I know I’m a little late, but I have for you the story of my spring turkey hunt 2020 in unit 12A.
This was actually my first ever spring turkey hunt. I was excited but also a little anxious. I hadn’t practiced my turkey calling in several months and though I considered myself a natural, being rusty was inevitable. Regardless, I was ready to put a tom on the ground.
Day I
My dad and I made the long drive from Phoenix to Jacob Lake, a grueling 5+ hour drive, all during prime COVID season – we made our stops limited and kept sanitary the entire time.
We knew that the Kaibab Plateau was going to probably still have some snow on the ground, besides, it was late April and Kaibab is known for having some late season snows. It’s not unheard of for a snowstorm to roll through the plateau during mid-May. We were hoping to not be overrun by snow, but we kept the thought in the back of our heads.
Trailer carrying the side-by-side in tow, we finally arrived at Jacob Lake. It was a ghost town. No one was there except one other person. Usually, Jacob Lake is flooded with tourists visiting the Grand Canyon, passing through from Utah to Arizona, or who knows what. But not this time.
We filled up on gas and kept moving. Our plan was to camp roughly in the same spot that we had camped the previous October for our Fall turkey hunt (you can read that story HERE). We knew the general areas that we wanted to hunt, of which were somewhat close to our camping site. With that said, however, it’s always a possibility that it was to be taken.
So, we proceeded southbound down the highway.
“Road closed except to local traffic”
The highway was closed heading south down into the unit. This couldn’t be. The highway being closed would limit us to a very small area along the northern part of the unit, which was nowhere near where we wanted to hunt. We knew there had to be a way around without breaking any laws.
So, I want on an offline map and I found a web of forest service roads that would at least get us down into the unit, and maybe even down to the highway so that we could travel to our originally planned spot. The highway would probably be closed here, too, but it was worth a try.
After roughly 45 minutes of a very beautiful drive on dirt roads, we hit the highway. There were no signs, so we got on the highway and headed to our originally planned spots.
To be quite frank, I thought our hunt was going to be over before it even started with the closed road. However, we got around it and it was time to go find our camping spot.
With the road being closed, we were wondering about how many people would be hunting. Come to think of it, we saw only a couple of people during our entire 45-minute side-road trek back to the highway. Could the unit actually be mostly empty? Were we just too early? Did other people know things that we didn’t?
The scenery driving down to camp was beautiful. There was still decent amounts of snow on the ground and the air was brisk, still carrying the faint scent of winter as the sun’s rays slowly melted her drifts.
We finally found our road to turn off onto to get to camp. We hadn’t seen a single person on the main road, and the same could be said about our off-shoot road – there was one other person; a veteran hunting either alone or with one other person.
We found our designated camping spot and quickly set up camp. It was just as welcoming as our prior October stay. This time, however, it was different. There were no squirrels barking or screaming. Instead, hoards of gnats attacked every inch of our exposed skin. It was awful, but it was to be expected. Luckily they weren’t biting insects, but an occasional mosquito was thrown into the mix every so often.
We then drove around a little bit but darkness was approaching, so not for too long.
Did I mention that it was cold? It was freezing. Listen, I knew that it was going to be cool, but it was also 100F in Phoenix. Meanwhile, the Kaibab plateau was still pushing out 20 and 30-degree nighttime temperatures. I wasn’t excited, to say the least. I brought enough to be warm, but barely.
Day II
Honestly, we got a late start on the day. We were both exhausted last night from the drive and work afterward. We weren’t up and around until about 0830.
We immediately started hunting, looking for spots that we figured would at least show signs of turkeys.
This wasn’t the case.
We covered a ton of ground, looking for signs, tracks, anything, and found nothing. We also didn’t see a single deer track. We didn’t hear a single turkey or anything. It was odd, as this was supposed to be the top turkey producing unit in the state. Were we just too early and was it just too cold?
We set up in a couple of areas that we thought might be good areas to call. We called and called but heard nothing.
This is how we spent almost the entirety of the day, and we found nothing. At this point, we were convinced that the turkeys weren’t in the area. We would have heard a gobble or seen a track, but neither was true.
We went back to camp as darkness came upon us. We ate dinner and called it an early night.
Day III
We woke up early and immediately got to work. We decided to go to the center/northern part of the unit, hunting through a strict “run and gun” method. This means that we drove a distance, got out of the vehicle, and did a decent amount of calling. If we heard nothing then we moved on. If we were to hear something then we would grab our gear and move on to stocking/calling the bird in.
We did this until nearly noon. We heard not a single gobble or response back. We were disappointed, to say the least.
At this point, we were convinced that either the birds were not back into the unit after their winter migration, or that the birds were not yet gobbling. Regardless, we were having an extremely difficult time finding anything.
