Hunting hacks are clever, multiuse, and sometimes the most inexpensive gear you own. Few prove that better than a three-dollar painter’s drop cloth. See all the ways Sarah Stallone has made use of it over nearly 15 years in the field.
Story by Sarah Stallone. Originally published in the Summer 2025 issue.
Our hunt party with a monster Alaska Peninsula bull moose in September 2023.
A Costly Mistake on a Sheep Hunt
It’s funny how often life’s bad decisions are the ones that we remember most.
I think back on two hunts that had me digging in my pack for a piece of survival equipment that has, for many years, held a permanent place on every adventure. With the first memory, I relive a bad decision that, to this day, I can still nearly taste. To be a sheep hunter is to understand the epitome of reduction—what can you live without for the hunt duration—and that by discarding, will lighten your pack’s weight even if only by a fraction of an ounce? The decisions are endless, the results barely detectible. But as they say, ounces make pounds…Pounds I hoped to soon replace tenfold with sheep quarters and horns.
A 32-hour, high-altitude stakeout across from a cliff-bound, full-curl ram left us a desperate hydration choice: Hike several miles and nearly 3000 feet back down the mountain to the closest fresh water source, or dip from a moss-filled, caramel-colored sludge of a seep located in a saddle a short hike behind our boulder-field campsite. Not wanting to miss an opportunity at the prize ram, and unwilling to lose any of our hard-earned altitude, we chose the latter, and prescribed the seep water a good boil AND a dose of iodine in hopes of surviving its ill effects. The readers who have made this same choice are nodding their heads when I say that chewy water exists! The things we do for sheep!
The Unforgettable Taste of Iodine Water
In my weight-saving rampage I had packed only iodine, not the flavor-neutralizing partner tablets, but after a few sips of the vile liquid I would have traded the neutralizers’ nearly imperceptible weight for pounds of anything that would tame the intense flavor. Thanks to that moment, every time I type or read the word “iodine,” I can nearly taste its flavor once again. Despite the pungent taste, we were able to cook a Mountain House, (spicy flavors mask iodine best) and choke down enough liquid to maintain minimal hydration while sustaining our stakeout on this heavy-horned mountain monarch.
Into the following day the standoff continued. Who would give in to thirst first? Him on his rocky throne, or us on ours? Warm midday temperatures and a steady wind had quickly evaporated the seep, forcing us to ration the last of the iodine water.
A Drop Cloth Becomes a Lifeline in the Rain
Several hours into our second day’s vigil, the clouds began to swirl and as if a switch had been flipped, large heavy rain drops began to pound the surrounding boulders, splattering as they hit. In a damp instant, Sterling and I had jumped to our feet, grabbing not for personal raingear, but for a survival standby. Ripping at my backpack zipper, I seized it from my survival kit and with no words necessary, ripped open the package and handed him a corner. Within seconds, we had deployed a lightweight painter’s drop cloth, spreading it across the mountainside with its corners wrapped in rocks propped above its center.
Tugging on our raincoats, we stood at the drop cloth’s edge watching with palpable glee as the heavy raindrops impacted and merged, creating rivulets of water running down the plastic to puddle in its center. Every drop was a delicious departure from the last two days’ unpleasant hydration. Within minutes, we were dipping from the puddled center, gulping the pure goodness of Alaska rainwater.
Dipping from a moss-filled seep behind our high-altitude sheep camp, we treated this water by boiling and with iodine before drinking.
Boiled and treated with iodine, this flavorful seep water was made more palatable with a Liquid I.V. packet.
Sterling stands by a lightweight painter’s drop cloth spread to catch welcome rainfall ending a waterless stakeout on a cliff-bound, full-curl ram
The clouds eventually cleared, the ram eventually left his cliffy fortress, and we were able to put to rest another high-mountain adventure.
A Massive Moose and an Even Bigger Problem
Fast forward a few weeks and find Sterling, my husband Tony, and me standing over the carcass of an Alaska Peninsula bull moose in literal awe if its massive size. The 65-inch rack seemed small in comparison to his hind quarters which, with the lower legs removed, were still taller than me. The trimmed rear quarters, weighing much more than my own bodyweight, took incredible effort to move. The bull had fallen a reasonable distance from what we believed to be navigable water, a chance that would greatly reduce the effort of removing this massive animal from the field. With impending nightfall and an arduous four-mile hike between the kill and our basecamp, we made the decision to cache the meat and come back in the morning with the raft.
Improvising a Roof for a Half-Ton of Meat
The surrounding scrubby alder- and willow bushes stood only six feet in height, their small branches insufficient to support the hanging weight of the gigantic quarters. So, we set about cutting piles of brush on which to lay them. Nighttime temperatures would dip into the 30s, perfect for meat preservation, but the pervasive Peninsula rain was still leaking from the sky. In past adventures, Sterling’s five-by-seven-foot survival tarp had always sufficed as an adequate meat-pole rain cover. However, the amount of real estate taken by the sprawled moose quarters warranted a completely different roofing plan.
Once again the drop cloth was deployed. One-inch cuts of alder rolled into its corners served as tie offs to the guy lines tied tightly to nearby branches and every inch of the cloth’s 9- x 12-foot expanse was used to shield the meat from the falling moisture. Protected from rain by the drop cloth, propped above the ground for optimal airflow, the quarters would soon cool awaiting transport back to camp and a more traditional meat pole.
Fifteen Years of a Three-Dollar Fix
These are a few of the stories that condense the many lessons learned over the years of adventuring and explain the reason I’ve been packing an inexpensive, lightweight drop cloth on backcountry adventures for nearly 15 years. It makes me smile, remembering the many times this simple three-dollar tool has come in handy for water catchment, blocking wind, waterproofing, adding R value, holding gathered berries, and more. Many adventures were made more comfortable or in some cases even possible by its numerous uses. As I review the gear that keeps my adventures effective, I cannot overlook how good a decision it was to add a drop cloth to my loadout.
Sarah Stallone is an avid hunter, firearms instructor, and Territory Manager for Leupold Optics. She is grateful to be living in Alaska, enjoying the outdoors with her family whenever possible. For more, visit AccurateAdvantage.US or Leupold.com.
This is the kind of hunting hack worth passing along: cheap, lightweight, and endlessly useful. Whether it’s catching rainwater or protecting a hard-earned harvest, a simple drop cloth can make all the difference when it matters most. Find more hunting hacks, tactics and tips here.