44hunter45's 2024 backcountry Idaho Moose semi-live hunt thread.

[noharleyyet]

I promise the pace of this thread will pick up soon. Just building tension...

Stuff you don't like for no good reason

Howd'y. The forum's been slower lately, which is understandable -- it's the off season. So here's a thread I hope will entertain me. I'm not a fan of 270 Win, even though it's a perfectly fine cartridge. I don't want to own one (although I do currently), hunt with one, or do anything with...

www.hunttalk.com

 

[44hunter45]

This is becoming everything @Big Fin looks for in a story. Triumph, conflict, hopefully perseverance and success.

I've been nursing MRS for a couple of days. Two negative COVID tests. Today the test came back positive. I'm moving to the basement until I leave for Moose camp.

 

[44hunter45]

Just back from a week of moose camp. A rocky start and painful finish. Type 2 fun and I home to take care of some things.

I finished packing Sept 29th. I realized you are never really finished packing until you get to camp and understand that whatever you forgot, you are doing without. I had all the essentials.
I shorted myself meds and that will come into play later.

It is a 5 1/2 hour drive by the shortest route to moose base camp. 4 1/2 by the longer route. SIRI has no understanding of USFS road conditions vs Interstates at 75MPH.
My notes from talking to the outfitter said to be in camp Sept 30. My iPhone calendar said "Sept 30, Moose Camp 4AM." I panicked and left home at about 11PM to get there by 4AM.
SIRI is a lying bitch. I arrived at camp at 3AM. The camp was dark and I put the truck seat back at went to sleep.

I woke up about 7AM to find camp completely deserted but for some mules with a manger full of hay. Absolutely Twilight Zone. I checked out camp and took some photos, then went back to the truck for a long nap.

Ray Holes is a legendary local saddle maker. These are very old Decker type pack saddles. The tack shed at camp is the original USFS cabin from before WW2.

The sign on the outhouse door.

I slept hard and woke up to find wrangler, guide, and returning archery elk hunters in camp. They informed me that they were not expecting me until the next day and that the outfitter had a family emergency and had to go home. They set me up in a cabin and fired up the generator. This got the Hughesnet and DiSH working. When I got my phone on the wireless it pinged a message from the outfitter that his wife had a medical crisis and he had to delay my pack-in for a day. He wanted me to arrive a day later. So much for that.

The outfitter told them I would be in on Monday evening because he had sent me a message. The message I never got because I was out of coverage drifting corners on USFS roads to get there by 4AM on Sunday. (Damn you iPhone and the idiot that created that calendar entry. )

I headed down to the river and caught my first ever Mountain Whitefish and a couple of West Slope Cutthoat in about 30 minutes. No pictures. I got tangled in some old USFS steel telephone/telegraph wire. I fell on my face but saved my 10' 5wt. That ended up becoming the theme for the week. (I will get to that.)

All genial company. An evening of dinner, FOX news & football on TV, and second-hand cigarette smoke ensued. The two returning elk hunters were planning on going out in the morning to do some calling. The outfitter explained the since they had been able to change their flights, they had gotten an extra day due to his crisis. He was taking them to Missoula after their morning hunt. He would be buying supplies and be back in camp Monday evening for a Tuesday pack-in. I hit the rack early wondering how the hell this was going to work out. I was confused about the Fupped start dates and still am.

The outfitter pulled out with the bow hunters about 10AM. The guide would follow him in a other truck, it seems. This left me alone with the 19 Y.O. camp hand/trainee cook. We did camp chores and got to know each other most of the day. We ended up hitting ot off really well. In late afternoon the other moose hunter and his son arrived in camp. I had not known there a was another moose hunter, but his tag was for a neighboring zone so I wasn't feeling too competitive. The son had a bear tag. They seemed nice enough. They set up in the other cabin. (I learned later that was a good thing.)

The outfitter and guide made it back by late afternoon and we set in all the supplies they brough back. Some for the stock and some for the humans. Soon it was time for dinner and another evening of FOX News and second hand smoke ensued. You-bake pizza from the ZooTown Costco. Pack-in day in the morning and I was getting super stoked. Before bed I thinned out my duffle.

Let the hunt begin.

 

[44hunter45]

For those that were wondering, I did not get COVID.

Tuesday morning we packed up the mules for the ride in to spike camp. My dad was a packer in the 1950s and my brother in the 1970's. I have always been awed watching a pack string loaded up my someone who knows their business.

My guide, Jeff, folding up the mantie top pack for all the hunter's duffles.

The black mule is "Wilma" and was my ride for the week. Redeemed at the glue factory door a few years ago and she is smart and sure-footed. She did most everything I demanded. There was a testing period for the first couple of hours until she learned I wasn't a push-over.

2 saddle horses, 4 saddle mules, and 8 pack animals. Only one small rodeo with a green pack horse. The outfitter and guide ride horses, everyone else gets a mule. As a horse man, I have no issue saying the mules were superior at this in every way. At one point I was leading Wilma through a blow down and watched her tip-toe on top of the logs.

Moose butchering the new way.


We are on the trail.


Wilma and me. Great pic, Eh?


8 miles and four hours in to spike camp. Only one blow-up. Two green pack animals broke string and Levi, the camp hand, was able to catch them quickly with some serious Jedi magic.

We got to Spike camp about 4:30PM and there was plenty to do before supper. All the hunters were put in one tent. Pretty soon my favorite Raylon Givens quote was in full swing, but I didn't know which asshole I was.

The view from the outhouse...

I was the last rider in the string. I never figured out of that was an honor, or I was the most expendable. My tent mates went out to explore the river and fish and I sat out watching this meadow on the off chance a bull showed up. Dinner was a full Thanksgiving spread with stuffing and all the fixin's. With a 4AM wakeup, I hit the rack after dinner. I soon learned that my tent mate was a light sleeper and would high beam me with his headlamp any time I got up to pee. Which I do a lot.

Settled in to spike camp.

 

[Elkmagnet]

I'm digging it!