Hunting elk on public land is not easy. It is by far the most demanding hunting I’ve experienced to date. The elk just won’t cooperate, and they do not live on a schedule. Native Americans called elk Wapiti and referred to them as the ghost kings of the high country; meaning they hide, so you must hike all over to find them and then go to them. It seems easy, but you can’t just take a direct route to them…nope, you must read the wind, and often hike beyond where you see them, to come in with the advantage of elevation and surprise. The elk hunts I’ve been on in Montana average hiking eight to ten miles daily; climbing steep grades that seem to be straight up at times; leaving well before daylight and returning well after sunset; in weather conditions from freezing cold, scorching heat, thunderstorms, snow storms, wind storms, dry or muddy ground; and in all kinds of terrain from grass fields/parks, to mountain peaks and everywhere in between. For six years, I’ve put in the work.
This year, I was unable to archery hunt; so, I took a rifle, a Ruger Hawkeye FTW Hunter, 300-win mag and a Bushnell Engage scope that provided clarity on a longer shot. This rifle was extremely light and had way more range than my bow. One of the things I look forward to most during an elk hunt, is sitting on the side of a mountain, with one of my best friends, Donna McDonald. Donna owns Upper Canyon Outfitters, she and her husband, Jake have welcomed me year after year as I continue my quest to harvest an elk. This year, Donna was convinced I would get a Bull. I wasn’t so sure, but I had my hopes up.
On the first day of hunting, I set off with my guide, Rocko. I was eager to get out and hunt, and the laziness in me wanted to get it done day one, so I could relax a few days before heading home. This is probably the least prepared I’ve been for hunting Montana. I normally will begin building up my strength and endurance to handle the long hikes; however, this year I barely got on the treadmill once a week. I would love to blame my schedule, but the truth is I didn’t prioritize exercise….big mistake. Right out of the gate, we started our climb. It was dark, and that saved the mental debate I normally have with myself as we climb from the bottom to the top of a mountain, with it’s always just a “little bit more” if you ask any guide. It was so amazing to be at the top of a mountain and see the sun peek over the horizon and light up the mountain tops to the west of us. The scene was absolutely beautiful and took your breath away…or was that because I was lacking oxygen from being out of shape? This was opening day of rifle season, and very different from opening day of archery season. I have never seen so many hunters. Orange dotted the landscape and made it difficult; especially when we had a hunter come and set up in the middle of where we were hunting. It was “game over” that day, because we could not have taken a safe shot at an elk. I am amazed that there isn’t a “hunter’s etiquette” guide, because we got there first, so in my mind we had dibs. That morning we saw five moose, and a couple of cow elk. We headed down after sunset, and the hike down was much easier than the hike up.
Day two came earlier than I expected, but I eagerly got up to head back out to get an elk. We had a plan; so Rocko, Keren (a newer guide) and I headed out and up. We started out the morning on an easy hike to a point that looked across a mountain range at no more than 400 yards for a nice shot. We were there; the elk were not. So, we moved on. The guide wanted to get to a lookout point to have lunch, get some rest and hopefully find some elk to make a plan. On the first day, my body was in shock. It was saying to me, “what the heck is happening here, but ok let’s move.” However, on the second day, my body was shouting, “Oh, Heck No”, but my mind overruled and we pushed through. Honestly, this is where preparation for the hunt or my lack thereof really hindered my chances for success. As soon as we sat down at the lookout point, Rocko spotted an entire herd of elk, sunning themselves on the peak of the mountain within hiking distance. I ate fast, the adrenalin was pounding; and when we started a brisk hike towards what seemed an impossible climb, my body doubted its capability and my mind was buying in. The day was very hot, and I started out in layers of Sitka gear, and my rapidly consumed lunch, coupled with the heat was not a good combination. I asked the guide to stop, and I quickly took some layers off.
Rocko and Keren were strategizing a plan…a difficult plan. One course of action was to climb all the way down the mountain we were on, and then all the way back up the other mountain. This course of action had risk, the elk would surely notice us on a direct approach. The other option was to climb to the very top of the mountain we were on (we were pretty close), and then skirt around to the other mountainside so we could sneak in. There were risks with this option too. The mountainside was covered in shale rocks, or as I like to call them, boulder mine fields. The entire time, I was telling them that I honestly felt I couldn’t make it from point A to point B in such a short amount of time as we were racing the sun. As luck would have it, or not luck since the goal was to hunt an elk, as we deliberated, the elk got up and moved. We would have missed them anyway. The good news is that they started bugling. An elk bugle is one of the most amazing sounds to hear; and they were screaming their fool heads off. As we watched, spike bull after spike bull move around, suddenly the grand daddy appeared. We decided to hunt our way back down and see if we could intercept them as they might be headed to a stream for water. Once again, they did not cooperate.
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