This will be a a bit of a read, but I'm a little bit on cloud nine, a little bit in shock, and mostly still wondering if I'm awake.
So early last July I found myself retreating from the heat at the Wharf in Gulf Shores AL with my Father in Law and Brother in Law in a jerky shop. It was near 100* outside, the wives were dragging us all over the place, and I was sweating out my shirt at a plump 245ish pounds. It was cool inside that jerky shop, a nice relief from the heat for a big boy. As we tried samples we were admiring the taxidermy. One was a very nice bull elk, I wish I had taken a picture of it. I was staring up at it, wiping sweat off my face, standing next to my FIL.
"I'm gonna hunt those, one day" I said to my FIL. He replied something about how expensive it had to be, and wished me luck.
That evening I got on Rokslide, 24HCF, and some others and started a journey. I already had an accounts there, but that was more for equipment research for whitetail hunting. Everyone down here in Alabama knows that the more expensive your rifle, scope, and camouflage is the better the hunter you are. I was already 7 months into a Cooper 92 280AI that I dropped a god awful amount of cash on to make myself a better hunter, of course. Welp, got that checked off.
What else do I need? Never carried a pack whitetail hunting. $100 Alps on Amazon? That'll work. Wait no, a Tenzing looks cool. Wait no, the forums says Kifaru or die. Wound up with a Kifaru Reckoning for that first fall, thanks again Rokslide.
Where do I go? What's a tag? How do I get one? Regulations? What are regulations? In Alabama you buy your $25 license every year and that's it. Don't shoot one after dark or on the neighbors land during the 4.5 month season and you'll be golden.
I settled on CO. Not sure why, just seemed like the logical landing pad for the easiest route to get started. Of course I started looking at units in the SE corner of the state. Started crunching % of public land, success rates, etc. This gradually led me more into the interior of the state. I ordered piles of maps to pour over at home. I wound up picking a unit near Gunnison, and a particular area in that unit just based on the fact people said you shouldn't go there. Seems to have worked.
Meanwhile, had to get to work on my fat a$$. Got a gym membership, and me and a buddy started working out before work every day. Started eating a lot better too. Weight came off quickly at first. By the time we were leaving for our first hunt in October for 2nd rifle season, I was down from 247 to 213 lbs.
I should also throw in a blurb about my awesome friends. When I started this journey I hedged my bets and started asking all of my close friends to go with me. Within a week I had a truck full of loyal commits that I knew wouldn't back out. My very first hunt I would be the only tag holder but had 3 buddies with me to camp and haul meat if needed.
So we struck out to this hell hole in CO, none of us had ever even seen the rocky mountains. Green and full of excitement, we drove straight through from SE Alabama to Gunnison, almost 26 hours. We hiked in on opening day of 2nd rifle, set up camp, and then hunted no more than 2 miles or so from camp. Found a good bit of sign, and one evening from one glassing spot my hunting partner spotted some cows but before he could get me looking at the same spot (miles away) they were gone. I would never see an elk on my first elk hunt.
However, I did see a ton of beautiful scenery and I loved every second that I was there. We also returned to camp one day to find two new tents next to us. A couple of guys from Arizona were packing out a bull, and had come upon our spot, the only flat spot for miles. Turned out to be awesome guys, and they really perked our spirits up by giving us some meat that we cooked in camp, a 4 point shed they found that now hangs in my trophy room as a memento from my first elk hunt, and, most importantly, let us fondle and take pics with the 300" 6x6 they had killed! We wound up helping them pack out some of the meat, each of us took 30-40 pounds up the hard part of the pack out on one day for them. We remain in touch with those guys to this day.
So, we went home from that first trip excited and planning the next one. A year of gear upgrades, working out, and incessant planning followed.
