By Jeff Johnston, FE Hunting & Shooting Editor
Climbing treestands are for 19-year-old boys made of rubber. I have six of them, and they’re all collecting dust. Over the years I’ve replaced most of my small, 20-foot-high lock-on-type stands with 12-foot ladder stands, mainly because these days if I fall from 20 feet onto the bare earth it would be like dropping a sack of lightbulbs. But even these cheap ladder stands are becoming too cramped for my liking, because a hunt for deer while sitting owl-like in a tree should more represent freedom from the grind than a mandatory turn on the iron maiden. So now I’m into two-man ladder stands, which is a misnomer much like the term “two-man tent” that we all know can’t ethically sleep two grown-ass men. One day I might even switch to box blinds, except for two reasons. First, they cost thousands of dollars. Second, when I’m in one, I feel more like I’m in a porta-potty at an outdoor music fest than in the deer woods. So I’ve settled on the Hawk Sasquatch two-person stand from Hawk. And once it’s finally assembled—and I stress finally—it’s about as comfortable as treestands get.
Certainly it’s much more comfortable than any economy-plus seat on any commercial airline, so if you can fly from Chicago to St. Louis without entering into a claustrophobic, knee-flexing fit, you’ll be peachy for a few hours while lounged in this baby. It’s got a pivoting foot rest and a roller-coaster-style safety-bar/padded gun rest which offers some protection against face-planting if you fall asleep—and believe me, you’ll be tempted to snooze in it. One seat alone is wide enough for Oprah; both together are big enough for a family of Johnstons. The platform is 36×51 inches wide, so with the mesh seats folded up, you can literally dance a jig up there after your son nails a buck—which means it’s your turn. Joking aside, the seats quietly fold up so you can stand to shoot a bow.
Now that my Sasquatch is set up (I chose to omit the last section of ladder for the reasons outlined above), I suppose it will be there until the tree rots down or the end of time, because moving this 130-pound beast is a bona-fide bitch. Indeed, without the local Boy Scout squad available, I had to employ the front end loader on my tractor to carry it to a suitable tree and raise it into position. But no fault of the Sasquatch there; it’s stable and quiet thanks to its beefy build, and that’s what separates it from smaller, cheaper two-man stands that can be erected like the flagpole at Iwo Jima by two people—and also brought crashing down by those same two people if at least one of them happens to be named Bubba.
What I will criticize, however, is this stand’s assembly process, its packaging, and the black-and-white, shitty directions that were not-so-clearly drawn up by the same mouse-fingered workers who made it. I get that it’s Chinese-made; if not it would likely cost $1,000 or more. But c’mon man, how tough would it be to hire an English-speaking, deer-hunting consultant before producing the directions? Just sorting out the various-sized nuts, bolts, and washers took about an hour, six beers, and a thesaurus for new cuss words. In the end, however, assembly was made much easier by making my nephew do it. And now that it’s done and hung, I’m a happy hunter.
Cost: $570
Pros: Safe; super-comfortable; rated for 500 pounds; big enough for father, son and daughter
Cons: I’d rather have my toes hammered flat with a mallet than to put another one of these things together by myself
