Okay Fellas! Here's my elk 2009 story (long)

Well this story began in September 2008 as the authorities called for an evacuation of the upper Texas coast due to Hurricane Ike bearing down on us. Because of the hurricane, my buddy Steve and I were getting to leave a day early for our first do-it-yourself archery elk hunt in Colorado on public land. We had concerns about our homes but our families were safe and they were okay with us continuing on with our hunt. We made it to camp and finally had the chance to shake hands with the man (Will) that invited us to his camp. Will and his friends gave us a good crash course in elk hunting during an afternoon and a morning hunt. After our third time out, we drove the down the mountain road toward camp. We decided to stop at the only spot on the road that we could receive a cell phone signal and call our families. The hurricane had flooded my town and my house had water in it. My wife told me to stay and hunt because there was nothing I could do at home right now. I didn’t sleep well that Sunday night. We woke before light and headed out to hunt. We hunted all day but I was basically just walking around the mountains. That afternoon Steve asked me, “What do ya want to do bud?” I responded with, “I want to stay, but I need to go home.” We left Colorado without seeing an elk.

Early in 2009 I get a phone call from Will telling me to get my tail back up to Colorado. I already had plans to return. On September 18, 2009, Steve and I made the drive and arrived at camp around noon on the 19th. We set up our campsite and took the rest of the day to drive around and try to decide the area we would hunt the next morning.
Still being complete novices at elk hunting we pointed to an area and decided to hunt it.


I guess we got somewhat lucky because there was elk sign everywhere.


The farther we hiked up toward this ridge the more sign we saw. It started raining, then sleeting, then both together. We’d left our rain gear in the truck because it was clear sky when we began. We each carried an emergency poncho in our packs which we declined to put on. We decided we would tough out the cold because those ponchos are just too dang noisy. That evening we returned to the truck wet and finished out the first hunt without seeing an elk. We changed clothes at camp and built a small fire to warm up and talk about tomorrow while we ate a sandwich. It started snowing.



Hunt day two. We waited for daylight and when we emerged from the tent the ground was white. At least an inch of snow was everywhere and the temp about 25 degrees. We did some driving around other roads in the unit just to see if an area caught our eye. We decided just to hunt near where we had before. As we eased up the icy mountain road we spotted a huge bodied bull in the road ahead of us about 200 yards away. We didn’t get to see details of his rack before he headed up toward the ridge we had hunted the day before. We stopped the truck and grabbed our gear. We picked up his tracks and slowly followed them maybe a couple hundred yards. How in the world we lost his tracks in the snow I’ll never know. Steve and I definitely need to practice our tracking skills. We searched and searched but could not find another track. To us, the bull had vanished. We backed out and headed down the road a little further to the area we originally intended to hunt. After about 50 yards up the hill we spotted a beautiful coyote that never stopped to give us a shot.

It snowed on us the whole day and again we made our way back to the truck at dusk empty handed. However, we saw an elk which gave us hope!



Hunt day three. We drove to the end of the road where the 4-wheel drive trail began. There was another hunter there at his car. He had a “rifle” cow tag and had been hunting the area above a big meadow the evening before. He had slept in his car and was headed home to get some dry boots. He told us he had heard a bull bugling late the evening before and that the bull had been in the meadow during the night. This gave us a little more hope.

We hunted our way to our intended destination and saw the bull’s tracks as we made our way. This area was pretty thick, steep and looked very “elky”. We hunted slow and hard the rest of the day and again made it back to the truck without seeing or hearing an elk.

Hunt day four. We headed to an area where Will had taken me in 2008 on my first ever elk hunt. I figured he liked the area for a reason. He had told me how elk liked to hang around Aspens. Steve and I figured we’d try it. During the first hour I wondered if Will wasn’t messing around with this southern boy that lives at sea level. This area was steep and rugged! Our legs burned and our lungs prayed for air. We continued to work our way down and across the mountain side toward the Aspens. We decide to separate about 50 -100 yards and just maybe do a little cow calling. We hadn’t done any calling up to this point. We’d hunt slow and even sit for a while just watching and listening. I had a nice quiet conversation with a chipmunk and talked him into letting me take his picture.


We finally made it to the Aspen grove. I realized then why Will liked the area. There was good fresh sign. Rubs, beds, and droppings were scattered throughout the area. I found a nice boulder and sat down to rest. I took a couple sips of water and took a pinch of snuff, then grabbed my camera. This view was absolutely beautiful!

I could still be sitting right there, I didn’t want to leave. I snapped some pictures and even took one of my broadhead that I had ready.

