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…..continued from “Hubrus and bulls”

We returned to camp and with the little spike and dropped the packs from our weary shoulders. No one felt like cooking and the boys and I were in a mood to celebrate. We piled into Matt’s truck (IDnative here on the Campfire) and headed for town for a pizza from our favorite place to celebrate such things. I should note here that Rowdy is 18 and Cadon is 19. They are freshmen in college and as such I suffer no illusions they long ago had their first beer. Having said that, I have never shared a drink with either of them as knowing is one thing,….but condoning/facilitating their drinking is quite another. Still, I’ll be damned if it didn’t feel like the right time to do so given the two little chits had just packed out most of my bull. I just happened to have a 12-pack in the cooler I had brought along. It’s usually a long drive out but that 12-pack disappeared right quick between the three of us as it was a raucous and enjoyable trip to town. For the record, Matt didn’t have a drop of course as he was the driver. It was past midnight when we finally arrived back at camp with full bellies and heavy eyes.

The boys had to head back to Moscow the following day, and we all slept in a bit the following morning. I was sad to see the boys pack up and leave. The two of them are a whirling dervish of empty water bottles, questionable hygiene, and general disorganization. I suppose I wasn’t much different at that age. What they lack in preparedness though, they make up for in enthusiasm and toughness. The two of them hunted hard and I was immensely proud of their efforts. They ventured further afield every day they were there than either Matt or I would ultimately roam for the better part of two weeks. They also packed out a bull in one day that would have taken me three to handle on my own.

My knee was still hurting like a bastard, and Matt started calling me the “Frankenstein of Cache Creek” for the gait I had suddenly adopted. We both hunted as hard as we could manage for a few more days, but the mountain seemed crowded and there was a notable absence of elk everywhere we looked. The mental strain of the constant pain was also taking a toll, and I was happy for a planned weekend reprieve at a cheap Air B&B in town we had split the cost on.
We buttoned down camp and headed back to town on a Thursday evening to spend a long weekend with our girls who were headed over from Boise. My wife and Matt’s girlfriend were a welcome distraction that weekend as we shared some laughs, some drinks, and some delicious food the girls cooked up. I spent most of the weekend on the couch icing my knee and fending off not-so-subtle suggestions from my darling bride that I throw in the towel and come home. The truth is I was leaning heavily that direction of my own accord. I had managed to kill a spike despite a stacked deck and Matt had been trying to get me to pack it in from day one. He’s had a good run on elk the last few years himself, and it was pretty apparent he was mostly in it to help me. We had to head back up to the mountains to break down camp either way. On the drive back up I told Matt we’d hunt “easy” for MAYBE a day or two and then we could call it done unless something drastic changed.

The next morning we donned the headlamps and set out two hours prior to daybreak. We were three and a half miles in just as the night began to give way to the dawn. I had only been glassing for about 5 minutes when the unmistakable shape and color of an elk suddenly stepped out from the timber on a distant ridge below us. I pulled out the spotter and set up just in time to see another bull follow behind the first. The first one was a decent 5x, and the second a DANDY of a 6x. They were in a relatively open chute, but I could immediately hear the clock counting down in my head for how long they’d be in a “killable” location. They were a good 1,500’ vertical feet below us and across a major drainage. All my previous experiences were telling me we had about 20-30 minutes to close the gap before the window of opportunity would close. I asked Matt what he thought, and he said, “If you want to make a run, I’m game”.

