For us, it was more like hell. We had a place in the GW NF all scoped out, a 2 1/2 mile hike up a roadless hollow in the mtns. The place was hit pretty hard, huge trees and rocks piled up like an obstacle course. The water had receded by the opener, so we hiked in anyway, over the obstacle course and I shot a decent 8-point buck.
In those days we checked the deer whole so the three of us cut a pole, lashed the gutted buck to it, and took turns carrying it out on our shoulders. Climbing over all the flood mess just about did us in. I still remember what my buddy Dave said when we got out to the trailhead:
"You can whip me, beat me, or f*** me in the a**, but don't ever let me do that again." It was a classic, and I still remind him of that.
I recall check-in station days. We were some soggy SOBs, almost as bad as the deer.
