I thought about sharing this for a while. Wasn't sure I should share. I tried once on that other hunting forum. Was banned because I told someone to f off over a hockey thread (understandable). And when I shared this hunt there were folks who claimed I was lieing and said these elk were taken in Wyoming. I have never hunted in Wyoming and only fished in the Wind Rivers thirty years ago (I do have 10 pp points for antelope) But I love reading all the stories and enjoy the pictures of peoples hunts. I will admit I was a care taker in the Frank for three years and that allowed me to a lot of "research". And there is a thread on here from the exact same time, same year etc., that talked about two bulls they got (more by the middle fork).
So I found elk in areas through the course of my time there. My camp was 5500 feet off the Salmon River and seven miles back. That summer I had already figured elk migration patterns, wallows, etc. And so I knew I had three heards to work (this is the middle fork 20a tag early rifle and only stating this because it is in the rut and that tag is a huge area so not giving anything away.) I had spent time that summer packing thing up to camp and cutting firewood when i was there.
So the first day of the hunt I had two friends with me . We were into elk all day. A singing lovely blues parody. Messed up a few times times. That night the guys got a bad text on their garmin and had to leave in a down pour. Felt bad for them, the rattlesnakes are still out and they had to bush whack it out of there in the dark, 7 miles, 5500 feet downhill through nasty burn country (I had counted two dozen rattlers that summer in that drainage)
Next morning I head out in a down pour. First half mile climbing through an old lodge pole burn. Every now and then letting a bugle out (not aggresive). Finally about 2 in .
in the afternoon I bugled (a bit more aggressive, shout out to the elk nut) and got a response. It was below me on a hillside in an old growth forest covered in huckleberry bushes. Waited, waited, waited. Let another aggressive bugle followed by a few cow calls (I have no idea what I am doing just really excited) Instantly 200 feet below me he rips a beautiful challenge. I am in an old growth forest and he is tucked below me new spruce grove hidden in the old forest. So what the hell, I let out everything I could give into my reed. Holy cow! The most incredibly beautiful animal ( and I have shot quit a few elk in my life) was headed straight for me. Moving up and through the downfall like he is floating on clouds. I hasd to finally wave at him or he was going to run me over. He was coming to kick my ass.
At twenty yards I aimed a bit low with my 7 saum a regretably touched the round off. I say regretably because I felt sorrow. It seems the older I get the less I really want to kill things. This hunt would of been perfect if I didn't shoot him. But I did and he was delicious. So now I am 50 years old, 7 miles from the salmon and 5500 feet on my own. If you all want I can go into details about packing him out. It took me two in half days including the cape. But got him to the ranch and into a cooler, and a freezer for the cape.
At this point I had a friend ready to go. So after packing the last quarter out I headed back up to camp. The next morning we headed up through the downfall, up past where I had shot mine. Low and be hold this guy was hanging on my elks gut pile.
I have a relationship with that bear. A year after this he bluff charged me. And to think I gave him three gut piles and he always had huckleberries at want. But later that afternoon about four hundreds on that same hillside I called this guy in for friend.
To top it off on the last day of the b tag(the tag that ends on the day of September and lets you hunt on the first of November) my friends son ran up that mountian to camp (six miles 5500 ft, he was 19 and playing div I football and this was the covid bs time so everything was backwards that fall) and right at dark (we were half through a bottle of fortyfour north) he texts on his garmin he has shot a really nice bull right out of camp. We stumble up there and arrived at 3 in the morning. Helped him finish dressing it and then go to camp and lay down by a fire and sleep. Next morning (I am continueing this for a good reason) I get up and go to get water for mtn houses. Its a spring two hundred yards below camp. Hike back up and not more than five minutes had past and a lone howl above us where we had shot those two bulls, floated over the pines. Instantly right where I had come back from hauling water up the woods broke loose with a whole pack of canadian dogs serranading. You could hear the adults putting the pups into their place. I have three videos on my phone (you can't see the wolves) and i can't figure how to get them to my computer but the haunting singing in the shaded cool morning was so spine chilling.