In an instant the pain of my knee was forgotten as adrenaline began coursing through my veins and we began an awkward and painful “run” down the mountain to close the gap. I knew I’d pay for it later but the allure of possibly filling both our tags simply overrode my pain threshold (and common sense frankly). About 25 minutes later I was lathered in sweat and my knee was throbbing as I eased around a ridge for a peek of where I’d last seen them….BINGO…they were still there across a deep drainage from us! They had fed a bit further, but they were within range and I had a hunch things were about to get froggy. The bulls were walking with a bit more purpose now and moving towards cover as we scrambled to try and set up for a shot before the opportunity slipped through our fingers. On the descent, Matt had made it clear that he wanted me to shoot first and we’d “go from there”. I’d later find out he knew we’d have our hands full just getting one bull out of that country much less two….and had wisely decided we should probably just kill one if the opportunity arose. As-is typical for Matt, he’d graciously decided to let me be the one to try. That’s Matt in a nutshell. I make fun of him for a million different reasons, but the dude has a heart as big as they come and is one of the most generous people I have ever known.

I wasn’t thinking of any of this in the moment as there simply wasn’t time for a protracted discussion. I was in “predator” mode and keenly focused on the logistics necessary for ANY shot to happen. The bulls were getting alarmingly close to some thick timber about the time I threw down my back and pulled out the rangefinder. I saw to “497” flash in red, but it was a foggy mess as sweat was pouring off me at that point. I asked Matt what he was getting and he said “380”. I swiped the lense and ranged again and got the same reading. Matt told me he was still reading right at 380. Wtf was going on?! I began to feel moderately panicked as the bull approached the tree-line. I was desperate to take a shot, but the difference in range left me with a bad feeling about the likelihood of success. Just then I adjusted my position a little and the confusion became clear….we were looking at two different bulls. Matt was seeing the 5x and I was focused on the 6x. Just about the time I settled in behind the gun and flipped the safety off, both of them faded into the timber.

I laid there in utter disgust at the obvious miscommunication. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just one of those things that happen in a chaotic, compressed period of time like that. We glassed into the timber for a good 15 minutes whispering with frustration that neither of us could see a thing before I decided we should split up a little. Matt would work north and I’d head south and hopefully one of us would get a better angle into the timber and possibly a shot. We hadn’t separated by more than 100 yards when I caught a glimpse of movement across from me. I immediately sat down and threw open the scope covers as the outline of a bull took shape. I couldn’t be sure which of the two bulls I was looking at, but by then I was largely past caring anyway. The shooting lane was about half an elk body and it would close quickly. I don’t remember flipping off the safety or the subsequent squeeze of the trigger but I think it all happened within about 5 seconds honestly. I worked the bolt and frantically tried to locate the bull again but was met with nothing more than silence and stillness. I ranged it just afterwards, and confirmed my guess of 300 yards. A couple of minutes later I heard Matt coming my way. We conferred for a bit, and while peering into the recesses of some timber where I had last seen the elk, and we both thought we could make out a patch of elk hair. Our suspicion was confirmed when a very sick elk stepped out on shaky legs. I touched another one off and he immediately faltered down the hill. We high-fived each other and lay their in disbelief at how it had all transpired.

Both of us knew the work we had left to do, but neither mentioned it as we gathered up our gear and headed down the hill towards the creek-crossing and climb up the other side that still awaited us. Here is Matt celebrating having kept his feet dry on the rather precarious creek-crossing.

[Linked Image from i.ibb.co]

The timber was thick and we split up again as we climbed to increase our chances of not walking past the bull. Matt spotted him and was admiring the shot locations as I arrived. I was happy to see both shots were tight in the pocket. How he managed to keep his feet under him after the first shot is a mystery. The toughness of elk never ceases to amaze me.

[Linked Image from i.ibb.co]

He wasn’t as big as I would have liked, and certainly pales in comparison to the bull I set out that morning in pursuit of….but it’s still a decent little public land, OTC bull all things considered and I’m grateful to have put my tag on him.

