Hunting Washington Forum
Big Game Hunting => Elk Hunting => Topic started by: Pathfinder101 on October 26, 2022, 01:04:19 PM
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FAIR WARNING: This is going to be a long post. I know a lot of people have considered booking a Drop Camp for elk, and I know Colorado gets discussed a lot due to availability of tags. I am writing my story in detail, for those of you who are considering doing a hunt like this.
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I realized in a panic that I had forgotten to log back on. I am a teacher, had a classroom full of students and had forgotten to jump back on my computer and log into IDFG’s online tag system to “get in line” for my elk tag. I was 10 minutes late. As the bell rang, jogging my memory, I ran to my desktop and clicked back in. Sequence number 24-jillion-and-something… Oh Crap…
For the next 8 hours I kept the screen open, watching tags disappear. At 4 PM I had to leave for a staff meeting, so I dejectedly logged out of the system with 4,000 people still in front of me in line. All the tags in any area I was familiar with were already gone anyway.
I turned 50 this year, and had been saving for the last couple of years for a guided elk hunt. I took these things as a sign from the 8lb, 6 oz Baby Jesus that it was time for me to start looking around at states where I could draw an elk tag and possibly go with an outfitter. I knew with the money I had squirreled away and the points I had that I probably was not looking at any “big bull” hunts. Tentatively, with my hat in my hand, I went to my wife to discuss the possibility of booking a guide for my 50th birthday. She looked at me like I had lost my mind.
“You want to go elk hunting and not take Little Pathfinder?” She asked.
She was right. He had just gotten big enough and old enough last year for me to take him on his first elk hunt. It wouldn’t be right for me to leave him at home. Of course, I couldn’t afford for both of us to go on a guided hunt, so I started looking around. Immediately, I thought I had my problem solved. Colorado had OTC and 0 point elk tags and holy cow, the number of dudes that would sell you a drop camp for a couple thou was almost uncountable!
Sounded great until I started cruising internet forums and learning about these “drop camps”. Turns out; many of them sucked. Most of the comments were roughly the same: “Guy rode us a couple of miles up a trail and dropped us off at some wall tent that looked like a hobo camp. Walked around for 5 days and didn’t see an elk. Camp was close to a highway and the area was swarmed by hunters, etc…etc…”
I am a member of the Hunt and Fish Pro Membership Sweepstakes (they draw a guided hunt every 10 days) and had just received a letter from the founder Mike Deming. The letter had mentioned that if any member was planning to do a guided hunt to contact him since he had a lot of experience in the industry and could offer advice and recommendations. I decided to get his perspective, so I called and explained my situation.
The first thing he told me was that, yes; Colorado was overrun with drop camp “Outfitters” that would gladly sell you a $2000 horseback ride to a tent in the middle of “No Elk”. He suggested that I call a buddy of his, Trent Daves. Trent is well known for his mule deer and mountain lion hunts, but does quietly offer a very limited number of elk drop camps in the San Juan Mountains. A couple of phone calls later and I was booked for a first season rifle elk drop camp hunt starting in mid-October. We had to draw the tags, but Little Pathfinder and I drew them easily with 0 points. I didn’t tell LP about the hunt yet.
The day before my birthday, Mamma pulled LP aside and showed him the hunt. “This is what you and I are getting Dad for his birthday.” He was speechless when he found out that he was going too. Colorado, horses, wall tent, elk tags… missing a week of school…
Over the next 3 months I must have fielded a hundred questions about our upcoming hunt. Most of them boiled down to one answer, “I don’t really know. We’ll find out when we get there.”
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Finally, October 13th arrived. The instant we were both sprung from school, we piled into the truck for the 14 ½ hour drive to Dolores, Colorado. It would have been nice to take a day to get there, but we were already pushing it to take a week off (luckily, LP had conferences, so he was only going to miss 3 days and a cross country meet- I had gotten a grumpy note for my administration when I turned in my leave form basically saying “don’t do this again”…), so we pulled an all-nighter to get there in time. LP has his driver’s permit, so I let him drive for a couple of hours for the practice. We pulled into Dolores at 7am and texted Trent. He met us in town shortly.
We followed his truck and horse trailer for almost an hour outside of Dolores to the trail head where we met the wrangler Chase and started getting the horses saddled and gear packed.
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Little Pathfinder loves horses. I grew up with a couple but don’t ride much. We don’t have property for one, but he has friends that have horses, so he has ridden quite a bit. I was glad of this as we got saddled and mounted up. The trail looked steep, even though we were only going in a little over 3 miles. The horses were calm and looked strong though; well cared for animals. More about the horses later.
