They Say You Can Never Go Home

Of course you CAN go home geographically speaking. Sure the city, neighborhood, and house you grew up in all still exist; and yes you can stop by to see your little hand print in the concrete of the back porch, or play on the old tire swing at your elementary school. But times change. Things change. People change. It's not that change is bad, but all that really remains of the way things were back home are the memories you replay in your mind. Yet even the memories get sweeter with time and their facts fade with age. Hence they say you can never go "home".

But I did. Two weeks ago.

I made a quick trip to Utah to go elk hunting with friends, and it was as good as it has ever been. The house, the church, and the school of my youth, and all the people that were in them have aged and grown, but the woods where I learned to hunt are immune to time. The same Autumn smells fill the same canyons year after year. The rain falls, leaves turn, and trails wind in the same way. Squirrels still squeal the same scoldings when you enter their property. And my favorite little spring still trickles out it's precious water, which still attracts the same big bucks and bulls, whose approach still makes my heart pound and nerves quake. The feeling I get when I enter those woods is the same year to year - like a big welcome home.

Here's a quick look at some of this year's hunt:

Jake never did find that big deer. He hit it, but I don't think well enough to kill it. I'm sure that buck is healed up by now and standing on some ridge somewhere showing his big buck buddies his cool new scar.

I made the mistake this year of hunting during the first week of the hunt with only an elk tag. It wasn't until too late that I remembered we see mostly deer during the first half of the hunt, and mostly elk during the last half. Next year I'm going to hunt later when the elk are breeding and easier to find. But even without an elk in the freezer I am glad I was able to go...home.