whiskeydog
Active member
I'm not much of a story teller, so I'll just give the quick version. Four guys packed a few miles back into the mountains a day before opener with hopes of finding a few elk. The camp has been around for 30+ years and was started by the granddad of one of the guys on this trip. We loaded four horses down with the tent, gear and food and had camp set up well before dark.
We got up plenty early on the opener and all went our separate ways with our own best ideas of where the elk might be. There is an outfitter in the area who drops most of his clients off in intervals along the bald ridge on opener so that they can launch shots (most of them have never heard of 1 shot, 1 kill) at the elk crossing the ridge. There were probably 40+ shots heard within the first 1/2 hour of daylight. Knowing this, I planned on climbing a few thousand feet from camp to a meadow a bit below the ridge to see what I could find once the elk got fired up from all the clients firing away. I got to my meadow just at daylight only to find two other guys (not sure if they were from the outfitter or not) already there. I found another spot a ways off and sat till I got too cold before moving into the timber and working my way through some pretty thick timber towards another meadow in a bowl down below. A bit into the timber I noticed a set of legs walking 50 yards or so from me. I waited for a few minutes as I couldn't see well through all the timber and then moved towards where the elk had been. I started following the tracks slowly down towards the meadow, but about 100 yards from breaking out of the trees I heard a shot. damn. I walked out into the meadow to see another guy standing over my elk. I thought he looked like another guy in my party who was supposed to have been in that meadow so I yelled "WooHoo!" and scared the crap out of some guy I didn't know. He put his finger to his lips and pointed up the other side of the bowl to a 5x5 walking through an opening in the trees. bam...1 elk down.
Next morning, my dad (cowboy on here) went to one of his favorite meadows and a few minutes past legal shooting saw two bulls passing through. bam...2 elk down. At this point I was almost to the top of a nearby ridge to glass when he called me on the radio. I hiked down the mountain to help out.
Elk #2 boned and ready and I head back up to try to find the guy I was with first this morning. Hunter #3 calls and says he needs help down below. bam...3 elk down. hike back down the mountain, grab my dad, and we both go to help with the elk.
around 2pm on day 3, the last hunter connects. bam...4 elk down. he radios for backup and all three of us head his way to make quick work of that elk.
day 4 is nothing but running pack horses back and forth to get the meat back to the truck and day 5 is breaking down camp and headed home.
should have been an 8 day hunt...cut short!
...now, for the kitty. My dad was sitting in a meadow glassing a ridge a bit past midday. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, picked his rifle out of his lap, and swung towards the movement. A mountain lion had come out of the trees and was running right towards him! As soon as he raised his rifle the cat flipped a 180 and ran back to the trees. Of course, we didn't believe him, so I went to his sitting tree and started searching for tracks. I found the cat tracks and followed them across the meadow...closer and closer to his tree. When the tracks stopped and turned around, I took out my range finder and ranged the tree where he had been sitting. 11 yards
We got up plenty early on the opener and all went our separate ways with our own best ideas of where the elk might be. There is an outfitter in the area who drops most of his clients off in intervals along the bald ridge on opener so that they can launch shots (most of them have never heard of 1 shot, 1 kill) at the elk crossing the ridge. There were probably 40+ shots heard within the first 1/2 hour of daylight. Knowing this, I planned on climbing a few thousand feet from camp to a meadow a bit below the ridge to see what I could find once the elk got fired up from all the clients firing away. I got to my meadow just at daylight only to find two other guys (not sure if they were from the outfitter or not) already there. I found another spot a ways off and sat till I got too cold before moving into the timber and working my way through some pretty thick timber towards another meadow in a bowl down below. A bit into the timber I noticed a set of legs walking 50 yards or so from me. I waited for a few minutes as I couldn't see well through all the timber and then moved towards where the elk had been. I started following the tracks slowly down towards the meadow, but about 100 yards from breaking out of the trees I heard a shot. damn. I walked out into the meadow to see another guy standing over my elk. I thought he looked like another guy in my party who was supposed to have been in that meadow so I yelled "WooHoo!" and scared the crap out of some guy I didn't know. He put his finger to his lips and pointed up the other side of the bowl to a 5x5 walking through an opening in the trees. bam...1 elk down.
Next morning, my dad (cowboy on here) went to one of his favorite meadows and a few minutes past legal shooting saw two bulls passing through. bam...2 elk down. At this point I was almost to the top of a nearby ridge to glass when he called me on the radio. I hiked down the mountain to help out.
Elk #2 boned and ready and I head back up to try to find the guy I was with first this morning. Hunter #3 calls and says he needs help down below. bam...3 elk down. hike back down the mountain, grab my dad, and we both go to help with the elk.
around 2pm on day 3, the last hunter connects. bam...4 elk down. he radios for backup and all three of us head his way to make quick work of that elk.
day 4 is nothing but running pack horses back and forth to get the meat back to the truck and day 5 is breaking down camp and headed home.
should have been an 8 day hunt...cut short!
...now, for the kitty. My dad was sitting in a meadow glassing a ridge a bit past midday. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, picked his rifle out of his lap, and swung towards the movement. A mountain lion had come out of the trees and was running right towards him! As soon as he raised his rifle the cat flipped a 180 and ran back to the trees. Of course, we didn't believe him, so I went to his sitting tree and started searching for tracks. I found the cat tracks and followed them across the meadow...closer and closer to his tree. When the tracks stopped and turned around, I took out my range finder and ranged the tree where he had been sitting. 11 yards
