Was able to seal the deal on a nice 6x6 on the 5th. Ive been busy since then, and am sorry I didnt post right away. To be honest, it has been an emotional experience not just this hunting season but 8 months recovering from a back injury. How things, played out are still unbelievable in my mind.
Being limited to pretty much road hunting, and short, level ground walks.... I spent pleny of time looking up hill, and praying I didnt see a bull whenever I looked downhill
The miles I put on driving, and gallons of gas burned has me convinced Im responsible for climate change... If that really exists
I got to spend 8 days out there to only see 6 cows, and no bulls. I met a lot of hunters who gave great pointers, told me some awesome stories, and one guy who I think sent me to that honey hole " C-post " I see you guys joking about on here
This is my 28th year hunting, and the first time I have been able to hunt big bulls in E. Washington with my dad, who is now 75. With the season winding down, and the frustrations mounting from lack of critters and more so the inability to hunt with the effort I envisioned in my mind a miracle happened. The morning was quiet, and no critters seen the first couple hours of daylight, and then I see a single elk about 2 miles away way down below the ridge we were driving on. I grab my binos " $%# !!! bIG BULL !!! " I remember yelling. He was running towards the ridge we were on but several canyons over, so we start booking it down the ridge to cut him off. as we are driving I hear gun shots erupt from down below, and Im rattling off every choice word in my mind thinking the bull got smoked. So I stopped the truck, and got out to stretch because I just didnt need all those hard bumps on my spine.
I look down the canyon we stopped on and here came about 7 or 8 elk straight towards us
I grab my rifle and more shots erupt.... Im realizing that bull is probably smoked. The elk got to about 600 yds and then I see a big white bull pop up trailing them. The herd came across the oppsite side of the canyon at about 300 yds full run with the bull trailing, I shot twice leading him wayyyy to far in front, missing both. I dropped to a kneeling position which hurt like none other, and right as i pulled up with my last round the bull stopped. I put the crosshairs right on the crease behind the shoulder, exhailed, and let it fly. I heard the tell-tale thump of the bullet connecting, and as I looked up just a solid spray of blood as the bull stood there for about 10 seconds. I scrambled through my pockets to finds more ammo....but I had none. As I looked back up the bull was down for the count. As I walked to the bull, I think I was more excited that I had dropped him about 75 yds from, and level with the road we were driving on
I couldnt help but tear up as my dad walked up to me where the elk was, It was the best moment of my hunting life. I got the pictures done, tag notched, and the business end of the kill taken care of. Then it was... Ok now what.... Hes old, Im broken.... And the truck is so close yet so far
Right then 2 gentlemen drive up on a side by side and offered to tow it out and help load it for us. I was just amazed by thier generosity and time they took out of thier hunt to help out, my spine thanks them more
We got the bull loaded, and headed for a friends elk camp way over yonder where the guys helped put him up on the meat pole helped skin, quarter, and reloaded back into the truck. I know they are friends and thats what they do.... But i am so grateful for thier effort, because in my condition I was well over my head.
