Continued from part 2

September 26th opening day of Elk rifle season

So with my bow put away, (un-shot), I slid the Ruger .300 Winchester Magnum in the scabbard as I rode out in the dark along with my Father and Billy.   this morning we got an even earlier start.  2 hours later, we arrived at the base of “Action Alley”  We could faintly hear the bull calling.  We dismounted from the horses and began our climb up the ridge in the dark. 

Now my 66 year old father had experienced difficulty with the altitude last season. So this year I ordered him a pack of the Hy-Altitude Advantage, from Wilderness Athlete.  He remarked that this season he was better able to cope with the lack of oxygen at 7000-9000 feet higher than we live. 

As dawn spread across the upper reaches of the ridge, The bulls began singing out.  Instead of setting up lower on the ridge, we continued to climb up to the trail I saw the bull traveling the morning prior.  As we began to traverse the side hill took the lead and began to see elk cows below and in front of me.  I motioned to dad that we were into the elk and continued to scan the hillside in front of me. 

What I didn’t count on was that the bull we had been hearing would come out of the timber BEHIND my father and I.  I heard the rocks rolling  above me and saw cows below me look up.  I followed their gaze and saw elk crossing the saddle above me.  I wheeled and brought my rifle to my shoulder just like I was quail hunting.  I had one shot and fired before the bull disappeared over the finger. 

My father called to me, 30 yards behind…”You hit ‘im?”

I responded: “I was on him when the shot went off”. 

But my thoughts were on the lack of a reaction from the elk.  Before I could follow up, I began hearing rocks clattering, and I saw dust rising from the next saddle.  I jogged around the finger to watch my elk rolling head over heels from 9500 feet elevation down PAST ME, until he finally came to rest 500 vertical feet below where he had been when I shot.

When we examined the elk, I could see the bullet entered under his “elbow” on the left side, punched through the thick Brisket bone, through the left lung, and major arteries, through the right lung, through the shoulder bone and muscle until coming to rest under the skin on the right side at the point of the shoulder.  you can see the bump on the right shoulder that is the bullet under the skin in the picture above.

As the dust cleared, another bull called his scattered cows from the dark timber below us and we scrambled to grab a cow call.  30 minutes after my shot, a raghorn 4 point snuck in to my cow calls.  Dad had his rifle up but elected to pass on the bull as he spooked and hot footed back into the timber. 

We spent the remaining day field dressing the bull when Billy rejoined us from the creek below.  He made the 5 hour round trip ride for pack horses, and this time I elected to wait rather than pack it out myself (like I did in 2007).  We arrived back in camp shortly before sunset, tired but smiling. 

Sept 27th

Did a meat run to town, and did a load of wash at the laundromat.  The rest of the crew hunted hard all day, but saw no elk.

Sept 28th

Took dad back to “Action Alley” and had the same bull calling in the timber.  I tried some cow calls and a 5-point with one Antler broken completely off crossed the side hill at 200 yards.  Dad “virtually killed” him as he held the crosshairs on him and then let him walk.  The big bull continued to answer our calls occasionally in a deep timber hole, but with a day old gutpile in there we did not want to meet up with a grizzly in the timber.

We continued to hunt mornings and spent the mid days exploring old cabins and even fishing the native cutthroat trout in the small stream that flowed through the beaver choked valley.

On our Final Day hunting we rode near the Continental Divide through some new country.  It was as much a scouting trip for next year as an elk hunt.  I managed to get a picture of the four of us as the sun broke over the horizon.

That evening we were back in civilization in Jackson with a hot shower and a cold drink.  We had a long couple of days of travel ahead of us on which to recount our tales of bulls that could have been.  Another Wyoming Elk season lies behind me, but there may be a trip, later this month for my partners.  If it materializes I will pass along the epic tale…