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Why Prois? It’s what’s inside that counts…


It’s what’s inside that counts. We use HyperDry water resistant down technology in our Archtach Jackets. HyperDRY consistently tests significantly better than other WR downs on the market today. HyperDry will stay dry longer and become dry far faster. HyperDRY will keep a higher loft and fill power to retain warmth…even in the most extreme elements.
It’s what’s inside that counts…
See for yourself….


Shannon’s First Bow Kill

By Prois Staffer Shannon Rasmussen


This past September I had a very exciting moment, in fact, it was one of the biggest moments I’ve had in my hunting career thus far. You see, last year I decided to try my hand at bow hunting. I had been tagging along on my husband, Shane’s, bow hunts for several years but had never felt that I had the heart or patience to do it myself. I had witnessed so many close encounters and hunts that hadn’t worked out that I didn’t think I could emotionally be the hunter behind the bow. But after buying a bow and competing in several 3-D bow shoots, I decided that I wanted to give archery hunting a shot. My first year was an emotional roller coaster to put it mildly. We were getting into elk almost every time we went out hunting, but my nerves got the best of me each time. By the end of the season I had missed three cows, cried a lot, and the confidence in my ability was fading fast. With that said, going into season two, I was excited and very nervous to see just what I could do. With another season of 3-D competitions under my belt, and the lessons learned from last season, I felt like I was going in as a much more knowledgeable hunter this year. Opening day of the season started out spectacularly! My 15 year old son was able to harvest a 2×2 bull within the first 20 minutes of the hunt. We had hiked in and bumped the bull. He trotted off, but my husband cow called and he came back. The bull stopped behind a tree. I had stopped about 20 yards behind the men, so I cow called, which caused the bull to step out from behind the tree, giving my son a perfect shot opportunity. We were all so excited! Two days later my husband and I got up early and headed to a spot where we had seen a few bulls the previous evening. We knew that we were in for a pretty tough hike, so going in to the hunt we agreed that we would only shoot a 5pt+ bull. As we were climbing up the mountain we once again walked right in on a spike bull. Luckily it didn’t see us, so we ducked down behind some bushes. We sat watching the spike for a few minutes when suddenly we realized that the bushes behind him were moving. It turned out there was a 5×5 and a 7×7 bull about 20 yards behind the spike. My husband tried to sneak closer, but the spike bull decided to walk down the hill right beside us, and what did he do next? He laid down about 10 yards behind me! I could not believe what was happening! Now, there we were, stuck with nothing between us and this little bull. After about 15 minutes the bull finally sensed that something wasn’t right, stood up, and proceeded to trot up the hill, running the other two big bulls off. It was such a cool experience that we couldn’t do anything but laugh about it afterwards.


The following weekend we headed back up to archery camp, rested and ready for another chance. Shane and I picked a spot to hunt on Saturday morning and headed out early. We had only been hiking for about 30 minutes when he heard a cow chirping in the distance. We stopped, got set up, and started cow calling back at her. We could tell that she was getting closer, and I started getting nervous. Finally she appeared on the hill just above us. She was about 30 yards away, and moving across the hillside. She walked behind a tree, and I took the opportunity to draw back my bow. My husband cow called, stopping her, but there was a dead tree laying in front of her, obstructing my shooting lane. It felt like an eternity holding my bow back, waiting for her to step out. After about a minute she took two more steps and I shot. The arrow passed right through, double lunging her. She took a couple more steps and then tumbled over. I was absolutely ecstatic!! I cried tears of joy!! After all of the hard work and emotions, I had finally harvested an animal with my bow!! It was everything I had ever imagined it would be!! There is nothing that compares to bow hunting in my opinion!! #Proiswasthere!! My hunt would not have been the same without my very durable, yet incredibly comfortable Prois ProEdition Pants, Elevation Shirt, and cap in Mountain Mimicry. 

