Home Forums Hunting & Shooting General Big Game Thanks Montana (solo backpack elk) and 2013 season

Snubbie - With as many injuries as you give yourself just field dressing your kills you wouldn't survive tagging along with Formid. By the way, how did you cut your knife hand too?

If Formid was through BUDS this hunt was probably fun, to him, and a learning adventure. I have shot enough elk to know what happens after you pull the trigger and then have a lot of meat to get back to the truck. I would have skipped the elk and went after that nice mule deer buck in the photo if the season was open. Formid does have photos so it must have happened! Deer like that are much rarer, at least on WY public land, and are much easier to pack out. I also learned a long time ago to bring a heavy duty garbage bag to put the wet boots inside your bag for the night. Frozen boots!!!, I would rather take a beating rather than wear frozen boots ever again. The pain is over quicker.

One of the best stories that's been on here in a long time and heaven forbid if some people that probably couldn't cross an empty room without getting hurt have to start chiming in.

Nearly fell off a cliff, covered roughly one mile of climb along with the down side of some of those ridges, all in an hour, climbed on top of a 7 foot tall rock to shoot, and randomly took off into the mountains a thousand miles from home with nobody in the world that knows exactly where he was at - Yep cal74, sounds like he knows his stuff. If this is all true, and I don't think it is, he's just damm lucky he has more luck than all the fools in the state put together. It's a good story, I'll give him that.

Agreed. True, false or embellished, it's a great read. If people are going to throw BS flags, they're going to be busier than most, between "safe dings" and sub moa rifles.

I too am ready for the next chapter. And would like a second story about Ms Upton.

+1

My left hand was both holding me on the rock and holding the forend of the rifle. My right foot was kind of hooked over the spine of the rock to the right, and both together made it rather stable.

He was facing to my right down the hill, and as I flicked the safety off out comes a rack straight behind him in the tree line. At first all I could see was a rack coming out of a ditch off the tree line because the other bull was blocking him, but it dwarfed the 5x. In my head I was screaming for the first bull to get out of the way. Finally the first bull took two or three steps forward and I had a clear view of the bigger bull. He was a 6x6 , and while I'm not a master scorer of elk, I've seen enough low 300 inch bulls to imeadiatley see he was big. He was facing me head on, my wobble zone was well inside the vitals and there wasn't a second thought in my mind; I put the reticle on the center of his chest, inline with the spine, took a deep breath, let it out and pressed the trigger. I saw the reticle lift off about two inches from center at the 10 o'clock before recoil nearly knocked me off the rock. I heard what sounded like the "thwack" of the bullet hitting tissue. By the time I pulled myself back into position, him and the 5x5 were running downhill and made it just into the tree line with again the smaller bull blocking the 6x6. I ranged it at 402 and all I could see was probably 6 inches of neck and his head above the back of the 5x. Bullets are cheap and my rule is that no matter what if they are on their feet or their head is up, I keep putting bullets in. I seriously contemplated shooting him in the head but didn't. They stood there for 10 or 15 seconds before dropping down in the ditch and going into the timber.

From the time peeked over the rock and I spotted them, to the shot felt like 5 seconds, but was in reality probably 20-25 seconds. It was hurried, but completely comfortable for me. Hurried but not rushed, if that makes sense.


I zeroed the turret, turned the power back down, and as I put my vest on and gathered my pack I snapped a picture to compare where he was standing at the shot, and where they went into the timber-


If you look basically dead center of the pic you'll see the pines in the background and a row of dead trees starting from center and going downhill. The bull was standing in the gap between the first dead tree on the left and the second.


