Earning it on the front end

The plan today is to meet the bulls out in the open right at daylight, but to prepare to be out all day. We take sandwiches and several snacks, and plenty of water today. No midday return to camp, successful or not. We drive the side by side a whopping 550 yards and park, not even enough distance to drink a coffee. The first glow of dawn is upon us, and headlamps are unnecessary.

Quickly scurrying down a Christmas Tree harvest road, then a moose trail to a large creek, and up a frozen embankment on the other side that has us both doing a hands and feet scramble. Keeping a high line, we move from tiny hilltop to hilltop, working as many glassing lanes as possible from each forested knob. We work our way towards the grassy face the bulls were on the afternoon before, but can't find the right vantage until we are right above that face, 330 yards away. To my disappointment, they haven't moved; they're still on private land, by 80 yards, but are working their way towards public. There is a sliver of public land that they might cross before they go out of sight behind the trees and hills, and my buddy gets ready to shoot, just in case. Neither bull cooperates, making the timber before crossing the unmarked line. We're a little disappointed but know that we're still in the game if they bed on public, and they don't spook. We talk it over in hushed whispers, and ultimately decide to work our way around to the east and see if we can get the wind right to make an approach on their beds. The idea is to be near them when they stand up in the afternoon.

There are some pleasant bits to the hike around, the views are nice, lots of breaks, deer tracked paths through the needles and all, but there are also steep ravines, a precarious creek crossing, knee deep snow, and plenty of deadfall. We post up for a while under a pine facing towards where we think the bulls have bedded, roughly a quarter mile away, but the wind swirls as it begins to snow. We decide to put some distance between us and the area, hoping not to blow the bulls out. The snow is crunchy and loud, but that's less of a real concern than an irritation. The snow squall stops for a time, and we have nice views again as we circle a half mile away on an open hillside.
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We pass a couple cellular trail cams and sign posting a road, clearly on public land.

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We climb a low ridge, and set up for a several hour wait.
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We put on our puffy layers, get our lunches, and get our binoculars out to pick apart the several wooded hills across from us. This will be a cold wait with the wind.
 
We watch vehicles creep up and down the distant road. Some are hunting elk, some trees. Tree hunters are clearly the more successful.

As the hours pass, I can feel a bit of doubt. There doesn't seem to be a way to see what we want to see, where the bulls will reappear before moving out to that south facing slope, and we aren't aware of any other bulls in the immediate area. It seems as though we've got to be aggressive, go get on the knob right above their last known location. The real doubt comes in the form of what feels like an innevitability: we're probably going to barge into this area, and end up blowing out these bulls, and need to find more bulls the next day.

Around 3pm, we decide it's time to try something. A quick visit to a scenic toilet and we're packing up and heading down the hill. There are elk tracks and droppings everywhere as we cross a snowy meadow and start easing up the other side to the base of what we're calling the "single knob," as opposed to the "double knob" the bulls were on this morning.

