Kaibab Elk Hunt

[Where's Bruce?]

My 2014 Elk Hunt Report

As hunters go…I consider myself a novice and compared to some guys I know, I am barely a hunter at all. There are far more guys with superior woodsmanship and stalking skills than I may ever hope to learn. I often envy these guys, they enter the wilderness with a unique confidence…for they are as comfortable there as they are in their own living rooms. I had not experienced this comfort. Whenever I entered the field; as I leave the roads behind me, I feel a strange sense of foreboding…I am not at one with the forest. At least, not until this year. Usually as I tread deeper into the wilderness I am filled with an electrical sensation of excitement, my senses keenly alive and I feel I am both predator and prey. Entering the wilderness feels like the beginning of a great adventure to me…as if I am discovering a new unchartered land or something.

The forest casts shadows over the terrain and the collage of plants, rocks, deadfall and sunlight strewn so much like the patterns in a kaleidoscope that I have difficulty actually seeing anything at first. An elk could be standing still 30 yards away and I might not see it for the busyness of the view. There is so much to take in…I pause and remind myself to slow down. Even with a knee injury I am moving too quickly.

At 9,000+ feet where my journey begins, glassing from near the top of Bill Williams Mountain Truth be told, I have never felt so old. I live at the beach and sea level is a world away today. I smile at the realization I have once again placed myself in a forest I know little about and may not be entirely equipped to handle. Oh well…that never stopped me before and perhaps, that’s where the fun is. On a rocky outcropping I find a perfect lion track. Usually I would find this disconcerting but amazingly, I am delighted and completely unafraid. I stopped in Kingman on the drive up and purchased a lion tag. I wanna see one now.



It’s warm, real warm and muggy. The kind of heat that makes the forest silent. Nothing is moving, or so it seems. Even the insects are not bothering me…perhaps they too are resting, just as I suspect the elk are resting. I picture them in my mind, laying in their muddy wallows in a state of half sleep waiting for the cooling breezes of dusk.

Well I could go on and on about the first three days wandering around at various elevations looking for something besides tracks and scat. I wanted to see elk, not evidence of lightning strikes every 60 feet. Seriously, everywhere we went we saw trees burnt, blown apart and fried from electrical storms lay strewn in a vast tree graveyard. It was eerie and made me keenly aware of changes in the cloud cover. There was one day when the wind always was at our back and we changed direction for times. It was very frustrating. We saw several pronghorn and deer including one MONSTER buck… everything but elk. At one point we spotted elk from 3 miles or more away in the lower junipers but after racing to the spot, they had magically morphed into antelope. Sneaky bastardardos!



Hiking in Arizona’s Unit 8 was maddening. We would select an area devoid of roads and hike in that direction for a couple hours, then what we thought was a plane crashing turned out to be road hunters in ATVs on closed roads that were not shown on our map! This would be repeated too many times. Apparently the Obama Administration had begun a blood feud with the State and closed thousands of NF roads. I guess King Barry was unhappy with AZ Gov. Jan Brewer pointing her finger at him. We would get up at 2:20am, shower, be in the field an hour or more before first light and start hiking with our ears open. Mostly we were greeted with silence except for the occasional novice caller using every call in his pocket…………..badly. I can recognize a Hoochie Mama anywhere.

So then I decided to break down and called the local GW who had been helpful to me months earlier in planning my hike. He gave me a couple of places to check out and finally we are in the elk. Big THANKS to Game Warden Mike Rice. I called him at 2PM on Monday, Sep 15th and at 4:15 I was seeing elk. Things moved quickly after that. We were in the truck when we spotted a massive rack of what must be the dominant bull in the area (he was escorted by several cows including one that was clearly over 800lbs and perhaps closer to a half ton). We watched where they were heading, sped past em a quarter mile, parked and sprinted to an ambush point where we expected them to crest a hilltop. I had just reached the point I wanted to shoot from, had an arrow nocked when the big ole girl busted us. Another 30-60 seconds and I would have had a 50 yard shot. But as they say, that’s elk for ya. They just know. I did take a mock full draw shot though cuz I like taking photos. LOL



I sat on a watering hole till last light for nothing and returned to the motel for a celebratory filet mignon and some much needed rest. When I woke up I was covered in bug bites…serious bites. It almost looked like a rash on my back there were so many…dozens of em, large and small. I had em on my hands, face, neck shoulders, chest and belly too but my back was a mess. No backpack for Bruce. I scrubbed with with soap and the hottest water I could stand, swallowed a bunch of antihistamines, grabbed my hip pack and we returned to the land of Mr. BigRack. The sound of his bugles made my itching lessen. We worked towards the calls in the dark and when we were within 190 yards, saw the herd enjoying breakfast on the wrong side of the private property fence. Figures, right?