It took a bit to get to where they went into the timber, and about 100 yards from the rock I noticed that the wind had picked up quite a bit. The whole way I replayed the shot in my mind. I knew that I had executed the shot well- I saw the crosshair lift off in recoil, the range was spot on and I heard the impact. But I also knew from having killed a lot of big game with that rifle/bullet combo, that at the angle of the shot that bull should have been laying in his tracks. As well he didn't act as if he was hit when he ran to the timber and I had watched him for almost twenty seconds just stand there. I found their tracks in the timber, but no blood. Took off my pack to mark it and went in. It was nearly dark however I had just enough light to see. I followed the tracks for 150 yards or so, most of it in the snow, when I bumped into them. They took off down towards the backside of the ridge which was a straight hellhole. Hoping he would stop before going over, I turned around and zig-zagged up and down, back out to my gear looking for blood checking to make sure that he didn't peel off from the others. It was dark by the time that I reached my pack, I found no signs of a hit, and I was smoked. I mean done. No energy and I was slightly dizzy. I marked the spot in my GPS, got out my emergency bag, and ate the snickers that was in it. My deal was that once that bag was opened for any reason, I was going out. What was left of my water/snow combination was frozen, with me only being able to get a slight sip. I packed up and took a round about route back down to the gear, trying to make it easier. My lower legs were so fatigued that it was hard to lock my feet straight flat and get the boot soles to "bite in" the ground so I kept slipping. Finally I reached the pack and made my way back out to the truck.




To be cont....

Get some!

Just a short commercial break, I hope.

Tim

Great story so far! I love your raw enthusiasm. Word of advise. Add toe warmers to your list.

HA! Nope, I occasionally nick my finger when field dressing and butchering. I've about come to the conclusion, that's just the way it is. However, in that thread I posted, apparently there are some who never cut themselves...never. So I guess it's just me that occasionally nicks their finger.

As far as surviving a tag along with Formid, it would be a non-issue. Assuming all this is true as told with no additional embellishment, I would not be in on this hunt. I can say while I'll endure some pretty extreme conditions (for me anyway) and a certain amount of risk and danger, I have no need to risk my life in a foolhardy fashion to kill an animal. I have a wife and a little girl that depend on me. When God decides my time is up, then it's up. Intentionally acting foolish and making bad decisions that can get you killed is not in my hunting repertoire and I have no need to "hurry along" the inevitable day of my departure from this world into the next!

Now, the day may come that I do indeed make a foolish mistake that costs me my life. I'll die happy doing what I love, but I won't willingly make that mistake.

IF this thread is true-to-life, then my hat's off to the young man for having all the LUCK in the world and getting out alive! Or more likely, God must have a greater plan for his life to have sustained him and made sure he survived this trip!

And besides, it HAS to be true or else it couldn't be on the internet for goodness sakes!

Sorry for my skepticism, please don't let it taint anyone's desire for this story as it has in no way diminished my desire to hear the rest nor has it dampened my intense interest and entertainment! The young man can tell a great story, that fact cannot be denied!

Oh, and I cut my finger on my knife hand wiping my blade with a paper towel.

edit to add: In fairness, I did some pretty stupid and dangerous things in my youth that could have gotten me or someone else killed, and darn near did a time or two. Only by the grace of God have I made it this far. It wasn't my brains and good looks! So I really can't say too much to the younger crowd...and I'd be wasting my breath anyhow.

Holy shidt I been late coming to this and riveted to this thread...11 pages and I was sure Formid had been killed by page 5.

"Iron Man" is all I can say....if it ended here, great job and no apologies.

Well done!

Dang. He climbed up on the rock yesterday, and pulled the trigger today and we STILL don't know the outcome.

Finish the story dangit!

You've sure captured the attention of many young man. Well done.

Interesting read, the writers veracity being very nearly irrelevant.

It was after 9pm when I arrived and threw my gear in the back. I needed food, a hot shower and sleep. I drove into the closest town and had a pork chop at the only diner before they closed, then I drove almost an hour from there to the closet motel, rented a room, got a bunch of snacks out of a vending machine and ate them while I soaked in the tub.

