Welcome the Discomfort: A Hunter’s Journey from Alaska to Three Forks

Welcome the Discomfort: A Hunter’s Journey from Alaska to Three Forks

What is the purpose of our time, if not to be consistently outside of our own comfort zone?

As hunters and outdoorsmen, we find ourselves pushing the limits each time we step into the woods. The separation from daily norms, schedules, and priorities—things that mean absolutely nothing to nature—is always humbling. It grounds us and forces us to rethink what truly matters.

As a born-and-raised Alaskan, I often reflect on a childhood shaped by the outdoors and a subsistence lifestyle. Wild game was always on the table. Hunting wasn’t a hobby—it was how we lived. My journey as a hunter is far from typical, but that’s what makes it beautiful.

When it was finally my time to take a big game animal, I found myself on Kodiak Island with close friends. I carried a Christensen Arms rifle—and harvested my first three Blacktail buck deer.

Not everyone has the chance to take their first animal with a Christensen. That hunt set the bar high. From that day on, Christensen Arms became part of my story.

I scraped together every extra dollar I could and bought my own Christensen Arms Summit—identical to the rifle I had used. Over the next ten years, I poured everything I had into the outdoors. Eventually, I turned my passion into a profession. Today, I’m a big game guide and outfitter in Alaska, working alongside my husband.

In the fall of 2023, I won an online photo competition hosted by Christensen Arms. The prize: my first-ever elk hunt, at Colorado’s legendary Three Forks Ranch.

Three Forks is more than just a hunting destination. It’s a place of healing. The land has been restored and preserved, and the ranch is built to help people reconnect—with nature, with each other, and with themselves.

It was a dream come true—a dream hunt with a dream rifle.

For me, this opportunity to hunt elk alongside a team that instantly felt like family was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

As a guide, I’m usually the one taking care of others—celebrating their highs, supporting them through their lows. But people forget: nature doesn’t just challenge the body, it challenges the soul. It digs deep into the things we’ve buried—and forces us to face them.

Hunting at Three Forks, we found ourselves in some of the most breathtaking elk country imaginable.

The aspen forests were glowing with fall color. The air smelled like mint and sage. In the early mornings, elk bugled with haunting power, their voices echoing across the hillsides.

At 9,000 feet of elevation, the challenge was real. Coming from sea-level Alaska, my chest burned. My legs begged for rest. I fought to hike the way I do in my home mountains—but this was harder.

I carried my Christensen Arms Ridgeline FFT chambered in .300 Win Mag, pushing forward through discomfort and fatigue. I reminded myself: these hard moments are often gateways to the ones that matter.

Then we saw him—a big-bodied bull elk, standing proud in the last light of day.

I wanted the meat. Elk is a delicacy for me, something I rarely have the chance to hunt. My body was telling me to take a break. But I knew better.

Discomfort can be a barrier—or a calling. I chose the latter.

With a final push, we climbed into position. One clean shot at 290 yards—and it was over. A beautiful elk was down. And just like that, our team came together to help get him off the mountain.

We spend countless hours training, preparing, zeroing our rifles. But the truth is—our biggest obstacle is often our mind.

The mountains test that. They expose it.

The highs and lows out here shape us. They remind us what matters. And they follow us home—into our daily lives, our families, our work.

That’s why we hunt. That’s why discomfort is worth chasing.

Life is short. Stay true to a positive mindset. Spend time doing what you love, with the people who matter most. And whatever you do—consistently welcome the discomfort.