After earning her degree in Physical Education from Pacific Union College, Erica went on to teach high school PE in Hawaii. That’s where she got the itch for triathlons. She started training and competed in her first Tri in October, 2005, where she took 6th in her division. Being the thrill seeker that she was, she had her sights set on competing in the Ironman (2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run) one day. It was during that time that Erica was accepted into the Masters Program at Sacramento State University in Kinesiology for Strength and Conditioning. There was no way for her to know that all that training would prepare her for an unforeseen journey.

Later that year on December 27th, Erica woke up with the worst backache she had ever had. Being tough-minded, though, she brushed it off as soreness from the previous day’s workout. Three days later, the pain turned into tingling that spread down throughout her legs. That is when she knew something was wrong. After six hours in the ER, she left with a prescription for muscle spasms. That evening, Erica got up to find she was no longer able to support her weight on her legs and had to crawl to get to the bathroom. On December 31st, Erica mustered up enough strength to walk to the couch from the stairs while holding on to walls and door frames. That was the last day she had walked, yet she remains hopeful it will not be her last!

Erica was diagnosed with a Cavernous Hemangioma, an abnormal cluster of blood vessels which isn’t that uncommon and usually doesn’t have such devastating results. However, in Erica’s case (one in every 5 million), the cluster of vessels ruptured, and a small droplet of blood made its way into her spinal column, causing inflammation to her spinal cord. The pressure on her spine from the swelling damaged the nerves, paralyzing Erica from below her chest down.

It would be understandable if Erica felt resentful about the misdiagnosis when she first went to the ER, or that she was one of the rare statistics that this happened to, but that just wasn’t in Erica’s character. Certainly, the realization of having her life as an athlete, which defined much of who she was, taken away could have put her in a spin of depression. Her reaction to the injury, though, would be what exposed who she was. “I didn’t want any negativity present in my hospital room,” Erica explained. “I grew up learning to be tough and positive… I don’t like the word can’t! This is a new chapter in my life and I need to focus on what’s next!”

[Erica would save her tears for the evenings in the hospital when she was alone, then pull herself together to meet the challenges of the next day.]

A few weeks after returning home, Erica was introduced to a man who was an avid hand cyclist. He rekindled her passion for exercise and athletics. Hand cycling became the first of about 20 adapted sports that she would explore, some of which she pursued in the competitive arena in the years to follow. In January 2007, Erica and her mom moved into a senior citizen mobile home park in Carlsbad, California (where her dad would commute to and often visit), to be closer to the rehab facility so she could continue with a more intensive therapy and exercise regimen.

In the summer of 2009, Derek Gates went to the Challenged Athletes Foundation (CAF) with his idea to document the first paraplegic woman to summit Mount Kilimanjaro. As crazy as the idea sounded, the intent was to send a message to the world that there would be no limit to the power of the human spirit. When thinking of who could possibly accept the challenge for such an enormous task, one name came up… Erica Davis!

By that time, Erica was back heavy into training for hand cycling and triathlons. She was already a member of the CAF which is a program developed in 1993 to help support challenged athletes with the cost of equipment and other expenses related to athletic goals. She trained six days a week, swimming, biking, pushing a race wheelchair, and other forms of exercise. When Erica got into competitive racing, the CAF became one of her sponsors.

Finding a purpose…

“I have two jobs now, training and recovery,” Erica said, “And it’s my job to be out there showing both able-bodied and the newly injured that anything you want to do you can do!” So when she was approached by CAF to be the first woman to wheel to the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro, she didn’t hesitate to say, “Yes!”

“After I said ‘yes,’ I had to think about what I had gotten into,” Erica admitted. “There were only three and a half months to train (before the scheduled climb at the end of January 2010).” She wasn’t concerned about her physical fitness, but there were many things that could go wrong with a climb of this magnitude… exhaustion, altitude sickness, dehydration, and hypothermia, for example. “You never know what can happen. Things can happen to anyone (on a climb),” Erica acknowledged. “I was especially concerned about altitude sickness and getting too cold. But I never thought of not making it. It was going to be fun and hard.”

And she had a message to deliver, “I wanted all people to know that they can accomplish anything they set their mind to! Something like this brings out more in you than what you thought you had inside.”

Soon after she finished with the cycling season in the fall of 2009, Erica put her bike away and focused her entire existence on making history by doing the unimaginable…climbing Kilimanjaro.

[Much of her training regimen for the climb was designed by the C.H.E.K. Institute (owners of the documentary), a worldwide philosophy on life coaching and personal training which involves a holistic body-mind health approach to performance and overall well-being.] – photo caption

Although there are good hiking trails near Carlsbad, there are no mountains to practice on. Erica’s weekly schedule consisted of pushing her chair up and down street hills, hiking with her new climb team on dirt trails, stretching, core strength training in the gym, continuing with her home program, getting educated on nutrition and learning the science of the mind’s performance during an ascent. (This last piece to her training would prove to be probably the most valuable to the team as a whole as the effects of the climb began taking toll on their physical ability to function.)

Another one of Erica’s sponsors for this endeavor was Colours Wheelchairs. They designed a chair specifically for Erica and her team so they could push, pull, and at times lift her over rocks and boulders. Tether ropes and push bars would be used on terrain over which Erica was able to maneuver by herself. And when mountain trails became impassable, modified bars that slide through the arm rests allowed her porters to carry her in the chair.

This wheelchair also came equipped with Magic Wheels to give Erica more power while pushing. With a 2:1 geared hub, they allow the user to go up inclines by exerting half the effort. To keep her secure in the chair while climbing, she used a seatbelt around her waist and a strap that went around her ankles. She also had her regular manual chair brought along so she could use it while in camp.

Erica and her team arrived in Tanzania, Africa, after dark on January 24, 2010. Excitement was in the air and they could hardly wait until daybreak to get their first real glimpses of Mount Kilimanjaro, Africa’s highest peak and the tallest free standing mountain in the world.

Her team consisted of eight people: Derek Gates, executive producer and master mind of the project, Chris Theibert and Matt Peters from Captured Life Productions who were in charge of filming the documentary, Philip Chester, the photographer, Zach Ralphs, a rep from Overstock.com which was another sponsor for this trek, Penny Crozier, CEO of the C.H.E.K. Institute, Tara Butcher, a below the knee amputee and fellow female challenged athlete, and Erica herself, the first female para attempting to summit Kilimanjaro.

Accompanying them was the Thompson Safari Team. This team of three guides and an entourage of 33 porters were a vital component to the climb. Not only were they responsible for carrying all the equipment (tents, supplies, food, wheelchair, tires, etc.) and setting up and taking down camp each day, but they were there to assist Erica with the climb when the terrain got really tough. The whole thing would’ve been impossible without them!

After spending one day in Tanzania, the next morning they would strike out for the mountain. “We’re going to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro,” Erica said under her breath. It finally felt real to her. This was actually happening!

Not only was this a life changing adventure, but it would be a chance to witness some of the rare beauties of Africa. “Throughout the climb, we covered five different terrains,” Erica recalled. Day one started out in the rainforests of northeastern Tanzania. The sun shone brightly through the canopy of trees and monkeys hustled around overhead. Temps rose above 80 degrees when they started. The trails that wound through the thick forest were meant for hiking, not wheeling, but it was passable with some assistance from her team. This is what they all trained for. This is what they expected in the days to come.

