‘In Your Words’ explores the incredible stories we’ve received from Filson fans across the globe.  Send us your own experiences with our clothing or product here for a chance to be featured on the Filson Life blog.  Charles commuted daily by plane with his Filson briefcase and after ten years of loyal service, he’s ready for his next.

Well, I am not sure how many years I have had this great bag but it is close to 10.  I commute by small plane to rural areas on the plains of Colorado and Kansas daily.  This bag has made all the trips with me.  I was hoping maybe to get a discount on its replacement.  I laughed a little when I saw “nearly indestructible ” in its description.  It has truly been a great bag.

I would be willing to send it to you if you wanted to see its weak spots over time.  It had been showing some wear on the corners but finally, a wear spot came wide open and stuff can fall out.   I would recommend this bag to anyone.  Was looking to replace with the same in the otter green color, style #70257.  My Filson duffles are still going strong but do not get the daily use this bag sees.  Thanks for your consideration.  For your information, this is the only Filson product I have ever seen wear out (I own 2 overalls, 3 coats, 2 duffles, and 1 work bag).

By David S. Lewis
Executive Editor, (614) Magazine

Funny thing about hunting, sometimes you know exactly what’s happening, and that what’s happening is working.  Assuming all things go properly, something delicious is going to die, and you’re going to get to eat it.

Other times, it is spring turkey season, and you and your bud will sit in a strange wooden shack in the middle of the forest and use various devices to squawk and scream at each other for what is probably no real reason at all.

My pal and hunting buddy, Andy, lives on a rural southeastern Ohio tree farm. Deer are in hog heaven here for 50 weeks of the year – and hogs love it, too.

Similarly, wild turkeys are abundant in Vinton County and on his farm every moment of the year – except, of course, the two weeks or so when they become the most interesting to everyone.

Andy had just bought his box call a day before the season opened. In the cabin, he’s fluent in Turkese.  As soon as we get to the blind, however, everything breaks down.  The noises emitted from that $12 chalkless hellbox are deafening, at least a hundred times louder than any turkey born after the Second Ice Age.  Sometimes it creaks like a barn door plugged into a Marshall stack; others it shrieks like Rhodan from the old Godzilla movies.

At no point does it sound remotely like a lady turkey, however.

I don’t do much better.  At one point a farmer’s turkey hears my gurgling, and hollers back half-heartedly.  We made small talk for nearly an hour, him gobbling a response to every flaccid rattle I produce.  I assume now that he knew the deal, in which I was trying real hard and he just chose to play along for my confidence’s sake.  Unfortunately, I didn’t have him quite so well ID’d: I grew increasingly excited and impressed with myself, waiting for him to stampede my location, until I realized that he wasn’t the turkey I was looking for.  (I later learned that the little jerk was trained to poop in a litter box.  Clever girl…)

The hours crawl by the days when you’re out in the woods, and I soon realized that I had only one day left.  Some friends on motorcycles had come by and ruined an entire day of hunting, and proceeded to make up for it with some poker and good whiskey.  Before long, I realized that I had one of two options: wake up in two hours, or make my way out to the blind now and pass the night there. It was raining, and I knew that any birds still in the woods would be interested in digging up some worms in the morning, so I hiked out around 2:30 a.m., en route to a turkey blind I would never find.

Andy’s property has been in his family since his grandfather, a Kentucky coal miner, picked it up in the early seventies, as the lay of the land reminded him of the central Kentucky steep hills and long wooded hollers of his youth.  Around 80 acres of land, most of it is either up or down hill.  I headed towards the very back of the farm where I knew the blind to be, wearing only a light jacket and Filson packer hat, as I had left my sleeping bag in the blind.  It was cool, especially with the pouring rain, but I knew I would soon be snug and the possibility of waking up to a randy gobbler was very real; the pines had shown the most promising sign, scratches everywhere and the telltale parallel lines on the dirt trail, the wingtip drags that tell you a dominant tom has been strutting.

My anticipation for the morning’s evaporated in an instant as the battery in the flashlight died and I was thrown into overcast darkness.

I had already been hiking for an hour, and with the clouds over head, there was absolutely no light available.  I stumbled off the trail, and while I could normally have oriented myself somewhat by the sound of the nearby creek rushing with water, the rain cascading down every hill was far too loud for that.  I knew I was in the area…but where was the blind? Frustrated, I finally found a tree to climb, and made my way into the crook of two branches coming out of the main trunk.  My muscles were screaming from three days of hiking, and — apart from my head which Filson’s shelter cloth had kept entirely dry — I was soaking wet.  But, at least I would be near the pines in the morning.  At least I’ll get in a good early hunt was my final thought before I succumbed to whiskey and exhaustion, and amazingly fell sound asleep as the rain fell heavily through the young leaves.

