Well, gents, it was a hell of a trip this year and I thought I would share.
I dropped 12 preference points on Colorado Unit 61 - Uncompahgre Plateau West of Montrose. A lot of guys here and at Kifaru helped me make my unit choice.
First Rifle started on the 12th and I headed over from Springs on the 10th with the idea of camping in the truck that night and scouting a bull on Friday. I rolled into Montrose about 6:00 pm and decided that I would grab a quick bite before I bought ice etc. and head up. It was a great plan until I saw the sign at the Red Barn restaurant promising all you can eat prime rib for $14.95 -yeah, salad comes with it! So I ambled into the Red Barn, grabbed a seat at the bar and ordered a prime rib. The bar was abuzz with excitement of hunting season and met a father and son from Wisconsin hunting the same unit. I mentioned I hunt whitetail with my brother-in-law back in WI and we are best friends immediately upon my swearing allegiance to the Packer's. They said they knew the canyon I was going to hunt and there were big bulls there! Perfect, I could practically taste the backstrap and see the huge antlers (giant really) hanging up at my father-in-laws house -not my house. Thursday night football was on, the steak was great and I was happier than a pig in slop. By the time the game was over and I had enough of the last beef I would eat for a year -big elk and all - I made the brilliant decision to walk across the parking lot and get a room at the Day Inn. It really was a great call as the truck would have been awfully cold up on the plateau.
The sign that got me.
I really did feel welcome.
It is strange, I love to hunt and take trips, but I miss my wife and 4 kids almost immediately after I set out on a trip. This hunt was no exception and I slept fitfully with a lot of anxiety regarding hunting spots, how I was going to approach the area, how heavy my pack was (very) and my physical condition. I finally gave myself a pep talk and simply decided to put the crap out of my head and focus on the Elk; worked like a charm. After a hardy breakfast and morning of well thought out gear arranging, I was mentally prepped.
I got up to the area about 10:00 to find the top, where I had planned to hike in, covered with a foot of snow and more coming down. I had warm clothes, but my boots were not up to a foot of snow, so on to plan B. I headed down to the bottom of the slope to hunt the same area from the bottom and met a nice guy on the way down. He had some ideas on where to look in my area and I was happy to have the suggestions. After consulting the map, I was off scouting plan C. The valley was pretty bare compare to the top and was soon seeing a few elk right off the FS road and my spirits soared right up to the point where I tore up a tire 3.5 miles in on a muddy, rutty road. By the grace of God, and I really mean that, my spare tire was in perfect shape right where it was supposed to be, the jack and lugs were where they were supposed to be, and it only took my an hour to swap out the tire and I was back in business. The F-150 did not fail me and I was back to plan B after establishing a solid plan C.
Plan B required an 11 mile drive way back on a FS road. It had snowed the night before and was getting warm; the whole 11 miles was sloppy as can be. Toward the end I was basically mudding through cow tracks praying I didn't slide off the road. Once I got back in I really wondered what the hell I was thinking and considered getting back out while the getting was good. I once again had to put the crap out of my mind and remind myself that I was right where I wanted to be and the road would dry out soon enough. I freindly rancher came by and confirmed 2 very imporatnt things: #1 - There were tons of elk in the area. #2 - The road would be fine (I got in didn't I ?). It was the night before the season opened and I was getting stoked.
My Paratipi and stove made for a very comfortable camp and the flock of trukeys that roosted 40 yards away gave me great company. I tend to let my mind wander when on solo trips and having my Bible was great comfort to me. A warm stove and the Psalms gave me peace of mind and a great nights rest.
I am sure you will all agree that there is something special about racking in that round on opening morning and being ready to hunt...that morning was no different. I begin hiking in following and ATV trail that turned into cow trails winding around a hump that sat at the base of the finger between 2 canyons I was hunting. I basically still hunted the edge of an Aspen grove on a a broad bench, cow calling when I made a noise. I heard bugling up the mountain and at some point decided I needed to get higher, both to glass and to see if those bulls were wearing orange or not. At this point I pulled out some basic land Nav hunter safety stuff that was pure gold: I put up orange surveyors tape as I made my way up so that you couldn't stand at one piece of tap and not see the last one and it worked like a charm. I was never once lost or even turned around for more than a few seconds. I love my GPS, but don't put faith in batteries and 11 year old electronic devices.