Seven to nine hours a day for the first two days, they hiked. “I was up between 4:30 and 5:30 AM everyday (an hour before the others so I could do my needed cares to get ready for the day),” Erica shares, “We would get to bed around 8:00 and 10:00 PM at night. We were completely exhausted!” As they approached the end of day two, Erica took notice of the view, “I can see the floor of Africa,” appreciating how far she’d already come while camp was being set up.

Even though it was only day two, Erica and her team were already feeling the effects of the altitude. Breathing was noticeably harder and nausea was creeping in (although Erica recalls the first signs of sickness in her stomach on day four around 13,000 feet). “It was important to bring along snacks we liked to make it easier to force yourself to keep eating. ‘Erica’s bag of Halloween candy’ is what my team called my stash of goodies,” Erica remembers. “It was also crucial to drink much more water than you normally would, and you know how much people with SCI like to drink water,” she voiced sarcastically. “Fortunately, we were the only travel company on the mountain to bring a portable bathroom which the porters would set up and take down every day.”

The camps provided the bare necessities for the team while on the mountain. There was no electricity, heat or running water. They used wet wipes to get as much of the grime and dirt off as possible, and the porters brought them warm water in the evenings. “The first and fourth nights we were all in the same room on bunk beds. But on nights two and three we stayed three to four people in a hut which also housed our clothes, my wheelchairs, video and camera equipment, and supplies. And on the fifth and six nights we were two to a tent,” Erica describes. “The food, though, was quite surprising for up that high on the mountain. There was fresh fruit every day.”

The third day of the climb was a day of rest, a day to acclimate to the elevation before going on. “It was becoming more important emotionally to be there for each other,” Erica clarified as she described how the team bonded through physical and mental hardships. “We would tell jokes, play games, sing songs, anything to get your mind off the pain. But as it became harder to breath, we would talk less just to save our energy. I would even give my team members back rubs at camp because the terrain was getting more difficult to get my wheelchair through and I was relying more on them to push, pull and carry me.”

As they ascended, the scenery changed from lush foliage and wildlife to drier, tundra and alpine desert like conditions. It got colder, with more rocks and boulders showing up in their path. Eventually, they’d face snow and glaciers as they neared the summit, and as the elevation increased, the falling temps exerted its power. “We started out in tanks and shorts and ended up with every layer of clothing we brought,” Erica explained, “That made the going really tough.”

The next couple of days put Erica, her chair, and her team through a true test of strength. The alpine desert-like terrain gave way to the steepest and narrowest trails they had yet to contend with, and the team was at a point where they were no longer able to assist Erica. The porters had to take over. “I had to put a lot of trust in people I didn’t know,” she went on, “It was more draining emotionally because I didn’t have my team around me and I only 20-30 words of Swahili…so it was very hard for me.”

Headaches, nausea, and complete exhaustion began to take hold of each member of Erica’s team. Everyone moved slower, each step being thought out before being carefully placed. “They say about 60% of the people who attempt to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro actually make it to the summit, and by this point we had already seen four people being carried down on stretchers. That was an intimidating feeling,” she confessed. “I had to (continue). You’re up there on the side of a mountain…when you are that far, there is only one direction to go and that is up.”

And at the end of day five, they waited, tired and cold, for the porters to set up the tents which would be their living quarters for the night. They had to camp across the rocky slope of the mountain. (This was not Erica’s favorite camp to say the least.)

The push to the summit…

The dawn of day six was spectacular. It also shed light on the most challenging day of hiking. The camp stirred at 6:30 AM with temps plunging into the single digits. “At this point I was cold all the time,” Erica made clear. “I had on almost every piece of clothing I brought and I still felt the cold ache in my bones. Every time we stopped, one of my team members had to sit on my lap to help keep me warm.”

After 11 hours of arduous climbing, they finally reached the camp that would be their last stop before attempting to summit the next morning. But it was still an hour before sunset and the team began to debate whether they could continue on or not. “We’re doing it!” Erica said with a rush of excitement. And with a renewed surge of adrenaline, the team pressed on.

Sometime around 5:30 PM on January 31, 2010, Erica Davis made history as the first paraplegic woman to summit Mount Kilimanjaro, along with her fellow challenged athlete, Tara Butcher. “My team carried me out of my chair to the point of summit to take pictures near the celebrated summit sign,” Erica boasted, “and warmth filled us as the realization of what we accomplished surged through our tired and freezing bodies.”

They relished the moments as they watched the sun set from the summit of Kilimanjaro. “It was awe-inspiring!” Erica shared, “Being a Christian and looking around at the beauty God had created…here at the roof of Africa.”

There was only one small problem now. The climb wasn’t over. The sun had just set and they had to get back down to camp, in the dark, with temps falling well below zero. “I cried from the intense pain of being so cold,” Erica remembered. “When we reached camp, I went straight to my sleeping bag without dinner. It was the sickest I had felt yet.”

The next morning, Erica woke up with the worst headache she had ever had, “The first couple of hours of the climb down, I was not quite with it because of the pain in my head. But in a sense my job was done…all I needed to do now was ‘hang on’ and let the porters do the work.” The way down was on a different trail than the one they came up on. And when they reached the bottom, a day and a half later, the native porters bid their farewell with a celebration song and dance for the team. “The porters were what made this climb possible, and we couldn’t have done it without them!”

This project has been made into a documentary title, Through the Roof, by Captured Life Productions. Proceeds benefit the Challenged Athletes Foundation. For more information about the documentary, go to: http://www.throughtheroofmovie.com/ .

What’s next for Erica:

Steve Pisano, 45, grew up in Florida but moved to Estes Park, Colorado, to earn a certificate in biblical studies. After being a program director and teacher at a bible school for five and a half years in Fraser, he took a break, changed careers, and managed a bike and snowboard shop in Winter Park, CO. Then in July 2003, Steve had a downhill mountain bike accident which resulted in a T3/4 spinal cord injury.

He spent his rehab at Craig Hospital in Englewood, CO. Understandably, he spent several years searching for some meaning for his injury, “It took about four years after my accident to finally begin to deal with it,” he said. Through his strong faith in God and his passion for outdoor activities (like photography), Steve found direction. He began volunteering at the bible school where he once taught, and he got involved with the National Sports Center for the Disabled (NSCD) where he began adaptive snow skiing, sailing, rafting and hand cycling. Steve also reconnected with Craig Hospital where he decided to share his experiences with new SCI patients.

It was through Craig Hospital where he learned about Sea Wolf Adventures (SWA). Two rec therapists at Craig, Laurie Womeldorff and Stephanie Deml, coordinated trip plans for group cruises aboard SWA for their alumni patients. They both had been on a few trips with SWA, and in the spring of 2010 they asked Steve if he would be interested in going on a six-day small ship cruise to Glacier Bay. Knowing that both therapists would be going, he packed up his cameras and ventured to Alaska for an experience of a lifetime.

The Sea Wolf is a 97’, 12 passenger (plus five crew) expedition yacht that explores the waters of Glacier Bay, Alaska and British Columbia. It is unique to other cruise vessels because it can navigate where larger ships cannot go, giving its passengers an up close and personal experience with marine life, wildlife and the pristine wilderness. This was definitely the experience Steve needed; witnessing all of God’s creations in their natural setting and having the opportunity to take it all in through the lens of his camera. What more could he have asked for?

Steve was excited but had many concerns about the accessibility of a ship and how he was going to navigate everything. Knowing that Laurie and Stephanie had been on several trips with SWA, though, eased his worry. “I knew if something came up I’d adapt to it… or at least there’d be people there who could assist me.”