Also amazingly, I woke well after the sun was up; in fact, my jacket had mostly dried off.  Not as amazingly: I was nowhere near the pines I thought I had been hiking through.  I was nowhere near the blind.  And I was nowhere near any damn turkeys.

At least my head was dry.  One more weekend, turkey devils.  I’ve still got one more weekend.

Article courtesy of the Rocky Mountain Bushcraft team:  Jason Schwartz is an axe-wielding, modern day mountain man.  He’s also a Red Cross certified Wilderness First Aid Instructor, music aficionado, and known to some of the locals as the “Bear Grylls” of his area.  Leah Klocko oversees the country music landscape of Pittsburgh as a radio personality when she’s not editing articles about testing a new bushcraft knife or surviving in the wilderness.

A honey-impregnated gauze pad is an effective improvised covering for mild burns. It has the ability to reduce infection and promotes healing of the wound. According to Wikipedia, “A review in the Cochrane Library suggests honey could reduce the time it takes for a mild burn to heal — up to four days sooner in some cases. The review included 19 studies with 2,554 participants.”

For more Tricks of the Trade click here.

Mikaela Cowles is a freelance writer at Making Language Count. A food gobbling, book devouring, travel loving girl, she helps individuals and business tell stories on the web and in print. Currently you can find her at Kenmore Air, where she details her many seaplane adventures.

Sometimes I just itch to get beyond the city, to leave the highways and the skyscrapers for places where life is slower and please and thank you are commonplace. As nice as it is to tailgate for a Sounders game or watch Felix pitch at Safeco, what I often really want is a place where a friendly nod earns you a smile. I want that small town feel, full of good food and even better scenery.

Perhaps this is why I am so smitten with the San Juan Islands. After all, these are the communities where if you don’t wave, you aren’t from there. Before Kenmore Air, getting to the San Juans was a chore. The thought of ferry lines and traffic often kept me home. Discovering the trip could be made in roughly 40 minutes changed the ballgame.

These are three of my favorite San Juan Islands flyaway activities, out where the salt water twists and the Olympic Mountains line the horizon. I hope you too enjoy them:

Whale Watching
There are few things as breathtaking as a whale breaching out of the water. The massive size alone is impossible to capture with a camera. While watching these beautiful creatures is often the highlight of any trip to the San Juan Islands, listening to them talk to one another is astounding. Most whale watching guides equip their boats with a submersible hydrophone, allowing you to hear the whales vocalize and echolocate beneath the surface.

Hiking
With an average 245 days of sunshine, hiking in the San Juans will never be a drizzling bore. The vast number of public parks offer your pick of high elevation gain treks, gentle shoreline strolls and a variety of ecosystems. Recently, nearly 1,000 acres of these stunning islands was proclaimed a national monument. Among the many hikes from which you can choose, I particularly enjoy Young Hill and Mount Finlayson, both located on San Juan Island.

Fresh and Local
I’m all for catching your own, but when you want a bite of local flavor right now, a fresh fish stand is the place to head. I like Friday Harbor Seafood on the main dock in Friday Harbor. They offer a year round selection of fresh fish and shellfish. I also enjoy Roche Harbor’s North Sound Seafood stand. This seasonal favorite specializes in shrimp, crab and smoked salmon.

P.S. Don’t think you’re limited to where your plane lands. The San Juan Islands Water Taxi operates between several of the larger islands, allowing you to easily island hop.

‘In Your Words’ explores the incredible stories we’ve received from Filson fans across the globe.  Send us your own experiences with our clothing or product here for a chance to be featured on the Filson Life blog.  Ralph from Switzerland discovered Filson products over 12 years ago and continues to rely on our product.

During my long travels throughout the United States in 2001, I came to know Filson products and it all started with the Highlander Boot.  An extensive fly fishing stop in Ennis, Montana lead me to buy a wading jacket, a fishing hat, a vest to store my flies, a bag to carry my fly fishing tackle and finally the trolley for travelling. The list of items is growing still. However, all items are still in excellent shape after heavy usage in good and bad weather conditions. All products are of true quality, style, and they please me each time when used or worn. For me, there is nothing else that can beat your endeavors in quality and style.

Brian Koch started Ultimate Upland in 2010 to be the most comprehensive resource for upland hunting enthusiasts. Since then it has grown into a community where bird hunters congregate and share their love for the sport. Koch strives to be the hardest working bird hunter in the country and aims to reach hunters and fans with detailed accounts of Ultimate Upland adventures.