While we saddled and loaded, we got to visit with a couple of the other guys doing Trent’s drop camps. We were the only ones that weren’t “repeat customers”. The two themes of conversation seemed to be; this isn’t a “regular” drop camp, Trent works hard to put you into the elk. And, how did you guys find out about this camp?
Trent took a few minutes to point out a few places on the map (OnX pins he had sent me earlier) and make sure I understood them and to make sure that we had those things that get excitedly forgotten in the heat of the moment (ammo, orange, license, tags…). We also discussed the quality of bulls in our part of the unit. They had been seeing bulls during the archery season and knew there were a couple of smaller 6x6s, a 5x5 and a couple of raghorns running back and forth between the drainages that we would be able to get to and the ones we couldn’t. Trent dropped a pin on a basin that was only a mile away from our camp. “Hmmm, lots of contour lines there” I thought to myself. That’s ok, I am used to contour lines…
Soon we were headed up the mountain.
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It probably goes without saying that the scenery was spectacular. Rugged snow-covered peaks surrounded us. We forded icy mountain streams. The trail dipped in and out of small parks and dense timber. At a point, the trail split. Trent headed to the “lower” camp with a couple of guys and Chase led Little Pathfinder and me to the “upper” camp.
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Tagging along for this story!
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On the way up the mountain, our wrangler Chase (who doubles as an elk guide for guided hunters) quietly oriented me to the unit.
“Go to that basin that Trent showed you” He said “You sit there long enough and you’ll kill a bull”
The ride up the mountain was steep, but enjoyable. LP and I both noted that the whole string of horses performed as good as they looked. Before too long we pulled into a wide meadow (in Colorado they call them “parks”) that had a wall tent set up for us, stocked with a stove, wood, water, cots, an axe (no saws were allowed in the Wilderness Area we were hunting), a lantern and Jetboil Stove with plenty of cooking fuel (we had been told to pack dehydrated meals to save on weight). I had planned to get camp set up, then go for a short scout that night. Chase made sure we were settled in, showed us on the map where he would be sitting at first light if it were him (not the basin we discussed. He said we would not be able to navigate there in the dark because of the terrain), and took off down the mountain with the string of horses.
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I started unpacking our gear and food and LP took a necessary trip into the woodline. When he came back, his eyes were wide and slightly concerned.
“Dad, I’m out of breath…”
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It wasn’t like I hadn’t considered the elevation. I had seen the number on our map. But when you are sitting in your living room at 1,000 ft elevation and you see a number like 10,200 ft (the elevation of our camp), it’s just a number. Unless you have access to an area over 10,000 ft to train, there isn’t really anything that you can do except get in shape, and expect for it to suck. I have done a little mountain climbing before (years ago), so I guess in the back of my mind I knew what we would be in for altitude-wise. Or maybe I thought that it wouldn’t be much different than our 7,000 ft Idaho elk camp. I’m not sure what I thought, but I know that up to that point I had not fully considered how much the elevation would affect our ability to move. Little Pathfinder is a Cross Country runner, plays baseball and stays in shape all year long. He’s not used to being “out of breath”, especially not after walking 50 yards to pee behind a tree. He sat down on his cot.
“I don’t feel so good.” He said
Shoot. Altitude sickness. I hadn’t even thought about that. I remembered reading that young, lean people are more susceptible to altitude sickness than us old, fat guys. That seemed to be holding true. I figured some of the problem was that we had pulled an all-nighter to get here, and we were definitely dehydrated, hungry and exhausted. I made us a Mountainhouse and forced him to pound two bottles of water before bed. Our evening pre-scouting trip was cancelled.
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The next morning came way too early. I sat up on my cot and nearly threw up. I had it now too. I recognized that nauseous altitude sickness feeling from when I climbed Mount Adams. LP and I were both in rough shape as we literally choked down some oatmeal and water before hitting the trail.
Our intended glassing point was only a mile up the trail. I had allowed for a little over an hour to get to the point that Chase had suggested. I now realized that required us to climb to 12,000 feet. We got there, but it took a lot longer than I had anticipated. At the start of the hike, I tried covering 100 meters (I always keep my Army pace-count whenever I hike – just an old habit) before stopping to rest. By the time we reached our glassing point, we were trying to make it 25 steps before being forced to stop and gulp air. It was nearly full daylight by the time we could see the drainage we planned to glass.