 

I then continued enjoying the cool thermals in my face as I glassed the Aspens below. It seems like I sat there for an hour and I wondered how far Steve was from me. I scanned over my left shoulder and noticed he had quietly worked his way down within a few yards of me. We talked it over a bit and planned out the rest of the day and the route back to the truck. We had gone a few yards and a bugle screamed through the valley from a couple hundred yards away. We looked at each other and grinned, it was the first live bugle we’ve ever heard. We quickly and quietly headed that direction. After a couple minutes we heard it again…I started having doubts. Both bugles sound exactly the same and I commented to Steve about my thoughts. Steve cow called a couple of times as we continued in the bull’s direction. We got to an area that looked suitable for an ambush. We heard a short bugle and decided it was real. We planned our ambush and took a couple steps in that direction when another hunter with a bugle stepped into the trail where we expected to see our bull. We didn’t walk to meet, we just each gave a polite wave. So, we decided to turn north and hunt our way back to the truck.
Me, down below Steve.

We separated a few yards apart and were working the hillside with the breeze in our face. We had made it about a quarter mile from the other hunter when this pine tree thirty yards in front of me begins shaking and having limbs ripped off! Steve was to my right about thirty yards on a bench about 10 feet above me. He can’t see it but he hears the ruckus. We both drop to a knee. During the commotion, I take off my daypack and clip on! A couple of times I could make out antler tips through the branches, he had to be a legal bull! The stench that hit us I won’t ever forget. This bull needed a shower in a bad way! We could not see him but it was just a matter of seconds. He stopped rubbing the pine and then appeared to my right and to the left of Steve. He was coming between us! I could not move because there was nothing but thin air between me and the bull. He stopped! Dead cold in his tracks, he stared directly at Steve who was above but barely five yards away from him! The breeze had shifted and he knew something wasn’t right. As I watched him motionless at twenty yards, I notice the mud and filthy water dripping off of him. He’s almost completely black and very nervous! I know it was a full minute he stared at Steve. I glanced up at Steve and could tell he was at full draw. I prayed a short prayer that Steve would not take that frontal shot, he didn’t. I planned out that if the bull would take a few steps I could draw as his head was behind some brush. He stepped, I drew, he stopped! I knew this bull was about to get an arrow from both sides if he took another two steps. All I could see was his head and his rear end. The bull spins around and runs back toward the pine he had rubbed on, but this time he’s on my side of it. As he ran I let down my draw and when he reappeared this time at twenty-five yards I drew again and the bull stopped perfectly broadside! Steve could not see this from his angle. I stared through my peep past my top pin and all I saw was weeds, tall grass that looked like hay that my arrow would have to travel through to reach his lungs. I knew it wasn’t right. He needed to take one or two steps to give me a clear shot! I held off. After about ten seconds he bolted back to the right and away. I let down my draw again. This next sequence happened in about 2.5 seconds. I moved back to my right to see where he would emerge. He was headed uphill and I guess curiosity made him stop again broadside. I couldn’t believe it! I drew as I told myself “forty-five yards”! I put my third pin on him and noticed a dead bare tree limb about six feet in front of me, right in the way of my arrow. I was standing in a small depression. I stepped forward out of it, lined up the pin, peep, mid chest behind the shoulder and let it go! It was the quietest shot my bow has ever made. I only saw a glimpse of my arrow and I knew I missed high. The bull turned to his left and when he did, I saw my arrow’s fletching sticking out of him, just above his midline behind his right shoulder. I collapsed!
I think I hear a crash but I’m not sure, all my senses are numb. I look up at Steve and he gives me a thumbs up! He’s asking me questions, in our hunting sign language, about if I see him and how far he is. For some reason we’re still not talking. I’m shaking so badly and Steve’s having trouble interpreting my signage, I finally say to him out loud, “Steve, just come here.” He walks down to me with this confused look on his face like why aren’t we going after him and why are you lying on the ground? I say, “I just shot him!” “You shot?!?,” he asked. “Yep! When he took off that last time I saw my fletching sticking out!” Steve picks me up off the ground and gives me a big hug like a best friend would. I still couldn’t function properly.

We replay the whole thing over a few times and waited about thirty minutes before walking to the place the bull was standing when my arrow hit him. I’m worried about the blood trail because of my high hit. We find the tracks where he turned and ran. I look back and see that limb that was it front of me when I shot. I comment to Steve, “Buddy, that looks a lot farther than 45 yards!” About five yards over, we find blood and the fletched half of my arrow.