Three decades ago my dad put a shotgun in my hands. We’d setup on the old farm hill with the hand trap and shoot clays until our shoulders were sore and cases of pigeons emptied. Then we’d go down in the pasture, pick up the unbroken clays, return them to the top of the hill and shoot some more. I’ve never had a professional shooting lesson but believe I’ve had the best shooting instruction available anywhere.

And a few years ago my nephew Zach began getting that same instruction on the same farm hill from the same man, his grandpa. The hand trap has been replaced by battery powered which is now towed up the slope with a lawn tractor. But the lessons are the same: be safe, shoot often, have fun, but listen and learn from a man who has put more rounds down range than most small armies. Needless to say, Zach has grown comfortable with a gun in hand.

As part of our Off-Season Odyssey I thought it would be interesting to pit pupil against pupil. As we drive cross country on Zach’s spring break we’ll stop whenever time allows to shoot sporting clays and hone the shotgunning skills sowed by my dad. After eight hours driving we get our first opportunity to stretch our legs and burn some powder at a clays course in Illinois.

Zach has sprouted into a young man. His reactions times will be faster, his vision better. He’s on the front end of life, the upswing. Whereas I’m fighting to stay on the right side of the hill, he’s coming of age. Needless to say, I have concerns. This is the first time I’ve had a shooting stick in hand since the close of wild bird hunting season. I don’t want to be outshot by my nephew. It’s too early for that. But the possibility is real.

It’s apparent these friendly shooting matches are just a microcosm of the purpose for this road trip. As much as I hope to broaden Zach’s horizons, there is also a growing desire to define my own legacy. There has to be something that an uncle can still offer, some nugget of experience, of expertise, that can still awe a teen. Maybe that’s besting him in sporting clays, exploring amazing new places or just driving infinite hours to stick to a self-imposed itinerary on a road trip few would attempt in this timeframe.

After the first couple shooting stations, I’m grateful some of the symptoms of youth are still at hand: small lapses in focus, and a reluctance to try the proven path. It’s these things which keep me at a small shooting advantage. But there is also foreshadowing of rounds to come – stations where my nephew whips me handily and forces me to lug the dreaded shooting bag to the next. Each round of sporting clays we shoot, the margin of victory is tight, but more importantly we both improve our own scores.

Whether it’s shooting at the foot of the Rockies, off-roading at Big Horn Canyon, peering over the rim of Crater Lake or bouldering at Devil’s Tower, I find comfort in remaining relevant. And watching Zach grow up seems less a threat than a privilege.

We complete the 6,900 mile Off-Season Odyssey loop returning to the exact same sporting clays course where it kicked off ten days earlier. A legacy of shooting that began over 30 years ago with my dad’s passion for the shooting sports has come full circle as well. What Zach will do with his love of the outdoors and shotgunning is up to him. But I expect he’ll pass it along in his own way and own time and the legacy will continue. And one day, hopefully in the very distant future, he may actually be able to best his uncle’s score.

So what’s an angler to do when the winter wind blows and the water temps chill you to the bone?  Yes, there are steelhead to chase.  And if you don’t mind standing in a cold river all day, knowing you might never hook, much less land, a fish, then be my guest.  But what if your body just aches for some warmth and some sunlight?  Then you find an excuse to take the family to the Bahamas.

My mother-in-law’s 80^th birthday was a fine excuse.   And Long Island, one of the “out” islands in the Bahamas, was the perfect place to spend a long week.  I’ve visited more than a half-dozen islands in the Bahamas, and I have to say Long Island is one of my favorite islands simply because it offers so many ways to spend a day in the sun.  Our family consisted of three serious anglers and three non-anglers.

Long Island is the ideal place to stalk some bonefish, cast to small tarpon or strap on some hiking boots and hike to the Columbus Monument on the north end of the island.  Then, there are those deserted beaches to comb, collect shells and snorkel, or perhaps you would just like to lie by the pool, drink a Kalik beer and read a novel.

The locals are open-hearted and friendly and the food is good ol’ Bahamian down home cooking.  This must read like an advertisement and that’s really not my intention.  Next time I go to Long Island, I’d love have it all to myself.  But if you do go, my favorite place to stay is Winter Haven, in Clarence Town. A rental car may be included in the room rate, which allows you to travel from one end of the island to the other.  On your way to Sheep Beach, don’t forget to stop by the Goat Pond Bar and say hello to Suzanne for me.