I slow way down. If the bulls are bedded in the saddle or on the bench on the other side they're under 200 yards away right now. We navigate the edge of the snow line, trying to be as quiet as possible as we ascend, while not skylining ourselves, all the way to the top. I crawl over a patch of junipers looking for any hint of yellow through the trees. The trees are much thicker than I had imagined, and I'm frustrated moving back and forth. My buddy is right behind me, watching, waiting for any signal. I stand up in a couple of brushy conifers to expand my view, and pan 180 degrees. I almost flinch when I pan to the right. Far below us, down in the flats, a group of yellow bodies are shining in the last few minutes of sunlight. My heart starts racing. It seems like our bulls went farther than we thought this morning, but now there are 5. The closest one.
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A quick check of OnX has them just legal and at 550 yards. That's no sure thing. We have two options, descend on our route and try to make 400 yards through the snow to a lip 100 yards above the elk, or descend our ridge as far as we can before it cliffs out and hope that's close enough. When we run out of terrain, the ridge juts out into a tiny bench before the cliffs immediately below. It's 412 yards line of sight, 390 yards horizontal. I ask my buddy if he can make that shot, and he answers that he can, and has, but off a bench. It seems worth a try. I grab my spotter out of my pack and put my pack on the ground a few feet back from the edge to try to build a high enough rest for a sitting shot. His pack on mine, he sits down and gets in shooting position. We discuss the scope dialing, 4.75 MOA, and check the property lines again. There are 4 bulls on public, but 3 are almost 100 yards farther, butting up against the perpendicular property line. The close one is going to be the one. The bull feeds head on for a while, turns quickly broadside, but then back to head on. This goes on for several minutes, his head in the grass near a frozen lake. My buddy's arm is going to sleep, but the bull finally turns broadside. I remind him to check his cant, which he corrects, and he squeezes the trigger.
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The bull drops at the shot. It looks like it's in the chest, but also the spine. The bull is kicking a bit, so I say shoot him again. This one seems to skip off the ground and hit the bull in the front shank, possibly breaking it. The bull is still for a few moments, so we celebrate, perhaps prematurely. We pack everything up, ready to go back up to the hilltop and down the easier walking on the other side. I take one more look at the bull on the ground, but he's on his feet, somehow. In a hurry, but not necessarily panic, my buddy grabs some ammo, and drops back to a shooting position as the bull limps away. The next shot may have hit him, but he was still up. He's approaching the unmarked boundary, but the next shot drops him hard. This time he's done. We watch a bit longer, but he doesn't stir, and we both sigh in relief. We move up and over the hill, down a gully, to and through the deep snow of a sage flat, and down to the pond where he was feeding. There is blood and obvious evidence of the several minutes he spent there. We follow his trail, checking OnX to make sure he didn't cross. It is close. I draw a line in the snow a few feet away on the other side of him, still several yards from the property line, that we shouldn't cross, and we turn to admire this magnificent beast. The body is huge. I had thought this bull was probably the 3rd or 4th largest bull in the group, but a solid 6x6. His giant body causes some ground growth as we look him over. The widest bull I've ever seen on the ground, ends up being over four feet inside, over 50" outside. We take several minutes to appreciate what just happened and what led us here. We get a few pictures and set to work.

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My large animal butchering ritual is tag it, eat something, drink something, get out your tools, and go to work. As cold as it is, anything left will likely be frozen when we return.

Turns out the first shot both entered the chest and broke a couple vertebrae, but apparently didn't completely sever the spinal cord. Bad luck there.

After five hours, we have quarters in some somewhat inadequate sized bags (deer quarter bags gifted to my buddy as elk quarter bags), backstraps, tenderloins, cape, back skin, and skull plate all ready to go. We load our packs, and haul the remainder (the quarters, neck and trim, and backskin), 100 yards away and get it off the ground in a tree. This won't be good enough for bears, but hopefully make it less appealing to any other scavengers. We're hoping the bears are napping.

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Ivories and lower incisors pulled for aging. We shoulder our packs and start up the hill.

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It's a 100% uphill slog in the knee deep snow and dark, but no one quits, even after a poor decision on my part leads us across the creek at a different spot, requiring a cross back and much wasted energy. It's about 5 hours later when we finally reach the sxs. We both have pretty severe beard-cicles.

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We force ourselves to heat up some dinner and drink some gatorade, and fall into a exhausted, fit full sleep.

The next morning, despite the massive effort late into the night, we're both up far too early. The good news is that we'll have help by late afternoon. We make a trip back to the meat tree starting around noon, shouting our greetings to any bears on the way in, but the tree is undisturbed. We split the partially frozen neck meat into another bag from the shoulder bags to make everything more manageable. Shouldering what we can, we follow a far better route today than last night's snowy deadfall nightmare. Back at camp just before sunset, there's welcome news: @trb is close, and he's bringing pizza and beer. A good night of hunting stories and carb-loading ensues, and we cram into the camper for a good night's sleep. The plan is to start at first light, and have everyone home by the time kids go to bed the following night.

We mostly make that happen, partly because the generator runs out of gas at 557am, causing an alarming silence. @trb also brought donuts and yogurt drinks for breakfast, so there's a good start to the day!

