Breaking the intermediate ceiling

Why intermediate hunters stay stuck — and how the F.A.P.L.E. framework breaks the ceiling by moving execution onto autopilot.

You’re not a beginner anymore.

But you’re not always the hunter you pictured yourself as, either.

The intermediate hunter level ceiling is real.

Sometimes it feels like being trapped under the ice.

You can see what’s above you, but you can’t break through.

Consider this.

You spotted the animal too late. Or got busted on the stalk. Or rushed the shot. Or wounded one and never found it.

Every intermediate level hunter has at least one story like this from the last few seasons.

Hand on heart, I know from experience how frustrating these situations can be.

Do you recognise any of them?

The question that haunts you afterwards isn’t just what went wrong. It’s also why is this still happening to me?

In this post, I’ll show you why those mistakes keep happening even though you’ve done all the work — and the structure that finally fixes it.

Most hunters answer that question by adding one of the following. Or several.

It doesn’t work.

You know this because you’ve tried it.

None of these things will help you smash though that ceiling.

Here’s what’s actually happening: hunting is volatile and ever-changing.

No two hunts are the same.

And while all of that is happening, your conscious mind is trying to manage everything at once. Your rifle, your gear, the wind, the range, the angle, the safety, the decision to shoot.

It can’t. Nobody’s can.

These five failures look like five different problems. They aren’t. They’re the same problem showing up in five different places. And there’s a structure that fixes it.

You Can’t Think Your Way Through A Hunt

When intermediate hunters keep making these mistakes, the standard response is to assume the fix is more knowledge. Or more and better gear.

But the failure usually isn’t a knowledge failure.

It’s a working memory failure.

You have two types of memory that’s relevant here.

Your long term memory is like your hard drive, where you have stored skills and knowledge in sub-routines you can run automatically.

And then your working memory.

The part of your memory you use to process anything new.

And it has a limit.

About four things at one time.

That’s not a personal flaw — that’s the architecture of the human brain, and it doesn’t matter how smart you are or how much you’ve read.

Now count what you’re holding in your head when an animal steps out at 220 metres in a quartering-away position. The wind, the range, the angle, that thing about your rifle that’s nagging you.

Your breathing, the trigger, the safety, the decision to shoot, the placement of the next round, the recovery plan if the shot goes long. That’s already past your limit, and you haven’t even thought about whether the bipod is properly deployed or whether your shooting sticks are at the right height.

Something has to drop. The drop is the failure.

The hunter who has practised shooting a hundred times at the range still fumbles with the bipod when the animal appears, because the range only ever rehearses the shot.

It never rehearses the transition — getting from binoculars in your hands to a stable rifle position with a clear sight picture and a live animal in the scope.

The transition is where the working memory bottleneck breaks the hunter, every time.

This isn’t unique to hunting.

Olympic shooters have known about it for decades.

Lanny Bassham, the gold medallist at the 1976 Montreal Games, built his entire mental management framework on a single principle: focus on the process, not the outcome. The moment the shooter starts thinking about the score, about the result, about whether they’re going to hit — the conscious mind interferes with what the body already knows how to do. The shooters who win think about nothing but the process.

Fighter pilots have known about it since the Korean War.

John Boyd’s OODA loop — Observe, Orient, Decide, Act — describes how a pilot wins a dogfight. The pilot who runs the loop faster wins. But you can’t run a fast loop if your conscious mind is busy managing your aircraft. You need everything below the loop to run on its own.

Special operators have known about it the longest, and the hardest.

Robert Keller, a former Delta operator, puts it in plain language:

“When it goes down, you want to kick into autopilot as much as possible. That’s why perfecting the basics matters so much.”

Three domains. Three completely different worlds. One conclusion.

Performance under pressure isn’t about thinking harder. It’s about needing to think less, so you can observe and orient more.

Hunting is the same. The intermediate ceiling breaks the moment you stop trying to manage the hunt with your conscious mind and start running it with structure underneath.

The hunters who break through aren’t smarter, fitter, or better-equipped.

They’re practiced to operate on autopilot.

They’ve moved everything that can be automated out of working memory — the gear handling, the planning, the logistics, the transitions — so that working memory is free for the only things that can’t be automated:

But how do you actually get from where you are now to running on autopilot?

You build the structure before the hunt. Letter by letter.

That’s F.A.P.L.E. Five categories of work you do before the moment, so your working memory is empty in the moment.

Each letter takes something out of working memory and parks it in structure, kit, or muscle memory. By the time the animal steps out, the only things left are the wind, the animal, and the shot.

How to Build the Autopilot: The F.A.P.L.E. Sequence

It’s not mystical. It’s mechanical.

Like building a house. Foundation first, then up.

You can go far with the plain vanilla version. What bullet, what scope, what bipod — that’s sprinkles on top. The irony is that many hunters, myself included, spend more time picking the sprinkles than choosing the ice cream underneath.

Same sequence runs a hunt, a season, and your improvement as a hunter year after year.

F — Fundamentals: Master the process before the plan

Fundamentals takes the mechanics out of working memory. Drill the five phases of a hunt until your body runs them without you.