Mercer Muskie Madness

Mercer Muskie Kristen Monroe


By Kristen Monroe

I have never entered a fishing tournament before, and never before caught a muskie. I have been fishing since since childhood but only recently fell in love with trying to hook a mighty muskie. The thought of entering a tournament intrigued me, even with my lack of muskie experience. I entered the Mercer Muskie Madness tournament in Wisconsin with my partner, Josh Lantz.  Part of the proceeds were donated to the Wounded Warriors, even if we lost at least it was for a good cause. 58 hard core muskie anglers challenged each other Oct. 17th and 18th. What a privilege it was to spend time and compete with so many great anglers.  

Mercer muskie Josh Lantz

The first day it rained and the 45-degree temperature and strong winds tested my fishing mettle. The smell of pine trees, the thought of catching a monster fish and proper clothing helped to push my cold feeling aside. We fished hard for two days. The perseverance paid off. We took first place overall and also won the Big Fish award for the 41.25 inch fish. The conditions were tough but certainly worth the every moment.Thank you Mercer friends and Wounded Warriors for putting on a spectacular event.


Mercer award

A Day in the Life of a Huntress

By Nancy Rodriguez


As I wait for my husband Joe, and friend Jon, to shoulder their backpacks at the trailhead, I glance at my watch and read 6:05 pm. I realize we won’t reach our destination on the mountain until well after midnight. The temperature is hot, 85 degrees and the heat is relentless. I sling my backpack over my shoulders and suddenly feel compressed. While adjusting my backpack, I try to mentally prepare for the 8 mile trek ahead.  And so it begins…one foot in front of the other with the synchronous movement of hiking sticks. Joe, Jon, and I, chat and laugh as we kick up dust and close the distance to our camp. The miles pass and the chattering quiets, sweat pours, hearts pound, and legs burn. We make it across the stream crossing and continue on. As the day turns to dusk and the sun starts to wake up the other side of the earth, I take a moment to embrace the grand landscape. My body aches, but the high country scenery keeps me going.

The long stretches of trail become longer and the switchbacks become steeper. With each deep breath taken and each boot track laid, I remind myself of why we are doing this.  With my Prois camo covered in salty sweat and dirt layered from miles of trail, I wonder if I will ever be able to wash the stink out of them. My toes have turned into flaming hot chee-toes and my belt/pack combo has sanded a patch of skin off my lower back. That will surely have to be changed before the season! As the sun vanishes into the valley below, I make sure my hiking position is in between Joe and Jon. I’m certain any predator we surprise in the dark, will surely grow tired of chewing on their salty hides, and move on before it gets to me!

Under the starry sky, we break off trail and now the real work starts. We navigate our way by light of headlamps through waist high sage brush and mule’s ear. Climbing up and down old lava fields and sinking in patches of mud pooled from snow runoff, we slowly make our way to the head of the drainage.At midnight we have finally arrived at the spring where we will get our camp water supply. We figure we each need an additional 1 1⁄2 gallons to make it through the next 2 1/2 days of our scouting trip. We will definitely be rationing water. We peel off our backpacks and pull out our Platypus water bottles. With our clothes soaked from sweat,the cool mountain air starts to chill us, and my teeth begin to chatter. We quickly fill our bottles with fresh mountain spring water, straight from the source. Loaded down with the extra water, we slowly make the final climb to camp.


It’s now after 1 am and we have finally made it to our camp spot. Like 3 zombies, we set up our tents, throw in our sleeping bags, and hang our food in a nearby tree. After chipping off our funky clothes, we crawl into our home away from home. Before Joe can finish setting his watch alarm to wake us in 3 hours, I am in a deep slumber. Whhhyyy?  The answer becomes perfectly clear at sunrise. With the Jetboil by my side, heating up my morning coffee, I take in the view from the mountain top. The electric purple lupine cover the rim of the basin, the twinkle of dew drops dance across pine needles, and the mountain birds start their morning songs. Chipmunks start to scurry about, as a butterfly lands on our spotting scope. It is surely enjoying the mineral remnants left by our sweaty hands.


Sitting for a moment, I take in a deep tranquil breath. I slowly put my eye to the spotting scope and start to scan the large aspen filled basin below. I work in a grid pattern, searching every contour, rocky crag, and shadow. Then they appear …the unmistakable brown fuzzy velvet covered antlers of a mule deer buck!  I am home at last.