We follow small amounts of blood and heavy running tracks as they turn downhill. We look farther downhill and see him piled up against a tree with another smaller dead tree laid across his head. The crash I heard must’ve been the small tree falling over. He went no more than one hundred yards, the last fifty, he probably tumbled. He was headed right back to his wallow. He ended up just a few feet from it.

Notice the wallow.



We get to him and shake hands and stare for a while. Then we take some pictures and get him tagged.


We need our frame packs. Steve volunteers to take our gear to the truck while I work on the bull. I keep my knife, sharpener, camera, head light and extra batteries, my cell phone, and a poncho. Steve leaves me and I go to work. A full hour and a half later I hear “Hey bud.” He say’s, “I'm not gonna sugar coat it. That’s a freakin death march!” I figured it would be. We were four tenths of a mile from the truck and 700 feet below it.
I had skinned out most of one side and had one backstrap and most of the shoulder deboned. I had laid the poncho on the ground and was piling the meat on it. Steve went to work on the hind and ribs. We finally get done and put the meat in pillow cases. We strap the head, rack, and cape on my pack and Steve takes one of the bags of meat, probably 60-70 pounds worth. What followed was the most difficult, most painful, and most physically challenging thing we’ve ever done, and it was dark. It took us two and a half hours to reach the truck! Three separate times while we were resting, I fell asleep. We considered just sleeping on the mountain but we pushed on. In the dark, we couldn’t looked ahead and plan our route. Three or four times we climbed right into a rock wall that we had to go around and then go up. My legs were tingling and almost completely numb within the first hour. Somehow we made it. On the drive to camp I stopped and called my wife to let her know we were safe and told her a short version of the story. We made it to camp and each ate two boiled eggs that we barely had strength enough to peel. We slept hard.
The next morning we found a road that ran below where the rest of the meat was hanging. We parked within half a mile but it was 900 feet below. We figured it was easier to come down heavy so we went. We were pretty winded when we reached the meat but we made it in about 45 minutes. Luckily, no critters had found our stash. I told Steve that I just had to know how long that shot was. We made our way back to the place where the bull stood when I hit him. I walked over to the spot where I was standing when I released. I ranged it and then ranged it again and then one more time. Each time gave me the same reading,…57 yards! Had I known it was that long, I would’ve never taken that shot. I had not practiced from that far out. I seriously couldn’t believe it. I told Steve, “Well, that's the best bad shot I’ve ever made!” Was it luck? Yes! Am I happy? You bet your tail I’m happy! Okay, back to work. We each tied two bags of meat to our packs and started down. Coming down was definitely quicker than climbing up but it was just as painful with over 100 pounds of meat on our backs. An hour and a half later we were at the truck.
We reached camp and ate lunch. Then we made phone calls. We were exhausted. Steve decided there wasn’t enough time for us to hunt and possibly pack out another elk and still get home to Texas in time to be at work Monday. He was probably right. We divided the meat evenly and put it on ice.

Packed up camp and headed to stay the night at Will’s house for a nice hot shower, a hot meal, and a warm bed. Thanks Will. Thanks for everything!

Waid

 

Wow. Thats a cool hunt. Congrats an a great Elk.

 

Thats AWESOME!!!!! Congrats on a great hunt, excellent pics as well!

 

Awesome!! Congrats

 

Man, awesome post!!! Thanks for the great hunt story and the photo walk-thru!

Congrats on your trophy! I dream od making an Elk hunt a reality someday!

 

Wow, now that was a story!!!! Thanks so much for the great details, worth every minute of reading It!!

Congratulation's on your elk!!!

 

Awesome story with a great outcome... Congrats!

 

Great story. I really enjoyed the read. Sounds like yalls trip was a blast! Congrats on the bull

 

Thanks for the story and great pictures. It almost made me feel like I was there. Congrats on a great trophy.

 

That was an awesome story.

Congrats on the elk!

 

Great Story....Great Bull

 

Great Job and good story congrat's

 

Congrats Waid! Will I see ya there next year?

 

Congrats on the great hunt, what a story! Good job Waid!

 

I sure as hell hope so!

Thanks everyone!

 

Great story and photos.....so how were the backstraps?

 

Congrats!!!

Great pics and story! I'm sure you will never forget that hunt!

 

Congrats on the fine bull, and really nice story & pix.

 

Thats great! What a story.Had me feeling like I was right there.One of the best things about hunting is the memories! They are driven deep and are so important.That is some thing that you and your friend will have for the rest of your lives.