Beyond rifle and optics, your equipment comprises little things that get little press and, from most hunters, little thought. But your kit—the stuff you carry on your back and belt, in saddlebags and pockets—can affect your hunt in a big way. Your aim: to pack what you need but no more, and to pare ounces wherever you can. Best that you sift now. Trailhead is no place to take inventory.
Some hunters dote on knives. Custom knifemakers commonly charge 10 times as much as I paid for my first elk rifle. A custom knife well rendered is a beautiful thing, like a fine custom rifle—a work of art as much as a tool. A damascus steel blade expertly sculpted and married to ivory or exotic hardwood can indeed make the heart race. But it doesn’t unzip bull elk any better than the pocketknife with muskrat blades I’ve used on dozens of the beasts.
A custom model isn’t the only option for hunters who take pride in their knives. A new stable of high-quality, fixed-blade knives from DiamondBlade marries beauty with utility. The name reflects the hardness of the edge.
According to Charles Allen, managing partner, DiamondBlade technology is brand-new. The D2 tool steel in a DiamondBlade blank is forged (shaped under heat and pressure), then its grain structure realigned by “stir processing”—a rotating carbide plate with a central peg actually penetrating the steel without melting it. As the plate travels the length of the blade, it realigns the steel particles and permits differential hardening of the blade. That way the edge can be hard, to stay sharp, while the spine remains relatively supple. You wind up with a blade that’s tough enough to bend—I’ve seen a DiamondBlade knife bent, in a vise, 100 degrees!—yet the edge stays razor-keen. Rockwell C hardness of the spine registers in the mid-40s, that of the blade in the mid-60s. Ordinary knives read in the high 50s, spine to edge.
D2 is a high-carbon steel that also has a significant vanadium and chromium content. The 12-percent chromium almost qualifies it as a stainless steel, and DiamondBlade knives are very resistant to corrosion. A blade immersed days in saltwater showed almost no discoloration, while ordinary steel knives in the same tub were quickly covered with rust.
DiamondBlade knives come in a variety of fixed-blade configurations, with full-length tangs and stag or figured hardwood grips. Are they sharp? A friend accidentally put his blade through its sheath before it formed to the steel. Do they stay sharp? I recently gutted and skinned a mud-encrusted wild hog in the California hills. The knife felt as sharp as before. In tests, one DiamondBlade severed a 1/2-inch manila rope 300 times and remained keen enough to shave. It then chopped several 2x4s in two—before lopping another section of rope with one swipe!
A knife that lasts several seasons without sharpening is an investment, not a commodity. But if, like me, you’ve lost knives, spending less on that blade can make perverse sense.
The world is awash in affordable knives, but not all are useful. Some of the best I’ve discovered come from Meyerco, which imports them under its own name and the Mossberg brand. A folder named the A-OK has a lot going for it—a single stout blade with convex back, minimal grips that ensure a slender profile, a belt clip, easy-opening tab and positive lock. I also like the Bantam fixed-blade caping knife, with burl handle, a full tang that dips comfortably in a gentle arc at the heel, and generous finger indents at the rear of its black stainless blade for control without bulk. A Mossberg skinner features a wide stainless blade that drops well below its oval handle to keep the edge ahead of your fingers. A finger hole gives you excellent control of the leading edge and gut-hook. If you want a do-everything knife, Meyerco/ Mossberg’s big folder is as sturdy as you’ll find. Three blades include a versatile straight-spined skinner, a straight-edged blade with hook, and a burly saw with a double row of teeth. Durable laminated-wood grips are secured with six brass pins. As much a tool as a knife, this folder also comes with a sheath.
Browning has been in the knife business a long time. Among its most appealing folders is the Eclipse Classic with 440 steel and olive grips and the Falcon with stag. The Mirage offers replaceable GIN5 surgical blades, so your knife is always very sharp. All these feature the 3- to 4-inch slender drop-point blades I prefer.
Remington’s famous “bullet knives” are really pocket models, but America’s oldest gunmaker also markets excellent hunting knives—specifically the M-Series and Swift-Lokt folders, both U.S.—made. New this year is the Elite Hunter, a dual-blade knife with several blade and grip options.
Ordinarily, I carry a couple of knives, as it seems my lot to lose them. For that reason I shun knives with camo handles that vanish in the leaves next to a carcass. Fixed-blade or folder, I prefer slender but not wafer-thin grips that still feel good after an elk is gutted and caped. I don’t favor belt clips. Knives go in the pack, not on my belt. Anything that protrudes above the hip interferes with pack belts.
I don’t carry stones afield but always tote a brass-handled diamond hone to touch up blades sharpened before the trip. Incidentally, knifemaker Wayne Goddard, who has sharpened enough blades to supply a regiment of Ghurkas, recommends an India stone, with the knife blade at 15 degrees. Lift your hand to retain that angle at the tip.
Another item good to carry in pairs is a compass. Sure, one should be enough. But if you’ve ever been confused enough to need a compass, you’ve been confused enough to disbelieve it. Long a proponent of democratic rule, I accede to majority vote if two compasses counter my argument. Besides, you can lose a compass as easily as you can a knife. My compasses, incidentally, are lightweight, inexpensive models. They go in a pack pocket that
doesn’t carry any metal to confuse the needles.