After four years of constant use, intrepid excursions around the world, and endless encounters with the bottom of truck beds, duffle bags, and carry-ons, this trucker jacket speaks for itself.  Displayed next to a brand-new trucker — fresh from the factory floor — the beauty and character of age is made distinct and compelling.  The oil finish cracked and patterned, the moleskin collar softened and lightened in color, the buttons brazen and fatigued; all reminders of the memories made while worn.  From the Great Wall of China to the rocky wind-torn shores of Washington, the Oil Finish Trucker Jacket yearns for more.

‘In Your Words’ explores the incredible stories we’ve received from Filson fans across the globe.  Send us your own experiences with our clothing or product here for a chance to be featured on the Filson Life blog.  Anthony, the editorial director at Field and Stream, spent more than ten years with his Filson briefcase before needing any repairs.  This bag has been through it all.

I own a briefcase computer bag in tan (#257, I think) that I would like to have repaired. The zipper has come un-stitched from the body of the bag. Does Filson do in-house repairs? I’d rather go through you or someone Filson recommends rather than trust it to a regular tailor.

Just so you know, I’ve been using this bag hard for over a decade. I use it as my daily work briefcase for commuting in and out of New York City. I also travel extensively for my job, and this bag has been with me for literally hundreds of thousands of miles. I use it as a carry on for most flights, and I have also stowed it in canoes, thrown it into floatplanes, worn it while riding ATVs, and on more than one occasion strapped it on the saddle of a horse. I love that the bag is functional and looks totally appropriate no matter how and where I’ve used it: on an African safari, in my Park Avenue office, at a southern deer camp, on a family vacation in Paris, in an Alaskan Fishing lodge, while meeting in a Stockholm boardroom, in a wall tent in the Rockies, and on the floor of way too many Las Vegas trade shows. I take it everywhere.

What’s funny is that this is the bag’s second life, and I’m not even sure of its age. David E. Petzal, Field & Stream’s legendary Rifles Editor, used this bag in much the same manner that I have for several years before he passed it on to me in 2002 because he thought it was looking a little beat up.

That’s a long way of saying I have absolutely NO complaints about a broken zipper at this point. I just want to get it fixed.

Best,
Anthony Licata
Editorial Director, Field & Stream and Outdoor Life

For over two decades, George Hickox has shown all levels of owners how to train great bird dogs.  More often than not, the secret to successful days in the field start with top tier nutrition and a consistent feeding program.  Find out how to feed your working dogs the right way to ensure many happy memories are made on the hunt.

Sound genetics, proper and consistent training, as well as feeding a tier one nutrition are required for the canine athlete to maximize his stamina. A genetically talented dog that has developed his abilities through a successful training program will be unable to stand up to the rigors of a day of running if fed improperly.

The canine receives the nutritional benefits from eating eight to sixteen hours after ingesting his food. Feeding Pupster in the morning of the big hunt or strenuous exercise is not a sound feeding program.  Feeding raises the dog’s body temperature and pre-exercise feeding can led to gastrointestinal health issues such as bloat.  Gastro Volvulus Distention can be life threatening.

A dog should not be fed within two hours prior to exercise or within one hour post exercise.  Digesting food requires water and a dog fed prior to exercise is more prone to dehydration.  There is no plus to feeding in the morning prior to a day of activity.  We feed in the evening no sooner than an hour post exercise.  This schedule allows the dog to digest his food and receive the necessary calories that will be demanded for the following day’s activities.

The amount of calories individual dogs will require varies considerably. A dog with a high metabolism will demand more calories than a pooch with a lower metabolism.  A dog that is kenneled outside in lower temperatures will need to ingest more calories to maintain his internal body core temperature than a companion living in the house.  A good guideline is that a dog will require 7% more or less calories for every 10 degree rise or fall in temperature.  If the temperature was 50 degrees on Tuesday and dropped to 30 degrees on Wednesday Fido would require 14% more calories on Wednesday than on Tuesday.

Obesity and the side effects of obesity are the leading cause of early death in canines in the US.  A good gauge for the proper weight a dog should maintain is if viewing the dog from above the dog should look like a horizontally placed hour glass.  Purina has a body scoring system on their website that will inform viewers about proper weight.  Google “canine body scoring.”

Carbohydrates heat and fat cools.  A diet of high carbohydrates and low fat will raise the dog’s body core temperature which can lead to overheating.  In addition to keeping the dog well hydrated prior to and during exercise a higher fat and lower carb diet will keep the four-legged hunting partner running cooler.

A balanced diet with the proper percentages of proteins and fats will provide the dog with the necessary fuel to perform his tasks on a day’s outing.  We feed a blue ribbon diet of 30% protein and 20% fat for the working dog.  Feed your dog a quality nutritionally balanced diet and do not let the dog become overweight.  Your dog will live a longer and healthier life.