Hunting Washington Forum
Big Game Hunting => Deer Hunting => Topic started by: boneaddict on March 26, 2008, 12:29:28 PM
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Mountainwalk finally stimulated me into getting these pics on here and to tell this story. The year was 2003. The freezer was already full with nice bull I harvested with my branch antler bull permit for archery, and we had already spent a week in the mountains camping with my girls. A baby sitter was lined up in the form of Grandma, and Rose and I headed for the mountain. We hiked into one of my favorite camps. I have hunted it successfully for multiple years. We “inherited” an old abandoned cowboy or sheepherders camp, that sits in a nice dark hole. We woke up bright and early and headed up the mountain. I was particularly interested in a ridge that I had seen many deer feeding on previously. It would be along shot, but manageable I figured. Another outfitter and his camp went in above, so I was hoping he would stimulate some movement. We got situated at shooting light and it wasn’t long before shots rang out in the valley across from us. I then herd running steps behind me. I got up from our post and went behind me a few steps in time to see a decent 4x4 running dead away from me. I could have Texas heartshot him, but hoped he would turn and circle uphill as they usually do. No deal, he walked away. I was still hopeful of him turning back up the mountain, so Rose and I headed down the ridge into a nice crossing. We saw several other deer and a couple smaller threes, but not the one we were after. A few more shots rang out above from another camp. We decided to work our way back to our spot. We were walking along when I spotted a deer walking our way. It was a nice buck but I couldn’t grow a third on him. When I spotted it finally, I told her to shoot him. He was a big old buck, already rutted up. She dumped him in one shot about 50-75 yards up the hill. She was using my 25-06. 120 grain Nozler. We were working our way up the rock ridge to get to the buck when I heard more deer coming. Here comes this little two point. He got about 20 feet below us when he stopped. Then all I saw was antlers coming up over the rise. He was about 30 inches. I knew as soon as I moved the two would blow and so would the big guy. I waited until I saw hair and swung up on him. All I saw in the scope was an eyeball and I fired. He whirled, I obiously missed, and following him were three identical 4 points, much smaller than him but nice. They all went straight up the mountain. I knew my only chance was to cut them off or shoot them before they cleared the top. I scurried up the rocks and with snow, which just started to come down, blowing directly in my face I swung up with my rifle, just in time for biggie to go over the ridge. I chose the next buck in line as he looked the biggest, and fired. He fell over backwards and slid down the hill. He regained tried to regain his feet and I put another one in him. The first shot had did some hellish damage to his front shoulders , and he wasn’t going anywhere. I was shooting 180 grain Hornadys in my 30-06 mauser action. This buck died less than 50 yards from Roseanns. The weather took a serious turn for the worst. I snaked both bucks down the mountain a bit to some timber and started gutting. I sent Rose back to camp to gather up her stuff. I met with her shortly and we pulled off the mountain. On the way down, I ran into a pair of guys from Seattle that had hiked in. They were standing there in the trail having a smoke talking when the first buck I saw ran right into them and they shot him. They had NO CLUE where they were. They had driven in from the coast that night and got out of their car and started hiking. I pointed the general direction of where they were parked, and I headed on my way. I would have offered to help them but I had two deer to deal with already. We came out and Idabooner got one of his famous phonecalls. Actually I went and knocked on his door. Rose went on to her mothers to let the boys figure out the rest. Idabooner and I headed into town to go check out some of the corals that Darwood keeps his stock, so that we could elicit some help. We happen to run intot he boys filling up as we were driving into town. Dad figures I am the luckiest man alive. We talked to them, and sorted out what stock we could use. We picked up one small horse from up in Wolf creek and then talked with another one of the boys and borrowed one of his mules for in the morning. Dad had his saddlehorse and one mule. We were set. WELL….if any of you remember the morning , or opening weekend of 2003, you can remember the snow and how nasty it was in the high country. Even with chaps on, I about froze to death riding into the deer. The lower country was just wet. Incidentally, those boys drug that deer out about 4 miles. I bet they never do that again. We got to the bucks and snapped a couple pictures. Those are the ones you see me posing with both bucks. As you can see, it was nice and wet and white. Halfed them and got them ready to wrap up and load. The first mule was easy. One a nice animal. For the life of me today I can’t remember his name. Seems like it started with a W. I didn’t think I would ever forget that. Then came the rodeo. Dad’s mule known affectionalty by me at this point as You Stupid son of a bitch. Would not let us load him. The last adventure had proven to imprint onhis brain. A Grizz had tormented him, and was right there when we were trying to load my moose. Apparantly the site of antlers now reminds him of that deal. We wrestled with that for sometime, with blindfolds, and vicks up the nose, you name it. I was aobut to give up when we finally got it loaded. Of course with all of his crapbird stunts we didn’t get the pack loaded right. We had a bit of crosscountry work and that *censored* jumped the log and the pack rolled. At this point if he would have moved he would have gutted himself and everyone around him and he held perfectly still. I guess they are smarter than they look. We pulled out of there as fast as we could at that point to beat darkness, and hypothermia. It felt good to have the truck heater blowing on us instead of that cold wind. One of you guys on here might recognize that little black horse. I think she was discussed and on a thread on here someplace. NOW my freezer was really full. We made lots of peppermint sticks. I hope you enjoyed the story and the pics.
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my little four
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Roseanns 2x3. This deer was the true trophy. Nice old deer, and took him out of the gene pool.