Perhaps what helped Steve prepare the most was being able to talk directly with Kimberly (Kimber) Owen, owner and Captain of the Sea Wolf. “Kimber was awesome,” he beamed. “We had several phone conversations, and she addressed every one of my concerns.” He said she provided a very thorough list of what to bring and their website was very accurate. There is also a contact list of past SWA clients who are willing to talk with anyone interesting in a future trip. Owen has had more than 23 individuals with disabilities go on a SWA trip, and many come back year after year.

Owen is not new to working with people with disabilities either. Back in Texas, she owned and operated an equine facility for 31 years where she provided therapeutic horseback riding to individuals with disabilities. When Owen acquired the Sea Wolf in 2003, she knew she wanted people of all abilities to have an opportunity to come on any of their adventure cruises. So with the help of a technical consultant who is a para, they renovated the ship with 32” wide decks, three wheelchair accessible staterooms, two chair lifts between the 3 decks, and access to all public areas. They also have a Mckinnon Hugger lift to get individuals in/out of their two seater kayaks and have a skiff available for those who choose not to paddle.

Owen stresses that the Sea Wolf is not accessible according to ADA standards, but that the modifications are ‘visit-ability’. Steve explained, “The boat was not specifically designed for people in wheelchairs. I was able to make things doable…not always preferable, but for being on a small ship it was okay.”

For example, the accessible rooms are quite compact. “Although I could spin my chair around in a complete circle, there is no way of having a wheelchair and commode chair in the room together, so I would have needed someone to move the chairs in and out of the room for me. Fortunately, I didn‘t need one. Transfers into bed were tricky, too, because of the ladder to the bunk bed. I made suggestions on how to make the ladder removable and they said they would look into modifying it.”

Each accessible cabin has its own bathroom. Located in the corner of the cabin is a cutout where the toilet and shower share a tiled floor. There is a fold-down shower bench in the shower. Outside this area is the pedestal style sink with a vanity. There is no door separating the toilet/shower area with the rest of the cabin. (Steve has an ostomy and chose to forgo a shower, so he couldn’t comment on how a commode fit in the bathroom or whether you could use it as a roll-in shower.)

Steve continues, “Also, my wheelchair was too long for the chair lift, but they have a wheelchair I transferred into to use the lift with and that worked well.” With the addition of the chair lifts, Steve was able to access all the areas of the ship where passengers socialize. He was very impressed with the competence and sensitivity of the crew as a whole, “They had a willingness to learn…they were there to serve and to help me enjoy my experience on the boat. Basically, all you need is a sense of adventure and a willingness to make some compromises, and if you do, the experience is well worth it!”

Their group of 12 from Craig Hospital included two individuals with brain injuries and three with SCI (including Steve). Their six-day cruise took them from the ancient rainforest of Icy Straits up to the barren glacial mountain faces of the east and west arms of Glacier Bay National Park. They cruised during the day, taking in the breathtaking scenery, whale watching, and learning about the natural history of Glacier Bay.

Steve described how much the Captain’s background contributed to the experience, “Kimber is a naturalist and conservationist with a passion for marine and wildlife. Her knowledge of environment and wildlife really brought the trip to a higher level. It made me realize things I’ve never thought of before. Her devotion to the environment came out in every corner of the trip.”

“Even the crew members had some form of educational experience that they shared along our explorations,” Steve continued. “They said that each trip is never the same because of changing weather and wildlife movement, so we’d be seeing some things on our cruise that nobody had seen before. It was always an adventure!”

Besides cruising the calm glassy waters, each day included an opportunity to kayak along the coastlines where they could take full advantage of wildlife sightings. Steve was in awe with how close he could be to the animals. “Being able to watch a myriad of shore and sea birds, harbor seals, otters, and even bears without them seeing you…watching them in their natural existence, was amazing.” For a photographer, it was perfect!

Steve said the schedule was very relaxing with nothing planned for early morning. Each person could determine his/her own level of physical involvement on any given day. On some of the days when they went kayaking, Steve wanted to take a more relaxing route so he went on the skiff instead. “There wasn’t anything done on the boat or on the entire trip, in fact, that I couldn’t do…” he said. “I was never left out.”

Evenings were spent cruising to a secluded inlet where they would anchor for the night. A gourmet dinner was prepared while the passengers were held captive by the glorious sunsets over Glacier Bay. That serene atmosphere was the perfect ending to an adventure filled day of exploring some of nature’s most beautiful scenery.

At the end of his journey, Steve reflected on his time on the SWA, “I began to develop a whole new view of creation and God’s will. This wasn’t just a trip for me, it was a life changing experience. Everyone should make the opportunity to go to Alaska sometime in their life.”

[For Steve, this trip would not have been possible without the scholarship through the Craig Rehab facility and the help of Laurie and Stephanie. All of the trips SWA offers are open to any individual with or without a disability. Cost is $3400 per individual. For more information, see their website at http://seawolfadventures.net/index.html]

Last November in Washington DC, Sea Wolf Adventures was awarded the 2011 National Park Services Concessioner Accessibility Achievement Award for its outstanding efforts to improve accessibility in Glacier Bay (http://home.nps.gov/glba/parknews/2011-11-10.htm).

Back to Nature… A Backcountry Kayaking Story if you can come up w/ better title suggest it plez!

Andy Janicki, now 28, was always willing to give up the everyday “luxuries” to pursue his love of back-country camping. He regularly sought out the remotest places he could find. And when he became a quadriplegic six years ago, the biggest challenge Andy faced would be how the heck he’d ever get back to them.

Andy has been the Accessibility Coordinator for the Wisconsin DNR for the past three and a half years. As an outdoor enthusiast, he takes to heart the duties of his position to enhance outdoor recreation for people with disabilities. It wasn’t his degree in Biology and Water Resources that secured this job for him, though, but his life experience in camping and kayaking that made him a natural fit.

Growing up in the ‘burbs of Milwaukee, Andy loved swimming and biking. During his freshmen year at UW – Stevens Point, he had his first backpacking experience. It was an immediate obsession. Once Andy got a taste of this wilderness hiking, he couldn’t get enough of it. He loved being totally immersed in the outdoors…the smells, the sounds, the awakening of his senses… and being far away from the ‘noise’ of civilization.

“I developed the mentality that I needed to be outdoors every day,” Andy explained. “I was known as ‘the guy who was always outside.’” Camping, hiking, kayaking and canoeing…he did it all. Even his interest in improving the environment, which led him to a job with the University in the Center for Watershed Science and Education, afforded Andy more opportunities to explore the outdoors to do field surveys on area water sources. “It didn’t matter to me whether it was for work or pleasure. I was the most at peace when I was out on my own surrounded by nature.”

In January of 2005, Andy’s world took an abrupt halt when he dove into a snow pile to cool off after a night of dancing, shattering his C5 vertebrae. “There I was upside down looking back at where I had just run from,” he recalled vividly. “I could see my body crumple around me but could feel nothing.” Laying there unable to move and struggling to breathe, Andy was fully conscious of what had happened.

After a long half hour, an ambulance finally arrived. He was rushed to the Stevens Point Hospital and then air lifted to Froedtert Hospital in Milwaukee. He spent three days in intensive care and started rehab soon after. A long seven weeks later he was discharged.

“I had no setbacks, and I was healthy and strong going in, so I regained strength quickly,” Andy described with a glint of hope in his voice. “But I was still kind of in denial over the whole situation. I don’t remember any doctor coming in and saying I wasn’t going to walk again, but maybe it was implied,” he admitted, “I knew I was in rough shape then, but I was still hopeful I would get better and walk again.” Soon, though, the reality of his condition set in. “It was shocking getting use to only having three main muscle groups functioning. It was humbling. It was disappointing. I thought with all the swimming practice and hiking that I would be able to jump right into therapy and regain all my strength,” he confided, “I really thought I’d be farther along when I went home.”