We went back to camp and had a quick lunch, returning back into the field quickly thereafter. This time, we took out the side-by-side and traveled different routes, trying to find anything that would alert us of a turkey’s presence. We checked distinct watering areas, possible roosting areas, continued calling, and more with no success.
With zero luck, we headed back to camp to check out a meadow that we had seen a turkey running across last Fall. This road is a few miles from camp, but only a mile or so away from by means of a crow flying.
We were zipping around on the side by side, avoiding possible rut situations, and being careful with wet roads. The primary reason that areas are shut down during the winter is to prevent road damage, and we didn’t want to be symbols of bad behavior.
We came across a large snowdrift in the road. My dad driving, floored it to cruise through the drift. We went halfway through and stopped.
We were stuck.
I always laugh when I get stuck because it’s usually due to a poor decision. True to the statement, I was laughing about us getting stuck.
However, after trying to get unstuck for about 20 minutes, I was no longer laughing.
After trying to get unstuck for nearly an hour, I was definitely not laughing.
We were in a sort of ravine-type area, with hills rising on either side of the road. There was snow surrounding us with dormant trees, pines, firs, and spruces all around. We used rocks and boughs from the trees in an effort to give us traction. We did our best to dig out the side by side – we were high centered, and it seemed like nothing we did made us successful.
The sun was setting quickly. At this point, we had only about an hour of daylight left. It was going to get cold really quickly and we needed to get out. We didn’t have gear for super cold weather. It was time to make some moves.
My dad and I conversed quickly. While camp was only a mile away linearly, it was about 3 miles away on the road. My dad explained that he wouldn’t make the hike and that I needed to go. The plan was that I would go back to camp, pick up the truck, and drive back to pull the side by side out. I would take the 3 mile path, as the shorter path was composed of a very steep incline and there would be no way of knowing exactly where I was.
I was confident in knowing the path to camp, though I wasn’t sure that I could make it there by nightfall. Though it was only 3 miles away, it was almost all uphill; my estimation was that it was about 70% uphill, 20% level, and 10% downhill. I was up for the challenge, and I had to get there quick.
“This isn’t life or death, but it could be very quickly,” my dad said.
I dropped my daypack and gun, leaving them at the side-by-side. I took some shotgun shells, my good flashlight, my phone, my keys, a light jacket, and that’s it. I left the rest of my cold gear for my dad in case he got too cold in the valley we were stuck in.
And just like that, I took off. Prior to this, I had been hiking during my free time very often – during the month of December, I went hiking every day, including on Christmas day. I had my paces set pretty well. In other words, I knew how fast I could go and how long I could handle that pace. I didn’t know mile times because that’s not how I hiked. I did know, however, that with the uphill portions that I would need to give it all I got in order to get there by nightfall.
When I say that I “took off”, I mean it. I was on a fast pace. The first 15-20% of the journey was flat, and I was determined to make up some time on this section.
When I reached the first uphill part, I kept up my pace. Honestly, I felt great. My legs felt strong, lungs felt good (even at 8000’ in elevation), and my mind was focused.
I decided that in order to make up more time that I would run the downhill portions. I regulated this in order to not affect my uphill pace, as it would make no sense to run downhill only to slow my uphill, essentially negating the effects of the run all while using more energy and effort.
I continued on at a good pace the entire way. Around 75% of the was there, I looked back – I was making good time and thought that I might make it there by nightfall.
I kept on, fighting to keep up my pace, but the hills started getting to me. I don’t know what my elevation gain was. I wish I had tracked it, but I had no way of knowing otherwise.
There was one hill that was getting to me. I could feel my pace begin to slow down. My lungs and legs were on fire though my mind was still committed. I did the best I could to stay strong, to get to camp before the sun went down. Just as I began slowing down, I saw a flash of white.
It was the truck.
I had made it back to camp, and I had tons of time to spare. I don’t know how fast I got to camp, but it was fast.
I got in the truck, turned the key…
It wouldn’t start.
JUST KIDDING.
The truck started and I drove quickly back to the side by side, where I found my dad trying to stay warm. He had continued trying to dig the machine out while I was gone, but it was unsuccessful.
He was surprised at how fast I made and, to be honest, I was too.
We pulled the side by side out with daylight left. We called it an evening and went back to camp.
We had dinner and reminisced about the long day. We went to bed early, once again.
We did end up seeing some deer on the final day.
Day IV
We made the decision to call it a trip a day early. There was no point in staying if there were no turkeys around. We did everything we could to try to find a gobbler, but we had zero success.
We packed up camp as quickly as we could, loaded up the side by side, and headed home.
We arrived home with empty bags but had quite the story to tell.
I had heard through social media and a couple of other sources that other people were having the same experience across the state - it seems that this spring was just not a good time for turkey hunters. This was especially true in unit 12a, as other hunters weren’t finding birds even after we had left.
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As always, I thank you guys for reading and I will see you all next time.