[Linked Image from i.ibb.co]

We were both trying not to think of the work that lay ahead of us as we started taking the bull apart. Maybe that’s why I lost focus of where I put the knife. Maybe I’m just a dummy and it’s in my nature. Regardless of the reason, the day suddenly got a lot longer when I dropped my hands to push myself up and buried the Havalon in my lower palm/upper wrist area. I knew immediately what I’d done, as blood began pumping out of me and onto everything in the surrounding vicinity. I let loose of some pretty choice words as Matt demanded to see the damage. I think his first words were, “Oh chit…that’s bad news my man”. He quickly cut the top off of a game bag and folded it over the cut as I applied pressure. The makeshift bandage was immediately saturated and showed no signs of slowing. In a moment of clarity, he remembered Gwen (his lovely girlfriend) had insisted he take a bandage soaked with clotting agent she had given him. He rifled through his pack and triumphantly produced the little piece of packaging as well as a roll of electrical tape. It wasn’t all that painful, but if I’m being honest I was becoming moderately alarmed at the volume of blood loss at that point. Matt applied the bandage and some more game-bag and we wrapped the tape as tightly as we could in an effort to get the bleeding stopped. To my utter amazement, the bleeding slowed almost immediately.

Within a couple of minutes it had largely stopped. We sat there with nervous energy for a few minutes, before deciding I would probably live and we still had work to do. Matt and I switched roles as I held the legs while he did the cutting on the rest of the bull. Soon we had him broken down and contemplating our next move. It was just after noon at that point, and I knew I didn’t have it in me to pack any quarters out that day. We decided to start shuttling the quarters to the trail, so the hardest part would be behind us when we came back the following couple of days. I was also starting to mentally develop a plan to call Rowdy and Cadon down from Moscow again if the cut on my hand and/or my knee left me unable to manage my own problem. The first trip went well enough, as we took the hind quarters out and replenished our water bottles. I was starting to feel hungry and weak as the 4:30 breakfast was now 12 hour behind us and a distant memory. We both choked down a protein bar and returned for the last load. All was well until we started across the creek for the last time. I was pretty gassed at that point and lost my footing while trying to stay dry getting across. I instinctively threw out my injured hand to brace myself and was met with a crimson river creeping out from the bandage almost immediately…..mother @#$%^&!

The bleeding was just as intense the second time as the first, except now we were out of clotting gauze. I climbed to a relatively flat spot and we went back to work on getting the bleeding stopped. Direct pressure, elevated,…it didn’t matter. After a few minutes, Matt said, “If we can’t get it stopped in the next 5 minutes, we’re hitting the SOS on your satellite device if I have to knock you out to do it”. I REALLY didn’t want to have to be “rescued”, but I also understood there is a finite amount of blood in a person and we still had a LOT of ground to make it back to the truck/camp. Matt snapped this picture as we waited the allotted 5 minutes….

[Linked Image from i.ibb.co]

In a moment of definitive proof I’ve lived a mostly clean life, the bleeding began to slow a couple of minutes later. By the 5 minute mark, it had stopped. We gave it another 10 minutes and downed another bottle of water while waiting to ensure the crisis had passed. The [bleep] in all of this was that my ability to use my trekking pole was severely compromised with my diced up hand. To put it mildly, I was hot [bleep] mess. We finally got the last load to the trail and begin the painful hike back towards camp. I was smoked in every way. I expected the same of Matt, but strangely he seemed to get stronger by the minute. It was role-reversal for us from previous years and underscored for me the value of a good hunting partner. I was almost completely silent the 6 hours it took us to get back to camp, but Matt was chatting it up like we were on a Sunday stroll around the neighborhood. I don’t know if it was the blood loss, dehydration, lack of calories, the bad knee….or all of the above. What I do know is that was without question the most unpleasant day of hunting in my life and I have NEVER been so happy to see my wall-tent when we staggered in close to midnight.