Andy’s character, however, couldn’t be repressed for long. He moved back to live with his mom for the next four months so he could continue his rehab at Froedtert. He had an upbeat drive that pushed him to get outside as much as possible. There were a lot of challenges to be worked out, but that would have to come later; for at the end of the summer, he was going back to Stevens Point to finish up his last two years of his degree.

“That first year was the hardest because it was frustrating trying to figure out what I could do,” Andy mentioned. “Before, I’d go backpacking by myself all the time, but now I couldn’t even look at old photos of my camping trips without breaking down.” It was this loss of independence that was the most difficult for him to adjust to, “The hardest thing for me to do was ask for help. Not just with outdoor activities, but with day to day living.”

Andy’s outlook on life, however, was where he drew his strength. “Life was too good to let anything stop me from continuing with my passions,” he affirmed. “The world just had too much to offer!” And for Andy, surrounding himself in nature was some of the best therapy there was. “I did so much outdoors before my injury that it was something ingrained in my mind.”

Andy was determined to find trails in and around Stevens Point that he could manage by himself. Not an easy task. “I had to purposely search for paths that had crushed limestone or granite surfaces,” he described. “There were other things to consider, too, like the slope, width, and evenness of the trail. I needed to feel like I could propel my chair down the trail with no worries of getting stuck or tipping over.”

Although it was a start, the trails that were manageable by wheelchair couldn’t get Andy where he wanted to go, which was back into the wilderness. “The reason I liked backpacking before was because I could get away from civilization, way the hell out to the middle of nowhere, and not see city lights or hear anything except for the sounds of nature,” he confessed. “It’s great to be out there for a whole week without seeing a single person.” He wasn’t going to achieve that sense of solitude by wheeling on the trails around town.

Andy realized that if he was going to access remote places that he was going to need to find another mode of transportation, something other than wheelchair. –good caption to highlight in story

As if on a new mission, Andy had his friends sit him in the middle of a canoe so they could paddle him to places unreachable by chair. “It was nice to get further into nature, but I still had the feeling that I was relying on others to get around,” he said disappointedly because he was aching to get out on his own again. But Andy was motivated, and that kept him searching for new things to try.

Andy lay in bed at night thinking about his single-person Perception kayak and about ways he could propel it on his own. He and his friend tried everything they could think of, but it just wasn’t happening, at least not yet. The cockpit was small which made it difficult to get Andy in. In addition to that, the slim design of the kayak made it quite tippy, and with Andy’s unsupported trunk, it was simply not steady enough.

One day, someone found a short (and more stable) tandem kayak to give a try. This kayak had a raised back on the seat which gave Andy more back support, but without any kind of lateral support to keep him from falling to the sides. “I could keep my balance alright, but I knew that if the kayak tipped a certain amount, that I would flop over and not be able to get back up and that could turn the boat over,” Andy stated. Though it was not a great setup, Andy was determined to make it work.

The next step was to figure out how to paddle the thing without the use of a grip. “I had someone mold handles out of that white plastic that OTs use to make splints,” he added, “and then I had them mold it right around the shaft of the paddle.” Since Andy had strong wrists, he was now able to paddle without the function of his fingers. Progress was being made!

After several excursions on local lakes and rivers and some additional tweaking to the setup, Andy was ready for a “Mancation!” Before his injury, he was exploring plans for a camping trip down to Big Ben National Park in Texas. Well, the time had come. In January of ’07, Andy, his brothers and two buddies left the cold winter of Wisconsin and headed south for a four day river camping expedition, paddling the scenic Rio Grande through the majestic Boquillas Canyon. Andy could hardly wait.

Spending four days paddling river rapids through the 1,200 foot canyon walls and setting up camp along the river each evening was just what Andy had been dreaming about. It was also just what he needed. His extensive backcountry experience, coupled with the confidence he had in his companions and the choice of river to run made this the ideal choice for Andy’s first time out. The 33 mile stretch through the Boquillas Canyon rate a Class II rapids, making it a modest challenge for his new rigging.

It was easy for Andy to adapt to tent camping because of how much he had done it beforehand. He loved to ‘rough it’, so getting by with the bare necessities put him in his happy place. Andy used a Half-Dome Plus two person tent, a Thermarest ProLite tent pad for extra cushion while sleeping, and a basic camping sleeping bag. The guys were used to packing equipment, so when they had to stow Andy’s gear plus his wheelchair in the canoes, they had the system down. [Andy would skip his BP cares until 2009 when he found the Activeaid raised toilet seat. Before that time, he would limit all of his trips to a max of four days.]

Andy admits, though, that things were different, “I had to leave behind what little independence I had,” he said. “I had to make adjustments. My friends had to pick me up and put me in my sleeping bag and it was really difficult to move around in it, definitely not like home where I could grab the side of bed to turn myself or sit up. And when I needed to cath at night, I had to rely on one of the guys to sit me up so I could do my business.” But this was a trade Andy was willing to make.

“Two years after my injury I was back,” Andy beamed, but it wasn’t without its hurdles. “The hardest thing to master was that kayak.”

Andy described a near capsize: “The river was really low at that time and the water murky with silt. That made it hard to see anything that might be floating in front of us. About two hours into our paddle on the first day, a branch popped up suddenly, and without any time to react, we hit it! The impact made the kayak rock making me lose my balance. I flopped to the side and the kayak tipped enough to start taking in water. Luckily, I was with my buddy who is a very experienced paddler and the river was moving very slow, so we were able to make our way to the shore before the situation became tragic.” Smiling, Andy confessed, “We decided to rethink our plans, and I spent most of the remaining four day trip in the canoe.”

“It was such an epic trip though,” Andy recalled. “It was filled with so many mishaps and adjustments to our ‘plan’. Besides almost flipping, I also forgot my sleeping bag. I wrapped up with a blanket and my fleece jacket, but the dessert that first night gave way to freezing temps and I couldn’t stop shaking. The next day we had to travel quite a distance to the nearest town to get a sleeping bag.” There were other challenges, too, that came on a daily occurrence, but what he took away from that trip was a sense of how to accomplish.

After earning his degree at Steven’s Point, Andy took a job with the Wisconsin DNR as Accessibility Coordinator in January 2008. Working through his own struggles compelled Andy to create more access to the state’s parks, camp grounds, lakes and rivers for others. One of his first goals was to make the WDNR “Open the Outdoors” site more user friendly and increase the number of accessible outdoor activities. [Significant improvements were made and it is currently one of the most complete sources of information on accessible cabins, campsite listings, paddling, fishing locations, and hunting licensing throughout Wisconsin.]

Through his work, Andy met Kevin Carr from Chosen Valley Creating Ability from Minnesota who is the manufacturer of seating, hand, and outrigger adaptations for disabled paddlers. An instant friendship formed. Kevin’s designs were the missing pieces to the puzzle Andy had been working on.

He set Andy up with a Kestral 140 kayak. The cockpit is stripped of anything that might cause skin injuries or impede the paddler from making wet exits. It comes with an adapted seat that has adjustable back height and tilt, as well as two levels of removable lateral supports. To increase the stability of the kayak, outriggers are mounted on the sides. And finally, included in the package is the Sweet Cheeks inflatable seat cushion that protects the driver from pressure sores. With all of these innovations, combined with the CVCA hand grip which Andy attached to a lightweight Phantom GX paddle, he was good to go!

