Four bearded fools on a Blue Ribbon adventure

[JLS]

This season my buddy Ted and I (actually I alone and he just trusted me) decided to hunt a new zone in Idaho. We bought tags early. Another longtime friend, Rich, wanted to come with but waited too long and the zone tags sold out.

Fast forward through the summer, and Ted had to bail from the hunt, but Rich was able to buy a leftover tag. I’ve known Rich for 33 years. His dad taught me much of what I know about hunting, and I was glad to have him along. I was also really bummed Ted wouldn’t join us.

We launched into an enormous elk zone with no experience there whatsoever. Two friends, two Drahthaars, and a bunch of time off. Rich owns a half brother to Finn, and he is a wonderful dog.

Requisite supplies.




It was 80 degrees and smoky when we hit the trailhead. We decided to start the trip with a Pabst Blue Ribbon. I’m a self admitted beer snob, but I’ll admit the PBR ain’t bad and it’s a hell of a lot cheaper than an IPA.

We lined out down the trail towards a predetermined campsite. Unfortunately, the water I had scouted was now dried up. Fortunately, we found an alternate source we could hike to.

Home.



The best laid plans of mice and men, or some shit like that. We glassed that evening through the smoke to see a tent right in the middle of the basin we planned to hunt. We ran into two other guys camped near us. Turns out they were bivy hunters who bit off way more than they could chew. They were gone by Friday.



I did a big loop around a drainage on Friday. Tons of old sign, absolutely nothing within the last week or so. I dropped about 1900 feet from camp without cutting a fresh elk track or hearing a bugle.





Friday evening brought a huge change in weather. 40-50 mph gusts almost folded up the Copper Spur. The moon dust we were camped in was blowing underneath the rain fly in clouds. My tent looked like a potato field inside from all the dirt. I was relieved when the rain came.

And rain it did. In sheets. I woke up on Saturday to fog and 30 yards visibility. Then more rain. And wind. And fog. It ended up being a complete weather day where our only meaningful accomplishment was reorientation of the tents into the wind. And some whiskey. And a nap. And a fire.

Boy Scout skills.



Parting of the storm.



Nightcap.

 

[JLS]

The day after the storm broke was beautiful. We filled up water and then I skirted around a basin. It was a little sketchy, but scenic.



I hunted way down the ridge to almost the bottom. Same story, elk sign absolutely everywhere, but nothing fresh.

Wingman on lookout.




I worked my way down and got caught in an alder and ceanothus hell hole. Some cussing and climbing and I was free.



I spent the entire day in this basin and then climbed out at dusk.



Sunday evening we had a powwow. Rich had hunted a ridge system to the south, with the same results. We were both pretty convinced we weren’t elk hunting where the elk were. We decided to pull out on Monday and move on to plan B. We just weren’t sure yet what that was.

On Monday we drove around some, glassing and drinking a beer. We had some really solid intel on where a bull was located, but both Rich and I agreed we were more interested in learning to HUNT the unit rather than a mercenary kill.

We relocated to an area I had scouted in the summer. Looking at the forecast we opted to set up the wall tent and embrace some creature comfort.




Yours truly made a little planning error. Before I left home I thought for sure my chainsaw was full of gas and oil. It was not. I got about seven pieces cut before my saw died. We had barely enough time to get into town before the local store closed.

We figured the two hour round trip was worth bacon cheeseburgers and milkshakes. I had my 49th birthday dinner courtesy of Rich. Upon return I made some saw mix in an empty Gatorade bottle and cut firewood via headlamp.

We fired up the Riley wood stove, had a PBR and discussed strategies for tomorrow. We knew going into the hunt this was a zone with very low elk densities, and had the mental mindset it was going to be a tough hunt. We also knew the feed up high was all burned out, so we opted to hit the steep and nasty shit the River of No Return is known for.

 

[JLS]

On Tuesday we hiked into an area I had scouted in the summer. It’s absolutely amazing looking habitat.



“I never knew a man who took a bedroll into an Idaho mountainside and slept there under a star-studded summer sky who felt self-important that next morning.”

The late Senator Frank Church



Rich and I sat on a ridge with dogs, glassing endless miles of wilderness. We did a little cow calling and suddenly heard branches break to our left. We then heard the unmistakable sound of a bull raking a tree. We did our darnedest to coax him out, but the wind was sketchy and I think we got busted. Oh so close, yet neither of us had actually physically seen an elk yet the entire trip.

The bearded fools







We hiked out in the dark. We fired up Riley and had a PBR, dinner, and Copenhagen for desert. That night we had front row cots to a wolf serenade. They must have been hunting. I’d never heard vocalizing like this. It was fascinating. Bulliet gave a growl from his crate just to show he’s a backcountry badass.

 

[JLS]

On Wednesday we went to the same basin, only earlier. I hit the ridge right at daybreak. Not an elk, not a bugle. We split up. I went high, Rich went low.



After we linked back up, we decided to head up the old pack trail to some likely looking spots further up the mountain.

Relics of old elk camps (aka litter).