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We set up and glassed until 10 am, occasionally throwing a locater bugle or a couple of cow calls down the canyon as Chase had suggested. When he had come up the mountain the week before to set up our camp, he had seen elk still rutting, bugling and keeping harems. Our calls drew no responses. At 10, we packed up our gear and pointed ourselves in the direction of “the basin”. Because of how we had positioned ourselves, the hike would be nearly all downhill. I figured we would make it there by around noon.
Wrong again. Between the blowdowns and the lack of a continuous trail, 1pm found us in the bottom of a drainage by a stream. We had come down 3 very steep timbered grades. LP was still dealing with altitude sickness (I would stop to catch my breath and he would be leaning on a tree gagging). I figured we had better catch some lunch and a rest. We stayed until almost 2, and LP, after gagging down some Ramen and water caught a quick nap and said he felt a little better.
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The uphill portion to break into the basin was surprisingly, mercifully short (and less steep than we had expected). As we topped a small, grassy, open finger we looked out into one of the most beautiful pieces of scenery I have ever seen. Snow capped mountains melted into timbered slopes that gave way to a long, grassy mountain meadow with a sparkling stream running through the center.
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Exhausted and bruised from negotiating deadfalls, we collapsed on the sunny finger between two tall fir trees. I laid out our glassing gear in easy reach and picked apart the open areas for yellow bodies. Finding none, I stretched out in the sun to catch a cat nap and wait for the afternoon shadows to form. Little Pathfinder dropped off the ridge with a roll of toilet paper at a fast clip.
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I was just starting to doze when I heard a clear, loud bugle from across the basin. I sat up and looked. It had come out of the dark, impenetrable timber slope 600 yards across from me. A few seconds later Little Pathfinder slid in next to me like he just stole 2nd base, wide-eyed.
“Did you hear that?!” he gasped
LP had spent half the drive to Colorado practicing his bugles and cow calls. I told him to throw a cow call across the basin. It was immediately answered with another bugle from the same place. LP answered with another cow call.
Suddenly, off to our immediate left, from down the canyon (and out of our sight) came another bugle. This one sounded much closer. Our view was blocked by several large fir trees. I realized that having laid out all my glassing gear had created a yard sale that would be impossible to gather up in time to react to what was transpiring. I grabbed my rifle and binos, LP grabbed his calls and we printed down the finger in the direction of the second bugle, trying to use the fir trees for cover. We dropped into place next to a large tree and I could see a herd of cows in a small cluster of trees in the park below, next to the stream. I couldn’t see the bull yet. He bugled again though, so I knew he was there. Unfortunately, our sprint had caught the attention of the cows, and they started to run towards the treeline. As I pulled out my bipod legs and got prone, I caught first sight of the bull, bringing up the rear of the harem of 8 cows and calves. The unit we were hunting in was a 4-point or better unit, and with the naked eye I could see he was legal. I found the cows in my scope and watched each one trot through my field of view. I estimated them at about 300 yards (yes, I forgot my rangefinder back at my yard-sale-later it turned out that the shot was 325 yards). As the bull entered my view I whispered for LP to give a cow call. He did and the lead cow stopped, causing the rest of the line of elk to slow from a gallop to a trot. The bull entered my scope at a slow trot. I put the dot on his neck and squeezed. The bullet sounded a meat-report and he dropped in his tracks. Only a spine-shot could have dropped him that quick (I found later that I shattered his spine just above his shoulder blade), so after he kicked and rolled over I put another shot into him for reassurance.
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After all the hugs and high-fives were done we gathered up our mess and hiked down to the bull. It took about two steps to realize that the “grassy park” was actually a marsh. Squishy black mud oozed over our boot tops on every step. I knew that quartering and keeping the meat clean was going to be a chore. We were pleased to find him to be 6 points on both sides. Not a huge bull, but certainly the best we had been told to expect. I would have been happy with a raghorn, those two extra points were definitely icing on the cake.
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Thanks, huge country, good stuff!!!
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After taking plenty of photos and tagging him, we got to work cutting him up. I have gutted and quartered elk before, and I have done gutless on a couple of deer, but I have never done gutless on an elk. I figured it would be the best way to get him broken down and keep from churning up the mucky ground and keep the meat clean. We laid out a space blanket to lay the quarters on. In two hours we were done and had the quarters hung up on a broken spruce tree about 100 feet uphill in the treeline.
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I sat down and sent a text with my In Reach to Trent. “Bull Down. Sending coordinates.” Immediately, he replied back, asking if he could get horses to the bull. I looked around. It had taken us 3 hours to get in here. Down 3 sheer, timbered slopes, over logs the size of desks over and over. I honestly didn’t know and I told him so. I sent him the coordinates. He cheerfully texted back. “Oh, no problem. I can get in there.” I was stunned. “He must know another way in here.” I thought. “No way he gets a string of pack horses in here the way we came.”