Then it happened…one of those Uh Oh moments when you realize the wind is at your back. The 90 degree shift happened so fast we couldn’t move quickly enough and the herd was gone, dropping from one private parcel to the next with no chance of a shot in between. Bugles got more distant and we gave up the chase, completely spent and exhausted. My wool shirt was soaking wet with sweat and the itching on my back became a burning. I didn’t know it at the time but I later learned I have a rare and serious allergy to bed bug bites. It was unbearable. By 1pm I was packed up and headed home. The long drive home was quiet as disappointment swallowed up any attempt at conversation like a black hole. The following morning my dermatologist was confirming the severity of my condition, prescribing $225.00 cortisone cream and telling me I would be hating life for a week. I assumed she meant a five day work week and scheduled a return to the same spot on Monday, Sep 22nd. In the meantime I am soaking in the hot tub and scrubbing these bites until I’m bleeding to clear em up and dry em out. This is not the recommended treatment but it seems to be working for me. Tequila with antihistamines is also part of my (doctor unapproved) regimen. We’ll see. The good news is I never once felt out of place, in over my head… I am a true predator. My confidence remains high and my leg is somehow holding up despite the steepness of the country. Life cannot get much better than this. Stay tuned…

Part II

When I attempted to leave for AZ on Sep 11th my truck decided it didn’t wanna go and began spitting like a pissed off camel. It appeared to be the water pump and was towed home. My good buddy Gary saved the day by picking me up in his 4X4 truck which effectively added about five hours of driving (round trip) for him. Major save! Our original idea was to meet in Hesperia, transfer gear from my truck to his and head to AZ together from there but the angry camel cancelled that plan. I am blessed to have such a good friend. As hunting partners go…he’s top shelf.



So I got the truck back from the shop and was fortunate enough to only need the thermostat replaced…no damage to the engine because I shut it down immediately. So I intend to load the ole girl up and hit the road at 3am Sunday and plan to meet a longtime long range fishing buddy in Flagstaff. Now this guy is an AZ elk killing machine. His name is Mike and he’s the real deal. Always fills his tags AND makes it look easy. If it swims, runs or flies…if Mike’s around it dies.





The area I will be hunting has a lot of elk lovers there who like to honk their horns when they see hunters or hunting vehicles. Yeah, even Arizona has people who view elk as pets. I am told many of these property owners are “inhospitable to hunters” and will deny access to your animal. Fish & Game won’t intervene and the FS guy told me it’s a Catch 22 when a mortally injured elk runs onto private property. You have to trespass onto the property to request permission to trespass onto the property. Hmmmm.

What else can ya say? Anyone been in this situation that has a better option? Please share it if ya do. There’s an easy 50-50 probability I will find myself talking to a person who enjoys watching the elk eat their lawn as they drink their morning coffee.

My next update will come after a cow drops or the season ends.

 

[Where's Bruce?]

Closing Chapter

I am into the elk daily now. The pieces of the puzzle are coming together clearly. Since Mike arrived I have learned more in a few days about elk hunting than I have learned in years of reading. Time spent on the ground with a highly experienced and successful elk hunter is priceless. There is a one huge cow I have set my sights on…even Mike, who has seen many elk over the years says it is the largest cow he had ever seen and it took him 15 minutes of watching her through binoculars in the early morning (as I was stalking her and he hung back) to realize this elk had no antlers. She was almost as big as the 340ish bull she was with. Clearly a dry cow, she was wily and always led the way for the rest.
During my stalk I watched her every move thru the glass, moving when she turned away and had her head down. She never knew I was there. Using the trees I would make large and small gains towards the clearing she was in. Behind me is a road to a large meadow, to my right and left are densely treed hillsides and in front of me is a small (maybe 80-100 yard) clearing filled with feed. With 30 yards left to go a high pitched chirp sounds from behind me and I’m pissed thinking it is Mike. Next I hear a bugle, then two more high pitched chirps and the jig is up…the elk are moving away.