I angled up the slope, cow calling and glassing the bench as I aimed for a grove of aspen on a bench several hundred feet up from the bench I hiked in on. I am not in great shape and took it slow. When I hit the Aspen bench, it seemed very "elky" to me and I was sure that another 1/2 mile would put me in a visual with the talkers up the hill; I never got the chance. I was cow calling and glassing the grove in front of me and about 10:45 when a bull burst out of the scrub oak about 25 yards away. I saw that it had antlers and I didn't have to think a bit; I knew I'd shoot if I had the chance...which I did. I watched him through my scope as he ran to about 60 yards away. I could only think to myself, "Stop between some trees, that is all I want." He did just that. I had him in my scope and didn't even see his head. As soon as the crosshairs were above the front leg and a little back, I let one fly off-hand. Funny how you spend months working on loads, trying different factory loads, obsessing over bullet type, weight etc., and trying to get a solid sub-MOA round, and then you get a broad side shot at 60 yards that your avg. slug gun with open sights could handle easily. Anyway, my misspent youth with a BB gun really paid off as I am pretty comfortable shooting off hand. I was sure I hit him as he ran back the direction he came from and heard a crash. I wasn't sure if he went down or simply busted through some bush on his way to Utah, so I did what the books and mags say. I waited for 30 minutes. Seriously, I waited for 1/2 and hour. I wrote notes, I put up a piece of tape on the bush next to where I shot with the time and bearing to the target, I ate a Cliff bar, had some water yada yada yada. It was a long 30 mins. I couldn't see any blood through my binos and really wondered if I had connected. I finally went to the spot where I thought he was and I could find no blood and got discouraged. I looked all around the area and could not find blood. Finally I started to walk in the direction he went. I took me about 50 yards until I could see, just ahead of me, a huge bloch of blood in the snow, and then another, and finally my first elk down in the snow on a flat right on the edge of the bench. As you can imagine I was ecstatic. I offered up several prayers of thanks to God for this gift and went over to look at him.
First look.
My first real trophy.
Cleaning and quaretering went well and all the snow kept the meat nice and cool. I got the first 1/4 down that evening after hanging and packing the rest of the meat. I am now a huge proponent of boning out the meat in the field! That first pack was so heavy and the hoof stuck out the top about 2 feet, catching on every branch down the mountain. So ungangly was that first pack, as soon as I got it on, I just grabbed my trekking poles and headed down the hill without my rifle! I realized I was walking through bear country smelling like dead elk without a weapon about halfway down, but I didn't give it a second thought - it would still be up there the next day when I went for the rest of that animal. I was joyful in camp that night, but concerned about getting everything else down the hill. I had a bear tag as well, and originally planned to squat on the carcass and bag a blackie. That pretty much went out the window after I packed out the second 1/4, minuse some bones, on Sunday. I decided that I had one more trip in me and that I wanted to get out of there before it snowed that night and made the road impassable for another couple days. I got out all the meat and the antlers but decided that the hide would have to stay if I was going to execute my plan and get back to the Red Barn for a hot meal and some SNF. The plan worked out and that last pack took almost everything I had physically. I just kept on putting one foot in front of the other and thinking about a hot meal. I broke camp about 4:30 and was showered and back at the Red Barn by 7:00 with my elk one ice. I wish I had the hide, but as Dad told me later, "Discretion is the better part of valor."
I tell you guys, I am still riding a wave of gratitude for that trip. I am so thankful for things like flat surfaces, water that comes out of a faucet, clean clothes and stuff we take for granted most days. I am especillay grateful I was able to harvest sucha fine animal and get back safely to tell the story. I can't wait to hunt elk again, but I don't think I will do it solo and I will surely be in better condition.
Here's a few more pics.
My truck after 30 miles of muddy road:
The modest trophy with Kifaru gear:
Daughter with antlers
My wifes happy Goldendoodle Note: The wife did not like seeing her dog chewing on that leg, but it made it more entertaining.
Sorry There is not a Reader's Digest version. I am on a mid-watch tonight and have way too much time to kill.
