Home Forums Hunting & Shooting General Big Game Everything but Locusts ! - ( long )

Here's a little known fact for Oregon hunters ... especially those who save up preference points for a dozen plus years, in the hopes of drawing a coveted Bull Elk or Buck Deer tag in a trophy unit. If someone who draws one of these tags, should pass away before the hunt, the executor of the estate may ask ODFW, to pass down the tag to an immediate family member. They may hunt with said tag, without any effect on their own preference points for that species. This year, when my uncle drew an any-Elk tag, for one of the top 5 trophy Beeeg-Bull units in Oregon ... then passed away well before the hunt, the tag was transferred to my cousin.

I had hunted in this unit for the last 10 years, assisting 24-hr member "Spike" on his fine 6x6 harvest, plus later taking an outstanding 6x6 Bull on my own and have also whacked a few Spike-only Elk in there. So I agreed to go along with my cousin on this second-season hunt, acting as B'wana and sharing my knowledge of the area, including where the really "Big-Uns" hang out.

Our season opened on Saturday Nov. 2nd and ran for 9 days. While I didn't plan to personally hunt that much (limited mobility), I carried a Spike-only tag and a Cougar tag in my pocket, while Chris had the Any-Bull tag and a Fall Bear tag. He would be joined by his brother John (no tags) in a separate rig. They planned to bring along 4 llamas, to do any packing out, as this area in N.E. Ory-gun is Steep and Deep. The traditional hunting method is Spot and Stalk, with the confidence and ability to shoot (cross canyon) 300-450 yards almost a necessity. It was a Loooooong hunt ... lots transpired ... but I figured I'd give you a taste in this summary.

Tuesday (afternoon Oct. 29th) - I haul my utility trailer with most of my Wall-tent setup, over to La Grande, staying overnight in town, with friends.

Wed AM (Oct. 30th) - Up early, last minute food shopping at Safeway, gas up the rig ... head up into the Blue Mountains. We have elected to camp some 1,200 feet lower than we usually do, to avoid having to prematurely break camp and bug-out, if deep snow falls during the hunt. We will have to drive 5-8 miles up the mountain each day, to reach our viewpoints (or jump-off points). I pull into our pre-determined 1st-choice camp site at 9:30 am, just as some outliers are unfolding their tiny (moth-eaten) ancient wall tent. While this area is sufficiently large to support several camp sites, they claim to have 2 more travel trailers coming up, so I head on up the mountain another 2 miles, only to find 7 rigs, 3 large wall tents and another side camp ... totally filling our 2nd choice site. Back on the road and another 500 feet higher ... potential camp spot # 3 is empty, but it's driveway is a disgusting mud-bog ...and spot # 4 nearby is too exposed to the wind. Race back down ... finally locate an alternate site, between choices # 1 and # 2.

Bob, (a non-hunter) shows up 20 minutes later and begins wood-cutting nearby, to provide a supply for our wood stoves. With 2 wall tents to heat and a possible 12 days in the woods, it will take a lot of cut/split Tamarack and Lodge-pole to keep us warm.

Now I'm not sayin I'm "old" ... but Momma always let us kids play outside the Cave, when we were little, never worrying that we might get dirty, since "Dirt" hadn't been invented yet. So having Bob along to assist for the first 2-days, really helped me get camp set-up. Chris/John arrive around 11 am and after unloading the llamas, got down to erecting their wall tent.

About 2pm, with a preliminary Camp set-up ... Chris/John in the smaller Wall tent, me/Bob alone in the larger (14'x15') wall tent (2 large cots, L-shaped cooking station, wood stove + main dinner table). I put the two cousins in my rig and headed out on a major orientation trip. I showed them the (secret) jump-off points, for accessing some of the trails running out to the farthest ridges in this 25 square-mile totally road-less area. We scouted until dark ... spotting 7 branch Bulls (6x6/better) ... 2 of which were possible shooters, that might meet Chris's 340+ hopes. ( 1 of 7, continued)

- - - Silver Bullet

One riot ... one Ranger

That night (around 11-pm), laying on my cot ... with the Sandman pouring gallons of dust into my eyes and visions of Dead-Elk dancing through my head ... I faintly hear the sweet sounds of 2 Bull Elk bugling behind camp ... some 400+ yds down in the canyon. There are a few cow-calls and chirps interspersed ... maybe 12-15 head ... then it all goes silent as fitful sleep overcomes my anticipation of tomorrows scouting effort.