In May 2008, Andy and his friends traveled to the Flambeau River State Forest in northern Wisconsin for a three day paddling/camping trip along the river. The campsites along this one are only accessible by water and are more primitive than Andy had faced post-injury. But he was ecstatic! Andy was able to paddle alone in his one-man kayak with his chair secured behind him. “I knew I’d never get back to backpacking by myself, but being that kayak knowing it was just me paddling… took me to a whole other level of freedom,” Andy explained.

Andy continues to work on getting information out about the various levels of accessible camping, but to him, staying in a cabin isn’t camping. He seeks the primitive nature of the outdoors, “You can’t expect things to be like at home. You need to be prepared to ask for help, and don’t go into a situation thinking you know what’s going to happen. To enjoy this freedom, you need to be flexible and patient, and know you can’t control the outdoors.”

In June 2011, I was the second wheelchair user to ride the first ever accessible hot air balloon in the United States through Up & Away. There are only four in the whole world and are located in Austria, Italy, England and now California. The basket was made by a company called Lindstrand Balloons in England. Some hot air balloon companies will say that they are wheelchair accessible but this only means they have crew members to pick a wheelchair user up and place him or her in the balloon basket. This is not only inaccessible it is dangerous. Plus, one’s viewing is restricted when the basket goes up to the chin. Up & Away in Sonoma County offers a truly wheelchair accessible hot air ballooning experience.

At a little before 3:30am I left my home for the two hour journey to the Sonoma County Airport in Santa Rosa where we were to meet at 5:30am. It was pitch black and I wondered when the last time I was up at this hour. It was peaceful though as my car flew on the highways virtually alone, picturing people fast asleep in cozy beds.  Mike, the owner of Up & Away, and his crew were right on time. There were a few vans to carry everyone and the equipment over to the open field where we would take off but only one was wheelchair accessible. It was a fitting blue and called the Pegasus Project. I was loaded in first. A chair lift appeared from within the van and I rolled onto the platform with ease. In seconds I was level with the van floor and backing myself into the van. One of the crew reminded me to watch my head because there wasn’t much clearance. After getting into position behind the driver, my chair was then strapped down on four sides and I was secured with a seatbelt. I was certainly not going to move anywhere.

We arrived at the open field with the sun just warming up for the day. The Friday that I happened to be flying was the start of three consecutive days where ballooners gathered to take the skies together. On this day there were about 24 balloons but 33 were expected to show for Saturday and Sunday. Mike had 4 balloons that day. The process of that many hot air balloons being set up on one field and taking off was quite a site. First the basket is taken out of the trailer and then the balloon is unpacked and laid out flat. Once the balloon is secured to the basket high powered fans are turned on to start blowing up the balloon and when it’s basically entirely filled up, the burners are fired to bring the balloon and basket to their upright position.

Many of the ballooners knew each other and came by the accessible balloon because none of them had seen one. One side of the basket was entirely transparent and flipped down to become a ramp. I got a little assistance from one of the crew members transitioning from the grass field to the ramp but was positioned inside in seconds. Four straps like in the car secured my wheelchair to the floor of the hot air balloon basket.  A four strap seatbelt was used to support my upper body and is used for a safety precaution but is not necessary, which I found out at the end. Directly to my right was the transparent ramp which was now a wall of the basket and in front of me was a window; both were excellent for viewing.

Lift-off was instantaneous and light as if given the power to levitate. Mike stood in his own area to fly the balloon. To fly one must have a pilot’s license and adhere to the rules of the sky. Mike has been flying hot air balloons for well over a decade and he was confident in his ability to do so. His lovely wife Patty and old friend DeDe joined me in the passenger side of the basket. As Mike fired the burners and more fuel feed into the balloon we continued to climb deeper into the sky, reaching about 1600 feet.

Suddenly the question “Am I afraid of heights?” popped into my head. I didn’t think I was but as I looked to my feet I could see the transparent wall to my right, which revealed the world below me. My heart leaped into my throat for a moment and I felt my pulse speed up. I took a deep breath and released my fears of falling. I looked out again and the image of the glass elevator from Charlie & the Chocolate factory came to mind. I felt weightless and almost invincible flying so high with the wind floating all around me. Then I heard the voice of little Jenny praying from the movie Forest Gump, “Dear God, please make me a bird so I can fly far…” At that moment I realized I knew what it feels like to fly. On the balloon trailer Mike displayed a quote from da Vinci that expresses this feeling beautifully, “For once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skywards, for there you have been and there you will long to return.”  I briefly glanced over at Mike and smiled, happy that I figured out his secret, his way of touching the divine while here on earth.

I felt like a bird up there and sang to myself, “I’m like a bird, I love to fly away…” (Nelly Furtado). The ocean fog was slowly creeping in between the hills and mountains and shined like silky white satin. Flying conditions have to be just right for a hot air balloon and cannot fly in fog so we admired the beauty of it but also hopped it would stay in the bay which it did. In fact, it was perfect day to fly with ideal atmospheric conditions. We stayed up for about an hour, moving around with the current of the wind. Mike steered the balloon with ropes, which reminded me of sailing, and controlled how high or low the balloon would go. We danced around the other balloons and even saw some “kiss” which means two balloons and sometimes even the baskets touch. A couple balloons drifted just above roof tops in a neighborhood and one landed in a court. A goldfish and panda balloon were the only special shapes. The landscape, horizon and balloons mesmerized me and the air felt and smelled so sweet.

My time in the sky went by so fast. I told Mike I didn’t want to come down and he chuckled and said it wasn’t a matter of choice so much but a matter of fuel. “Hot air balloons should be solar powered” I proposed. Mike was already steering us towards the airport we started at and communicating with runway control tower and his crew about landing. “Permission to land?” “Permission granted.” As we got closer to the ground, Mike instructed me to secure all my media. Once the basket was in arms reach for the crew, they helped to guide it to the desired landing spot. There was a tiny bump when we hit the ground but padding behind my head cushioned it, a nice added touch to the already accessible balloon. On the ground the crew quickly got to work, unhooking me in seconds and disassembling the balloon. About twenty minutes later we were back in the van heading over to where our cars were parked. For a little over 5 hours, parking in the short term lot at the airport cost $6.

Following ballooning was a champagne brunch at the Kendall Jackson Winery in the Sonoma County Wine Country. Underneath bright green trees were several picnic tables. I parked near them so I wouldn’t have to travel far over the thin tanbark ground. Some of the crew then whipped out table cloths and place-settings for everyone while the rest set up the buffet on a folding table and coffee and tea on wine barrels. While we waited for the food to be ready we were offered juice or mimosas. A sweet young lady came up to me and asked if I wanted her to prepare a plate for me and I thanked her but said I could do it.

I grabbed one of the custom hand-painted plates and went through the buffet. Mike’s wife Patty was serving up a slice of egg and cheese quiche and there was also coffee cake, watermelon and chocolate dipped strawberries. As I was savoring the flavors of my warm quiche and listening to all the happy chatter of the other guests I thought, wow, what an experience. Then Mike presented us all with a certificate for flying with a special message. He followed this with a toast thanking all of us and reading a quote that was printed on our glasses, “The winds have welcomed you with softness. The sun has blessed you with his warm hands. You have flown so high and so well, that God has joined you in your laughter and sent you gently back into the loving arms of mother earth.” I was impressed by the speed of the production as well as the details involved and brunch was the cherry on top of a well-thought out and executed day. After brunch we were also given the option to do a free wine tasting, which I passed on but did buy a bottle and wander around the beautiful grounds.

