
Consider flexibility. Hiking uphill stretches hamstrings that might rather pop than flex. Nothing like a strained Achilles to turn a dream hunt into a nightmare.
And don't forget upper-body conditioning. Carrying a 10-pound rifle and 15-pound daypack reminds one of muscles the golf course never suggested.
On a popular Internet hunting forum, the question was recently asked: "What bothers a guide most about hunters?"
The options were:
1) Poor shooting ability
2) Poor physical condition
3) Wrong caliber for the game
4) Wrong bullet for caliber and game
The respondents overwhelmingly chose poor physical conditioning with poor shooting ability coming in a distant second and numbers three and four barely garnering votes. (I think this suggests most hunters know they're out of shape, but I bet most guides would name an answer that wasn't listed, namely "attitude." A positive attitude can surpass many obstacles, but it is hard to be upbeat when you're physically downcast.)
Image is another consideration for getting and staying fit. Movies and television are fond of portraying hunters as overweight, beer-guzzling rednecks in audacious camouflage. As the media is not likely to follow a serious sheep or goat hunter to granite peaks far above timberline, their idea of a hunter is more likely found coming out of a Wal-Mart or Denny's. What are we showing them?
The prescription for hunting fitness: Get a thorough physical from your doctor and plan and implement a workout many months in advance of the hunt. Find a partner. Partners are good for encouragement and accountability.
Exercise, if possible, while wearing a weighted pack. And, because most gun ranges are not set up to accommodate real-life practice, simulate the same with a weighted walking stick. The stick will also serve as self-defense against mean dogs and muggers. And should your neighbors wonder about your brisk walks while packing binoculars and a walking stick, tell them you've become a zealous bird-watcher.
John L. Moore
GunHunter Magazine - November 2005
Buckmasters | GunHuntermag.com | Rackmag.com | BADF.org | YoungBucksOutdoors.com