Thursday We're up at O-Dark-30 ... planning to do a great morning scout for more Bulls ... only to be greeted by steady rain and totally fogged in ... There will be no scouting this morning.
You know what that means ... YEP ... it's big-breakfast time = I fry up a pound of thick sliced pepper Bacon, and drain nearly a dozen eggs into the pan. The low clouds, rain and fog hang with us all day long, so we spend time to "perfect" camp and prepare for Fridays scouting effort.

Footnote: While we left an aging 22' travel trailer at home, we did bring the ultra quiet Honda Eu2000i generator along. I had put together (from common Home-Despot items) a little lighting experiment. It was a 4' long white track-lighting strip, a 12' power cord (with in-line switch), two insertable bulb housings, and 2 (65 watt equivalent) LED Daylight bulbs (that only draw 14-W each). When hanging bulb-down, these bulbs shoot no light out the bottom of the bulb ... it all goes out sideways ... over 360 degrees ... which is why I had to take a die-grinder and cut-down the 2 bulb housings so they were simply bulb-sockets. With the strip hung 10 inches below the ridge-line of the tent and the bulbs spread nearly the full 4-feet apart, these 2 low-draw LED bulbs lit up the inside the tent better than 6 Coleman lanterns could. The light radiated up high and horizontally onto the white interior tent walls and then bathed the entire tent in daylight spectrum. You could easily read the fine print in a newspaper or go over TOPO maps, there was no propane "Hiss" and because the light came from so many (reflected) directions ... there were absolutely no shadows. Total lighting components (hardware) costs approx $ 105

Friday am: It was clear out, with just the usual haze/glare as we scouted early that morning, from 2 separate rigs. I spotted 5 branch Bulls before they all finished feeding and bedded down in the timbered draws. Then, on a ridge almost 2 miles away, through my Zeiss 10x40's, I spotted a sky lined whiteish-butt facing toward me. I assumed when it turned, that it would be an Elk ... but there was no black neck/mane and the animal appeared to have something around its neck ? ? Maybe it's a collared White Wolf ... Nope .... maybe a disoriented St. Bernard with a wooden cask around its neck ? .... Nope ... It was low to the ground and stocky of build ... Then it made a move, going several yards straight-up the steep rocky hillside and I could tell by the familiar herky-jerky motion as it climbed, that it was a Bighorn sheep. A quick swap over to the spotting scope, revealed the dirty-white colored hulk of a body and that the "collar" was simply the Rams 5/8ths curl, viewed in profile.

This unit is not known for having a huntable Bighorn population (and I have never seen one there before), but a post-season call to ODFW revealed that young rams often roam 50-75 miles from their home range in the Fall, looking for new territory ... and in search of Nookie (er: compliant females ).

We're all back in Camp by 10am .... YUP ... its Bacon time ... Fry up another 1-lb + 9 eggs + tatoes.

- - - Silver Bullet

If ya can't run with the Big-Dogs ...
write on the inner-net, that ya can

Part-3

Friday afternoon, Chris/John drive around to locate a possible jump-off point ... They park and walk 50 yards over to the edge and look deeply down into the bottom. An elderly fellow camped nearby, ambles over, just as John comments about how steep and deep it is and that at their age (mid/late 50's) its almost too steep to hunt.

The fellow says: "Oh you can do it. In fact, a couple years ago this older guy with a bad hip (who walked with a cane) ... went halfway down in the dark ... then at daylight, shot a huge branch Bull at 800 yards across the canyon" ... (John and Chris are trying not to smile now, cause they realize the guy is telling the story of my earlier hunt there) ... "then he went down to the bottom alone, crossed the flowing creek, climbed the steep/slippery slope up to the Bull, gutted him out, skinned him and hung him up all by himself ... then climbed to the top of the opposite mountain and walked 4 miles out in the dark. He didn't get back to his camp until 2 in the morning ! And he was a rich-feller too ... cause he went and hired a packer with mules, to get the Bull out !"