Edit 4/7/20: Completely forgot a pretty important part of my 2018-2019 off-season. Training intensity went way up when I got back from the first hunt in 2018, but in early 2019 it was obvious that I was beginning to have some foot issues. I got lovely plantar fasciitis in left foot. I tried everything and couldn't get rid of it, eventually relenting to the doctor in July to put a cast on my left leg for four weeks to allow healing. Peak pool and golf time ha. Got it off and was 98% fixed, but I lost a month of training that had to be feverishly recovered.
We decided that me and one of the guys who went on the first trip would put in for first rifle for the same unit for 2019. We successfully drew with zero points and made a plan to return to the same area, but access it from many miles further to the north (and higher up).
This time we made sure to get in the area before season started. OnX said from the truck to the camp site was just under 4 miles - wrong. OnX had the trails wrong, it wound up being 5.6 miles. A bit of a difference. We hunted HARD the entire season. In the first 4 days we were averaging over 10 miles per day on the boots. Saw piles of mule deer and grouse but no elk. Saw plenty of fresh sign so we knew they were around. Only ran into 1 other hunter, saw a couple more in the distance.
On the final day we decided to hunt a small drainage we hadn't been to yet. We got set up well before light, but as the sun came up it was apparent we hadn't chose the best spot to glass from as we couldn't see much other than a small bench. However, we could see up and to our right way off the back of a ridge we had sat Monday morning that we knew had expansive beautiful views that was very hard to get to. About an hour after legal light we decided to head to that ridge to atleast have some good views for the last morning of hunting.
We got there, and got set up. Just as we got some food out for breakfast I noticed movement around 800 yards away way up a drainage to the right. Elk! Deer! It was 4 mule deer does followed by 8 elk, 6 cows and 2 spikes. We had seen elk! We followed them through the binos from one drainage to the next. Content with the trip now, we sat still in happiness.
Wait...whats that in the drainage straight across from me? 2 more cows! Wait, no, 3 cows! As I'm staring at them through the binos, my hunting partner is apparently looking at the drainage to the left of the one with the cows in it.
"Chris there's your bull!" he says. "WHERE?!?!" He guides me over to the next small drainage and I catch a glimpse of a bull. The first branch antlered bull I'd ever seen in my life. Now I put the bino's down, he's legal, no need to look at the rack again. I turn my KDC tripod into a bipod for my rifle (very slick setup that works very well). By the time I get the rifle up he has disappeared, but my hunting partner says he should be coming out in the small drainage I was originally looking at, which is closer to us. A tense few minutes pass.
A bugle rings out! LOUD! The first one I'd ever heard! There's the bull! Another bugle rings out from behind him, but it wasn't near as loud or deep sounding. I range him at 310 with angle correction (he is well below us), dial my SWFA 3-9 up 0.9 mils per my chart, and try to get steady. I'm almost in tears as I tell my hunting partner that I'm too nervous to shoot. He does his best to calm me.
I squeeze the trigger so hard I start to turn the rifle before I realize the safety is still on. Doh! I take the safety off, take a few deep breaths, and squeeze again. "HIT!" my hunting partner exclaims as the bull staggers forward. "HIT HIM AGAIN!" he says, as the bull steadies himself I pump rounds 2 and 3 so quickly it sounded like an automatic weapon. The bull staggers forward a couples steps and drops down on his belly behind some brush. We are watching him through the binos, I'm shaking so hard I can't even tell if I'm looking at a mountainside or the sky.
A lot of cuss words were said, a lot of hollering, and a lot of me asking "IS HE DEAD MIKE!?!?!?" over and over as I still can't stop shaking. Mike checks him again and notes that he is trying to lift his head. I run about 40 yards down the ridge to my left to set up for a clear shot around the brush. I put #4 into him and he lifts his head up and rolls onto his back, his last mortal move. He then slides down the ridge he is laying on...hits an aspen and stops. Then he slides around that tree, and out of site into the dark timber below the small opening...please don't be a cliff I am praying to myself.
We gather our things and it takes us 45 minutes or so to through the main drainage in front of us and back up to where we had last seen him. He had stopped sliding right at the edge of the dark timber thanks to some small spruce trees there. Holy moly, what a bull! Never dreamed of killing any bull, let alone one like this.
What do we do now?
So early last July I found myself retreating from the heat at the Wharf in Gulf Shores AL with my Father in Law and Brother in Law in a jerky shop. It was near 100* outside, the wives were dragging us all over the place, and I was sweating out my shirt at a plump 245ish pounds. It was cool inside that jerky shop, a nice relief from the heat for a big boy. As we tried samples we were admiring the taxidermy. One was a very nice bull elk, I wish I had taken a picture of it. I was staring up at it, wiping sweat off my face, standing next to my FIL.
"I'm gonna hunt those, one day" I said to my FIL. He replied something about how expensive it had to be, and wished me luck.
That evening I got on Rokslide, 24HCF, and some others and started a journey. I already had an accounts there, but that was more for equipment research for whitetail hunting. Everyone down here in Alabama knows that the more expensive your rifle, scope, and camouflage is the better the hunter you are. I was already 7 months into a Cooper 92 280AI that I dropped a god awful amount of cash on to make myself a better hunter, of course. Welp, got that checked off.
What else do I need? Never carried a pack whitetail hunting. $100 Alps on Amazon? That'll work. Wait no, a Tenzing looks cool. Wait no, the forums says Kifaru or die. Wound up with a Kifaru Reckoning for that first fall, thanks again Rokslide.
Where do I go? What's a tag? How do I get one? Regulations? What are regulations? In Alabama you buy your $25 license every year and that's it. Don't shoot one after dark or on the neighbors land during the 4.5 month season and you'll be golden.
I settled on CO. Not sure why, just seemed like the logical landing pad for the easiest route to get started. Of course I started looking at units in the SE corner of the state. Started crunching % of public land, success rates, etc. This gradually led me more into the interior of the state. I ordered piles of maps to pour over at home. I wound up picking a unit near Gunnison, and a particular area in that unit just based on the fact people said you shouldn't go there. Seems to have worked.
Meanwhile, had to get to work on my fat a$$. Got a gym membership, and me and a buddy started working out before work every day. Started eating a lot better too. Weight came off quickly at first. By the time we were leaving for our first hunt in October for 2nd rifle season, I was down from 247 to 213 lbs.
I should also throw in a blurb about my awesome friends. When I started this journey I hedged my bets and started asking all of my close friends to go with me. Within a week I had a truck full of loyal commits that I knew wouldn't back out. My very first hunt I would be the only tag holder but had 3 buddies with me to camp and haul meat if needed.
So we struck out to this hell hole in CO, none of us had ever even seen the rocky mountains. Green and full of excitement, we drove straight through from SE Alabama to Gunnison, almost 26 hours. We hiked in on opening day of 2nd rifle, set up camp, and then hunted no more than 2 miles or so from camp. Found a good bit of sign, and one evening from one glassing spot my hunting partner spotted some cows but before he could get me looking at the same spot (miles away) they were gone. I would never see an elk on my first elk hunt.
However, I did see a ton of beautiful scenery and I loved every second that I was there. We also returned to camp one day to find two new tents next to us. A couple of guys from Arizona were packing out a bull, and had come upon our spot, the only flat spot for miles. Turned out to be awesome guys, and they really perked our spirits up by giving us some meat that we cooked in camp, a 4 point shed they found that now hangs in my trophy room as a memento from my first elk hunt, and, most importantly, let us fondle and take pics with the 300" 6x6 they had killed! We wound up helping them pack out some of the meat, each of us took 30-40 pounds up the hard part of the pack out on one day for them. We remain in touch with those guys to this day.
So, we went home from that first trip excited and planning the next one. A year of gear upgrades, working out, and incessant planning followed.
Edit 4/7/20: Completely forgot a pretty important part of my 2018-2019 off-season. Training intensity went way up when I got back from the first hunt in 2018, but in early 2019 it was obvious that I was beginning to have some foot issues. I got lovely plantar fasciitis in left foot. I tried everything and couldn't get rid of it, eventually relenting to the doctor in July to put a cast on my left leg for four weeks to allow healing. Peak pool and golf time ha. Got it off and was 98% fixed, but I lost a month of training that had to be feverishly recovered.
We decided that me and one of the guys who went on the first trip would put in for first rifle for the same unit for 2019. We successfully drew with zero points and made a plan to return to the same area, but access it from many miles further to the north (and higher up).
This time we made sure to get in the area before season started. OnX said from the truck to the camp site was just under 4 miles - wrong. OnX had the trails wrong, it wound up being 5.6 miles. A bit of a difference. We hunted HARD the entire season. In the first 4 days we were averaging over 10 miles per day on the boots. Saw piles of mule deer and grouse but no elk. Saw plenty of fresh sign so we knew they were around. Only ran into 1 other hunter, saw a couple more in the distance.
On the final day we decided to hunt a small drainage we hadn't been to yet. We got set up well before light, but as the sun came up it was apparent we hadn't chose the best spot to glass from as we couldn't see much other than a small bench. However, we could see up and to our right way off the back of a ridge we had sat Monday morning that we knew had expansive beautiful views that was very hard to get to. About an hour after legal light we decided to head to that ridge to atleast have some good views for the last morning of hunting.
We got there, and got set up. Just as we got some food out for breakfast I noticed movement around 800 yards away way up a drainage to the right. Elk! Deer! It was 4 mule deer does followed by 8 elk, 6 cows and 2 spikes. We had seen elk! We followed them through the binos from one drainage to the next. Content with the trip now, we sat still in happiness.
Wait...whats that in the drainage straight across from me? 2 more cows! Wait, no, 3 cows! As I'm staring at them through the binos, my hunting partner is apparently looking at the drainage to the left of the one with the cows in it.
"Chris there's your bull!" he says. "WHERE?!?!" He guides me over to the next small drainage and I catch a glimpse of a bull. The first branch antlered bull I'd ever seen in my life. Now I put the bino's down, he's legal, no need to look at the rack again. I turn my KDC tripod into a bipod for my rifle (very slick setup that works very well). By the time I get the rifle up he has disappeared, but my hunting partner says he should be coming out in the small drainage I was originally looking at, which is closer to us. A tense few minutes pass.
A bugle rings out! LOUD! The first one I'd ever heard! There's the bull! Another bugle rings out from behind him, but it wasn't near as loud or deep sounding. I range him at 310 with angle correction (he is well below us), dial my SWFA 3-9 up 0.9 mils per my chart, and try to get steady. I'm almost in tears as I tell my hunting partner that I'm too nervous to shoot. He does his best to calm me.
I squeeze the trigger so hard I start to turn the rifle before I realize the safety is still on. Doh! I take the safety off, take a few deep breaths, and squeeze again. "HIT!" my hunting partner exclaims as the bull staggers forward. "HIT HIM AGAIN!" he says, as the bull steadies himself I pump rounds 2 and 3 so quickly it sounded like an automatic weapon. The bull staggers forward a couples steps and drops down on his belly behind some brush. We are watching him through the binos, I'm shaking so hard I can't even tell if I'm looking at a mountainside or the sky.
A lot of cuss words were said, a lot of hollering, and a lot of me asking "IS HE DEAD MIKE!?!?!?" over and over as I still can't stop shaking. Mike checks him again and notes that he is trying to lift his head. I run about 40 yards down the ridge to my left to set up for a clear shot around the brush. I put #4 into him and he lifts his head up and rolls onto his back, his last mortal move. He then slides down the ridge he is laying on...hits an aspen and stops. Then he slides around that tree, and out of site into the dark timber below the small opening...please don't be a cliff I am praying to myself.
We gather our things and it takes us 45 minutes or so to through the main drainage in front of us and back up to where we had last seen him. He had stopped sliding right at the edge of the dark timber thanks to some small spruce trees there. Holy moly, what a bull! Never dreamed of killing any bull, let alone one like this.
What do we do now?
Last edited:
