Wild Chix Learnings- Discovering my comfort zone and stepping outside of it.

Finally - at the Hut!

I’ve never been accused of being precious. I am more in my element cooking over the coals of a campfire than I am in my own professional kitchen. I’m perfectly happy climbing into a sleeping bag smelling like smoke, sleeping in a tent surrounded by wilderness. I have no trouble unplugging from the endless notifications of my phone and focusing on nature.   I grew up shooting rifles and camping in the Midwest of the United States after all. A rough and tumble tomboy since birth I’ve always been more comfortable in a pair of jeans than a dress or skirt, I would much rather wear a pair of boots over a pair of high heels any day. And I consider myself to be a pretty tough chick, so when I decided to learn to hunt, I figured “How hard can it be? I’m already halfway there.” ….oooh how wrong I was.

I’ve been involved with Wild Chix for a little over a year now. After I attended the first ever Introduction to Hunting course, I kind of just stuck around like a stray cat. Helping out wherever possible and offering any skills I could bring to the table while I continue to soak up as much knowledge as humanly possible from the incredibly talented women I work with; helping to grow the Wild Chix community while I grow my own skill set. Win Win.

One of the things Wild Chix is really good at doing is helping you find your comfort zone and encouraging you to step out of it.  Up until recently I wasn’t really sure where the boundaries of my comfort zone lay. I’m relatively confident in the great outdoors, I love guns and shooting, I’m also an extrovert so meeting new people or asking for help isn’t typically an issue. But this week I found my comfort zone and I took a giant step out of it.

I decided to treat myself to a little Birthday Backcountry Adventure. A little 2-3 day hunt to put into practice all of the things I've learned. I spent hours pouring over topo maps, looking for a hut/trail combo to suit what I was looking for.I finally found the perfect  hut and I asked an experienced hunting friend to join me. At this point I started to get excited for my upcoming trip as I began to gather my gear and get organized. It was 2 days before we were due to leave for the hunt when I  received the news that my friend wasn’t going to be able to make it. I was crushed. I didn't want to go alone, and none of my mates were available on such short notice, but I also didn't want to cancel, I was already committed! I'd camped numerous times in my life but always with a friend or at the very least my trusty dog Captain, but now my friends weren't available and my trusty pup is too old to go on such a big adventure. So I went back to the drawing board looking for a new hut. I would need a shorter hike, closer to home. I would have to park my anxieties about safety and trust in my own abilities to keep myself safe. I could do this.

So I found a hut in the Kawekas,the trailhead only an hour from home and only a 2-3 hour hike. I began to pack. All of the lessons I’d heard Izzy give came back to me. “Don't pack too much! Just the essentials! Make sure you save yourself space to carry out meat!!!”

But good gear is expensive and I didn't have the money or the time to get some ultralight backpack, or a ultralight sleeping bag, or an ultra light anything. My boots, an inexpensive pair of HiTech, would have to do. My sleeping bag, while heavy and bulky was warm and I knew it would keep me insulated on a cold night. My off brand jetboil went in the bag. Some simple food. A pair of undies, dry socks, a small first aid kit and my headlamps. My PLB. My water bottle.  Suddenly my pack weighed 20kg. How?? I hadn't even added my rifle or ammo yet!  Still I convinced myself it would be fine. I'm strong. I'm tough. I got this.

The beautiful Mohaka River

I mentioned  previously that I grew up in the American Midwest. For those of you that aren’t geography buffs, that’s 1.944 million km² of completely flat American farmland. Sure we had woods, and national parks with the occasional hill or bluff, but what we did NOT have was mountains…or any kind of altitude, at least not where I was stomping  around. In all my years of camping, and scouting, and adventuring I never once experienced scrambling up and down a slippery mountain path, or climbing hundreds of meters of elevation only to immediately drop back down into a river valley and then have climb back up again. Not only was I not physically prepared for just how demanding New Zealand hiking is, I somehow failed to realize that the process would be so much harder with a heavy pack + rifle on my back or how quickly I would begin to question all of my life choices as I battled a mental struggle to keep going.

I had chosen what I was told was an “easy hike” in the Kawekas, though in my opinion whomever is in charge of ranking these trails and setting the time estimates is a sadist. This “easy” 2-3 hour hike, turned into a gruelling 4+ hour test of my physical and mental endurance thanks to the 20kg pack on my back. Still…I did it. I cannot describe the grin on my face when I finally approached the hut.

Having narrow at the hut I was determined to go hunting. After a strong cup of tea, a snack, and a good stretch, I ventured back out into the bush to look for deer sign.  Moving further and further from the trails, my already tired muscles protested loudly at being once again subjected to even steeper and more punishing terrain. It was at this point, surrounded by fresh deer sign, that I realized I’d hit my limit. Confronted with the knowledge that if I was to actually shoot something, my aching body would inevitably have to carry it out, along with my already too heavy pack and my rifle; I was immediately overwhelmed with the knowledge that I just physically couldn’t do it. Realizing that I’m not quite there yet was an a-ha moment for me. It was in that moment I was able to switch my brain from “I’m hunting” to “I’m training for a hunt” and I felt a lot less overwhelmed.

I made my way back to the hut, and my warm sleeping bag and my hip flask to soothe my aching body and my aching ego. My mind turning over what I'd learned that day.

As I trudged out of the woods the next morning, I went through a list in my head of how I could improve the experience next time. A better pack, a lighter sleeping bag, a comprehensive list of which gear could stay and which could go. I thought about what a difference it would make having a hunting buddy, not only for my confidence but to also help carry an animal out.

I also had a good think about what I could do to improve my physical fitness  when it comes to hiking.  My final realization was that more than anything hunting is a test of your mental toughness. How much punishment are you willing to endure to get the trophy, to fill the freezer. I suppose I can add that to my list of things to work on. But now that I know what my comfort zone is I can continue to push myself out of it, and combined with my learnings from this adventure hopefully next time I’ll be able to carry one out of the backcountry.