Two of my closest friends, and my Wyoming buddies son and I started planning this trip in 2009. It all came to light when we got our 2011 elk tags in the mail early this spring. Lots of planning and a get together to discuss plans made the summer go by very quickly. This was going to be my first hunt in Wyoming since I left there in 1991. We pulled out of town on October 15th and planned on going as far as Pocatello, ID where we would stay the night. The next day we made the 6 1/2 hour trip to the dirt road that would lead us to camp. We arrived in camp around 3:30 pm on Sunday October 16th, and quickly set up so we could get in a little glassing before dark. We did not see much that night, except for some beautiful country. As I was getting ready for bed I thought to myself, Monday morning could not come soon enough.
Day 1
We awoke to snow at 4:30 am, and my excitement grew in anticipation of chasing big bulls. We cut some fresh tracks first thing in the morning, but as they came to a clearing in the sun we lost track of him and gave up the chase. By that evening all of the snow had melted in the area we were hunting so we decided the next day we will go higher. Day 1 ended with no sightings, and hurting lungs. It had been so long since I was active at that elevation my body definitely needed time to adjust.
Day 2 awoke at 4:30 am again and headed for our spot up high. As we approached the top of the hill we cut fresh bear tracks, too small to be Grizzly so we will be ok to work the area. We split up as we reached the top and I elected to cut across and work the other side of the ridge. It took me almost an hour to quietly work across to the other side, and start working towards the meeting point. I stepped out into the opening on the other side of the ridge and was instantly disappointed because all I could see were orange dots on the distant hills. My first thought "am I in Washington!" Oh well there is no visible sign on this side of the hill so I need to get to hunting. After about another hour I am slowly working the ridge and I jump 3 does (they are much bigger in Wyoming than they are here). I watch them stotting away, and try to calm myself from their explosive movement. Onward because I am looking for elk, then from the direction of my friends BOOM, BOOM, (insert 10 second pause) BOOM!! My buddy comes over the radio we got an elk down; it’s a nice 5x6 with lots of mass! I am pumped when he tells me it was my buddy from Wisconsin. This elk was very special to him for many reasons. It signified the first animal we harvested together, his first elk, and he was shooting a rifle given to him by his grandpa on his death bed with a special request to harvest an elk with it. We spent the rest of that day and the first half of the next getting his elk off the mountain. I t was 2 miles to the truck and the temps were in the 40's so we had no reason to rush, and miss out on the enjoyment of the first animal in camp.
Day 4 hunting resumed, and we awoke at 4:30 am again. With the masses of weekend hunters finally gone we were able to cover more ground without seeing anyone, what a relief. Today seemed to prove uneventful, except for more bear tracks, and my buddies saw some moose.
Day 5 which has now become "The Dreaded Day" in my book. Something about day 5 of getting up early and working your tail off without seeing animals can wear down even the strongest of men. It took a lot of motivational talks from my buddies to keep me going and make it through the day. By day's end I was feeling better and had found an area that looked to be promising. I will never forget day 5, and I feel now I will be better prepared to handle future day 5's as well.
Day 6 and 7 were both uneventful; and I was to the breaking point. I told everyone in camp that I don't care if it has spots it is coming home with me!! I had come to the conclusion that after 7 days of seeing nothing I needed to shoot the first elk I saw.
Day 8 I decided to venture into new territory. I was going to a place that my Wyoming buddy had been to once on his first opening weekend in Wyoming and he said it was camper city. I thought it could not get worse than it has been considering we were not seeing any elk. We get to a narrow spot in the road and decide to park because we do not know what is ahead of us. My buddy that shot his elk decided to come with us today, because sitting alone in camp was no longer fun. We started to walk down the road as my other friend was getting ready. We noticed a large parking area down the road a ways and radioed back to tell the other buddy, also the driver that day, to bring the truck down to the better parking area. I heard the truck start and it was slowly moving towards us, I cleared a big pine tree that was blocking my view of the open hillside and I SEE AN ELK! I yelled elk, put my binoculars up and proceeded to tell my buddy it was a bull. He instantly turned and ran up the road to stop the truck from coming any further, and possibly messing the situation up. I quickly ranged the bull at 479 yards, too far so I take off uphill to better my position. I have a habit of charging to hard at animals, so I got to a point behind a tree and took a look at the bull and he was a small 5x5. I had to tell myself to play it smart on this one, or I may very well end up going home empty handed. I dropped my pack and proceeded to slowly move up hill, using all the pine trees possible to cover me from the bull. I radioed my buddy to make sure he could see me and the elk, and he told me they were moving off towards the trees pretty rapidly. At this point I thought I was going to lose him so I sped things up. I got to a point where there were no more pine trees between me and the bull. I did not range him because it still felt too far; I crouched down and waddled closer. The bull turned and looked at me so I froze, I pulled out the range finder and he was 279 yards. Close enough as my most common practice distance is 250 yards. I was shooting uphill, which gave me the opportunity to lay down for the shot, and before I even looked through the scope I told myself "don't look at his antlers". He was quartering away steeply and going uphill so I held just a little high, and a little forward. I figured he was going to be moving uphill and as soon as he went broadside I would take the shot. After what felt like an eternity, the bull was 2 steps from never being seen again so I told myself now or never. I put the crosshairs in place and started to squeeze the trigger. The shot startled me and I looked up to see him running for the trees. I jacked another shell in and got the crosshairs on him in time to see him disappear. At this point I have never had so many thoughts and emotions running through me, and I had to sit down while my buddies caught up to me. We went up the hill to look for blood because I was sure I shot to high. (In 2010 I missed a big boar at 220 yards by shooting over his back, and it was almost the same scenario exactly!!) I arrived at the location that was closest to the impact point that I could tell based on his tracks. No blood!! I was really getting worried, so I asked my friend who was watching through the binos (he could see me in the bottom edge and the elk in the upper edge at the same time) if I hit him. His answer was "well something made his side ripple." With my confidence somewhat restored I continued to track the elk and meticulously look for blood. Every 10 yards or so I would mark the tracks and expand my search for blood, still nothing. After the 5th stop to look for blood I was scratching my head and decided to sit for a second to replay the shot in my head. As I turned downhill to sit I caught a glimpse of an elk antler, and there he was my first branched antler bull!! Not to mention my buddy from Wisconsin who I have been hunting with for the last 6 years was with me.
Days 9-11 involved a lot of running around getting meat to and from the processor, and packing camp.
The memories of this hunt will last forever, and I am already looking forward to elk camp 2012!!