Mike and Patty at Up & Away do this every day from about February to November and is always based on weather conditions. Mike gives you a call the day before and gives you a weather update, including what to wear and makes sure you received his email with directions. A power wheelchair will not fit in the Up & Away accessible van and it is too heavy for the basket. However, there is a wheelchair that can be provided for you that works. The cost of this experience is $235 for adults and discounted fares for teens, children and seniors. There are no additional service fees or taxes.

The one potential problem is access to an accessible restroom. The Sonoma County Airport has what looks to be an accessible restroom with grab bars but after using it I found that the stall itself is extremely small making it hard to close the door. My manual chair is approximately 26” wide, a fairly small chair, and I really had to wedge myself between the toilet and the wall to close the door. One could still technically use the restroom or if possible, wait until getting to the winery.

If you seek unique experiences then an accessible hot air balloon ride is available to sweep you off your feet in a beautiful part of California. I’ll never forget my day with Up & Away in the sky so high in align with the divine.

Ashley Olson is the creator of WheelchairTraveling.com, a complete resource for making adventures accessible. As a wheelchair traveler herself, Ashley understands the extra planning needed to make trips accessible. On WheelchairTraveling.com, you will find updates on travel destinations worldwide; reviews on lodging, transportation, and equipment; and lists of wheelchair travel websites. Log in or register on her website to share your personal travel destination or search resources to create your own accessible adventure! You can also find WheelchairTraveling.com on Facebook and Twitter.

Andy has been the Accessibility Coordinator for the Wisconsin DNR for the past three and a half years. As an outdoor enthusiast, he takes to heart the duties of his position to enhance outdoor recreation for people with disabilities. It wasn’t his degree in Biology and Water Resources that secured this job for him, though, but his life experience in camping and kayaking that made him a natural fit.

Growing up in the ‘burbs of Milwaukee, Andy loved swimming and biking. During his freshmen year at UW – Stevens Point, he had his first backpacking experience. It was an immediate obsession. Once Andy got a taste of this wilderness hiking, he couldn’t get enough of it. He loved being totally immersed in the outdoors…the smells, the sounds, the awakening of his senses… and being far away from the ‘noise’ of civilization.

“I developed the mentality that I needed to be outdoors every day,” Andy explained. “I was known as ‘the guy who was always outside.’” Camping, hiking, kayaking and canoeing…he did it all. Even his interest in improving the environment, which led him to a job with the University in the Center for Watershed Science and Education, afforded Andy more opportunities to explore the outdoors to do field surveys on area water sources. “It didn’t matter to me whether it was for work or pleasure. I was the most at peace when I was out on my own surrounded by nature.”

In January of 2005, Andy’s world took an abrupt halt when he dove into a snow pile to cool off after a night of dancing, shattering his C5 vertebrae. “There I was upside down looking back at where I had just run from,” he recalled vividly. “I could see my body crumple around me but could feel nothing.” Laying there unable to move and struggling to breathe, Andy was fully conscious of what had happened.

After a long half hour, an ambulance finally arrived. He was rushed to the Stevens Point Hospital and then air lifted to Froedtert Hospital in Milwaukee. He spent three days in intensive care and started rehab soon after. A long seven weeks later he was discharged.

“I had no setbacks, and I was healthy and strong going in, so I regained strength quickly,” Andy described with a glint of hope in his voice. “But I was still kind of in denial over the whole situation. I don’t remember any doctor coming in and saying I wasn’t going to walk again, but maybe it was implied,” he admitted, “I knew I was in rough shape then, but I was still hopeful I would get better and walk again.” Soon, though, the reality of his condition set in. “It was shocking getting use to only having three main muscle groups functioning. It was humbling. It was disappointing. I thought with all the swimming practice and hiking that I would be able to jump right into therapy and regain all my strength,” he confided, “I really thought I’d be farther along when I went home.”

Andy’s character, however, couldn’t be repressed for long. He moved back to live with his mom for the next four months so he could continue his rehab at Froedtert. He had an upbeat drive that pushed him to get outside as much as possible. There were a lot of challenges to be worked out, but that would have to come later; for at the end of the summer, he was going back to Stevens Point to finish up his last two years of his degree.

“That first year was the hardest because it was frustrating trying to figure out what I could do,” Andy mentioned. “Before, I’d go backpacking by myself all the time, but now I couldn’t even look at old photos of my camping trips without breaking down.” It was this loss of independence that was the most difficult for him to adjust to. “The hardest thing for me to do was ask for help,” he said. “Not just with outdoor activities, but with day to day living.”

Andy’s outlook on life, however, was where he drew his strength. “Life was too good to let anything stop me from continuing with my passions,” he affirmed. “The world just had too much to offer!” And for Andy, surrounding himself in nature was some of the best therapy there was. “I did so much outdoors before my injury that it was something ingrained in my mind.”

Andy was determined to find trails in and around Stevens Point that he could manage by himself. Not an easy task. “I had to purposely search for paths that had crushed limestone or granite surfaces,” he described. “There were other things to consider, too, like the slope, width, and evenness of the trail. I needed to feel like I could propel my chair down the trail with no worries of getting stuck or tipping over.”

Although it was a start, the trails that were manageable by wheelchair couldn’t get Andy where he wanted to go, which was back into the wilderness. “The reason I liked backpacking before was because I could get away from civilization, way the hell out to the middle of nowhere, and not see city lights or hear anything except for the sounds of nature,” he confessed. “It’s great to be out there for a whole week without seeing a single person.” He wasn’t going to achieve that sense of solitude by wheeling on the trails around town.

Andy realized that if he was going to access remote places that he was going to need to find another mode of transportation, something other than the chair.

As if on a new mission, Andy had his friends sit him in the middle of a canoe so they could paddle him to places unreachable by chair. “It was nice to get further into nature, but I still had the feeling that I was relying on others to get around,” he said disappointedly. He he was aching to get out on his own again. But Andy was motivated, and that kept him searching for new things to try.

Andy lay in bed at night thinking about his single-person Perception kayak and about ways he could propel it on his own. He and his friend tried everything they could think of, but it just wasn’t happening, at least not yet. The cockpit was small which made it difficult to get Andy in. In addition to that, the slim design of the kayak made it quite tippy, and with Andy’s unsupported trunk, it was simply not steady enough.

One day, someone found a short (and more stable) tandem kayak to give a try. This kayak had a raised back on the seat which gave Andy more back support, but without any kind of lateral support to keep him from falling to the sides. “I could keep my balance alright, but I knew that if the kayak tipped a certain amount, that I would flop over and not be able to get back up and that could turn the boat over,” Andy stated. Though it was not a great setup, Andy was determined to make it work.

The next step was to figure out how to paddle the thing without the use of a grip. “I had someone mold handles out of that white plastic that OTs use to make splints,” he added, “and then I had them mold it right around the shaft of the paddle.” Since Andy had strong wrists, he was now able to paddle without the function of his fingers. Progress was being made!

After several excursions on local lakes and rivers and some additional tweaking to the setup, Andy was ready for a “Mancation!” Before his injury, he was exploring plans for a camping trip down to Big Ben National Park in Texas. Well, the time had come. In January of ’07, Andy, his brothers and two buddies left the cold winter of Wisconsin and headed south for a four day river camping expedition, paddling the scenic Rio Grande through the majestic Boquillas Canyon. Andy could hardly wait.

