An Ode to the Packout – Looking Forward to When We All Get Back Outside Safely!⁣ ⁣ I dropped my trekking pole. There it was, just resting a few feet from my boots in the snow. I was perched on a steep, snowy, rocky hillside with a stupid-heavy pack on, loaded down with a boned-out mule deer buck, rack, my rifle, tripod, optics, and other hunting-related detritus. I was tired, and my quads were yelling at me to stop, and the thought of having to kneel on this damn hillside to grab it was not making me happy. But down I went, doing a herky-jerky, off-balance lunge, grunting like some cave-dwelling Neanderthal the whole time. I grabbed the pole, stood up, and almost tipped over backward. It would have been funny to watch, but I was relieved that my balance settled in before the heft of the pack took me head over ass down the slope. Cinching the waistbelt, I kept on slogging across the scree-covered hillside. Did I mention it was cold? I should have been skiing…. the pitch of the freaking ...