Photo By George Barnett

Mike Burditt had hunted in the mountains of Mono County for 23 years. He knew the terrain, knew the wildlife and knew where to hunt. But on one mule deer hunt last October, all of his outdoor knowledge told him one thing only: If he didn't find shelter soon, he was going to die.

He'd done his homework before setting out alone. Severe weather wasn't supposed to arrive until late Sunday, long after he'd planned to be home. But as rain turned to snow Saturday night, dropping the temperature and obliterating the trail, Burditt knew he was in trouble. He was prepared to spend the night in the wilderness, but not in a blizzard.

His experience illustrates what can happen to even the most experienced hunters when they venture into mule deer country. The deer's habitat ranges from sagebrush desert high-elevation wilderness, meaning hunters need to be prepared for every kind of weather, every kind of terrain, and every kind of problem.

Burditt's decisions, before the hunt and during his ordeal, are a case study on what can go wrong and what every hunter should do in a survival situation.

BEFORE THE HUNT: PLAN AND PREPARE
Having a plan and itinerary in advance, and sharing that plan with someone else (see sidebar) is a necessity before any hunt. Your plan must factor in a worst-case scenario.

"You have to go into the wilderness thinking that you won't come home that night," says Tod Schimelpfineg, mule deer hunter, search and rescue volunteer and curriculum director at the Wilderness Medicine Institute at the National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS). "It doesn't matter how often you've hunted an area. That was yesterday."

Planning starts with knowing the terrain. Study your maps, not just for good places for game, but also for alternate escape routes, sources of cover or shelter and likely water sources.

JUST AS IMPORTANT: KNOW YOURSELF
"One of the biggest mistakes people make is overestimating their abilities," says Jeff Holmquist, president of the Mono County Sheriff's Search and Rescue Team. "They get in over their heads, they get tired, they get lost, and they make bad decisions. That's where trouble starts."

Overestimating abilities applies to physical stamina as well as basic outdoor skills, like being able to use a map and compass. If orienteering terms such as "natural handrails," "declination" and "intentional offset" mean nothing to you, you probably don't know as much as you should. A book on outdoor navigation is a worthwhile investment.

Finally, know the weather reports but expect them to be wrong, because that's how trouble can sneak up on you, as Mike Burditt discovered. He'd done everything else right, but he'd assumed Mother Nature would abide by the weather report. He wasn't the only one. The surprise storm that stranded him had put more than 40 other people on the overdue list by Sunday afternoon.

CONGRATULATIONS, YOU'RE LOST
Mule deer country is a place -- whether it's mountains, rolling hills or flat desert -- where everything can start to look the same if you get disoriented, even in broad daylight. Add darkness and snowfall, and familiar country might as well be the moon.

Should you find yourself lost or disoriented, the most important thing to do is stop and think.

"We teach people 'STOP,' which stands for Sit down, Think, Observe and Plan," says Don Del Grande, hunter education instructor for the California Department of Fish and Game.

Other rescue experts agree on this. Stop and take a mental inventory of what you know. Start with everything you're carrying and expand into your surroundings. Think about streams you've crossed, terrain features, weather conditions and remaining daylight. From there you can decide what to do next.

That said, unless you're positive you can navigate back out, your best bet is to stay put, stay alive and let rescuers find you; a moving target is much more difficult to find. Your priorities at that point are shelter, warmth, water and signaling rescuers.

Mike Burditt wasn't lost, but he was seven miles from the trailhead. The trail was buried in the snow, however, and visibility was down to 200 yards. He would lose the trail, find it, and lose it again. By 3 p.m. Sunday, he'd only covered three miles and was starting to shiver uncontrollably. That's when he made a decision that probably saved his life.