We rebandaged the cut with the benefit of a more complete first-aid kit in camp, and fell into an uneasy slumber. I was awakened around 3 am to Matt hollering that his legs were cramping as he flailed around on the cot. It was a rough night for both of us, as our bodies tried to catch back up with how badly we had depleted them the day prior. Somewhere along the way we figured out I hadn't had a Tetanus shot since boot-camp in 1991, so we drove the four hour round-trip necessary to find an ER to take a look at my hand and give me a booster shot. The bad news was that since it was approaching 36 hours since I had cut it, they woudln't stitch it back up and told me I had to just keep it clean and watch for infection. So much for the miracles of modern medicine. I called Rowdy while we had reception and they agreed to leave after their last class that afternoon to make the 5 hour drive to camp. Matt and I arrived back at camp just before dark, with a tentative plan to set out in the morning with Rowdy, Caden, Matt, and myself each needing to get one quarter. I knew it would suck, but 36 hours of good hydration, good food, and some rest had steadied my resolve to pack at least a PART of my own bull out.

I was shocked to find a note in camp from a buddy that he and his hunting partner had stumbled into our quartered bull and packed the hind quarters up to a spot he knew I could get the bike to. We had run into them on the trail the week prior and they knew I was gimped up from my knee. As such, they had taken it upon themselves to pack out the heaviest part of the bull some 1,500 vertical feet! I was incredulous and grateful beyond belief. I'll maintain their anonymity because I know that's what they'd want...but if you're reading this boys, a tip of the hat to one of the most awesome gestures I've ever seen on the mountain. These two cats are the absolute fittest, toughest young bucks I have ever hunted around. Their "range" is spectacular to behold....especially as a guy winding down in my abilities to roam where I once, commonly did. I immediately texted Rowdy and told him to turn around and head back to school. I had been wracked with guilt for asking him to come down, and the generous efforts of my buddies put Matt and I in a position to be able to finish the job the following day by ourselves. After another night's rest, that's exactly what we did.

I won't say packing those fronts and backstraps out was easy, but it was sure a lot less awful than two days prior when I was so depleted. Matt and I had eveything back to camp by 4 o'clock, and celebrated with the last of the Pendleton and as much food as we could stand to eat. I was willing to stay up for the last 5 days of the season and help Matt, but he mercifully called an end to the hunt and suggested we break camp the following day. I think we both felt relatively lucky we had been as successful as we had, and things hadn't gone any worse than they did.

The season is behind me now. I find myself typing this more with a sense of relief than pride. I tagged a couple of bulls and that is no small feat for an OTC, public land hunt in Idaho. Still though, in my heart I know for the first time in my life I NEEDED the help I received this year. That's never been the case with me, and honestly it's left me feeling a bit shaken. Hopefully I'll get my new knee this winter and come back stronger than ever next year. Either way, I'm grateful for the family and freindships this season afforded me.

I final thanks to Rowdy and Cadon for brightening my mood and being there when I needed them most. The same for Matt (IDnative). You've come a long way in a short period of time my man, and I'm grateful for all the adventures we've had...this year especially. Thanks for keeping your chit together when I needed it most.

Hope all of you reading this enjoyed the story, and I hope all of you are equally blessed to be surrounded with the type of people I was able to hunt with this year.

Dave





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That's an awesome hunt. And I mean this with the utmost respect with not even a hint of intended insult, but...…

There is a fine line between "tough" and "stupid" and you were flirting with it on several occasions. Also, research tourniquets. You very well could have used one and I feel your life was closer to being over than you realize. I wasn't even there and feel confident I'm not over stepping my bounds saying that.

Keep up the awesome stories, and I sincerely wish you many more great seasons ahead.

Todd

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Originally Posted by Justahunter
That's an awesome hunt. And I mean this with the utmost respect with not even a hint of intended insult, but...…

There is a fine line between "tough" and "stupid" and you were flirting with it on several occasions. Also, research tourniquets. You very well could have used one and I feel your life was closer to being over than you realize. I wasn't even there and feel confident I'm not over stepping my bounds saying that.

Keep up the awesome stories, and I sincerely wish you many more great seasons ahead.

