Rough Night in the Elk Woods?

[WapitiTalk1]

Thank you for sharing ghost.  Really puts others "rough nights" into perspective.

No doubt.  Man GH, so sorry to hear about your brother...

[coachcw]

I've had some crazy moments through the years from freezing to wicked hot and even a griz encounter alone , But ghost Hunters story is by far the nightmare id dred most . My heart goes out to everyone involved and I hope that maybe a life has been saved by the lesson learned and shared .

[pianoman9701]

I hunted with my buddy Bruce each year until one year, upon getting a new job, he was unable to hunt. So I went to a parking lot pullout near our usual spot and set up on the asphalt, using large rocks to anchor everything down. It was a tough week to hunt alone. Lots of rain but I stayed out in the woods. On Thursday near dark, I slipped on a bare, wet log as I was walking uphill and came down right on my binos and sternum, so stunned I couldn't move anything for at least 5 minutes. I literally started thinking that I was going to die right there. I did get everything working again and got back to camp after dark and after eating a quick cold dinner, went to bed. Little did I know that under the right conditions, the pullout parking area served as a wind tunnel. The right conditions came together on that very night. My cook tent and my sleeping tent were both blown over and apart at about 2AM. Everything I had was soaked by morning even after I'd gotten up in the middle of the night to try and fix it enough to spend the rest of the night. After a long lonely week, that was all I could handle. I threw all of the wet gear and mangled tents into the bed of the truck and drove home for a hot shower and a week of drying everything out. I had played hide-n-seek with a nice 5 point earlier in the week for about two hours, though. It wasn't a total loss.

[mburrows]

Wow, crazy stories all the way around thats for sure.  Good lessons to learn from.

[bwhntr350]

In 2005, after a 14 year hiatus from hunting, I decided I would go again. I hunt the Olympic Peninsula for Roosevelt elk. First day, I got into a herd with with three bulls, a 5 point that may have gone about 230, a 5x6 that was probably 270 and a 6 point that I thought was around 290. I spent all day, my first day hunting elk since 1991, chasing these elk through the old growth forests, steep, dry, as it was a very dry year.

To speed things up, I'll fast forward to the last day of the season. I was coming directly down a steep little finger knowing that elk were there, somewhere, down below. Suddenly, I realized that the 5 point was 30 yards below me, bedded. I had two choices, shoot him or wait. I still do not know how it did not know that I was there. Not wanting that small bull, I decided to wait. An hour passes, then nearly another hour when I heard some commotion. The 5 point jumps up and moves quickly away. I'm thinking, 'Oh, there is something else right there that I cannot see!'

Soon, I see the 6 that I wanted. It took, at least, another 45 minutes for things to work out that I could get a perfectly clear shot, and when it happened, it was at 25 yards. After my arrow struck the bull, all hell busted loose. Elk materialized from everywhere and headed back up the valley, paralleling the very ridge that I had just came down.

The bull, finally, succumbs to the single Slick Trick wound on this ungodly steep face. His final resting place was just above an old log running across the hill side, as if he had chose that place to let the log help hold him up and keep him from sliding down the hill. And keep him from sliding is exactly what happened! This log was about 14" in diameter and it was off the ground. It was off the ground just far enough that when he expired, his body went limp and his back rolled downhillish,under the log, wedged.

*censored*! It is getting late! I have a hatchet but decided it would take way too long to chop through that log. I could tell that the old buckskin log was not perfectly solid, so I decide to see if I can break it. I go to the end of it, about 35 feet from the elk, and beings it was off the ground a little, I start bouncing it up and down with everything that I had. Every time the log bounced, the limp body of the elk would slide another 1/4" further under it. I lost track of time but I would guess that all this took about another 45 minutes until, finally, the log broke off and it and the elk go tumbling down the hill.

I did not think that out too well.

The bull rolls ass over tea kettle abut 30 yards down the hill until, in one of the magnificent rolls, it's head goes downhill, the antler points stick into the ground and it's body rolls up over it's head, coming to a complete stop, defying the law of gravity.

Oh boy!

So, I get my pack out, and tie my rope to his antlers. I string the rope up the hill to a small hemlock and secure it. Back down to the elk, I started to untangle his web of feet and everything else that was rolled upon his head and neck, which was dug in deep. Eventually, I get him to roll, again, and then I remember praying that my little parachute cord would stop him when it came tight. It did, but not after significant stretch, but it yanked his head around, his tail end went downhill, and he came to rest with his ass end sliding right up under another windfall, a two and a half footer, his hind legs straight up in the air, his entire rear end under the curve of the log.

I have no words! At this point I was really questioning why I choose to hunt alone.

I remember thinking 'What have I done? I could just leave this thing, walk out and be done and never say a word.' It was nearly 5:30 p.m. Dark is 7:00 or shortly there after. I got into these elk at 12:30. I knew right there that I would be there all night.

I started skinning and cutting the best that I could. I could not gut it with it being in the position that it was in, no way. So, I just disassembled him starting with whatever I could get to. Skin, cut meat off the bone, skin some more, cut some more meat.

Soon, I realized that the sun had gone down. I needed some fire wood. I stop being a hack butcher for 40 minutes and gather up all the wood that I can. I start a fire, and then get back to trying to get my meat cooled down. If you've never boned meat by flickering firelight before, rest assured, it is not easy. Surprised I did not cut myself. This was the year that decided that there was no reason to not carry a head lamp with me. Finally, I think around 10:00, I get done. I stoke up the fire, which I , intentionally, kept very, very small on account of the dry forest and low humidity. I was, literally, kind of scared of catching the woods on fire.

I used the very log that the elk was held up by to support me from rolling down the hill. I curled up to the fire, which was maybe 12" in diameter. My face was like a foot and a half away from it. My butt leaned against the downed tree and my feet were laying in elk carcass. That is the amount of room that I had on my little perch for the night. I slept very little between keeping my little blaze going and keeping my little blaze little. Still, that fear of being responsible for burning up the Olympic Peninsula was forefront in my mind.

Dawn could not get there soon enough. Nobody expected me to not come home that night. It was chilly, guessing 40ish as that is what it was the last morning that I left my truck.

But, after hearing a group of coyotes close by, I knew that I had it licked, now. Dawn was breaking. I gathered all my stuff up, cleaned up any trash I had, and let the fire finish burning itself out, a process that I started around 4:00 a.m., in preparation or hopes that it would be out, OUT, by the time I left. By 7:30, I was ready. I had one Snickers left in my pack, gobbled it down. I mean wouldn't you eat Snickers for breakfast, if you could? Cracked open the last bottle of water that I had, drank 1/2 of it and poured the rest over the warm ground where my little blaze once was. It smoked. That made me nervous. The warm east wind that had been blowing will be blowing again. I could not let that spark up an ember that I could not see. I relieved myself unto the coals and when no more smoke came up, I was, finally, satisfied that it was safe to leave.

I grabbed my hunting back and bow and made a ribbon trail across the hillside and slightly downhill. It was tough sledding. Brushy under the old growth stand and a lot of windfalls littered like pixy sticks. 100 yards out I head back and grab the head and antlers. I continue this for about 300 yards until I hit the finger ridge, that has caught up to me, even though I am angling ever so slightly down, because it gained in steepness, and soon, I know, it becomes very challenging, steeper, rocky in places with minimal handholds.

About 10:30, and pretty much spent, I hear a voice holler from the road. It is my Dad. Now, 65 years old and no longer hunting, he had come up to look for me. He had come up the night before. He called the Sheriff and they had a the search and rescue on stand by, in Sequim, waiting for the word to deploy, I found out later. But, my Dad and I hunted this area for years and we always talked about what if someone does not come out one night? We always kind of decided that if they were not out by 8:00 p.m., then they must have killed an elk late and would be out in the morning. I answered my Dad back that I had a bull and was on my way out. About 20 minutes later and still maybe a 1/4 mile or more from the road, I see people, two of them, Thank God! This is nearly over, and not Thanking any force because it was a miserable night, but because I was exhausted, thirsty, hungry, and secretly hoping that whoever these people were would shed some of my load.

Turned out it was two Game Wardens who came up out of concern and they were the ones that were in contact with the search and rescue. Forks is a small town and I knew both of these guys. Stand up, pure quality type of guys! One asked how I was, I said "Great". The older of the two took my head and antlers, the other took my roll of ribbon. I only had to carry my hunting pack and tell my story about my bull, my fire, my night sleeping on an elk carcass, how's your brother, how's your wife...

I got out at 11:30. My sister and her husband were there with bananas and Gatorade. Everything was golden, search and rescue was called off, I was safe, and I had taken the biggest bull of my life at 306 and some change.

I know this was not a life threatening ordeal and maybe goes against the thread title, but I never really wrote this out before and once I started, I was having fun reliving this memory. Sorry it was so long. If you read it, I hope you enjoyed it. To this day, that was the only night that I have unexpectedly, spent in the woods.

[HntnFsh]

Excellent story, thanks for sharing!

[Shawn Ryan]

I'm speechless.   Sorry man
Thank you for sharing that

Feeling for all three of you.

[Tbar]

Bwhntr350 did you get it out in one load? Or hopscotch quarters? I hunt alone quite a bit also so it's always assumed that if I don't return it's a sign of success. I know that's not always wise but I enjoy my peace in the woods.

[bwhntr350]

Bwhntr350 did you get it out in one load? Or hopscotch quarters? I hunt alone quite a bit also so it's always assumed that if I don't return it's a sign of success. I know that's not always wise but I enjoy my peace in the woods.

So, I hopscotched the head, my bow and pack at that first morning, after trying to sleep in the woods, which I think totaled less than one hour in 2 minute intervals, seriously! I had the meat boned out and hanging in bags so, once it cooled, I was not worried about it, in the slightest. I went to my Dad's, took a bath, woke up in ice cold water and then headed to town. I went to the Coffee Shop and got a Bacon Logger Burger and a Strawberry milkshake. Then I recruited three meat packers. So, the meat hung that entire day and two days after I killed it, we hiked up and packed it out.

[bwhntr350]

And yes, Ghosthunter's story is a sad one. That is truly a nightmare:(