Cheers,
Steve
I dropped 12 preference points on Colorado Unit 61 - Uncompahgre Plateau West of Montrose. A lot of guys here and at Kifaru helped me make my unit choice.
First Rifle started on the 12th and I headed over from Springs on the 10th with the idea of camping in the truck that night and scouting a bull on Friday. I rolled into Montrose about 6:00 pm and decided that I would grab a quick bite before I bought ice etc. and head up. It was a great plan until I saw the sign at the Red Barn restaurant promising all you can eat prime rib for $14.95 -yeah, salad comes with it! So I ambled into the Red Barn, grabbed a seat at the bar and ordered a prime rib. The bar was abuzz with excitement of hunting season and met a father and son from Wisconsin hunting the same unit. I mentioned I hunt whitetail with my brother-in-law back in WI and we are best friends immediately upon my swearing allegiance to the Packer's. They said they knew the canyon I was going to hunt and there were big bulls there! Perfect, I could practically taste the backstrap and see the huge antlers (giant really) hanging up at my father-in-laws house -not my house. Thursday night football was on, the steak was great and I was happier than a pig in slop. By the time the game was over and I had enough of the last beef I would eat for a year -big elk and all - I made the brilliant decision to walk across the parking lot and get a room at the Day Inn. It really was a great call as the truck would have been awfully cold up on the plateau.
The sign that got me.
I really did feel welcome.
It is strange, I love to hunt and take trips, but I miss my wife and 4 kids almost immediately after I set out on a trip. This hunt was no exception and I slept fitfully with a lot of anxiety regarding hunting spots, how I was going to approach the area, how heavy my pack was (very) and my physical condition. I finally gave myself a pep talk and simply decided to put the crap out of my head and focus on the Elk; worked like a charm. After a hardy breakfast and morning of well thought out gear arranging, I was mentally prepped.
I got up to the area about 10:00 to find the top, where I had planned to hike in, covered with a foot of snow and more coming down. I had warm clothes, but my boots were not up to a foot of snow, so on to plan B. I headed down to the bottom of the slope to hunt the same area from the bottom and met a nice guy on the way down. He had some ideas on where to look in my area and I was happy to have the suggestions. After consulting the map, I was off scouting plan C. The valley was pretty bare compare to the top and was soon seeing a few elk right off the FS road and my spirits soared right up to the point where I tore up a tire 3.5 miles in on a muddy, rutty road. By the grace of God, and I really mean that, my spare tire was in perfect shape right where it was supposed to be, the jack and lugs were where they were supposed to be, and it only took my an hour to swap out the tire and I was back in business. The F-150 did not fail me and I was back to plan B after establishing a solid plan C.
Plan B required an 11 mile drive way back on a FS road. It had snowed the night before and was getting warm; the whole 11 miles was sloppy as can be. Toward the end I was basically mudding through cow tracks praying I didn't slide off the road. Once I got back in I really wondered what the hell I was thinking and considered getting back out while the getting was good. I once again had to put the crap out of my mind and remind myself that I was right where I wanted to be and the road would dry out soon enough. I freindly rancher came by and confirmed 2 very imporatnt things: #1 - There were tons of elk in the area. #2 - The road would be fine (I got in didn't I ?). It was the night before the season opened and I was getting stoked.
My Paratipi and stove made for a very comfortable camp and the flock of trukeys that roosted 40 yards away gave me great company. I tend to let my mind wander when on solo trips and having my Bible was great comfort to me. A warm stove and the Psalms gave me peace of mind and a great nights rest.
I am sure you will all agree that there is something special about racking in that round on opening morning and being ready to hunt...that morning was no different. I begin hiking in following and ATV trail that turned into cow trails winding around a hump that sat at the base of the finger between 2 canyons I was hunting. I basically still hunted the edge of an Aspen grove on a a broad bench, cow calling when I made a noise. I heard bugling up the mountain and at some point decided I needed to get higher, both to glass and to see if those bulls were wearing orange or not. At this point I pulled out some basic land Nav hunter safety stuff that was pure gold: I put up orange surveyors tape as I made my way up so that you couldn't stand at one piece of tap and not see the last one and it worked like a charm. I was never once lost or even turned around for more than a few seconds. I love my GPS, but don't put faith in batteries and 11 year old electronic devices.
