Hi Gang,
We had an amazing time and it was absolutely beautiful - a dream come true. Spending it with my Dad was the best part and getting an elk was icing on the cake.
We saw Elk Bulls and cows beginning of the morning of the hunt. I saw a pretty good bull that first morning, but there were at least 2 others bugling nearby so the outfitter and guide (Bob Daugherty) said "Be patient" and I didn't shoot him. He had a broken royal point but was otherwise outstanding. We saw only one of those other two bulls that morning and went back in for lunch. Terry, one of the other hunters got his bull the first morning - it was a great shot and Lou (his partner and one heck of a hunter) got it all on video. The shot was 325 yards. It went down with the first shot but got up and was shot 3 more times (all great shots in the "black")with a 338 Winchester Magnum before it stayed down for good. He is tremendous and scored 329 Boone and Crocket points. It was amazing and I don't know who was more excited - Terry or me.
That afternoon we went out again and saw cows and heard bugling but no bulls were seen. Same thing the next morning, but in the afternoon it was something different. He came crashing through the forest with three cows and we heard him long before we saw him. At first, Bob could see him but I couldn't because there was a space of just about 10 feet between trees where the Elk was standing. I moved 2 feet to my left and could see him, but he was walking and I had just a couple of seconds before he would be out of sight. I rested my .416 Weatherby on a log and squeezed off the shot. Bob and I heard the "thwack" of a bullet striking home and he asked �Did it feel like a good shot? Did you hear it hit home?" I answered "Yup" to both questions and knew the bullet was flying to the spot I had aimed, or so I thought. I cycled the action and was ready for a second shot, but he was down and out of sight. I picked up the spent case and put it in my pocket as a memento and we waited a minute before walking to the place we last saw him.
Elk are much bigger than the Whitetails we have in the Catskills of N.Y. I thought the distance was about 150 yards so held on his shoulder as I was sighted in for 225 yards. I got him at 384 yards (measured after the shot with a range finder by the guide). He was uphill and quartering towards me and the shot went through his lower left shoulder, his heart, lungs, liver, brisket and wound up just inside the skin in front of the right hind quarters. So it broke his front shoulder and went through about 5 feet of Elk before stopping and the bullet was a perfect mushroom. He took just one jump at the shot. Bob gutted and skinned him there because it was getting dark and we would have to come back for him in the morning to get him out. I was a bit worried that he would be eaten by the bears, mountain lions, coyotes, wolves, badgers or other scavengers we had already seen or would be seeing over the next week.
Well it was fine and the photos tell the rest of the story. When we got back to camp, a 6x6 Elk that scored 340 B&C points and it turns out he was the 2nd largest elk taken off of the entire Vermejo Park Ranch so far this year.
Terry and I both had our elk by the second day and now it was time for Lou and my dad. Lou and Rodney (his guide) really hunted hard for Lou's bull. Lou is an avid hunter and has a collection of just about every big game animal in the US already and had already gotten a 315B&C Elk three years ago, so was looking for a monster-sized one now.
Bob, Dad and I went off in search of his. The morning of the third day we decided to sleep in a bit. The altitude and the hiking were getting to us (breathing at 11,500 feet where the camp was is hard enough when you are sitting still). On the evening of the third day we went up to the top - 13,000 feet above sea level. It was warm at first, but as the sun went down, got colder and the wind kicked up. That's where I took the sunset photos. We saw a couple of small bulls fighting it out but they winded us and took off - probably scared the herd that was following with a larger bull away from our position. We also go to see a herd of Rocky Mountain Bighorn on the slope of a mountain we were facing - amazing to see all of this in real life.
Hunted hard up and down the mountains on the 4th day and took off the morning of the 5th day. Decided to give it one last try on the evening of the last day (the 5th) because Dad didn't want to "disappoint" Bob or me (that�s just the way he is). Fresh snow had begun to fall in the early morning and there was now about 8" of fresh stuff on the ground and more coming. Bob, Walker Lee (Bob's 14 year old son who had never been on an elk hunt before), dad and I went out planning to make our "last stand".
The sun was going down, the wind kicking up and the temperature dropping. The Elk were bugling all around us and suddenly there were 2 bulls on either side of us. One was just on the other side of the New Mexico boarder (we were right at the CO/NM boarder the whole time) and the other was 225 yards away on our side (Colorado). He had seen us make the approach and was already skittish - ready to bolt. Our hearts were pounding with excitement and Walker was breathing fast and was literally shaking he was so excited. (It was a pleasure to have him with us. He was respectful, had a great set of eyes and saw animals including elk before any of us without the use of binoculars. He also seemed to adopt my dad as his own and didn't leave his side while we walked and regularly asked if he was OK).
Bob got my father into position, but we were standing on fresh snow covering iced-up dirt, my father was shooting up hill using a tree stump as a rest that just wasn't all that great. Light was fading fast and my father put the rifle to his shoulder, aimed the new Remington 700 Titanium in 300 SA Ultra Magnum with 180 grain Nolser partitions I had loaded the night before we left. As he squeezed the trigger, he lost his footing, the butt of the rifle slipped down and at the shot, the scope ripped a silver-dollar sized flap of skin from his nose. With blood running from the cut and from his nose, he took a second shot, but the elk was gone. I looked at dad's nose put the skin back in place, gave him my red hanky (which he had given to me) and told him to "press hard" while Bob and I ran to where his elk was last. Well, I did run - but almost passed out by the time I got there - that air is thin !
We found no evidence of a hit and bullet trails in the dirt. A clean miss - we were all relieved.
Even though he didn't get his elk, those last moments were the highlight of our trip - the stuff stories in magazines are made of. Maybe I will submit this to a magazine.
We truly did have a great time. The people were great - Bob & Rodney our guides worked non-stop to find Bulls and get us into position - they were tireless. Walker Lee and Morgan (Muggsey) - Bob's son and 12 year-old daughter were a pleasure to be around. Lou and Terry, the other hunters - made it feel just like our own hunting camp upstate - it was if we had known and hunted with them for years. Menna (Carmella) our camp cook - prepared meals fit for kings every day and tailored the food to our liking and made plenty of it.
So what there was no shower - we all stunk together and no one seemed to notice. So what there was no bathroom - only an outhouse - once you warmed up the seat, it was no problem and you never really felt like bringing a magazine to read - too cold. There is so much more to tell, but better to tell it in person.
It was one of the most memorable experiences of my life and I am forever grateful for the opportunity to be with such great people in our great country looking at unimaginable beauty with my dad. Though in my 40�s while we were there, I was, as he always reminds me, his �little boy�.
Stay well all,
Paul
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