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LP and I strapped on our gear, putting both tenderloins in a bag for a treat later when we made it back to camp. It was now past 5:00, so we had 2 hours to cover a LOT of contour lines back uphill to camp before it got dark. Suffice to say, we didn’t make it back before dark. The first two hours we made it up the first two hills, dodging windfalls as best we could, often only making it 15 or 20 steps before having to stop and get our lungs working again. LP was suffering from altitude sickness again, gagging and dry heaving over and over when we would stop. When it got dark we did our best to avoid the blowdowns with our headlamps, but it was impossible. Dodging the maze of logs would put us off course, then getting back on course would put us in a mass of blowdowns again. We finally rolled back into camp after 9 pm, exhausted, sick, hungry, but happy. We were too wiped out to eat our tenderloins. We sliced a few bits off and dropped them into a cup of Ramen that we shared before collapsing into bed. We figured we’d save the rest for dinner the next night when we had enough energy to build a fire outside and cut a couple of roasting sticks. It was freezing at night, so I put the tenderloin bag on the folding camp table just outside the tent.
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The next morning Trent rode by our camp to check on us before riding in to recover the bull. He congratulated us, suggested an area to go while he was in the basin loading up the elk, then led his string up the trail. I still wondered how he was going to get in there with horses, but he didn’t seem concerned at the least. That night LP and I climbed up to our 12,000 ft glassing point and were met with alternating fog and snowstorm. We built a twig fire and kept it going while glassing until dark between fog banks.
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That night we got back to camp, expecting to start an outdoor white-man-fire and roast our tenderloins on sticks medium-raw and eat them like cavemen. I thought I was losing my mind when I looked at the table and it was empty. Nothing else in camp was disturbed and there were no tracks that I could see, but something had carefully plucked a 7 pound bag of meat off the table and made off with it. My best guess would be a Pine Martin. When I asked later, Trent and Chase agreed that this was most likely the culprit.
The next morning I had an idea. “Today, we are going to follow Trent’s horse tracks into that basin and mark our route on the GPS” I said. “He must know an easier way in there.” By this point, LP was over his altitude sickness. With the wet ground and a slight skiff of snow it was easy to find the horses’ tracks when they left the main trail in the direction of the basin. Ok, so far, the same route we had taken. We continued to follow the trail.
As it turned out, the route that LP and I took into the basin was the same route that he took those horses to recover my bull. Honestly, I wish I could have watched him do it. He must have been sliding those horses downhill on their butts in places, and how he negotiated some of those logs still leaves me puzzled. And then back out the same way with panniers full of elk quarters. I grew up around horses. I have done a few trail rides (I have never hired an outfitter or hunted on horseback before this) and LP is around horses quite a bit. We were both speechless when we followed that trail. I can say without hesitation that Trent possesses some of the most impressive mountain horses I have seen.
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For the remainder of our season (first season in Colorado is 5 days in total), LP and I hiked into and hunted that basin, hoping to catch another herd in there or a roving bull. Unfortunately, we never caught up to the elk again. True to most end-of-rut bulls, they clammed up and found a hidey hole someplace once the shooting had started. I had high hopes of Little Pathfinder filling his tag too when I was done the first day, but it just didn’t work out. Although we did gradually acclimate to the elevation, we were not able to get to a point where moving into farther drainages was feasible. Chase came to pack us out the day after the season ended.
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Chase rode us down the mountain, got us loaded into our pickup and pointed back in the direction of Trent’s place to get our bull out of the cooler. After some caping, packing, lashing and much playing with a cacophony of cougar hounds (a pack that looked to be in as good a shape as his horses) at Trent’s, we were on the road headed back to Washington to try to catch the last few days of deer season (more on that in another thread).
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We made it as far as Monticello, Utah that night where we got a motel room (with a shower!), and located a fantastic BBQ restaurant. I don’t think I need to illustrate to most of the members on this site what that first non-dehydrated-meal after 7 days in camp tastes like. LP is pretty sure that it was one of the top 3 meals he has ever eaten in his life.
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We got a good night’s rest and picked our way home the next day, stopping for a couple of hours in Moab at Arches National Park and to see the world record mule deer and pronghorn at Cabela’s in Salt Lake City. We decided that our chapped lips had healed sufficiently to attempt a platter of hot wings at Buffalo Wild Wings while we watched the Phillies-Padres game (turned out not as healed as we thought, but we did manage to get through that entire plate). We rolled back into Walla Walla just before 3 am on Saturday, slept 2 ½ hours and dragged ourselves back out (in the pouring rain) to try to take advantage of the only two days that LP had left of the general deer season before school and cross country practice would occupy all the daylight hours of his life.
