BuckeyeRifleman
Active member
- Joined
- Feb 12, 2019
- Messages
- 47
Most of all of us hear about on forums like these are the great successes. The fist timer who came out west and shot a 350in bull that dropped in his tracks the first day. We might occasionally hear about a not so great shot, but it's usually followed up by some miraculous miles long recovery. That said I think for everything we learn in life through success, we learn 100 times more through failure. There was no shortness on learning this trip, and doing a lot of that learning the hard way. I'm not sharing this story because I'm particularly proud of it, but rather so I hope some folks can learn from out mistakes without living through them like we did. This might not be a story of success, but it is one of a few harrowing moments, ones I won't soon forget.
So after a successful Montana Antelope hunt last year as my first western hunt I knew I had to go after elk this year. Not to mention there is a baby on the way and a deployment looming, this year was the year. I was lucky at snagging a leftover Montana elk combo tag (either sex) after not drawing a general combo. Likewise my hunting partner drew a 399-00 B (cow) tag.
After much research we decided to hunt the SW portion of the state. Now I won’t mention the district we were in, but given the experience we had I don’t think we are letting the cat out of the bag, as I’m pretty sure half the state hunts there anyway. I knew there would be pressure as this is a popular district, but I’m from Ohio, no way this could rival public land where I’m from, right?
We pulled up to the trail head to what should’ve been the first clue, probably at least 20 trucks and horse trailers. I was disappointed, but I figured it’s big country, get a few miles in we will be fine. Our plan was to get about 3 miles into this roadless basin, set up a spike camp and hunt from there. We wanted to use the pressure to our advantage. Now both myself and my partner might not have been experienced elk hunters, but we have a pretty good deal of experience in the outdoors, backpacking, and otherwise roughing it in not so kind environments thanks to uncle sam. We have both been through an intensive formal military survival course, and my partner was a former special forces operator. We felt capable of doing this style hunt given our experience, and based on the historical RAWS weather data felt we had the right gear, clothing, and knowledge to do it safely. We expected temps ranging from mid teens to high 40's most of the time. We were prepared for a dip into single digits at night if it came.
We got there Thursday night, hiked in Friday morning and set up camp. Right after setting up camp we heard chainsaws and voices; despite how far we walked an outfitter was set up with a horse camp only a few hundred yards away.
Weather was what we expected, low 40's during the day, 20's at night. We were downright comfortable. Almost too warm in fact. During our afternoon scouting we spotted a herd about 1000 ft above us and 1.5 miles away, just below the tree line. We decided they were a little to far/steep to try to hit the next morning, but we kept them in mind. We wanted to hunt the open hillside just above us where we saw lots of tracks, as it was right near our camp and seemed like a good ambush site for elk moving due to pressure.
Opening morning was slightly foggy, and pressure was as expected. Multiple hunters and horses were seen despite our distance from the road. No elk were seen. We decided to go back to camp, get lunch, and head out and try to find the herd we spotted yesterday.
Now, previously we had discussed not shooting elk at dusk, mainly due to grizzly bear concerns... we also decided to leave our sleeping bags and pads at camp, expecting we wouldn’t be that far away. Both of those became huge lessons learned as the evening progressed.
We made it back to our previous glassing location, and though it wasn’t surprising, we were disappointed to not find any sign of the herd we located the night before. We decided to push deeper into the basin and continue glassing. Finally, about 1.5 miles from camp, we located a handful of cows another half mile away and 500 ft above us. It was about 3:30 pm at this point. About 25 degrees or so. We hurried up the mountain to put on a stalk. The wind was good. We had terrain and timber in place to mask our movement. We spotted an open cow; 500 yards. Despite a lot of experience with long range shooting, I passed on the shot. I wasn’t taking a chance on anything that wasn't perfect with a live animal. We descended through a timber stand to cut the final 200 yards, doing our best to stay quiet. Finally we made it to the edge of the timber. I had an open shot on a cow at 285 yards. I offered it to my partner as he was limited to a cow and I had an either sex tag, but he insisted I take it.
I placed my pack on a downed log and rested my rifle across it. I dialed 1.1 mils according to my dope chart. I had a solid rest, I was steady. I placed the crosshairs behind the shoulder of a standing, still, broadside cow in the timber clearing and slowly squeezed the trigger. The suppressed rifle jolted, the cow jumped as if the hit was solid. I followed her through the timber, and despite not the best view I thought it appeared as though she toppled over.