Turns out is wasn’t Mike at all, I had snuck past four other cows on my stalk to big momma and it wasn’t until I had entered the last 73 yards that I became visible to them cuz this is where the area really opened up. I was using one lone tree between the toad cow and myself for cover.

I watched as several elk took off up the hill, saw the bull stop to turn back and give me the stink eye and they were gone. Stupidly I chased after em as soon as they were outta sight. I hoped they had only gone a half mile or so and stopped but they didn’t. Out of breath from running uphill, sweating like Rosie O’Donnell in the Florida sun on a humid day and feeling the bad knee coming alive…I stop and take stock of my situation. Mike finally catches up. A hillside seminar on the probability of catching spooked elk quickly raises my IQ.

Another bull is bugling on the opposite hillside…then another below us. This one sounds like a chain smoker. His tone is deep and raw, nothing like the others. I figure it has to be the 370 we spotted (when Gary was with me the week before) and we head in his direction. He MUST have cows!

We drop down and at the bottom hear him rip a long and horse bugle in the deep timber directly above us. I motion for Mike to hang back and begin the climb. I see sign everywhere, like a herd of a thousand has been here. My heart races as I ascend, eyes in the glass looking for that color. 4/5ths of the way up I spot em…cow after cow cresting the top. I’m busted again. Was it the thermals or the dry leaves? Probably both. At the top of the hill I find a large 3’ tall stump and sit to wait for Mike. As I sit I hear a third bull bugle a few hundred yards away in the direction of the truck. Five minutes passes, no Mike. At ten minutes the sounds of the bugles gets to me and I am off, using the cover of the deep, sunless timber to get close.

I am not thinking about anything but getting into these elk. I don’t care where Mike is…he’s a capable guy. My injured knee and other physical limitations cease to exist. I am on a mission and as single-minded as I have ever been in my 54 years. Another long and loud bugle so close I find it jarring stops me in my tracks. I nock an arrow…this is it.

The ground is soft here, the wind is in my favor, the scent of elk is heavy. I move slowly, cautiously…Spidey senses tingling at a full 220 volts. I reach the place they had just been. Busted for a third time. I text Mike…he lost me and is waiting at the truck.

We decide to leave the area and not blow em out of there. Upon return to this same area later, approaching it from another (better and more concealed) angle we find it a cemetery. Total quiet. We beeline it back to the truck as the sun will be up soon.

This is where I really felt good. 18 minutes later and nearly 8 miles away, I drove right to em, spotted em from the road and the chase was on again. Big Momma instantly jumps one of those high pole fences used to corral horses and heads off with the bull and a couple of cows into the public land. The remaining cows walk the fence line apparently uncomfortable with the big leap over the fence. They are half the size of Big Momma. We race down a side road directly between the two groups, park in a low spot and make a plan. Mike will be in the open to drive em over a rocky hillside where the other elk has just gone. I run to the top of that spot and see the big girl and her crew 187 yards away. They walk to a road and onto another property and begin calling to the rest of the herd. That’s where my previous post left off. I’m in a perfect spot between the two groups watching em meander back and forth a mere 88 yards away but neither will come my way. When I lose sight of the smaller and closer group I give chase only to run into a fence. Oh those fences! Text Mike and we regroup.

Now Mike has developed a sixth sense about elk and suggests we drive the road deeper back and park. We have been walking a flat spot for about 12 minutes when he points to a track. That’s fresh Bruce. Thus began our tracking and I am thankful feed is everywhere because the elk are pooping like a person before a colonoscopy. Fresh, fresher, recently airborne…I can see the difference. Elk dropping so fresh they are still melting onto a rock. We arrive to a place loaded with tracks; a squashed plant Mike calls Indian buttwipe. “Here’s where they bedded, they like to sit on this stuff,” says Mike. We keep moving further and deeper into the public lands…no FN fences here. Up, down, up down…the miles click by. After a couple of hours my boots feel like lead. I am starting to lose focus and am hot and thirsty. We take a break to rest. Mike makes it clear that we are on the right track and must keep moving so we do.