They pretended it was the first time they'd ever heard that story ... (besides, the shot was only 799 yards ... ) Soooo .... I guess I'm now a (local) Legend ... (we never did tell him it twas me).

That evening, we again scout the Golden-hour for feeding bulls and re-spot several of the same Bulls we had seen at first light Friday morning. Post rut, unless bumped, these older bulls rarely travel very far, often feeding/bedding in a tight 300 yard radius, day after day. They prefer to be at the snow line or 100-200 yards below it, deep enough down in the canyons, that a hunter really has to be determined and commit to the climb, to potentially get a shot at one.

As he led our 3-rig convoy back to camp, Cousin John had a Cougar come out of the timber on his left, fast walk through an open grass field, pad across the road in front of him and disappear into the trees on the right hand side.

Over a pre-made and re-heated Elk Stroganoff dinner, we discussed the days various Elk sightings and the possible approaches to them, all in anticipation of tomorrows opening day ... then we designed a Fool-proof game-plan for early Saturday morning. This could be a one-day hunt ! ... (Note: Whenever you design a Fool-proof plan ... remember the level of the Fools, who will be executing it ! ) ... Oh yeah ... and don't forget to Fax the plan to the Elk too !

- - - Silver Bullet (aka: Da' Legend)

One mans Rust ... is another mans Patina

Part 4 of 7 (or 8)

Each night, we take a serious listen to the NOAA Weather radio broadcast (Pendleton), to help plan the next days activities. Unfortunately, there were High-Wind Warnings being declared for the Blue Mountains for all of Friday night ... and rain/snow expected on Saturday, increasing on Sunday. Winds would be from the South, 25-40 mph, with gusts to 55-60 mph ! Ouch !

9pm: - Bob has returned to town, so I'm alone in the larger tent. Zip the tent door closed tight, stoke the wood stove (damp it down) ... crawl deeply into my 10-lb Eddie Bauer Fart-sack. The wall tent is getting whipped by wind gusts, that seem to be coming from all 360 degrees of the compass. Sometimes you can hear a freight-train rush of wind approaching, roaring through the tree-tops ...getting closer ... closer ... then POW ! ... it hits the tent head-on ... and the tent walls dance to the impact.

As I lie there anticipating the next blast, I'm thinking to myself, trying to recall ... "Were there any standing Widow-makers, just to the South of this tent site ?"

10:30pm - a wind gust lifts the tent eves enough to pull the Stove pipe up out of the stove ... the pipe is a tight fit in the stove jack ... so the (hot) stove-end of the pipe is flailing around inside the tent, as the wind gusts shove the exterior 5 feet of the pipe to and fro. Having seen this trick of Ma-Nature play out before, I had a pair of leather gloves standing by ... Jump outta the bag, nearly Nekked, into the dark and cold ( I know . . . TMI) .... small LED flashlight held in the mouth ... corral the errant pipe-end and between gusts, insert it back into the stove.

Just 30 minutes later and the stove pipe is pulled out again ... I really wanted to ignore it, but the tent is now filling with smoke. This is just stooopid ...

By now, every perimeter tent stake has been jerked outta the ground and each gust is trying to peel the blue tarp (that is covering the tent) off, like it was picking up the cover of a Connestoga Wagon being towed at 75 mph on I-84. It gets to flapping so hard that I fear the entire tent is at risk of taking flight and coming down in another Zip-code. Where's Dorthy ? I need her to click the heels of her Ruby-Red slippers together and "wish-me" out of this localized Tornado ? I can't risk this tent destroying itself ... so it's up and out into the swirling snow (in just my tidy-whities, a T-shirt and slippers), to attempt to re-tighten the adjustable bungees, that hold down the blue-tarp tent fly.

I don't re-stoke the stove ... but instead, pull on a long-sleeve sweat shirt + ski cap and crawl back into bed.