I was elated. I knew I just killed an elk. I was as confident as I have ever been that I made a good shot. I hurried and threw on my pack. It was almost 5 pm. We would be fighting daylight to get this thing cut up and hung. I was also starting to realize I made a big mistake in my rush to stalk an animal; in my haste I failed to remove my warming layers I had on to glass. I felt slightly dehydrated and I was starting to shiver. Oh well, I just killed an elk, I’ll deal, or so I thought.
The 285 yard trip to that hillside was slow going, across a scree field and up an extremely steep embankment. It probably took us close to a half hour. Finally we made it up to the clearing where I had seen the elk. I saw tracks. There was fresh snow. Cool, a little looking around and we will find blood, and then the elk.
My excitement turned to surprise, then worry, then disappointment. What... the... f$ck... where is the blood!? I knew I hit that elk... I was solid. I didn’t flinch. I’ve done enough hunting, and enough shooting that I know when I make good or bad shots. This was a good shot, as good as any I remembered. I laser back to the treeline... 285. Am I in the right spot? I felt certain of it, and nothing left or right of me looked like what I saw through the scope. I circled around the area the best I could. I followed the tracks. Nothing. We searched for at least an hour without a single sign of a hit animal.
As sure as I was after I took the shot, after scouring that hillside I felt almost certain I must've somehow missed. We even found what looked like a bullet impact... Did my rifle get bumped!? Was I seeing things when I saw her jump, run off then fall in the timber? The light was fading fast, and the temperature was plummeting. I went to take a swig of what little water I had... it was frozen. I was starting to really get cold. My mouth my dry. We had 2 miles through rough terrain to get back to our camp, and almost a half mile to any flowing water. I looked at my thermometer on my chest rig... 0 degrees. The wind had picked up. As much as it killed me, we had to get back to camp. Now. This was no longer about finding an elk, this is about not freezing to death at 9000 ft 5 miles from any road. I wasn’t just shivering anymore, I was slurring my words and starting to get a bit confused.
I was pissed. Pissed I couldn’t find the elk. Pissed I hadn’t topped off my water at the last stream crossing and put it in my bag rather than on my pack belt. Pissed I didn’t take the 2 minutes to doff my warming layers when I saw the elk. These are things I know better than to do, but judgement seems to go out the window when all you have thought about for the past year are in your view. The hike back to camp was treacherous, we cut through the thick lower timber with almost two feet of snow. It was slow going via headlamp. I’m fairly certain we saw grizzly tracks. We stopped at a point to start a fire and get warm, maybe melt some snow to drink. It didn’t help much as far as warmth and melting snow was an inefficient way to get any water. We pressed on back to camp.
So after a successful Montana Antelope hunt last year as my first western hunt I knew I had to go after elk this year. Not to mention there is a baby on the way and a deployment looming, this year was the year. I was lucky at snagging a leftover Montana elk combo tag (either sex) after not drawing a general combo. Likewise my hunting partner drew a 399-00 B (cow) tag.
After much research we decided to hunt the SW portion of the state. Now I won’t mention the district we were in, but given the experience we had I don’t think we are letting the cat out of the bag, as I’m pretty sure half the state hunts there anyway. I knew there would be pressure as this is a popular district, but I’m from Ohio, no way this could rival public land where I’m from, right?
We pulled up to the trail head to what should’ve been the first clue, probably at least 20 trucks and horse trailers. I was disappointed, but I figured it’s big country, get a few miles in we will be fine. Our plan was to get about 3 miles into this roadless basin, set up a spike camp and hunt from there. We wanted to use the pressure to our advantage. Now both myself and my partner might not have been experienced elk hunters, but we have a pretty good deal of experience in the outdoors, backpacking, and otherwise roughing it in not so kind environments thanks to uncle sam. We have both been through an intensive formal military survival course, and my partner was a former special forces operator. We felt capable of doing this style hunt given our experience, and based on the historical RAWS weather data felt we had the right gear, clothing, and knowledge to do it safely. We expected temps ranging from mid teens to high 40's most of the time. We were prepared for a dip into single digits at night if it came.
We got there Thursday night, hiked in Friday morning and set up camp. Right after setting up camp we heard chainsaws and voices; despite how far we walked an outfitter was set up with a horse camp only a few hundred yards away.
Weather was what we expected, low 40's during the day, 20's at night. We were downright comfortable. Almost too warm in fact. During our afternoon scouting we spotted a herd about 1000 ft above us and 1.5 miles away, just below the tree line. We decided they were a little to far/steep to try to hit the next morning, but we kept them in mind. We wanted to hunt the open hillside just above us where we saw lots of tracks, as it was right near our camp and seemed like a good ambush site for elk moving due to pressure.