Todd



Todd,

Hindsight being what it is...you're right of course and no insult taken. Sometimes a guy bites off more than he can chew, and this was nearly one of those times. I pride myself on my toughness but it overrode common sense this season. Hopefully I come back a little smarter and better prepared for the experience.

Dave

Last edited by iddave; 11/10/20.

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Wow! Hell of a story there Dave! Congrats on the bull and hope your hand is healing up just fine. Big thumbs up to Matt as well! You are a true friend and sportsman. Amazing write up this year and hope 2021 brings you guys some awesome tags!
Matt- What exactly was the bandage your girlfriend gave you? I have added a few quikclot bandages in my first aid kit this year as well.

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Dave,
Thank you for taking us along on another one of your hunting adventures - this one certainly turned out to have some added excitement. Glad you made it in one piece and congrats on taking two fine bulls. It also appears you have some fine hunting partners, big high-five to them as well.


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Dave,

Great write up! So glad that the injuries didn't keep you from a successful hunt and that you made it out safely. You deserved the good karma of the help you got packing out your bulls. I only wish I was there to be the one helping. You were there for a buddy and me 4 years ago to pack our elk out when I realized I was in over my head with my health and a bull on the ground. You single handedly
packed 2 bulls out for us while giving up your hunting time.. i will be forever thankful to you for that. Perhaps we will meet on the mountain again one day and I will be able to fulfill my dept to you. Congratulations on another successful season for you.

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iddave i under stand what you mean .but there is a time when you just need to face the fact that you need the young boys .there is a lot i have to have my 2 nephews help me with . there is a time when you let the young men take over the lead .i did and i get to enjoy what i helped to create

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Originally Posted by Kracker
Dave,

Great write up! So glad that the injuries didn't keep you from a successful hunt and that you made it out safely. You deserved the good karma of the help you got packing out your bulls. I only wish I was there to be the one helping. You were there for a buddy and me 4 years ago to pack our elk out when I realized I was in over my head with my health and a bull on the ground. You single handedly
packed 2 bulls out for us while giving up your hunting time.. i will be forever thankful to you for that. Perhaps we will meet on the mountain again one day and I will be able to fulfill my dept to you. Congratulations on another successful season for you.



Hey friend....I think I know who this is! My Michigan friend?

I had no idea you were a Campfire guy. Great to hear from you again and thanks for the kind words. It's funny you should mention that incident, as crossed my mind this year when those boys packed those hind quarters out for me. I'm not used to being on the receiving end of these types of things, but maybe Karma is real thing and I was due!

Take care and we'll see you around.

Dave


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Great write up, Thanks for sharing. Reminded me why Mule Deer is as much as I want to pack out anymore!


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Excellent story!

I have scar across my right trigger finger from an after dark encounter with my Gerber trying to quarter a bull by myself. Mine stopped bleeding with a kotex (true story) and electrical tape. Its amazing to look inside a cut and see bone and tendon moving around.


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Originally Posted by 805
Wow! Hell of a story there Dave! Congrats on the bull and hope your hand is healing up just fine. Big thumbs up to Matt as well! You are a true friend and sportsman. Amazing write up this year and hope 2021 brings you guys some awesome tags!
Matt- What exactly was the bandage your girlfriend gave you? I have added a few quikclot bandages in my first aid kit this year as well.


Quikclot.. I would also recommend the powdered stuff in addition to the gauze. I did not have enough and it didn't take long to realize we needed a more robust supply. I've seen a lot of injuries and blood in my days, but all of those folks were getting immediate and adequate care. I was definitely concerned about the amount of blood he was losing, especially given where we were and the effort it was taking to get out of there.


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Originally Posted by iddave
Originally Posted by Kracker
Dave,

Great write up! So glad that the injuries didn't keep you from a successful hunt and that you made it out safely. You deserved the good karma of the help you got packing out your bulls. I only wish I was there to be the one helping. You were there for a buddy and me 4 years ago to pack our elk out when I realized I was in over my head with my health and a bull on the ground. You single handedly
packed 2 bulls out for us while giving up your hunting time.. i will be forever thankful to you for that. Perhaps we will meet on the mountain again one day and I will be able to fulfill my dept to you. Congratulations on another successful season for you.



