Half Packed

A Basecamp Dispatch from between piles of gear

Welcome to Basecamp Dispatch — my weekly check-in from the woods, the homestead, or somewhere else with spotty cell service.

My dad in a Colorado meadow, years ago. We were saving for another elk trip when he died.

There are piles of half-packed gear scattered around my bedroom and the corners of my writing studio. It’s a strange mix of North Carolina deer season and Idaho elk season gear that probably doesn’t belong together. An orange hat on a puffy down jacket. Heavy wool socks next to a lightweight base layer. And somewhere in there, a box of .30-30 rounds playing neighbor to some 7mm PRC. At this point, I’m half afraid I’ll end up in a treestand with an elk bugle.

The first day of the whitetail rifle season is this Saturday. I should be focused on that, but my head’s already out West. I’m double-checking lists, running laundry, trying to remember where I stashed the shooting sticks. I’m tired, a little antsy, and beyond distracted.

This Idaho hunt has been a long time coming. It’s a bucket-list trip. The kind you plan for years but never really feel ready for. Daddy always wanted to shoot an elk out West. He talked about it more than he talked about anything else. He made it out there a couple of times but never connected. This would have been a dream trip for him. It’s a dream trip for me.

I keep thinking about our elk hunt in Colorado, just me and him running around Flat Tops Wilderness after a three-day non-stop drive in his Tacoma.

And I’m haunted by the one we were planning and saving for when he died.

Maybe this trip is my way of trying to finish that story.

And maybe that’s too heavy to pack.

So this week, I’m shuffling gear and trying to remember what day it is. And on my Idaho checklist, just under the boots and base layers, is Daddy’s old Bacon’s Castle Hunt Club hat. The one he wore the last time he set foot in the woods. It’s faded, sweat-stained, and has definitely seen better days. But I can’t think of a better thing to carry into the mountains.

For now, though, I’m trying to focus on one more important Carolina sunrise before I leave for that long plane ride west.

The duffel’s still half packed. Maybe that’s about right.

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If you’re chasing whitetails this weekend, hunt safe and soak it in. May your packs ride easy, your coffee stay hot, and your hearts be ready for whatever the season brings.