Spending four days paddling river rapids through the 1,200 foot canyon walls and setting up camp along the river each evening was just what Andy had been dreaming about. It was also just what he needed. His extensive backcountry experience, coupled with the confidence he had in his companions and the choice of river to run made this the ideal choice for Andy’s first time out. The 33 mile stretch through the Boquillas Canyon rate a Class II rapids, making it a modest challenge for his new rigging.

It was easy for Andy to adapt to tent camping because of how much he had done it beforehand. He loved to ‘rough it’, so getting by with the bare necessities put him in his happy place. Andy used a Half-Dome Plus two person tent, a Thermarest ProLite tent pad for extra cushion while sleeping, and a basic camping sleeping bag. The guys were used to packing equipment, so when they had to stow Andy’s gear plus his wheelchair in the canoes, they had the system down. [Andy would skip his BP cares until 2009 when he found the Activeaid raised toilet seat. Before that time, he would limit all of his trips to a max of four days.]

Andy admits, though, that things were different, “I had to leave behind what little independence I had,” he said. “I had to make adjustments. My friends had to pick me up and put me in my sleeping bag and it was really difficult to move around in it, definitely not like home where I could grab the side of bed to turn myself or sit up. And when I needed to cath at night, I had to rely on one of the guys to sit me up so I could do my business.” But this was a trade Andy was willing to make.

“Two years after my injury I was back,” Andy beamed, but it wasn’t without its hurdles. “The hardest thing to master was that kayak.”

Andy described a near capsize: “The river was really low at that time and the water murky with silt. That made it hard to see anything that might be floating in front of us. About two hours into our paddle on the first day, a branch popped up suddenly, and without any time to react, we hit it! The impact made the kayak rock, making me lose my balance. I flopped to the side and the kayak tipped enough to start taking in water. Luckily, I was with my buddy who is a very experienced paddler and the river was moving very slow, so we were able to make our way to the shore before the situation became tragic.” Smiling, Andy confessed, “We decided to rethink our plans, and I spent most of the remaining four day trip in the canoe.”

“It was such an epic trip though,” Andy recalled. “It was filled with so many mishaps and adjustments to our ‘plan’. Besides almost flipping, I also forgot my sleeping bag. I wrapped up with a blanket and my fleece jacket, but the dessert that first night gave way to freezing temps and I couldn’t stop shaking. The next day we had to travel quite a distance to the nearest town to get a sleeping bag.” There were other challenges, too, that came on a daily occurrence, but what he took away from that trip was a sense of how to accomplish.

After earning his degree at Steven’s Point, Andy took a job with the Wisconsin DNR as Accessibility Coordinator in January 2008. Working through his own struggles compelled Andy to create more access to the state’s parks, camp grounds, lakes and rivers for others. One of his first goals was to make the WDNR “Open the Outdoors” site more user friendly and increase the number of accessible outdoor activities. [Significant improvements were made and it is currently one of the most complete sources of information on accessible cabins, campsite listings, paddling, fishing locations, and hunting licensing throughout Wisconsin.]

Through his work, Andy met Kevin Carr from Chosen Valley Creating Ability from Minnesota who is the manufacturer of seating, hand, and outrigger adaptations for disabled paddlers. An instant friendship formed. Kevin’s designs were the missing pieces to the puzzle Andy had been working on.

He set Andy up with a Kestral 140 kayak. The cockpit was stripped of anything that might cause skin injuries or impede the paddler from making wet exits. It came with an adapted seat that has adjustable back height and tilt, as well as two levels of removable lateral supports. To increase the stability of the kayak, outriggers were mounted on the sides. And finally, included in the package was the Sweet Cheeks inflatable seat cushion that protects the paddler from pressure sores. With all of these innovations, combined with the CVCA hand grip which Andy attached to a lightweight Phantom GX paddle, he was good to go!

In May 2008, Andy and his friends traveled to the Flambeau River State Forest in northern Wisconsin for a three day paddling/camping trip along the river. The campsites along this river are only accessible by water and are more primitive than Andy had faced post-injury. But he was ecstatic! Andy was able to paddle alone in his one-man kayak with his chair secured behind him. “I knew I’d never get back to backpacking by myself, but being in that kayak knowing it was just me paddling… took me to a whole other level of freedom,” Andy explained.

Andy continues to work on getting information out about the various levels of accessible camping, but to him, staying in a cabin isn’t camping. He seeks the primitive nature of the outdoors, “You can’t expect things to be like at home. You need to be prepared to ask for help, and don’t go into a situation thinking you know what’s going to happen. To enjoy this freedom, you need to be flexible and patient, and know you can’t control the outdoors.”

He currently volunteers as a hunt coordinator for Buckmasters American Deer Foundation, running hunts for terminally ill and disabled children and adults in his home state of Maryland. He enjoys building adaptive equipment that enables others to hunt and fish, but mostly Mike enjoys doing whatever it takes to share the outdoors with individuals that have not had the opportunity to do so.

The One That Didn’t Get Away… by Mike Schmitz

My first elk hunt was a little over two years ago, a rifle hunt. It was with Rick and Rusty Hawryluk of Watson Creek Adventures near Pelly, Saskatchewan, and when they told me that I’d have an excellent chance of taking a great bull, I believed ‘em.

The moment I arrived in Pelly, I learned one very important lesson: don’t go to Saskatchewan in mid-January unless you enjoy uncontrollable shaking and frostbite!

I ended up taking a nice 5×6 bull on that hunt, and to this day, I’ll swear he was frozen solid before he hit the ground, and at -32 degrees Fahrenheit, so was I!

This past year, I wanted to use what I’d learned from that first hunt and go back to Canada after another elk, a bigger one, so I called Rick and told him that I was ready to brave the wilds again. I also informed him that I didn’t want to have to wear nine sets of wool underwear this time, so we decided that early September would be a much better time of year for me. This time, I’d leave my trusty 30-06 at home and go after my first elk with a bow.

I started practicing with my Horton Legend SL crossbow two to three times a day after that, and for the next two months, it performed flawlessly. But twelve days before I was to leave for Canada, I noticed a small crack in one of the limbs of the bow. I frantically contacted Horton, explained my dilemma and was quickly assured that they could repair my bow and ship it back to me in time for my trip. Nine days later, I had it in my hands and it was better than new, fully upgraded with modern limbs and riser. The bow shot straighter and hit harder than ever before. My hunt was saved!

I spread the 1,685 mile trip over three days of driving. Other than some minor engine trouble and a North Dakota trooper with what must have been a defective radar gun (wink), the trip went smoothly. I had beautiful sunshine and temps that hung in the mid-eighties the whole time. There was going to be no worries about freezing to death this time… or so I thought.

Not more than 40 miles before reaching Watson Creek, the clouds darkened, the rain started in and the temperature dropped 35 degrees! ‘Ugh! Not again,’ I lamented. I was happy to see the rain letting up though as I neared the final turn, but not too pleased to see the huge fog bank that was rolling in behind it. In minutes, I could barely see beyond the hood of my truck. This was not a good sign. Not good at all. I even had to call Rick to have him come find me and escort me through the last few miles of that soupy mess. When I finally got to camp, it felt like the sun had come out again. Not from the skies, but from my smile. It was such a relief to have arrived and I couldn’t wait to get inside their beautiful lodge.

That afternoon, I met one of my guides, Doug. We hit it off right from the start and went out onto the back deck to swap some hunting tales and talk about his soon-to-be-born baby girl. Not long afterwards, Glen, my guide from the previous year, pulled up the drive. After just a few minutes, it felt to me like three long lost friends had reunited with each other. We swapped stories, laughed at old ones and then worked on a game plan for my elk hunt.

