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Great write up, great work. Looking forward to pics

Excellent!!

The next day was spent hiking looking for sheds by me and Dad. We covered a good bit of ground and found a couple little forkie buck sheds. Of course we stopped to eat a good lunch on the mountain, those canned Cokes sure taste better when you carry them 4 or 5 miles in your pack before drinking.

We headed back in the afternoon to get supper going. It was a little more prep since we were frying heart and liver with onions and fried potatoes. We offered to cook a pork chop for anyone who wasn’t a fan of heart and liver but had no takers. When all the smoke cleared we didn’t even have enough left for lunch the next day, and I’d cooked the entire liver from the bull which I guess was at least 7 pounds. Did I mention how handy the deep fryer was for making fried potatoes? I’m not going to forget it next year for certain.

The day after I killed my bull something bad started to happen. Something that nobody wants when it’s time to hunt, much less when you are out of state with limited time. But it happened anyway, it started to get hot. When we got there it was single digit temps at night and there was a possibility of some precipitation in the forecast for the week. Unfortunately the weather didn’t see the forecast and we didn’t see a cloud the whole trip. It was still getting into the 20’s overnight but warming to 55 by noon each day. It was so dry the trails had dust as fine as flour 3” deep on them. The pretty blonde game warden told us it hadn’t rained in over 2 months in our area. All but 2 of the little seeps, potholes, and guzzlers that we’ve discovered over the years were bone dry. The ones that were holding water didn’t show a single elk track.

Dad and I kept covering ground hunting sheds but also hunting elk sign for the rest of the gang. We found precious little of either. But we did make a curious discovery when visiting with a couple local guys who were hunting bucks. In all the years we’ve been hunting this area we’ve always found piles of sheds. Our theory is that since it’s towards the end destination of the migration route that they lose them on the way back up in early spring. At any rate we’ve literally found a pickup bed full of sheds in a season in the past. When we mentioned it to the local guys they laughed and told us their explanation. They claim that the shops in Pagosa will pay $100 for a good brown 6X shed and that every dirty hippie that can’t pass a drug test to have a real job is on the scout for antlers in the spring. One little bench where we’ve found bunches of antlers before he claimed looked like a concert had been held there from all the footprints in the snow. And of course those tracks were made before the opening day of shed season. The game warden confirmed this as well which shocked me since I figured it was likely a bit of a fish story. So for 7 days of looking I found 6 deer sheds and there was only 2 elk sheds found by any of us, one a big 6X and the other a tiny spike. Amazing the way some things change.

The week wore on and we continued to eat like kings and laugh until our sides hurt. The domino games were heated and great stories were told. Nobody was seeing anything but everyone was still hunting hard and enjoying time away from the world of work and politics and phones and traffic. One bit of comic relief came one afternoon as Dad and I sat in the shade in front of the tent reading. Two guys in an old beater Ford pickup with an old beater John boat on the flatbed came cruising by slowly. They waved back when I waved to them and one of them proclaimed, “Hey!”, followed by, “ We got a boat!”, and finally, “ See ya Mudder fuggers !”, as they stepped on it and sped off. We almost fell out of our chairs we were laughing so hard.

Our last evening as we were cooking supper the game warden showed up when she saw the quarters of my bull hanging on the pole. She’d heard there was one hanging in a camp on our road and came to investigate. As we chatted while she checked my tag and meat she said that she came to check when she heard the rumor of my bull because he was only the third one killed in the three units she works. She’d heard of a 4th but hadn’t been able to find the camp. But overall nobody was shooting anything with the heat and the dry conditions. Nobody else in camp so much as saw another elk all week, tough year for sure.

Friday morning we arose for breakfast and then started tearing down camp as soon as the dishes were done. With all of us chipping in it was about a 3 hour job before everything was packed back in it’s place in the trucks and trailers. We grabbed quick showers in the NM guys’ campers so we wouldn’t have to smell ourselves for the 12 hour journey home. Then it was time for a group photo for the album and hugs and handshakes again as we parted ways for another year.

With that we headed to town for gas and a quick lunch at the Pagosa McDonalds. The drive back always seemed to take forever when I was younger but now it’s just another enjoyable part of the trip. Dad and I switched off driving my rig, all the while visiting, pointing out cool old cars and trucks, and jamming out. We had a pretty uneventful return trip, had an excellent supper at Rudy’s BBQ in Amarillo and my new truck made 15.5mpg which I was perfectly happy with.

The final part of the story is that this story took me a long time for a couple reasons. One is that I’ve been cutting and taking care of a quarter every night after work, meat is outstanding BTW. The second is that I decided to write this up because I’ve been reflecting on things. This year was bittersweet due to Grandad bowing out. But we still told old camp stories that he’s told us all since we were kids. And I have access to hundreds of old slides from his hunts dating back to the beginning. I don’t know that it will ever come together but I’ve decided I’d like to write a coffee table book using stories and photos from members of the camp and this was kinda a practice round.

Thanks for being patient and tagging along guys.

kid you write it and I will be happy to buy a copy

Camp


Pretty inviting sight after a hard day in the hills

Table for 10

Kitchen complete with gas range

The lone rag horn

Bull was broke down and lunch was the next order of business


Packing

And a few shots just out and about goofing off.

Good stuff, kid.
Congrats

Kid, awesome post!




I was scrolling through your pics and this sequence is probably my favorite two hunting pics so far this year.

This is the kind of stuff that keeps the 'Fire so great.

Super pics and writing.


Table for 10

Thank you for posting all this. Great story and great pictures. Nice Bull as well.

Thank you for posting up kid. Not everyone can get out and this makes up for some of the loss of that. Great storytelling.

Here’s a couple oldies for grins. I think these are from 1971 or so. Grandad is the tall skinny fellow.

Excellent read.

Congrats again.

There's nothing , nothing as good as a hunting camp be it cabin, tent, plastic, or shrink wrap!!!... Great story too, I was right there with ya. Made me reminisce it did. Oh yeh , the smells in camp, cigars , pipe, crisp cool fresh air in the mornings,the anticipation, cards, the old stories from the old timers, wo wait, now I'm the old timer DAM. Bill out. 🐾👣🐾👣🇨🇦

Awesome story, thanks for sharing. You definitely need to turn it into a coffee table book!!!!

Awesome write-up again! Thank you so much for sharing the essence of the hunt. I have to admit that the old pictures you posted of your grandfather at the hunting camp brought a bit of moisture to my eyes.

Great story and pics. Nice to see someone else using their stock trailer as hunting camp material also.

Awesome Job of taking us there !

Thank You.

Well done, enjoyed tagging along.

Great write up! Love the dinner table shot. That’s what hunt camp is all about.