Hey friend....I think I know who this is! My Michigan friend?

I had no idea you were a Campfire guy. Great to hear from you again and thanks for the kind words. It's funny you should mention that incident, as crossed my mind this year when those boys packed those hind quarters out for me. I'm not used to being on the receiving end of these types of things, but maybe Karma is real thing and I was due!

Take care and we'll see you around.

Dave



Yeah its Lou from Michigan. Your story definitely brought back the memories of me having to swallow my pride that trip to ask for help. My buddy Eric was doing much better than I was as that was actually the start of a bad stretch of health for me. I plan to be up in that same general area next year again so perhaps I'll see up there. Take care.

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Originally Posted by IDnative
Originally Posted by 805
Wow! Hell of a story there Dave! Congrats on the bull and hope your hand is healing up just fine. Big thumbs up to Matt as well! You are a true friend and sportsman. Amazing write up this year and hope 2021 brings you guys some awesome tags!
Matt- What exactly was the bandage your girlfriend gave you? I have added a few quikclot bandages in my first aid kit this year as well.


Quikclot.. I would also recommend the powdered stuff in addition to the gauze. I did not have enough and it didn't take long to realize we needed a more robust supply. I've seen a lot of injuries and blood in my days, but all of those folks were getting immediate and adequate care. I was definitely concerned about the amount of blood he was losing, especially given where we were and the effort it was taking to get out of there.


Thanks for the info. I’ll pickup some powder also.

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Wow, Dave, that was one hell-of-an adventure, to say the least!

Glad you got out in one piece. Congrats on the elk and I hope the knee gets fixed up for you.

I just started carrying Quick-clot in my pack a couple years ago. I really don't know why either? Maybe it has something to do with getting older and seeing my own mortality or those with me. After reading your story, I'm going to keep bringing it along.

As always, great story and I'm glad everything turned out okay.

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[Linked Image from i.ibb.co]
[Linked Image from i.ibb.co]

Dave and I have had our share of adventures for sure. We can't even go fishing without coming home with a story of some kind. Our loved ones just shake their heads and smile when we get going. He's helped me become a better hunter in so many ways. I am honored to be his hunting partner and friend. I busted his chops quite a bit this year about not throwing in the towel like felt he should, but I told him if he wanted to be dumb about it, that I'd have his back. Of course I said that out of caring about his future health, but I also understood where he was coming from and what makes him tick. He's had my back before (I had a rodeo of an elk hunt a few years back...that one comes to mind. He should write that one up someday) and it was my turn. Love the guy and I'm looking forward to more hunts and more stories. Dave...thanks for all of it. No more games of "if I die before we make it to...."

[Linked Image from i.ibb.co]


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Dang guys. Hindsight is 2020 but tough guys do tough guy schit sometimes. I imagine this hunt will be talked about around a few campfires in the coming years. Mistakes aside you handled them pretty well and got out of there with the elk. Great groups of dudes on the mountain and that was lucky. Get the knee replaced and do the PT and get healed up for next year. Then just Keep the knives in the elk and out of the Idahoans and you’ll be set for years!




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Good write up and glad it all worked out. We have gotten in the habit of calling out: "Knife on the brisket/antlers/ribcage" whenever you set a knife down somewhere. Pretty awkward at first, but really nice to have everybody on the same page as far as what's where. That and just slowing down in general while taking things apart have helped, but [bleep] is still gonna happen.

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Dave, as always, fantastic write up. And I’m glad you’re okay! This is a good wake up call to all who cut up animals. It takes just a moment and only one mistake.

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Good deal.....



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can I rent IDnative next year in CO?

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