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For those of you who have never done an outfitted drop camp, if you are considering one, I would offer two things:
1. Be very careful who you book with. Mine was great, but if I would have booked with the first one I saw that looked or sounded good on the internet, I am sure you would be reading an entirely different story right now. Get references from someone you trust before booking.
2. Ours was worth every single dime. When we hung my bull up in that broken spruce tree and started our 4+ hour hike back to camp, I would have paid any amount necessary to have that bull hauled out of that hole.
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Fun times! I’m glad you guys had a wonderful experience and hunt. Trophy to boot
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Hunt of a lifetime! Glad you guys got to do it together!! Congrats on your bull!
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Great story, thanks for sharing! I’m sure people are googling that outfitters name as we speak!! Lol
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Great thread- one of my favorite this year, between the writing and the photos! Thank you, Pathfinder! Congratulations to you and your son! What a great fall season for you two.
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Congratulations and thanks for sharing. That sure is some beautiful country you were hunting.
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Congratulations! :tup:
Cool story. Thank you for sharing.
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great write up, that's the stuff dreams are made of sharing that with your son.
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Nicely done, nice bull.👍
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Congrats, looks like an awesome hunt and awesome bull. That altitude is no joke!
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That is something spectacular right there! Always enjoy your threads with your boys. Well written and always a good story.
And if I haven't said this before in response to your adventures, I am 36, steady income, and up for adoption! :chuckle:
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Cool adventure. Way to stick it out. I've seen full grown men bail because of altitude so kudo's to the kid... :tup:
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Great hunt and great write up! Lucky as teacher to be able to get time off this time of year. I taught for a couple years and hated having only the weekends off during hunting season.
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Awesome read! Congratulations to you both!
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Great write-up and awesome hunt you guys had. Beautiful country and altitude will definitely get you, glad it wasn't worse.
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Great write up, great elk, great adventure! Well done, thanks for sharing!
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Nice write up and pics! Congrats on the bull! A dandy!
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Gentlemen, Thanks for all the kind comments. Working on a thread right now about my son's WA mule deer. I'll link it here when I post it. :tup:
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Awesome! Great write-up and pictures (like always).
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Great job for taking an awesome animal! And thank you allowing us to enjoy the adventure. :tup:
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Couple more pics.
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Congratulations! Now you'll just have to do it again next year so your son can kill a bull. The altitude sickness doesn't sound fun though.
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Congratulations! Now you'll just have to do it again next year so your son can kill a bull. The altitude sickness doesn't sound fun though.
Wish I could do this hunt every year. Unfortunately, it's not in the cards for me as a teacher. Taking a week off in October as a teacher/coach has been monumentally disruptive to my classes and my team. Praying for an Idaho elk tag and a 4 day weekend for 2023... ;) Little Pathfinder will be with me when we go. :tup:
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Awesome story and photos, thanks for sharing Pathfinder!
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That's *censored*. Your son is a stud for pushing through that. I remember my 8k foot Idaho mule deer hunting trip several years ago. Seemed like EVERY step even slightly uphill was a chore. 5 steps up was tough. And looking down some canyons where we could have popped a small buck - would have been insane getting it back up. Coming from the west side living around 200 feet in elevation, you forget that most of the west from Colorado to Idaho sits above 3k feet.
Great report. On my bucket list for sure.
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Thanks everyone. Here is the link to Little Pathfinder's WA Mule Deer hunt.
https://hunting-washington.com/smf/index.php?topic=274689.msg3728176#msg3728176
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Sounds and looks like a great hunt with your son, congratulations!
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Super happy for you. Great story and a great ending.
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Congrats Pathfinder!
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Excellent write up and a very nice bull! Thank you for sharing your story
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Congrats! Great write up!
Thanks for taking us along 👍👍
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Small world, I was one of the guides you met at the house. Btw packing that camp out in the snow absolutely sucked!
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Small world, I was one of the guides you met at the house. Btw packing that camp out in the snow absolutely sucked!
You guys have an excellent operation. :tup:
...Sounds like we skinned out of there just in time... ;)
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Great hunt, P and LP! Thanks for posting!
How many times did I hear while guiding in MT or Base Camp hunting in CO, "..Oh, they (horses)'ve got 4 wheel drive!"
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Nice bull and as always, a great story PF. :tup:
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Euro came out of the peroxide bath today :tup:
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Looks great. :tup: :tup: