This was Saturday of labor day weekend and as I had been spending all day in the elk woods, I had no idea how busy things were around base camp. I tried to take a creek bath and had seven people stumble into my little hole in the willows! It was a bit silly. Dad had been spending a few hours each day fishing and had been doing pretty well (30+ fish days) despite the creeks being very low. He must have been hitting the water just before everyone else. 
In the evenings, he'd hike up to some meadows just above camp and watch the deer play, with a couple bears, too.
I decided to return to the general area I had been hunting the previous couple of days, but once again new territory nearby rather than ground I had already hunted. There was a particular drainage that looked quite appealing on the map, and I had heard bugles that way the morning before ( the "unreachable" area ). It looked gross to hike in to on the topo, but I was getting used to those kinds of climbs. Not sure what it will be like to pack something down that steep but I'll deal with it when it happens. ( Yay trekking poles?! )
Right before I left, Dad told me we'd have to leave on Tuesday, as he would run out of one of his medications. To be honest, I was a bit annoyed. As I mentioned, I had packed for 15 days. I had discussed with my Dad before I even agreed to pick him up how long I intended to be ready for, so this was a bit of a shock. I'd only get 6 days hunting before having to pull out. This was a reason I was planning to go solo in the first place. I knew I'd be able to go back, however, so I tried not to let it get to me and put it down as an oversight.
I left base camp around 2pm after lunch with Dad; self cleaned, dishes cleaned, laundry done. The hike in was not nearly as bad as I thought it would be, though it was dang hot. I met up with my first elk before 3pm. A small bull and two cows were chilling under a couple of the few dark pines left on the hill. I don't know if you noticed, but like 80% of all tree mass up there is dead. This makes even the north sides pretty open, and if you can find a group of pines that are alive, there is always an elk bed under them.
Easing further up the hill, I ran into more bedded elk. I decided this was pushing my luck, so looked at the satellite and picked an area to chill out in that might be an exit from the bedding area. Indeed, as the afternoon wore on, I heard the same growling bugle I had heard from across the ravine the morning before. Something told me this was a big bull. Over the course of time, I just kept thinking of the T-Rex from the movie Jurassic Park when I would hear this bugle, and thus the elk became known as "The Dinosaur." Its totally cheesy and naming animals is something I don't usually do, but I couldn't get it out of my head!
As afternoon turned to evening, the bugles picked up. It seemed as if the elk were on the move, but not toward my trail. I decided to close the distance. The Dinosaur wasn't far, within 400 yards, and I had a feeling he was far from alone, so I stayed stealthy. The trail became more and more obvious as I approached where the elk had been bedded. This photo by far does not do it justice, but I was pretty sure I hit the National Park Campground of elk bedding areas. Trails so clear of debris you could run a wheelchair through them. Giant beds under every tree. A waterhole that looked like a group campfire ring. It was amazing. Definitely dropped a pin on this place!
The problem was this is where the elk had been and no longer where they were. The Dinosaur was uphill from me at least 200 vertical feet. It was closing in on 7pm, so there was only about an hour of light left. I tried some calling just to confirm.
This calf was one of many I called in that week. I appear to be really good at cow calling calves. Anybody have thoughts on why that might be?
A few bugles rang out below me. It certainly wasn't the same bull, but this one was headed uphill, toward me. I repositioned a bit and shortly had yet another calf come by, this one with mom in tow. I held put, as so many of the cows I'd seen had a bull following, and sure enough, he stepped out at 24 yards. (Video screencap = low quality, sorry)
It was a small raghorn, not what I am looking for. Ah darn, but I kind of figured that would be the case. As it was now past 720pm, climbing up after the dinosaur seemed like a dangerous idea, as I already had 1200ft to drop. Going down that hillside in the pitch dark would be something I wanted to reserve for a special occasion.
In the evenings, he'd hike up to some meadows just above camp and watch the deer play, with a couple bears, too.I decided to return to the general area I had been hunting the previous couple of days, but once again new territory nearby rather than ground I had already hunted. There was a particular drainage that looked quite appealing on the map, and I had heard bugles that way the morning before ( the "unreachable" area ). It looked gross to hike in to on the topo, but I was getting used to those kinds of climbs. Not sure what it will be like to pack something down that steep but I'll deal with it when it happens. ( Yay trekking poles?! )
Right before I left, Dad told me we'd have to leave on Tuesday, as he would run out of one of his medications. To be honest, I was a bit annoyed. As I mentioned, I had packed for 15 days. I had discussed with my Dad before I even agreed to pick him up how long I intended to be ready for, so this was a bit of a shock. I'd only get 6 days hunting before having to pull out. This was a reason I was planning to go solo in the first place. I knew I'd be able to go back, however, so I tried not to let it get to me and put it down as an oversight.
I left base camp around 2pm after lunch with Dad; self cleaned, dishes cleaned, laundry done. The hike in was not nearly as bad as I thought it would be, though it was dang hot. I met up with my first elk before 3pm. A small bull and two cows were chilling under a couple of the few dark pines left on the hill. I don't know if you noticed, but like 80% of all tree mass up there is dead. This makes even the north sides pretty open, and if you can find a group of pines that are alive, there is always an elk bed under them.
Easing further up the hill, I ran into more bedded elk. I decided this was pushing my luck, so looked at the satellite and picked an area to chill out in that might be an exit from the bedding area. Indeed, as the afternoon wore on, I heard the same growling bugle I had heard from across the ravine the morning before. Something told me this was a big bull. Over the course of time, I just kept thinking of the T-Rex from the movie Jurassic Park when I would hear this bugle, and thus the elk became known as "The Dinosaur." Its totally cheesy and naming animals is something I don't usually do, but I couldn't get it out of my head!
As afternoon turned to evening, the bugles picked up. It seemed as if the elk were on the move, but not toward my trail. I decided to close the distance. The Dinosaur wasn't far, within 400 yards, and I had a feeling he was far from alone, so I stayed stealthy. The trail became more and more obvious as I approached where the elk had been bedded. This photo by far does not do it justice, but I was pretty sure I hit the National Park Campground of elk bedding areas. Trails so clear of debris you could run a wheelchair through them. Giant beds under every tree. A waterhole that looked like a group campfire ring. It was amazing. Definitely dropped a pin on this place!
The problem was this is where the elk had been and no longer where they were. The Dinosaur was uphill from me at least 200 vertical feet. It was closing in on 7pm, so there was only about an hour of light left. I tried some calling just to confirm.
This calf was one of many I called in that week. I appear to be really good at cow calling calves. Anybody have thoughts on why that might be?
A few bugles rang out below me. It certainly wasn't the same bull, but this one was headed uphill, toward me. I repositioned a bit and shortly had yet another calf come by, this one with mom in tow. I held put, as so many of the cows I'd seen had a bull following, and sure enough, he stepped out at 24 yards. (Video screencap = low quality, sorry)
It was a small raghorn, not what I am looking for. Ah darn, but I kind of figured that would be the case. As it was now past 720pm, climbing up after the dinosaur seemed like a dangerous idea, as I already had 1200ft to drop. Going down that hillside in the pitch dark would be something I wanted to reserve for a special occasion.