I angled up the slope, cow calling and glassing the bench as I aimed for a grove of aspen on a bench several hundred feet up from the bench I hiked in on. I am not in great shape and took it slow. When I hit the Aspen bench, it seemed very "elky" to me and I was sure that another 1/2 mile would put me in a visual with the talkers up the hill; I never got the chance. I was cow calling and glassing the grove in front of me and about 10:45 when a bull burst out of the scrub oak about 25 yards away. I saw that it had antlers and I didn't have to think a bit; I knew I'd shoot if I had the chance...which I did. I watched him through my scope as he ran to about 60 yards away. I could only think to myself, "Stop between some trees, that is all I want." He did just that. I had him in my scope and didn't even see his head. As soon as the crosshairs were above the front leg and a little back, I let one fly off-hand. Funny how you spend months working on loads, trying different factory loads, obsessing over bullet type, weight etc., and trying to get a solid sub-MOA round, and then you get a broad side shot at 60 yards that your avg. slug gun with open sights could handle easily. Anyway, my misspent youth with a BB gun really paid off as I am pretty comfortable shooting off hand. I was sure I hit him as he ran back the direction he came from and heard a crash. I wasn't sure if he went down or simply busted through some bush on his way to Utah, so I did what the books and mags say. I waited for 30 minutes. Seriously, I waited for 1/2 and hour. I wrote notes, I put up a piece of tape on the bush next to where I shot with the time and bearing to the target, I ate a Cliff bar, had some water yada yada yada. It was a long 30 mins. I couldn't see any blood through my binos and really wondered if I had connected. I finally went to the spot where I thought he was and I could find no blood and got discouraged. I looked all around the area and could not find blood. Finally I started to walk in the direction he went. I took me about 50 yards until I could see, just ahead of me, a huge bloch of blood in the snow, and then another, and finally my first elk down in the snow on a flat right on the edge of the bench. As you can imagine I was ecstatic. I offered up several prayers of thanks to God for this gift and went over to look at him.
First look.
My first real trophy.
Cleaning and quaretering went well and all the snow kept the meat nice and cool. I got the first 1/4 down that evening after hanging and packing the rest of the meat. I am now a huge proponent of boning out the meat in the field! That first pack was so heavy and the hoof stuck out the top about 2 feet, catching on every branch down the mountain. So ungangly was that first pack, as soon as I got it on, I just grabbed my trekking poles and headed down the hill without my rifle! I realized I was walking through bear country smelling like dead elk without a weapon about halfway down, but I didn't give it a second thought - it would still be up there the next day when I went for the rest of that animal. I was joyful in camp that night, but concerned about getting everything else down the hill. I had a bear tag as well, and originally planned to squat on the carcass and bag a blackie. That pretty much went out the window after I packed out the second 1/4, minuse some bones, on Sunday. I decided that I had one more trip in me and that I wanted to get out of there before it snowed that night and made the road impassable for another couple days. I got out all the meat and the antlers but decided that the hide would have to stay if I was going to execute my plan and get back to the Red Barn for a hot meal and some SNF. The plan worked out and that last pack took almost everything I had physically. I just kept on putting one foot in front of the other and thinking about a hot meal. I broke camp about 4:30 and was showered and back at the Red Barn by 7:00 with my elk one ice. I wish I had the hide, but as Dad told me later, "Discretion is the better part of valor."
I tell you guys, I am still riding a wave of gratitude for that trip. I am so thankful for things like flat surfaces, water that comes out of a faucet, clean clothes and stuff we take for granted most days. I am especillay grateful I was able to harvest sucha fine animal and get back safely to tell the story. I can't wait to hunt elk again, but I don't think I will do it solo and I will surely be in better condition.
Here's a few more pics.
My truck after 30 miles of muddy road:
The modest trophy with Kifaru gear:
Daughter with antlers
My wifes happy Goldendoodle Note: The wife did not like seeing her dog chewing on that leg, but it made it more entertaining.
Sorry There is not a Reader's Digest version. I am on a mid-watch tonight and have way too much time to kill.
Cheers,
Steve