Rusty said he had seen a monster 7×8 bull not too long ago and thought that he would make the perfect one to go after. After he showed me a picture of it, I was convinced. He was huge! It wasn’t going to be easy though. Getting a shot at the big boys never is, especially if you’re hunting from a chair and with a bow.

Since the time Rusty took that pic, that bull had only been seen two times and in two different places. He was a reclusive old boy and I found myself suddenly wanting to get a glimpse of him myself. Later that night, I fell asleep to the sounds of elk bugling in the distance, something I’d never heard before, (probably because their vocal cords were frozen the last time I was here!). That really lit my fire.

Laying there in the dark, I thought about that picture Rusty had showed me and prayed that I would get one chance at that tremendous bull.

The next morning, the aromas of coffee and toast seeped through the bottom crack of my bedroom door, coaxing me out of bed before the alarm went off. As we ate, Doug explained to me his plan to construct some ground blinds using concrete wire with willow branches woven into it, which sounded good to me. I trusted my guide, but I wondered what an elk would do when he suddenly saw a big bush that didn’t used to be there. Only one way to find out I thought. After breakfast, we took an ATV tour of the area and met some of Rusty’s neighbors whose land we’d be crossing through to hunt.

On my first trip to Saskatchewan that was in January, most of it was under a blanket of snow. It made for a beautiful photo, but I couldn’t look at it too long without shivering. Now in September, it was breathtaking. The aspen trees ‘shimmered’ in the breeze with glittering shades of yellow, light green and brown. Seemed like all the trees were turning colors. Loons crooned in the background, and the moment, the cool air felt welcoming despite the overcast skies. We spent the rest of that day scouting the country before returning to camp for dinner, finishing the day off by relaxing again on the deck that overlooked one of the many lakes on the property. Seamlessly, my three day drive faded into a distance memory and my hunt was one night away.

Earlier that evening, we’d taken one of those ground blinds and set it high up on a ridge where Doug said the elk liked to travel. When morning came, I found myself sitting in that blind doing my best imitation of a love sick cow elk using a call I had just bought before the trip. I must’ve not known what I was doing because I didn’t get any suitors. About an hour later, though, there was movement in the bush nearby. A large whitetail doe emerged. This would be the first test of our willow branch hide I thought. And to my amazement, the doe didn’t spook. She walked right to us in fact. The next thing I knew she was eating the leaves off our blind like it had been there all summer. She was so close that I could hear her breathing and crunching leaves. Naturally, I couldn’t resist the urge to go for my camera. Big mistake! She busted me, snorted in my face and bounded off the ridge in a huff. Doug and I just looked at each other and laughed.

Not too long after our blind-wrecking doe experience, a bugle rang out, echoing into the valley below. It was loud and it was close. Real close! I slowly turned my head to see a 5×5 bull topping the ridge. If he kept coming like he was, he’d pass about 20 yards in front of me. Not far behind him, on the same trail, I saw another bull coming, one that could’ve been his twin. Both of them walked cautiously along the trail toward us, stopping right in front of the blind. What a thrill! Then they both turned their heads and looked right at me. Busted again!

I don’t know what gave us away. It could’ve been my heart pounding against my chest or maybe my hands shaking, but they spooked a short distance and were quickly out of bow range, leaving Doug and I again looking at each other with wide eyes. We spent the rest of the evening swatting mosquitoes and watching numerous deer and elk roam around below us. We had set up in a good spot though. I almost got a shot at one of those bulls. Not too bad for the first day.

Due to the wet weather that socked in that night, we decided to wait until the next afternoon to go afield. The game plan would be the same but we’d sit on a different trail this time. The same willow branch blind proved effective again as we glassed several elk but we never saw ‘the one’, that big 7×8. His image was burned into my mind and I at least wanted to see him once before leaving.

Like my first night in camp, I was serenaded to sleep by several elk somewhere off in the night. I imagined one of them was a monster 7×8. He was out there somewhere and I knew it.  I decided right then that I wouldn’t shoot until I found him.

The morning came quickly, and as usual, Doug showed up at the lodge right on time. We threw some gear in the truck and were off. We were just getting to the blind and… there he was! Right out in the open not far from the blind stood the 7×8 bull. Instantly, he jumped to attention… and ran! Busted again! Guess he didn’t like the sight of our truck impeding on his territory. He was gone so fast that I wondered if it was really him or a mirage.

For me, this bull had become a ghost. And if we did find him, I feared he’d disappear right in front of me again. Rather than continue on and possibly spook him even more, Doug and I decided to back out and let things settle down. We’d come back that evening and try our luck again.

I began to shake as I raised my bow. I already had a bad case of buck fever, but as the reality of actually getting a shot sunk in, it was super-sized. I couldn’t believe I was about to lower my sights on this giant.

We got in the blind early that day, with the excitement of seeing that monster bull fresh in our minds, about 3:30 in the afternoon, and it was just in time. As soon as we got settled, here came a nice 6×6 out of the bush, bugling and heading our way. He was a great bull. It took all I had to not let an arrow fly, but I let him walk by me at 15 yards. I prayed that I wouldn’t live to regret that. He never knew we were there, though, and that’s what I wanted to see. We had new faith in our hide and we were ready for the ‘big boy’. We didn’t see another animal that evening but heard elk bugling in almost every direction. I kept stewing about that bull I let walk and wondering if I had made the huge mistake. Instead of being picky, I should have anchored him right where he stood. ‘That big 7×8 was going to ruin me,’ I thought.

I had to find the ghost now. If not, I’d never be able to live with myself. It was now the third and last day of my hunt with Watson Creek. If my bull didn’t show, I’d be out of luck and would have to make the long drive home with an empty cooler and terrible memories of what should have been. That thought made the uneventful morning and afternoon very, very long. Unlike the first two days, we hardly saw a thing. No elk and only one or two deer. This was not a good sign at all. Things just had to get better and there wasn’t much time. As the sun started to set and bring my hunt to a close, Doug noticed movement in the trees. It was just a couple of deer. ‘Awww! Oh well, at least they’re starting to move,’ I tried to tell myself. Let’s see what comes out next. A short while later, I heard a couple of bugles, a sound I’d been waiting all day to hear. I cow called which was answered right away this time by a bugle. And it was coming closer! Suddenly, like he’d sprung from the weeds, the ghost appeared! He was standing right in front of me, quartering away at 37 yards. His rack… massive!

It took everything I had to calm my nerves and try to steady my hands, but nothing was working that good. Finally… I steadied my scope on him. After one more deep breath, I slowly squeezed my Horton and sent a Muzzy-tipped carbon arrow at his shoulder. Just as advertised, it was “Bad to the Bone.” It smashed through the bull and lodged in his spine. He never knew what hit him. He staggered a few steps but wouldn’t go down. I knew I’d made a vital hit, but just to make sure he didn’t get away, Doug re-cocked my bow and I let another arrow fly. This time I locked on behind his shoulder. The bull lunged and, after a 60 yard dash, he went down for good. Doug hugged me as we yelled out our excitement. I was relieved at the same time, knowing that letting the previous day’s 6×6 walk would never haunt me. This was probably the biggest bull I’d ever take let alone see in my lifetime. What a rush! The feeling was indescribable.

For more information on Watson Creek Adventures and the fantastic hunts they have to offer, visit their website at Watson Creek Adventures.