Why not carry a GPS unit? Surely, GPS instruments tell you more and can bring you back to a remote kill site or out to a place you’ve not yet seen. A compass weighs less, however, and doesn’t depend on batteries or clear canopy. For me, hunting is partly an exercise in resourcefulness, partly a return to elemental trappings. There’s no GPS unit in my kit. Cell phones too, stay in the truck, no matter that I’ve known people saved by cell phones after getting into trouble.
You’ll want a flashlight. The best come from SureFire, which also supplies lights and silencers to our armed forces. A host of options include colored bulbs (blue shows you blood). I prefer a compact flashlight to save weight and space, and I use it sparingly. If you’re one of legions who must switch on a torch as soon as the sun sets, carry spare batteries. High-output lights like the SureFire use them hard. Buy the best batteries you can; otherwise you’ll need more, which means more weight. Among the handiest lights is Streamlight’s ClipMate LED. Powered by three AAA batteries that last 120 hours, it clips to the bill of your cap—or can be worn on a headband or lanyard (both included). ClipMate swivels 360 degrees. Be sure to start each season with fresh batteries.
If I’m to stay a night or two on the trail, I pack a compact toothbrush and small tube of toothpaste or packet of baking soda, plus floss, a disposable razor and a courtesy bar of soap. They go in a small zip-loc bag with a set of soft plugs for my ears, should I want to check zero afield. That bag nests in a small survival kit, one recommended to me by Peter Kummerfeldt, an Air Force survival instructor. It has a signaling mirror, whistle, magnesium fire-starting stick (metal match) with striker, roll of orange surveyor’s tape (for marking blood sign as well as signaling rescuers) and 50 feet of parachute cord.
Space blankets or the wraps handed out after marathons add little space and weight. Better, if you need the shelter, is the sturdy orange plastic bag Colorado issues trash cleanup crews on its highways. Cut a hole for your head in the bag and drape it over you. It’s waterproof and more tear-resistant than so-called survival blankets. A bag is also a better capsule than a sheet that must be held in place.
Kit includes clothes you aren’t wearing. I pack extra socks because I walk far, and my feet matter. A wet stream crossing, an accumulation of sand or just tired feet justify fresh socks. You’ll get a boost all out of proportion to the weight and effort! In cold weather I wear two pairs, typically cotton under wool, but carry only cotton as a spare, as the wool doesn’t contact my feet.
Extra wool gloves go in my kit in cold weather, plus an extra pullover and a stocking cap, even in early fall. Keeping heat loss to a minimum is a requisite if you must overnight or weather a storm, and your head radiates a lot of heat. The cap doubles as a camera case in my pack, as I often pack a full-size Nikon. If you needn’t sell photos to eat, you can get away with a smaller camera. Pocket-size digital models now deliver 8-megapixel resolution—all you need to paper a den with mountain murals. Naturally, you must first take those pictures. Even compact cameras have no place in your kit if you don’t use them! If I return from a week in elk camp with fewer than 300 frames, it’s because of a camera malfunction. There’s photogenic material in all the makings of a hunt: travel, camp, mountain, activities, people, gear. A photo record should include more than a carcass.
My current pick in day-packs is a Badlands lumbar pack, with shoulder straps and a broad, padded belt. It’s as big as most shoulder-style day-packs and hugs the small of my back, where it’s out of the way if I must crawl or climb a chute. Supported in part by my hips, it doesn’t raise my center of gravity. Broad shoulder straps extend from a yoke at the back of my neck to help distribute weight. The pack has a spring-steel rod shaping its lid and pulling open its maw when you unzip it. The zipper has huge teeth, a huge tab. Big polymer buckles connect straps and belt. This pack was designed by someone who’d been in the field! Two side pockets complement a rear compartment and a top map pocket. This pack is made of tough but silent cloth outside and water-repellant fabric inside.
You won’t fit elk camp or an elk carcass in a lumbar pack. For that, you’ll need a full-size model with either internal or external frame. I prefer the old-fashioned external frame, of welded aluminum. It’s a lot more rigid than the alternative and can stand more weight. I’ve had as much as 120 pounds of boned elk meat riding in my Kelty. The frame has an oversize bag with a single oversize compartment you load from the top. Pockets at the side and rear carry items you don’t want to bury in meat. Internal-frame packs work fine for most loads, and they flex with your torso. Whichever type you choose, insist on wide, padded belt and shoulder straps. And buy quality. Packs that rip, straps that break and frames that buckle won’t bring any mirth deep in the backcountry.
Rain gear is always in my kit—valuable as windbreaker as well as to keep dry. I’ll admit to leaving first-aid items behind when hunting, but an assortment of pills, gauze, antiseptic and tape goes to camp.
Food. It’s in the kit because you must eat while hunting. I take sturdy food, because soft or fragile items succumb quickly in a pack. Trail fare typically includes apples, raisins, cheese and bagels—tough as tires and loaded with complex carbohydrates. Dessert is a granola bar. I wrap everything in sandwich bags, to stay quiet when unwrapping in the woods. Add a plastic water bottle (or two, on warm, early hunts). I usually carry more than I need to eat or drink. Better that than be found wanting, especially if you must spend an unplanned night on the mountain.
It’s a good idea to inventory and weigh your kit well before you load that backpack in the pickup or cinch your duffel to a Decker saddle. Kit complete, you can toss in the rifle, a binocular and that leather pouch with your ammo. Those are, after all, the last things you’ll likely need on your hunt.