Bucket List

[Elkfever]

Our friends from Georgia, Dwight and Lee.

[Elkfever]

We learned very quickly that our mules were very capable of going straight up a mountain although, the three of us held onto the saddle horn with our eyes closed and teeth clenched as we followed our guide, Billy Joe, up to a spot to tie them off. 

[Elkfever]

We stalked in but the herd had moved into the timber by the time we had cut the distance.  Dad and Billy Joe moved up the drainage while Cory and I were allowed to move across the draw for a different angle on where the elk had been previously.

[Elkfever]

Cory and I were on our way back over to our meet up spot when a shot rang out from Dad’s location.  We made the trek back across the ravine and met up with dad.  He and Billy Joe had been in the right place at the right time when a herd filtered through the burnt timber, 70 yards away.  A nice 5 pt. gave dad a great opportunity and dad obliged with a perfect shot behind the front shoulder.  A second shot to the neck for insurance dropped the bull in his tracks.  We were so happy for dad.  We processed the bull while Billy Joe hiked back to grab the mules.

[Elkfever]

It was quite a treat to allow the mules to do the packing as we are accustomed to being our own pack mules in these situations.

[Elkfever]

Packing out.

[Elkfever]

Trail pics.

[Elkfever]

Pack out and the “bear tree.”

[Elkfever]

Made it back to camp for lunch, raised the game bags full of meat into the “bear tree” and prepared to go back out for an evening hunt. 

[Elkfever]

The evening found us in a great place to glass from and we did locate a couple herds of elk. One was just too far away for the limited daylight we had left and the other herd, we felt, would be best left for in the morning as they had a great vantage on us if we decided to stalk in from the bottom.  Instead, we chose to enjoy listening to two bulls bugling back and forth and anticipate the plan for the next morning. 

[Elkfever]

Back at camp and ready to celebrate Dad’s bull!

[Elkfever]

That night, I had a pit in my stomach due to the weather forecast on the am radio calling for heavy snow that would likely shut down highways in the region.  Not knowing if we would be able to hunt with white out conditions the rest of our trip or if we would be snowbound in camp, we were flirting with the idea of packing out the next afternoon.  The idea of calling it quits on our dream hunt with three days to go in the hunt, didn’t seem fair but with bigger priorities back home, we had to practical.  Our group discussion ended with a “let’s go get it done in the morning and cross that bridge if we have to tomorrow.”   

[Elkfever]

Not too proud to turn away any good luck, I had found a horse shoe in the trail while riding back to camp that evening and stopped to pick it up for good luck.  I hung it above our wall tent door that evening when we got back to camp and pulled a fresh bottle of Pendleton 1910 and coke cans that had been chilling in the creek next to camp for the last couple days, anticipating Dad’s tag being filled .

[Elkfever]

The next morning came and so did the snow.  We had a couple inches in camp with consistent snow flurrying.  Dwight and Lee’s guide would be taking our trip out of camp that morning on foot as Dwight and Lee did not care to go out into the storm that morning.  The night prior they had spotted a big herd with multiple bulls just above camp.  It seemed like a promising plan so off we went, hopeful that i could avoid having to make a difficult decision on whether to pull out that afternoon or not. 

[Elkfever]

Half way up the ridge, trying to keep up with our long legged guide, Chris, we realized quickly that we had overdressed for the hike up.  We finally stopped and threw our layers in packs and it was decided that dad and Cory would take their time coming up the ridge, following Chris’s and my boot tracks in the snow.  Chris and I would push hard to gain the elevation and cut off the herd before the bedded up for the day. 

It wasn’t long before we cut fresh tracks in the snow and another finger ridge later, we began hearing bugles.  We side hilled through the snowy burn until Chris froze in front of me.  A few cows had been feeding about 50 yards up from us when they caught our approach.  As soon as the cows took off towards the bugles in the next drainage over, Chris looked at me and I knew what he was going to say, “ we gotta get over there now!”  Already soaking in sweat, rubber legged and feeling the elevation kick me in the gut, I did my best to sprint after Chris but I was red lining as hard as I ever had on a hunt.  As I grabbed for branches and logs to pull myself up and over through the snow, I questioned how I was going to compose myself enough to make a steady shot if given the opportunity.