Opening morning was slightly foggy, and pressure was as expected. Multiple hunters and horses were seen despite our distance from the road. No elk were seen. We decided to go back to camp, get lunch, and head out and try to find the herd we spotted yesterday.
Now, previously we had discussed not shooting elk at dusk, mainly due to grizzly bear concerns... we also decided to leave our sleeping bags and pads at camp, expecting we wouldn’t be that far away. Both of those became huge lessons learned as the evening progressed.
We made it back to our previous glassing location, and though it wasn’t surprising, we were disappointed to not find any sign of the herd we located the night before. We decided to push deeper into the basin and continue glassing. Finally, about 1.5 miles from camp, we located a handful of cows another half mile away and 500 ft above us. It was about 3:30 pm at this point. About 25 degrees or so. We hurried up the mountain to put on a stalk. The wind was good. We had terrain and timber in place to mask our movement. We spotted an open cow; 500 yards. Despite a lot of experience with long range shooting, I passed on the shot. I wasn’t taking a chance on anything that wasn't perfect with a live animal. We descended through a timber stand to cut the final 200 yards, doing our best to stay quiet. Finally we made it to the edge of the timber. I had an open shot on a cow at 285 yards. I offered it to my partner as he was limited to a cow and I had an either sex tag, but he insisted I take it.
I placed my pack on a downed log and rested my rifle across it. I dialed 1.1 mils according to my dope chart. I had a solid rest, I was steady. I placed the crosshairs behind the shoulder of a standing, still, broadside cow in the timber clearing and slowly squeezed the trigger. The suppressed rifle jolted, the cow jumped as if the hit was solid. I followed her through the timber, and despite not the best view I thought it appeared as though she toppled over.
I was elated. I knew I just killed an elk. I was as confident as I have ever been that I made a good shot. I hurried and threw on my pack. It was almost 5 pm. We would be fighting daylight to get this thing cut up and hung. I was also starting to realize I made a big mistake in my rush to stalk an animal; in my haste I failed to remove my warming layers I had on to glass. I felt slightly dehydrated and I was starting to shiver. Oh well, I just killed an elk, I’ll deal, or so I thought.
The 285 yard trip to that hillside was slow going, across a scree field and up an extremely steep embankment. It probably took us close to a half hour. Finally we made it up to the clearing where I had seen the elk. I saw tracks. There was fresh snow. Cool, a little looking around and we will find blood, and then the elk.
My excitement turned to surprise, then worry, then disappointment. What... the... f$ck... where is the blood!? I knew I hit that elk... I was solid. I didn’t flinch. I’ve done enough hunting, and enough shooting that I know when I make good or bad shots. This was a good shot, as good as any I remembered. I laser back to the treeline... 285. Am I in the right spot? I felt certain of it, and nothing left or right of me looked like what I saw through the scope. I circled around the area the best I could. I followed the tracks. Nothing. We searched for at least an hour without a single sign of a hit animal.
As sure as I was after I took the shot, after scouring that hillside I felt almost certain I must've somehow missed. We even found what looked like a bullet impact... Did my rifle get bumped!? Was I seeing things when I saw her jump, run off then fall in the timber? The light was fading fast, and the temperature was plummeting. I went to take a swig of what little water I had... it was frozen. I was starting to really get cold. My mouth my dry. We had 2 miles through rough terrain to get back to our camp, and almost a half mile to any flowing water. I looked at my thermometer on my chest rig... 0 degrees. The wind had picked up. As much as it killed me, we had to get back to camp. Now. This was no longer about finding an elk, this is about not freezing to death at 9000 ft 5 miles from any road. I wasn’t just shivering anymore, I was slurring my words and starting to get a bit confused.
I was pissed. Pissed I couldn’t find the elk. Pissed I hadn’t topped off my water at the last stream crossing and put it in my bag rather than on my pack belt. Pissed I didn’t take the 2 minutes to doff my warming layers when I saw the elk. These are things I know better than to do, but judgement seems to go out the window when all you have thought about for the past year are in your view. The hike back to camp was treacherous, we cut through the thick lower timber with almost two feet of snow. It was slow going via headlamp. I’m fairly certain we saw grizzly tracks. We stopped at a point to start a fire and get warm, maybe melt some snow to drink. It didn’t help much as far as warmth and melting snow was an inefficient way to get any water. We pressed on back to camp.