I thought this was nice-





I slept hard that night. I had planned to get up bright and early to be at the base of the ridge at daylight to look for him, but that didn't happen. I woke up sometime around 9am and went to this awesome Garage and had a fantastic chili omelet-




They even frosted the milk mug!-





I had overheard some guys talking about guiding some dudes on a ranch and shooting a couple bulls while eating, and when I walked out-





I drove back up to the trailhead, stopping briefly to check the zero just in case, which was perfect, loaded the gear and took off. I still believed with the info I had that I had put a bullet in the bull. But between the last night and the drive back I knew that there was no way that I could keep up the energy to continue going that hard if I hadn't. I had crushed myself to make it to those bulls, and it could take days to get another shot. I also knew that if I had blown the elk out the day prior that I might would have to go to a completely different area and start all over. I made it to the spot by early afternoon and paused briefly at the rock just trying to improve the mental picture that I had. I again noticed that there was almost no wind. Maybe 1-2mph at most, coming from right to left up the slope. I looked over to the right down slope towards and slightly below the tree line and could see the grass moving pretty well. I noted this and continued over to the timber, and again about a hundred yards from the rock the wind was 12 to 15 mph, right to left. Made it to where he was standing at the shot and looked for twenty minutes or so. No blood, no hair. Down into the timber on their tracks going very slowly looking for blood, hair, anything, and glassing ahead as far as I could see through the trees trying not to bump him if he was still in there.

I had sneaked within 200 yards or so of the hellhole on the backside, slowly cruising up and down, while moving that direction in case he veered off, doing my best to not slip or cause rocks to come loose when boom: 50 yards ahead off something went down into it. Curse. I moved up to where he was bedded hoping to find sign. Nothing.

I walked 30 to 40 yards higher and started back to the meadow, repeating the up and down zig zag. Nothing. All signs were pointing to a miss. I went back to where he was standing looking in the trees that were behind him, trying to locate the bullet. I could find nothing in the pines, but it looked from the angle that if it hit the dead trees, it would be 15 or 20 feet up. Hands and knees I searched for sign, making ever widening circles around the point. Back to the timber and I repeated the hands and knees thing. Nada. Dropped 50 yards or so down and did the up and down routine. Same.

I sat down and started looking at the terrain. The wind was coming up the slope at a relatively steady 12-15 mph. There was a valley that met up with this ridge at the bottom forming a "T" and the wind was zipping through the valley and up the slope, while that slight depression and the fact that there was the other smaller ridge straight across was blocking the wind at the rock from where I shot. I walked back to the rock and sure enough the wind just died once you got to the hump going into the depression. An 8 or 10 mph wind would've blown the bullet completely off the bull.

It's called micro terrain and I know better. At the rock it was plain as day. All it would have taken is just a quick glance down slope. I would have seen there was some wind, and at the very least held right edge. I also could have waited for the bull to turn broadside and either got the back edge of his lungs and liver, or far forward into the front of his chest. The thing is that I take the first makable shot offered. Too many people do not capitalize on opportunities because they he-haw waiting for the perfect shot in the future, instead of taking the good shot that is presented now. It wasn't the range. The range itself is a chip shot. Wasn't the position. I put a bunch of rounds from really terrible positions at way longer ranges and I know what shots I am capable of consistently making. Wasn't because the shot was rushed. I take the time it takes to make the shot. No more, no less.

Instead it was the simple fact of me taking for granted that the wind was stable from me to the bull. It is the first time that wind has gotten me on a big game animal at any range. It has been my experience that extremely experienced, competent shooters while not missing often, usually do it on mid range 300-500 yard shots. Those ranges are close enough that quick shots can be taken, yet far enough where wind, angle and position will bite you if not taken into account. I kill a lot of animals every year, and it has been three years since my last miss. Oddly it was at 369 yards, though due to a bad position, being rushed, and a small patch of vitals to shoot at. I killed that buck with the second round.




To be cont....

So who's gonna call and order a pizza?

looks like Sparky's garage....i had that same omelet

I wonder if by killed a lot of animals each year with this rifle he means people ...

+++ on all counts.

I walked up a bit to another set of rocks that gave me a better view of the slope I was on and the whole drainage proper, hoping the big guy would come back out, but knew that was unlikely. I started glassing hard and making a mental note of prevailing wind patterns- that wasn't going to get me again.

A few hours later a see some of my former buddies were back-







They were one the ridge where the big herd the first morning was and there was a bigger bull with them that I didn't get a picture of, but here was no chance that I would make it up there. Two days earlier and I would have tried it.