Every hunt — regardless of species, terrain, or country — runs through five phases:

That’s what Fundamentals covers. Until these five phases run on their own, no amount of planning downstream will save you when the moment comes.

You don’t need to learn five different things. You need to drill one loop until it becomes one process you run automatically.

Nobody taught me this process when I started. I even took the formal, mandatory exams, in both Denmark and the UK. Lots of solid information, but nothing that tied it all together.

And that disconnect is one major root cause for hitting that intermediate ceiling. You have the knowledge, stringing it together is the problem.

I can’t stress how important it is to tie things together this way.

Use my five phases, or name your own variant.

A — Application: Define the hunt before you pack

Application takes the plan out of working memory. You decide what kind of hunt you’re running before you ever touch a gear bag.

I love hunting gear. And I have a lot of it.

But that’s a double sided sword.

Without a clear plan I end up bringing things I don’t need.

And I clutter my mind, I stuff my working memory.

Most hunters pack first and think about the hunt second. They start with the gear list and reverse-engineer the plan around what they own.

Reverse the order.

Military planners have this down to a T.

To plan, you need to know what you’re planning for, and expand from there.

Here is the logical sequence you must follow.

  1. Define the SITUATION - the animal, the area, the weather.
  2. Pick your STRATEGY - how you’ll hunt it - stalk or ambush
  3. What TACTICS will you use for each phase of the hunting process?
  4. What TOOLS do you need for your tactics?

The tools.

Your hunting gear.

Come last in that process.

And they are a function of your plan.

Your plan is not a function of your gear.

So far so good, but we’re only just getting started.

P — Preparation: Build the autopilot

Preparation takes the gear and the transitions out of working memory. By the time you’re in the field, your hands know what to do.

Here are two mental models for hunting on autopilot.

Let’s unpack both of them.

Techniques vs. transitions

A technique is how you operate a piece of gear. You need to nail them for every piece of gear you use.

I could tell you lots of stories about my own hunting mistakes that were down to bringing new gear on hunts, but for now, just don’t do it.

But that’s the obvious level.

We need second order thinking.

Over 30 years of hunting, another key culprit for missed opportunities and wounded animals I’ve seen has been poor transitions.

A transition is how you orchestrate several pieces of gear.

It’s how you use the gear when hunting. As opposed to what most hunters do on the range.

A transition must be smooth and fast.

Smooth to avoid detection.

Fast, not as in rushed fast, but efficient fast. Because you take the shortest path.

Workbench vs. storeroom

I got inspiration for this one from two sides.

  1. A guy who makes his living calling in airstrikes on bad guys
  2. The Lean Six Sigma 5S model for workplace organisation

The TL;DR on this one is that you must organise your gear according to criticality.

How often you need it. Or how badly you need it, when you do need it.

Binoculars. You use them all the time, that’s why they go on the front.

Your rifle. You use it once on most hunts, but you need to be able to access it easily.

First aid kit. When you need it, you really need it. Carry it that way.

By the way, I’m working on an app to help you map this out, plan your gear loadouts according to these models and principles. Sign up to my newsletter if you want to hear more.

These two models are how F.A.P.L.E. answers three planning questions: Q5 (Techniques), Q7 (Carry System), and Q8 (Transitions). The full framework lives here.

Next up is a hidden killer.

L — Logistics: Handle it like a project, not a hope

Logistics takes the boring-but-critical out of working memory. Permits, travel, comms, camp — sorted weeks before you leave.

Permits. Travel. Communications. Personal loadouts. Camp. Food. Water. Power. The boring stuff that sinks more hunts than missed shots.

Logistics fails not because it’s hard, but because it’s boring.

Many hunters leave it too late. Or they don’t know what they don’t know. Or the friction of not knowing where to look makes them wait till the last minute.

Solution. Have a checklist for building your checklist.

Know what categories of paperwork, equipment and coordination you need. And start chipping away.

Now let’s talk about execution.

E — Execution: Without thinking about executing

Execution doesn’t take anything new out of working memory. By this point, the structure runs you.

Come hunting time, the plan should be running you.

  1. Prepare.
  2. Insert.
  3. Hunt.
  4. Extract.
  5. Process.

Five stages, each one a checkpoint.

Pack and verify. Get to the ground. Run the five Fundamentals phases. Get out with the animal. Handle the meat and the trophy.

When the previous four phases are solid, execution gets quiet. You’re not thinking about your gear, because it’s where it should be.

You’re not thinking about your plan, because you made it weeks ago. You’re not thinking about logistics, because logistics handled itself.

Your mind is quiet.

You’re thinking about the wind. The animal. The moment.

That’s the autopilot working.

Break that ceiling

Beginner mistakes at the intermediate level aren’t usually problems with specific knowledge or skills.

They’re problems stringing it all together.

The fix is structural. Build the autopilot before the hunt, so your mind is quiet during it.

Want more detail? The full F.A.P.L.E. framework lives here.

I’m building an app to support the framework’s ten planning questions, plus courses to drill the Fundamentals. More to come.

The next time an animal steps out, the only things in your head should be the wind, the animal, and the moment.

That’s what breaking the ceiling feels like.