Saturday am: I've managed Zero sleep (so far) ... 1:30 am - Run outside into 2 inches of snow and start-up the Denali and reposition it directly in-front of the tent, (accidentally running over/crushing an unseen white plastic lawn chair) ... while attempting to block gusts coming from the South. Might as well throw a rock into the Columbia River below Bonneville Dam and expect it to slow the rivers flow. Screw it ... back to bed ...

The 3rd time the stove pipe pulled out ... and with the stoves wood-load burned down so it no longer poured smoke into the tent ... I thought ... WWSDD ? =
What would Snoop-Dogg Do ?

So, I gave up trying to re-install the pipe. Unbeknownst to me, in its wild gyrations, the stove-pipe literally jammed (stuck) into one of the stoves detents on its side (normally used for attaching a warming shelf) ... and it stayed tightly in place there, until daylight.

Chris/John are up at 3-am. They make coffee and eat a sweet-roll in their own tent, then start the diesel to warm it up and depart for the mornings jump-off point. They make it up to the secret spot and having seen no other vehicles on the way, Chris chooses to sit in the rig (for several hours) ... awaiting the slightest hint of light .... might as well log onto - ThatsaBadIdea.com

- - - Silver Bullet (aka: Da' Legend)

Like a Tornado ... sniffing around for a Trailer Park !

Part 5

Just before daybreak, he departs and heads down the steep ridge toward the bottom ... and when he's only made it about half-way down ... Crack-pow ! ... he watches as one of the targeted Bulls (a very black-horned 6x5) below him goes down, shot by an unseen hunter, who was already in place, well below him. He heads further down, where his ridge swings to the right ... and 10 minutes later ... Pow - Pow .... 2 shots ring out, further off to his right ... and someone else (who also climbed down in the dark) has just dropped a really nice 320+ 6x6. So much for thinking that no-one else had spotted these two bulls on Friday.

The wind has let up a little, but the Rain/Snow that is falling has dropped the Visibility to near Zero. Even though he went down totally outfitted head-to-toe in rain gear, 5 hours of exposure to the horizontal gusts have completely soaked him. So, its back to camp by noon ... where I have the now repaired wood stove running hot and ready for gear/clothes drying ... (with that marvelous dry heat). The afternoon hunt is totally snowed out, as we now have 5 inches on the ground, with Zero visibility ... so it's Turkey Sam-iches, fruit and cookies for lunch. All Saturday night ... it just keeps snowing.

Sunday - Snow is still falling constantly and both piling-up and drifting. This is why you don't camp 1,200 feet higher up on the Mountain. Many of the hunters with travel trailers and 5th wheels up there, are already closing up shop and bugging-out. For security, we chained-up the Dodge diesel, on all 4 corners ... no use scouting today, we could barely see 50 to 75 yards outside the tent. So at 9am, it's once again: "more Bacon - please !"

Monday am - Besides running low on Bacon, we were short on several other supplies, so I planned on a morning trip to town (35 miles away), to take a shower at Bobs and maybe stay overnight, then food shop in the morning on Tuesday and return to camp. A warm shower felt really great ... but since Bob was a sickie, rather than me sticking around, he pointed out I should go food shop and return to the mountains that day, while the afternoon temps were nicely above freezing. It was 38 degrees when I left town at 3:30 ... but it was quickly down to 22 degrees, at 4pm, when I left the highway at 5,200 feet ... and (running on just street 10-ply Michelins) I cautiously headed down the totally frozen/iced-over roads, back to our camp. It was mostly a rutted 2 track in 8" of snow and you really didn't want to meet anyone coming the other way. The thermo-meter would drop down to 15 degrees overnight ... cold enough to freeze your giblets. On the way, I pass a Mule-deer buck, standing motionless, about 60 yards off road, back in the dense lodgepoles. I stop to glass him and he nervously begans to edge away. He's a narrow but Very-tall 3x3 and walks with a severe rear limp, likely wounded during the previous rifle season. Can you say Cougar-snack ?

