Rough Night in the Elk Woods?

[WapitiTalk1]

It seems like I've had more than my fair share for some reason.  I remember one time/hunt in the late 70s/perhaps very early 80s (NW Montana/third week in September) where a buddy and I grabbed our bows and headed into a high place with our quality gear in our packs (a cheapo two person pack tent, thin down sleep bags, enough doughnuts, candy bars, chips, and maybe a couple of bottles of soda to get us by for two nights) and headed out on a Friday night after work.  We hiked the trail in till it ends (probably about 3 miles), found our spot, set up our tent, and excitedly walked over to "the edge" of the canyon to do some locate bugling.  I did not have to deploy my super awesome PVC bugle tube to solicit an answer as the canyon/basin below was literally screaming with elk.  OK, by now it's well past dark so we hit the tent for a restless night's sleep with the sounds of the elk echoing off in the distance.  At some point in the middle of the night, the snow came and it came large!  The tent completely collapsed under the weight of the wet snow, started leaking through, and eventually soaked through our flimsy down bags.  No problem!  Up at the crack of dawn we roughly re-set up the tent and off down, down, down the side of the canyon we went to the singing bulls that were luring us.  Wasn't too bad going down as we slid most of the way in the foot plus of snow.  After we chased a few bugles around that morning with no shots we started thinking about getting back up that steep, snowy hillside to camp and perhaps, getting a fire going to dry our soaked clothes and bodies (it snowed all that day).  It literally took us hours to get back up the hillside (using vine maple and huckleberry brush as helping handles to grab and ascend up and not slide back down).  That was an adventure in itself; I was really worried we could not get up that hillside.  Once at camp, there wasn't a dry match in the mix so we eventually just crawled into our wet bags, with our wet clothes, and tried to get warm and sleep.  Neither happened and we both shivered all night and, the tent collapsed yet again.  We discussed getting "outa there" at some point that night but I'm pretty sure our old D powered flashlights were about spent after a few nights of using them and pretty sure we couldn't find the trail in the dark/snow.  At the crack of dawn, we stuffed everything we had into our old packs and "ran" down the snowy trail to the truck.  That was not a fun night in the elk woods. 

Please, share one of those "rough nights" you've had in the elk woods.   

[Karl Blanchard]

2017 I pulled a LE bull tag in idaho.  I knew the area and was certain of an easy bull.  Drove through the night from yakima and arrived at the trail head at 0200.  Crash in the cab of the truck with my buddy Mike.  Get up at 0400 and take off.  Goal was first 6pt I could find so we could move areas and get on the mule deer.  This needed to be a one day hunt so no overnight gear and a days worth of food. 

For 7 miles we worked up the mountain.  No damn elk anywhere.  Towards evening we sit to glass and make a fire.  Just as the fire got rolling I spot a bull.  A 6pt.  I tell Mike "we can have a bullet in that bull inside an hour.  I know right where to go!" So we bomb around the rim of this drainage and ease into position.  Sure enough he is right where he should be.  Out of the blue another bull appears and they start cracking skulls! Like flat out getting after it!  As they break I seize the opportunity.  It's a crazy steep downhill and I put it right between his shoulder blades and he pancakes! Down the hill he goes sliding on the freshly falling snow! I was wrong, it took an hour and 5 min

Anyways, we get down to him right at dark.  Snap a few pics and get to work.  By the time we get him all boned out it is dumping snow!  Like inches an hour type snow!. We assess the situation and decide straight down this drainage to the valley floor and the road.  Some eye balling of the map and it looks to be about 4 miles

We gotta kill some deer so we decide its gotta be a one tripper.  So we load our packs with half a bull each and we start off (I'm a meat hunter first so yes we took everything including rib meat and neck).  When we reached the bottom of the drainage (midnight) we made a fire and ate the last of our food.  No sleep and a long day made for tired folks.  The going was miserable.  We got too low and kept cliffing out.  If we got high we hit deadfalls in a burn.  The snow was falling so hard that the light from your headlamp was reflecting off of it and blinding us.  At about 0200 I made the call.  One of us is gonna get hurt bad if we continue.  I was already bracing up a torn meniscus That season so pushing it was not helping.

We gathered a huge pile of wood, scratched out some beds and settled in for a miserable sleep.  We slept in shifts so we could keep the fire hot.  Youd dry out your puffy, put it on so you could dry your shirts, just to do it all over again.  I did have a space blanket and man I'm glad I did! As morning came, we were doing ok. 

If you remember earlier in the story where I figured we were about 4 miles from the road, well I was wrong.  We'd already walked 4.5 and the next leg was the worst part.  Canyon after canyon we had to traverse.  Chest high buck brush and rock slides in every one of them. 

We finally hit the road at 3:30 that afternoon.  Did some more calculated calculations and realized that on the road we had 6 more winding miles to go to the truck.  I damn near cried.  Just then I heard the most beautiful sound.  A Cummins rattling down the road.  Was a whole family of good cowboy folks out for a Sunday drive.  They offered a ride and a cold Coors original.  Happiest I've ever been in my whole life! All in all we packed that bull 9.35 foot miles and almost 36 hours from when we had left the truck.

[Karl Blanchard]

Funny thing about this is, the year before we ended up on an exploratory death hike and ended up getting picked up buy another guy and his kid.  He gave us beers too God bless idaho!