We continued up the ridge to the point where I had determined we should cut around to hit the apparent meadows on OnX. To my surprise we found a pack trail. Say wut? We decided to walk it out. I was certain it would lead to an outfitter camp, and we would bushwhack to the trailhead from there.

We followed the trail a long ways, and Rich said something along the lines of “I’ll eat horseshit if there is still an outfitter camp at the end of this”. The trail dropped and dropped. Rich suggested we were in a parallel time dimension.

Finally the trail kicked us out right by camp. We ditched our packs and traded boots for tennis shoes and a PBR then walked the mile and a half to the trailhead to get the Toyotas.

Rich said hunting with me was like hunting with his dad. I took that as about the highest compliment I could receive from him. Rich had to go home the next morning, and we burned a lot of firewood and drank whiskey well into the night.

We talked about life, adventures past, present and future.

 

[JLS]

It was raining the next morning. I was bummed Rich had to go. I still had another week off, but in all honesty it was a mental struggle. I missed my family and was contemplating going home. I drove into town with Rich and we had chicken fried steaks for a send off breakfast.

I drove back to camp in the rain. I donned my rain gear and set out on an old fire trail a local guide told us about. Rain came down in buckets. I saw a couple whitetail deer, but no elk. By midday I dropped into this basin.



I realized I had watched fall transform the mountains. It was no longer summer. I finally heard a bugle. It was faint and I wondered if I was hallucinating. I worked down the ridge. I paid homage to the whitetail who lost this.



I finally heard the bull late in the afternoon. Thermals were doing weird stuff, so I opted to back out and come in very early the next day.

Friday I left the truck early. I was in the old burn well before daybreak and sat down to listen. Finally, just after sunrise I heard the bull chuckling again. I started moving slowly through the burn.

I stepped up onto a giant deadfall, probably waist high and 16-18” in diameter. I looked to my right and saw a bedded cow at about 70 yards. The wind was in my face. I knew I couldn’t get down because the alders were too tall. Finn was on the same log and I whispered to put him into a down stay on the log. I chambered a round, as I no longer carry hot @Big Fin.

She got nervous and stood up, then another, and another, till finally six elk were milling around. They started to line out of though the timber. I could see several small bulls. The last one stopped to look back. I settled the crosshairs and pressed the trigger. The .280 barked.

Mayhem ensued. I immediately chambered another round. I could see the bull lunge up the hill and I knew it was a good hit. I saw a spike run over the ridge, and in disbelief wondered it that was the elk I shot.

I immediately found blood where I had shot the bull. With Finn by me, we started work the blood track up the hill.

This should dispel the myth copper bullets don’t leave a good blood trail.



We continued up the hill for about 15 yards and the blood seemed to stop. I looked to my left and saw this.



No gummy bears.



At 6:40, I notched my tag. This knife was a birthday present from Ted on my 40th birthday.



I’m not going to lie, I was as excited and emotional about this spike as the biggest bull I’ve ever shot. I was sad Ted or Rich weren’t there with me. I had really hoped to pack elk for them and not myself.

Knowing rain was in the forecast, I got with the program. I had him processed and bagged in an hour and a half.



I decided to three trip him.



The Toyota hauled its first kill and I cracked a PBR for Rich.



I hate breaking camp solo, but I had another PBR and got to work. With the rain, I’ll have some serious gear cleaning to do.

Leave only tracks, and maybe some firewood.



The end.

 

[kansasdad]

Interest piqued.

 

[crock239]

Congrats on a well-earned bull! Great story and pics too.

PBR was my collegiate go-to....I've since also succumbed to beer snobbery but a little back-sliding never hurts!

 

[JohnCushman]

Congrats!! Great story!

 

[Letthemgrow]

Those are some great looking dogs.
Congrats on what sounds like a fantastic experience.

 

[ashersdad]

Great write up! Love hearing about the highs and lows of a hunt. You'll have memories of this one forever. Congrats!

 

[noharleyyet]

Good story, awesome pics, metrosexual manscaping thematics, tasteful blood shots, and a clean camp exit..kudos JLS

 

[Deleted member 40728]

Congrats. Thanks for sharing. A good PBR is a nice ending to any day!

 

[PNWGator]

Freskin’ AWESOM! Couldn’t be happier for you. Thanks for a great trip report and photos.

 

[Dan O]

Congrats!!! Great photo's and story. Thanks for taking us along.

 

[prhunter]

Congrats on your harvest. Cool story to go with it. TFS

 

[Sytes]

Very nice! Grats! Enjoyed the story and the pics my internet has been able to load thus far.

edit added: Great quote!

“I never knew a man who took a bedroll into an Idaho mountainside and slept there under a star-studded summer sky who felt self-important that next morning.”

The late Senator Frank Church

 

[rtraverdavis]

Now there’s a hunt story. Great mix of prose and photos. I know the feeling of being the last out after friends or family have had to leave camp, and for some reason there’s more loneliness in that than if I were solo the whole time. Glad you made the best of it, and got to have Finn along for the whole experience. Congratulations on the bull!

 

[Nameless Range]

You hunt rough country and tell the story well. Congrats! Thanks for sharing.

 

[BAKPAKR]

Great story and congrats on the bull!

 

[chuckchili]

Great pics and story of perseverance.