Tuesday - snow + dense fog all day = Back to cookin Bacon / Eggs / Hashbrowns

Wed - still snowing + foggy = More Bacon / Eggs / Hashbrowns

I go over the TOPO maps with the guys and suggest they should do an orientation hike and walk a mile-in on top ... out into the Honey-Hole. They drive-up, park, head out on foot through the snow, but decline to take along a GPS ... thus missing a turn and walking 1.5 miles past the secret hanging bowl, that has proven to be quite productive in the past (mid-season).

That night, NOAA says: High Wind Warnings again, but from the Southwest, switching to West ... along with a chance of mountain Thunder. The thunder-boomers started around 8pm and by 9 pm, one had hit so close, that there was no count, between the flash and the huge Crack ! We peered outside, half expecting to see a tree on fire somewhere nearby. Around 11pm, while lying safely in my bag, a gust of wind snaps off the top 45 feet a Spruce tree (waaaay-back behind the tent) ... said top flies 20 yards Northeast and crashes into the canyon behind us, shattering all the limbs ...while sounding like someone set off a small IED !

- - - Silver Bullet

We need some - Whack-em ... Stack-em ... and Pack-em !

Part - 6

Thurs AM - Up early, but outside, it's still low clouds/fog ... More Bacon please ...
So here we are, starting out day 6 of the 9-day hunt and there's only been 4-5 hours (on opening morning) that you could see anything ! Spending so much time in camp (inside the tents) we're really burning through our wood supply. I'm frustrated sitting around camp, so while the cousins are using my Stihl to dissect a leaning tree West of the tents (for more camp-wood), I drive 6-miles up to a viewpoint on the edge. It has cleared off up high on the mountains. While our camp (down lower) is in the fog, the canyons we mainly hunt in, sometimes get their fog/weather from a different place. I race back to camp, to alert the others.
"If you don't regularly go down to the docks ...
how will you ever know if your ship has come in ?"

It really clears off late and scouting that evening, from two separated overlooks, we spot 5 branch bulls. On the drive back to camp, I stopped by a wall-tent camp site, that had bailed-out on Wednesday and "appropriated" some of the White Fir and Tamarack wood rounds they left behind in their haste.

We are now down to the last 3 days of the season and with the weather Gods constantly throwing us curveballs, Chris decides that rather than hold out for a 340+ bull, it's now truly an any-Bull hunt. Over dinner, we discuss implementing Plan B (ver. 3.6), for Friday morning.

Fri AM - At daybreak, we again scout from 2 separate vehicles ... spotting 5 different branch bulls ... we put our heads together and Chris decides to go for the pair of Bulls (feeding together) that are located the highest up out of the canyon bottom, off an accessible mountain top road.
He drives around to access the best jump-off point on the rim, while John and I remain, to glass from our viewpoint. Our task is to make sure the bulls don't leave the draw we last saw them in.

The plan is for Chris to stealthily sneak down into the Elk's "Kitchen" ... hide-out ... and then catch them unaware, when they come out to raid the refrigerator, in the early evening.

With the weather continually clearing ... and with all the cold/snow we have had, one would expect an earlier than usual start to the evenings feeding. There's virtually no escape for at least one of these Bulls now ... they're trapped more certainly than an overweight Spider, scurrying around at the bottom of a clean bathtub.

- - - Silver Bullet

A brief pause, while I repsond to some leftover-Turkey that is calling me.

musta choked on the turkey?

... or all that bacon caught up with him?

These cliff hanger stories are starting to wear me out.

Tryptophan gets me every time too.

Man ... a tough crowd here ...
Sorry, we were out of Bacon-bits for the smashed-taters ... so I had to run to the store - - - - NOT !
(Now I Don't care who ya are ... that right-there is funny.)
- - -
On an actual "hunting" morning, we normally just perk a huge stainless cauldrun-o-Coffee ... and then scarf down some petrified sticky-buns, maybe adding a bowl of oatmeal ... and hit the trail (usually hiking right out of camp) into the Wilderness). We only bring at most, 2 lbs of Bacon and that is saved for the morning after a kill (before pack-out trips) .. or the morning you are packing up to go home. So, with the bad weather keeping us marooned as it were, these guys are just used to eating (whole hog).

