While the idea to blend bowhunting and dirt biking was anything but practical, I couldn’t help myself. Why take a flight if I can ride?
Without much convincing needed, my friends Connor Gabbott, Johnathan Hart and I decided to ride 1,000 dirt miles from Vegas to
Pismo Beach and bow hunt wild boar when we got there. The trip was as grueling as we expected.
I teamed up with Mystery Ranch to design a moto bow scabbard that could protect our bows during any falls. For the rest of our gear, we relied on Mosko Moto bags strapped to our bikes. It was a feat of clever design that allowed us to take our passion for bowhunting on the road.
It felt like we were riding across Mars. The vast, sandy expanse made us feel alive, especially when the stars lit up the night sky. The desert has a way of making you feel both incredibly small and immensely free.
In an abandoned mining area, we found an old house to crash in. Connor, a former chef, made the best of our gas station groceries,
whipping up something edible while Jonathan and I did hill climbs under the moonlight.
Riding those hills was pure joy, a reminder that the journey can be just as thrilling as the destination.
The heat out there was no joke, and one misstep could mean serious trouble. Every gas station stop was a calculated move, a mix of necessity and strategy.
After a grueling ride through Nevada, we were desperate for water. Finding a lake was like stumbling upon an oasis. We dove in, fished, and set up camp. The vibe was unbeatable—refreshing and soul-soothing, the perfect antidote to the desert’s intensity.
Finally, it was time to hunt. We dialed in our bows, getting them ready for the morning light. We covered ground on the motos glassing from hill tops and valley bottoms. Eventually, we found what we were looking for.
I found a young boar, stalked it, and got within 60 yards. While this trip wasn’t about the hunt, I did feel a sense of pride knowing that we’d ridden all this way and I was about to come to full draw. I cut the arrow loose, 10-ringed the boar, and watched it go down. The plan worked! We had a wild pig down.