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Idabooner hunkered up under a tree, working his tail off.
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That little black horse has seen alot of dead deer.
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coming off the mountain
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swung by camp to get it picked up...
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Did I mention it was wet.....
So, thinking I had the world by the tail, I returned next year. Same hike, same camp, same schedule. I had 20 orange vests around me on that same ridge. Those two boys that shot that 4 point went back and told everyone where they got it. Not one of the guys I talked too knew anyone else onthe mountain, but they all knew those two guys. I guess they figured they would never go back. It was unreal to see that many guys hiked back into where I was. Needless to say, I went someplace else. Another honey hole RUINED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Great Story. Gives me the willies hearing about folks going out into the wilderness with no clue where they are, I learned that lesson once, never again. Nice bucks.
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Thanks for the write up. Looks nasty out there.
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Its hard keeping a good place good with so many eyes prying for info...........
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We made lots of peppermint sticks.
I was right along with you living your story until the end ???
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peppered meat sticks I guess. NO MINT
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Good story Bone!! One thing about a tough hunt, hike or pack over time you forget just how really tough it is. But then you go back and do the exact same thing again. But you have to figure if you spent the whole season hunting compared to a tough two day hunt you end up suffering less on the 2 day hunt. Plus you have the other days to helf friends out or just pound the pooch.
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Great story,its funny the situations we put ourselves into year after year. I dont know how many times ive said Im never going to this hell hole again. But ill find my self going in there for 1 lousy 2 point shed.
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We took to the River for some Steelhead fishing. I think I posted the pic on here of my wife and her first giant steelhead. Two casts and two steelhead, NOT bad for a first time. I had to put in a 100 hours first. It does help that she has a relatively decent guide.
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That was awesome, a great fix for the off-season.
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Loved the story and pics Bone! Your story serves as a reminder to start getting my lazy A$$ back in shape. Sittin behind this damn computer screen isn't helping matters. Thanks for posting!
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great story bone. That is exactly what i will be doing this year. I dont know if I will kill bucks like that but I will certainly try. That is the best thing i have read in some time.
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Thanks guys. I do enjoy writing. I figure this is our little magazine. If you didn't notice in the pics, we were short a pack mule, so we packed up my camp and hung it on my saddle. It meant I was walking out, but thats ok. I was just happy to be headed towards a warm fire someplace.
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Oh man do I know what that heater must've felt like for you guys once you got to the truck. It is crazy how it's trips exactly like that that bring a guy back the next year. At the time you don't realize it, but once you can sit back and reflect on it all you can think of is....let's do it again.
Great story.....great pics. I'd say you guys probably owed Steve pretty good after that too.
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Mostly I owe another old timer that worked for Steve for years. Ole Gordy is 70's and still going. Hell he might be in the 80's now. His mule was a lifesaver for that trip. Steve is a good family friend. I am fortunate to have him as my Dads neighbor. He is old school and knows what its like to honor our older generation.
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Great pics Bone, you horse and mule guys bare with me because I really do not know anything about horses or mules. Every time I see a picure of a mule the look like they are plotting something against you. Look at the second pic "coming off the mountain" if that is not a sh&t eatin grin I do not know what is, LOL.
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Oh no, you have it pegged right. I swear they are always plotting.
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Great story bone.
Slenk
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Great story and pictures, theres quite a few of those old sheep hearder camps in them hills, good places to camp out. Do you have any pictures or the story from the branched bull you killed that year, lets here it.
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Mostly I owe another old timer that worked for Steve for years. Ole Gordy is 70's and still going. Hell he might be in the 80's now. His mule was a lifesaver for that trip. Steve is a good family friend. I am fortunate to have him as my Dads neighbor. He is old school and knows what its like to honor our older generation.
As a matter of fact Ole Gordy is 82 today, he is healing up from getting his wore out hip replacement replaced again. Steve and I trade back and forth all the time, right now he has my mule and I have three of his horses, one mare will be foaling in a few days.
Alchase, a mule will always be watching you even if your a long ways away.
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Mules you love em or hate em.
I've had a couple of good ones and more that were not.
Slenk
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Great story like always!
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Bone Great story thanks for that. I haven't had the pleasure of packing out that way but it looks really cool, maybe someday! Who doesn't want to be like Bone!!! (https://hunting-washington.com/smf/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fi241.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fff122%2Fmray30%2Fworship.gif&hash=87b8aaf009fac9a5a6badf75e73a6129e33c0654)
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Damn, M_ray! Another great smiley you are bogarting!
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Damn DeKuma you got me again!
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:bash:
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how bout this one
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you win
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AAHHHHGG (https://hunting-washington.com/smf/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fi241.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fff122%2Fmray30%2Ffoul.gif&hash=de98ff7963ae6c711ec74d2d63aea1f82c9edf59) Dang it I knew you would figure out how to save them! now we can both Bogart them!
Sorry Bone we jacked your thread (https://hunting-washington.com/smf/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fi241.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fff122%2Fmray30%2Fthreadjacked.gif&hash=91dc18cb9b77e9b00d99d00ec99c2e1bbd36ad27) to have a little fun!
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Great story and pics! It is snowing over here, must be November. I better go find me a nice blacktail out back!
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No problem gents. Smiley away. It felt like November when I crawled into my truck this morning to go to work. 19 and solid ice. I feel sorry for my little soccer players today.