[ghosthunter]

My worst night in the elk woods was warm nd dry. Modern rifle elk.

It was the 1985 I think. I was a young man in my 30s recently married for the 2nd time. We were at the Nile Feed station camped in travel trailers.
15 of us including my best friend my half brother and new father in law several other friends.

It snowed 2ft. . We drove up hill in three trucks and spread out, planning to meet back at lunch.
Once we all got back except my best friend, we waited looking across the canyon. . We had 4 cow tags in our group. Someone spotted cows across the canyon and four shooters went to work hitting two cows.

One blood trail going up canyon one going down canyon. We broke into three groups , one blood trailing up, one blood trailing down, one group with the trucks. Still missing my best friend.

I went with the up group my brother with the down group. My group caught up to the wounded elk in late afternoon. We processed it and hung it to pack out next am.
My brothers group had gave up except for my brother who unknown to the rest of  us was still dogging a wounded elk down canyon.

No word from my best friend yet.

When we were almost back to the road we got a call over the CB radio. My best friend had been shot and they were packing him out of the canyon to a flat bed truck they had flagged down.
I asked where he was shot and the CB crackled in the foot. Some short lived relief settled in as I figured he must have shot himself.

More reports came in that he was being transported to the Wood Shed store at Eagle Rock to meet a ambulance.

By the time we got back to camp late that night, the story emerged.

My brother had dogged the blood trail and came across my best friend in the canyon. They made a plan where my friend would dog the trail of the elk and my brother would seek higher ground for a better view of the bottom.

Some time later my brother sees the cow in a small pine thicket 100 yards down  and finishes her with one shot form his 30.06.
At that moment a truck passed above on the road and my brother turned to see if was our party.

In that moment my friend walked into the thicket wearing a dark wool shirt and brown wool pants, Sorrel boots with felt liners. And was kicking the elk to see if it was dead.

My brother turns around and sees movement at the elk ,thinking it was still alive , fired another shot.

His 30.06 180 grain exploding bronz point bullet went through the top of my friends sorrel boot.
When they got his boot off his foot was gone except for his toes ,soul, and heal.

I spent that night in a travel trailer listening to a grown man weep over the mistake he had made shooting another hunter. This was a man who was a perfectionist in everything he did, who talked safety at every turn, a man who had taught my best friend and I to hunt from twelve years old.
The last person on earth you would think would make this mistake. He wept the entire night silently trembling in his bunk with remorse for what he had done.

Three days into the hunt we were packed up for home my friend in the Yakima hospital.

In the end my friend lost all of his foot ahead of the ankle, he spent months in the hospital. It would take me 4 years to get him to go hunting again and he showed up in camp orange from head to toe. But his days of climbing the steep and deep with me were over.

My brother was fined, lost his hunting for 5 years , but for him the mistake was so devastating that he never hunted again.  His home owners payed my friend 107,000.00 for the foot.

My brother died last year.
My friend had a series of mental issues, is restricted from gun ownership and lives not far from me. We talk everyday but he hasn't worked in years and gets by on SSA disability payments and residuals from the foot settlement.

Both my friend and my brother gave me their guns some years ago. They sit in my safe as a reminder of gun safety and to be careful out here.

In 1995 I became a Hunter Ed Instructor and taught classes until I gave it up this January 1,2019.

To this day as I lay in my wall tent in the elk woods late at night , I remember back to the  worst night in elk camp and hope I never experience anything like it again.

[boneaddict]

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

[Fl0und3rz]

Yes, thank you.

[HntnFsh]

Very sad deal. Bout made me want to cry. Devastating!

[Jonathan_S]

Thanks for sharing @ghosthunter

[DOUBLELUNG]

Wow.  Speechless.  Thanks for sharing.

[pianoman9701]

Quit the story, Ghost. Thanks for sharing it. Sorry about your brother.

[bracer40]

I can't even imagine!
Thank you for sharing.

[banishd]

Wow, that was quite more serious than I was expecting from this thread. Reminds us all how serious consequences can be in real life, no matter how careful you are. I'll try and lighten this up a bit with a story from my dad hunting modern elk about 20+ yrs ago in the colockum....

Dad, Grandpa and his good buddy hunted the colockum for decades. One night up there, they were all asleep in the camper when they wake up to a knock on the door around 2:30 in the morning. My dad gets up and opens the door. There's a guy there and he asks if my dad knows where so and so's camp is at. He's clearly not sober. My dad has no idea what camp he is talking about so he asks the guy whats going on. This guy says he was at the bar with his buddies but they left him at the bar. He had met some lady and thought he was going to get lucky and have her drop him back off at camp. Well that didnt happen, so poor guy walked his frozen butt up the mountain trying to find his buddies camp. Dad says it was damn cold that night, so he told the guy he could grab a tarp and sleep under that. In the morning, they woke up and had breakfast. Went outside and the dude was shivering his a** off under the tarp and they could see where he had tried to start a fire during the night. They gave the guy some hot coffee and leftover breakfast before telling him to leave. Gramps and his buddy are gone now, we stay the hell away from the colockum, but dad still tells this story for a good laugh to this day.

[Timberstalker]

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

This.

[Dan-o]

Thank you for sharing that, Ghost hunter.

My brother found a guy in Utah that was shot dead off his quad in tall sage about 25 years ago.
He just started hunting again this year......   Only ducks.

[Karl Blanchard]

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

[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:(