Anyway that was the last time I have hunted elk. I have since moved to Alaska. I justed wanted to share this story because read a story in hunt talk about elk hunting in the Frank that happened at the sametime this hunt happened, gorry feat pictures and all. I hope this recap was enjoyable. It is not about me and I wish I was a better story teller.
So I found elk in areas through the course of my time there. My camp was 5500 feet off the Salmon River and seven miles back. That summer I had already figured elk migration patterns, wallows, etc. And so I knew I had three heards to work (this is the middle fork 20a tag early rifle and only stating this because it is in the rut and that tag is a huge area so not giving anything away.) I had spent time that summer packing thing up to camp and cutting firewood when i was there.
So the first day of the hunt I had two friends with me . We were into elk all day. A singing lovely blues parody. Messed up a few times times. That night the guys got a bad text on their garmin and had to leave in a down pour. Felt bad for them, the rattlesnakes are still out and they had to bush whack it out of there in the dark, 7 miles, 5500 feet downhill through nasty burn country (I had counted two dozen rattlers that summer in that drainage)
Next morning I head out in a down pour. First half mile climbing through an old lodge pole burn. Every now and then letting a bugle out (not aggresive). Finally about 2 in .
in the afternoon I bugled (a bit more aggressive, shout out to the elk nut) and got a response. It was below me on a hillside in an old growth forest covered in huckleberry bushes. Waited, waited, waited. Let another aggressive bugle followed by a few cow calls (I have no idea what I am doing just really excited) Instantly 200 feet below me he rips a beautiful challenge. I am in an old growth forest and he is tucked below me new spruce grove hidden in the old forest. So what the hell, I let out everything I could give into my reed. Holy cow! The most incredibly beautiful animal ( and I have shot quit a few elk in my life) was headed straight for me. Moving up and through the downfall like he is floating on clouds. I hasd to finally wave at him or he was going to run me over. He was coming to kick my ass.
At twenty yards I aimed a bit low with my 7 saum a regretably touched the round off. I say regretably because I felt sorrow. It seems the older I get the less I really want to kill things. This hunt would of been perfect if I didn't shoot him. But I did and he was delicious. So now I am 50 years old, 7 miles from the salmon and 5500 feet on my own. If you all want I can go into details about packing him out. It took me two in half days including the cape. But got him to the ranch and into a cooler, and a freezer for the cape.
At this point I had a friend ready to go. So after packing the last quarter out I headed back up to camp. The next morning we headed up through the downfall, up past where I had shot mine. Low and be hold this guy was hanging on my elks gut pile.
I have a relationship with that bear. A year after this he bluff charged me. And to think I gave him three gut piles and he always had huckleberries at want. But later that afternoon about four hundreds on that same hillside I called this guy in for friend.
To top it off on the last day of the b tag(the tag that ends on the day of September and lets you hunt on the first of November) my friends son ran up that mountian to camp (six miles 5500 ft, he was 19 and playing div I football and this was the covid bs time so everything was backwards that fall) and right at dark (we were half through a bottle of fortyfour north) he texts on his garmin he has shot a really nice bull right out of camp. We stumble up there and arrived at 3 in the morning. Helped him finish dressing it and then go to camp and lay down by a fire and sleep. Next morning (I am continueing this for a good reason) I get up and go to get water for mtn houses. Its a spring two hundred yards below camp. Hike back up and not more than five minutes had past and a lone howl above us where we had shot those two bulls, floated over the pines. Instantly right where I had come back from hauling water up the woods broke loose with a whole pack of canadian dogs serranading. You could hear the adults putting the pups into their place. I have three videos on my phone (you can't see the wolves) and i can't figure how to get them to my computer but the haunting singing in the shaded cool morning was so spine chilling.
Anyway that was the last time I have hunted elk. I have since moved to Alaska. I justed wanted to share this story because read a story in hunt talk about elk hunting in the Frank that happened at the sametime this hunt happened, gorry feat pictures and all. I hope this recap was enjoyable. It is not about me and I wish I was a better story teller.