I can hardly stand the sight or smell of Bacon (today).

- - - S.B.

Even a Time-machine loses half its value .... the minute you drive it off the lot.

Part 7

While glassing along Chris's probable path to "intercept", I catch some movement in an opening and soon identify it as a Monster Black Bear ... padding his way downhill. He's side hilling out of the same draw that Chris should now be entering the top of. The bear is jet Black in coloration and his fur is very glossy ... a real no-neck belly-dragger, who with each step causes waves of jello-like motion, to ripple along his flanks. He doesn't appear to have missed any meals ... (wait ... has he been eating our Bacon ?)

I finally spot Chris, he's now one ridge closer than where we last spotted the Bulls and is down where the ridge line flattens out and becomes less timbered. After he's in position for about 30 minutes, I'm watching through the spotting scope and see Chris suddenly drop off the ridge line toward me, he ducks down and quickly low-walks about 30 yards back uphill. He creeps up over the ridge and assumes a seated shooting position. About 30 seconds later ... a quiet POW-wwww ... echoes off the canyon walls, reflected over a mile back towards me.

(From my angle, I couldn't see the bull, so this came from Chris)
The Bull, across the draw (ranged at around 260 yards) was initially rocked, but overall reacted as if he had been hit by the Croquet-Mallet of Thor ... and at the shot, turned his head as if to say ... "Is that the best you've got ?" ... The 180gr Speer Grand Slam (handload) from his Zeiss 3.5-10x topped .300 Win-mag actually tore open a new Texas-sized gusher in the Bulls blood-pump and let the air outta one lung. The Bull was dead on his feet, but not quite ready to accept it. As an experienced Elk whacker ... the motto is: "If they're still standing ... keep shooting". So he rushed a 2nd follow-up shot, that impacted low and just creased the brisket. The Bull has now decided that he needed to be in some deeper cover, so as he turned to walk directly away, shot # 3 took out his rear wheels and he crashed heavily onto his side, falling down into the brush. The other Bull looked over and said: "Hmmm ... is it time to bed down already ?" and proceeded to bed-down near the now dead-elk.

10 minutes later, I talked briefly on the radio with Chris, then corralled John (who had walked some 200 yards away from my rig, to a better viewpoint, that let him glass into the main canyon bottom). We loaded up and drove around (20 minutes), to park near the edge of the canyon, some 900 vertical feet above Chris and the Bull.

As Chris carefully made his way across the steep draw and over to the downed bull, the other bull flushed out downhill. His plan was to gut, skin, tie-off the Bull ... then climb out to the top ... (through steep, lose, slippery snow covered scree slopes and fighting dense snow brush)

It was now 4pm and there was only an hour left till dark. Waiting on top, John and I glassed the far canyon walls and shortly spotted 4 other branch bulls (all out feeding) some 1 to 2 miles away.

Just then, 2 matching Dodge pick-ups pulled up and flanked us, with 4 guys in each rig. Their clean and starched (recently-purchased ?) Cabellas cammo gear indicated that they had been spending all their days inside their rigs. They started glassing the hillsides and very quickly, one of them spotted 2 huge bulls, right down below us in the bottom ... totally exposed on a yellow grass hillside. <frown>

Before I left, heading back to camp to warm the tents (and prepare dinner), I confirm that John has a key to Chris's rig and some water and food available for him, when he returns. They didn't make it back to camp until 9:30 that evening ... Then it was Elk spaghetti for all .... and tall tales were told.

- - - S.B.

I put my tights on the same way Superman does ...
(one leg at a time)

Great story and write up and a very enjoyable read. Thanks for he time and effort. Eye.

You put me there.

Good story. Man it must be frustrating to be weather bound so many days.

Thank you Sir! Your writing skills have always left little room for the imagination. The picture is clear, and entertaining...

Thanks for posting.
You weren't to far away and I remember the winds that weekend.
Good times.