Thirty minutes later, at the top of yet another hill and just outside some of the densest, darkest timber we’ve seen yet we spot a lone cow. She looks at us takes off. Ya know that scene in Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid where they look back at the posse chasing em and say, “Who are those guys? They can’t follow us over rocks can they? Who are those guys?”

Well that’s how this felt. That cow knew she was being tracked. Tried to cut her off but a spooked elk is a quick elk. The anchors that were my boots disappear and I am all nimble and fired up again which is good since we have traveled 7.6 miles and it’s gonna be that far back to the truck. After that all we saw was deer and small game but the lessons I learned on that hike will serve me forever. Now I finally know how it’s done.

That was the last elk we saw. We covered many miles at the end…drove to many places, called for nothing and kept moving. Wherever they went, we couldn’t go. I imagined them sitting on someone’s porch laughing about us. Tag soup for a second year. Funny thing is…I’m not bummed. I had a helluva time, was into elk left and right and well within 100 yards repeatedly…I just never got to full draw. That first week sucked my enthusiasm big time…Mike taught me not to hunt on foot until you know you’re into elk. I know, seems obvious now but I spent a week pounding the ground without seeing or hearing an elk. So I am completely addicted and there’s no going back.

Some random memories (in no particular order) that stuck in my head in the final week.

I can sit perfectly still in the dimming light ready to draw with bugs flying around and will them away from me until the Thermacel warms up.

Fresh elk urine smells like a plant until someone tells you otherwise.

When you can hear your heartbeat…you have got to slow down.

You can never keep track of all the eyes on you…some dumb luck never hurts.

When more experienced guys tell you to travel fast and light, listen to em! I started out with a DT1 and all kinds of stuff. I ended up wearing a hip or small day pack with water, snacks, GPS, phone, RF, wind checker and hydration pack. The kill kit and other stuff remained in the truck. I added a chair, Thermacel and jacket for evening hunts. Ya don’t need the other stuff till you fire your bow.

Go light and add miles to your hunt.

There are 3300 miles of closed roads in Unit 8 alone (thanks Obama) and nobody in Arizona enforces the closures.

When that little voice in your head says STOP! Well stop and look around. Even when driving. I found a lot of game this way.

Once you see big elk, ya stop thinking about the new paint job your truck got and blast thru mud and bushes to get to em like a crazed person (or maybe that’s just me). I had to refill the washer fluid because of the waves of mud and water that cover the vehicle from top to bottom…it actually looks like a hunting truck now.

A good hunting buddy is invaluable but not always present.

Placing a Heads Up decoy behind the backseat of your truck so it appears to looking at the drivers behind you will get nods of approval….and disgust. <g>

Paying attention to details and taking in the view ahead of you is almost as important as paying attention to the details of the view behind you. Being able to recognize landmarks and unique structures, water, trees and rocks for your return makes your GPS almost unnecessary.

Cameras are a complete distraction until you shoot an elk.

Once the elk bug has bitten you…you forget about all the things you used to worry about in the woods. The only word that comes close to describing it is obsession.

I am feeling pretty beat up, have aches and pains in places I have never had before and don’t care one bit. I’ll gettum next time. For me 2014 was a great hunting year. Best yet!!!

 

[danarnold]

Nice write up,
Once the elk bug has bitten you…you forget about all the things you used to worry about in the woods. The only word that comes close to describing it is obsession.
I've been feeling it for some time!

 

[jlw]

Great story, thanks for posting it

 

[KHNC]

Great story Bruce! Glad you can still get out there and chase em around!!

 

[Greg Beck]

Great story! Thanks for sharing!

 

[DWarcher]

Great write up Bruce.

 

[Muledeernv]

Good write up Bruce.

 

[Where's Bruce?]

Accidental dupe.

 

[Where's Bruce?]

Thanks...maybe next time I can end it with a photo of me and a big rack. <g>