The new route well broken in, we cruise to the kill site, take a few minutes to appreciate the scene, load up, and head back. @trb, being the freshest, takes the rear quarter that's left, @MtnElements grabs a shoulder, and I have the neck meat and backskin.

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This load seems to go more quickly than the other two. At the top, I get a "finally done" pic of @MtnElements.

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Back at camp, we take a few pictures,

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@trb and I return the sxs to the bottom, we all wrap up the meat and hide and cape up in a tarp on the trailer, and get going down the hill.

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I make use of my sense of urgency and zip to town in time to grab savory crepes for the three of us for a late lunch. Good news is there are no picky eaters in this crowd!

We end up leap-frogging our way home, which works out just fine, all arriving home around bedtime.

Big shout out to @trb who saved us a day and an extra trip to the meat tree, and he brought us pizza and beer! That guy is all class!

Reflecting on hunts like this: we build new bonds, cement others, and have a little fine and pleasant misery (R.I.P. PFM). The aches and pains (usually) go away, and we're left with the stories and a set of antlers to remind us of the time we set out to hunt elk, but came home with so much more than a trophy on the wall, but that's pretty awesome too.

Congrats on the bull @MtnElements, and I can't wait to do it again!
 
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The bull drops at the shot. It looks like it's in the chest, but also the spine. The bull is kicking a bit, so I say shoot him again. This one seems to skip off the ground and hit the bull in the front shank, possibly breaking it. The bull is still for a few moments, so we celebrate, perhaps prematurely. We pack everything up, ready to go back up to the hilltop and down the easier walking on the other side. I take one more look at the bull on the ground, but he's on his feet, somehow. In a hurry, but not necessarily panic, my buddy grabs some ammo, and drops back to a shooting position as the bull limps away. The next shot may have hit him, but he was still up. He's approaching the unmarked boundary, but the next shot drops him hard. This time he's done. We watch a bit longer, but he doesn't stir, and we both sigh in relief. We move up and over the hill, down a gully, to and through the deep snow of a sage flat, and down to the pond where he was feeding. There is blood and obvious evidence of the several minutes he spent there. We follow his trail, checking OnX to make sure he didn't cross. It is close. I draw a line in the snow a few feet away on the other side of him, still several yards from the property line, that we shouldn't cross, and we turn to admire this magnificent beast. The body is huge. I had thought this bull was probably the 3rd or 4th largest bull in the group, but a solid 6x6. His giant body causes some ground growth as we look him over. The widest bull I've ever seen on the ground, ends up being over four feet inside, over 50" outside. We take several minutes to appreciate what just happened and what led us here. We get a few pictures and set to work.

View attachment 352330

View attachment 352331

View attachment 352343


My large animal butchering ritual is tag it, eat something, drink something, get out your tools, and go to work. As cold as it is, anything left will likely be frozen when we return.

Turns out the first shot both entered the chest and broke a couple vertebrae, but apparently didn't completely sever the spinal cord. Bad luck there.

After five hours, we have quarters in some somewhat inadequate sized bags (deer quarter bags gifted to my buddy as elk quarter bags), backstraps, tenderloins, cape, back skin, and skull plate all ready to go. We load our packs, and haul the remainder (the quarters, neck and trim, and backskin), 100 yards away and get it off the ground in a tree. This won't be good enough for bears, but hopefully make it less appealing to any other scavengers. We're hoping the bears are napping.

View attachment 352333

Ivories and lower incisors pulled for aging. We shoulder our packs and start up the hill.

View attachment 352334

It's a 100% uphill slog in the knee deep snow and dark, but no one quits, even after a poor decision on my part leads us across the creek at a different spot, requiring a cross back and much wasted energy. It's about 5 hours later when we finally reach the sxs. We both have pretty severe beard-cicles.

View attachment 352335

We force ourselves to heat up some dinner and drink some gatorade, and fall into a exhausted, fit full sleep.