Part - (last)

Sat am - No new snow fell overnight, and it was actually starting to thaw out a little (at 4,600 feet). So they are both up early, dropping the front and rear sets of chains off the Dodge. Meanwhile, I put on my Cordon-Bleu - Culinary Institute of America (CIA) hat, slaughter another pig ... frying up a pound of Bacon, the last 10 eggs and a mess-o-hashbrowns. Sufficiently fortified, they put the saddle packs on the 4 llamas and load them into the llama trailer. The drive around to the jump-off point should only take 30 minutes ... the pack-out (who knows) ? As they headed out ... John powered down the window and yelled out: ... "We'll try to be back by dark ?" .... I thought to myself .... "How could they not ?"

Following my culinary clean-up chores, I spent about an hour taking down and putting away things that would no longer be needed in camp. Then fed the wood stove, jumped in the Denali and AWD-ed up to a closer viewpoint, in hopes of watching cross canyon, as they headed down into the Valley-of-Fatigue, on their recover effort.

Turns out they parked back and away from the canyon edge and immediately dropped down into a draw, versus following an exposed ridgeline down, so they were totally out-of-sight to me. It was very clear out and over the next 2 hours of glassing, I did manage to spot 3 different branch bulls, all feeding out in the open. All of the bulls were much lower down in the canyon (way below the now receding snow line). Two were spotted 4 major-ridges further South and one was across the main canyon from them. I drove slowly back to camp, around 2pm.

Breaking a trail down into the steep canyon, that the llamas could easily follow (and make it back up, once loaded) ... took longer than they thought. They fought snow-brush, loose rocks, melting ice/snow, rim-rock bands and Gravity. A llama can't carry a quarter of an elk on each side (like a Mule might) ... so they had to completely bone the Bull out, then weigh and balance the meat loads to match the different packing capability of each llama. At an average (uphill) carry of 70-80 lbs/llama ... you can get 280-320 lbs of boned meat to the top, spread across the 4 animals. Chris placed the rack on his pack frame and they each carefully led 2 llamas back up to the top. It was a cartoon-like effort ... 2 steps up ... slide one step back. They finally motored back into camp at dusk. They hung all the meat and then tethered the llamas very close around our tents, lest any Cougars, Coyotes or Wooof's decide to try for an easy meal. Llamas are very vocal when danger is near, so they would provide a good alarm system.

Sunday AM: It's break down 2 Wall-tent camps, load 2 utility trailers with gear, load 4 llamas ... motor 300 miles on home ...

The bad news - On this hunt, we were overwhelmed by the Elements like never before, from torrential Rains, mountain hail, snow, dense fog, freezing rain, low clouds, overnight temps in the teens, 60 mph wind gusts, tree-tops snapping off and taking flight, along with lightning-strikes, right on the ridgeline and waaaay too close to the tents ... basically, everything but Locusts. We could only actually hunt 2 of the 7 days we were there. The last 2 days of the season were spent packing-out and packing-up.

The good news ... in just a couple more years, both of these cousins should have accumulated enough preference points, to draw this coveted Trophy Bull tag on their own ... now that they know the lay of the land, it's look-out Beeeeg Elkies !

That's my Story ... N' I'm stickin to it !

- - - Silver Bullet (aka: the Legend)

It was just like Dancing-with-the-Stars ...
without the Stars ... (or the Dancin)

snubbie:
It's rare that we ever lose more than 2 days of hunting in this area due to weather, mostly because any storms usually track right-on-though ... dumping all their rain and/or snow and then immediately clearing off. Those first few hours of clear-off following a snow fall, are some of the best glassing times, as everyone comes out to feed.

This hunt gave me a real appreciation for the Sheep hunters in Alaska ... who in telling their tales, always seem to describe having to sit it out in their pup-tents, through the snow storms, low-clouds and fog. ... as they don't often have a nice wall-tent, generator, wood stove and "Bacon" handy.

- - - Silver Bullet

If ya only got a $10 Head ... buy a $10 Helmet - Evil Kneivel

Silver B:
With 17 elk points, I just might be there next year. Have to see how I do in Wyoming's draw before I apply here.

Great post,