In total there were 36 that I counted before they fed over the ridge.



The day ended with this-





I picked my way down the slope on a small game trail that I found coming in, and walked down to the trail and back out. That knocked off nearly thirty minutes. I planned to come back to the same place the next day as there was quite a bit of sign and it offered a good view for the glass.





The next day I woke late and didn't get settled on the ridge until the sun was well up. I spent the day burning holes in every pocket, snow slide, and ridge that I could see. I moved into several different spots getting different angles on the drainage. I went up to the top and glassed from the backside down into the drainage that the hellhole ran into, and lo and behold spotted big boy moving through a narrow slide. He was non the worse for wear.

I knew that I could kill him. I also knew instantly that there was no way that I could get the meat out before it spoiled. Temperatures had risen into the high 40'd during the day, only into the mid 30's at night, and judged that it would take at least 3 more hours just to get into the drainage that he was in. I could see tracks tearing up the snow through the spotter. Just looking at it, the terrain around it, the wind blew up into the drainage from the main valley, the back was boarded by a 10.5k mountain, it just looked like a perfect place for a dude to hide out and get big. Not sure why he ever came out onto the slope I was on, but it was obvious that was his home area and as he headed further around the point out of view, I knew he wasn't coming out.

I glassed for a bit, but left him before I got an itchy trigger finger. I headed back down the point to the South West, picking apart the deep timber on the backside as I went. I made it down to where the West side of the ridge dropped off and looked up to the opposite ridge-




The one that I was on the first morning where I spotted the big herd from. Just right of center there are 5 or 6 elk. You can see a couple of dots just below the snow line. I took this just before I saw a bull follow them into the meadow from the ridge top. Through the binos I could see that he was legal. I threw the pack down, snatched out the spotter and set it in the shooting sticks. He wasn't nearly as big as the other bull, but he was the biggest that I had seen other than him. He had what I believe to be the spike with brow tines that I had seen two days prior with him as well. I checked my watch, and there was about 30 minutes of legal light left. The ridge down on my side was impassable. Pulling out the map showed that the ridge they were on didn't look makable from below either, and diffidently not in time. It was killing me. He was just on the far side of 900 yards. While the gun is capable of that, it is not the kind of shot I will take solo, without someone good on the glass. And truthfully I just didn't want to take one that far.

No matter how hard that I tried, I could see no way to get to them in time. So I just sat there for a few minutes watching as one by one the cows fed down to the left and then up and over the ridge, slipping out of view. Out of curiosity I pinged the lowest cow and it came back just over 800. Now the wheels started turning in my head. I started looking around. There was no wind where I was. Through the spotter I could see no wind where the elk were. I pointed the spotter to the right looking down the valley between us and the tree tops were dead still. I swung it to the left and the sun was still gleaming off the closest ridge showing the mirage boiling. I knew from earlier in the day that if there were any wind at all it should be coming from right to left down the valley but I could find nothing. There wasn't any micro terrain. It was a straight valley going up to a peak 2+ miles away. I made the decision that if the bull made it to a certain point lower than that cow was, and I had that warm fuzzy, I would kill him.

I laid down to check the position and found that I couldn't get enough angle on the gun as they were slightly above me, so I scooted the pack and rifle over to a group of rocks that were slightly higher and tried again. Now I could get the angle. Ran and grabbed the spotter setting it back up a couple feet away on the bull as he slowly fed down the ridge. I took off my gloves, balling them up and using them as a rear bag. Double checked to make sure the gun was clear, got into position, took a deep breath, let it, out closed my eyes, and opened checking my NPA. The reticle was still good and I dry fired on him. The reticle bounced slightly to the 2 o'clock. I used my toes to shift over a bit, corrected my grip in the gun, and tried again. That one was good. I repeated this a couple of times as he continued to feed down.

Finally he passed my predetermined point. I got the range, dialed it, checked for wind again, chambered a round, rechecked my NPA, he turned exactly the way that I wanted him to, I got the warm fuzzy, took two deep breaths letting the last one out to the natural respiratory pause, and pressed.....





To be cont.......