The next morning, despite the massive effort late into the night, we're both up far too early. The good news is that we'll have help by late afternoon. We make a trip back to the meat tree starting around noon, shouting our greetings to any bears on the way in, but the tree is undisturbed. We split the partially frozen neck meat into another bag from the shoulder bags to make everything more manageable. Shouldering what we can, we follow a far better route today than last night's snowy deadfall nightmare. Back at camp just before sunset, there's welcome news: @trb is close, and he's bringing pizza and beer. A good night of hunting stories and carb-loading ensues, and we cram into the camper for a good night's sleep. The plan is to start at first light, and have everyone home by the time kids go to bed the following night.

We mostly make that happen, partly because the generator runs out of gas at 557am, causing an alarming silence. @trb also brought donuts and yogurt drinks for breakfast, so there's a good start to the day!

The new route well broken in, we cruise to the kill site, take a few minutes to appreciate the scene, load up, and head back. @trb, being the freshest, takes the rear quarter that's left, @MtnElements grabs a shoulder, and I have the neck meat and backskin.

View attachment 352336

This load seems to go more quickly than the other two. At the top, I get a "finally done" pic of @MtnElements.

View attachment 352337

Back at camp, we take a few pictures,

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@trb and I return the sxs to the bottom, we all wrap up the meat and hide and cape up in a tarp on the trailer, and get going down the hill.

View attachment 352340

I make use of my sense of urgency and zip to town in time to grab savory crepes for the three of us for a late lunch. Good news is there are no picky eaters in this crowd!

We end up leap-frogging our way home, which works out just fine, all arriving home around bedtime.

Big shout out to @trb who saved us a day and an extra trip to the meat tree, and he brought us pizza and beer! That guy is all class!

Reflecting on hunts like this: we built new bonds, cemented others, and had a little misery. The aches and pains (usually) go away, and we're left with the stories and a set of antlers to remind us of the time we set out to hunt elk, but came home with so much more than a trophy on the wall, but that's pretty awesome too.

Congrats on the bull @MtnElements, and I can't wait to do it again!
@trb carrying a full 1/4! Oh man, that guy is just trying to join in on all kinds of hunts to up his cred! Hahaha

Great hunt and what amazing results! Heck of a bull and story! Looks like that good deed came full circle! Love to see when that happens!
 
@Bluffgruff is a certified hunt talk legend!

Cool bull, story, and glad you got it safely on the edge. Those scenarios are tough - I suppose that's one place where leupolds range/map marker would be really nice. I've always thought I could get "close enough" via radiuses on the map and my rangefinder - but if I found myself in that spot the "no doubt" aspect of that would be nice.
 
I’m lost for words over this hunt and experience.
As this story started I heard a friend was in a bad place with a Bison down in a blizzard and in Utah… my first thoughts were we gotta get him running and out of there! We made it out of there and @Bluffgruff was home and I felt really good that I could help bring him back home to family. Then a few months goes by and I get a text from @Bluffgruff with a link to his podcast he did on here about his experience. He said hey I hope you don’t mind I name dropped you today. You can listen here. Well about 3 hrs or so into listening on my phone and the wife staring at me from across the room I finally hear it and she rolled her eyes as I sat there smiling ear to ear feeling so happy I was able to help a friend! Well fast forward a few more months I finally drew a tag that I felt I had a real chance at a quality bull. I made it known to a few friends and my phone rang with offers to help! I have tried many years to get an elk and it just hadn’t happened but I knew at that moment this was gonna be it. I had several real pros in my corner! To be fair I had not read @Bluffgruff bison thread on hunt talk until it was mentionedIMG_9336.jpeg after this hunt. Once I read that I knew there had to be a follow up of some sort. Credit was due to the pay it forward friends I have met in this community. It’s humbling to me the time and effort that was put forward by people who in some cases didn’t even know who I am! I’d be lying if I didn’t say it’s a little emotionally overwhelming at times.
Thank you to @winmag @trb and @Bluffgruff wouldn’t have been possible with your time and all your help. It’s been a few weeks now and I still feel it. Oh and my ankle is still a little sore as well.
 
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