Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Elk Hunting One COLD Elk Hunt

I'm not sure what the date was, but prolly in the late-80s. Karen and I linked up with an outfitter friend of ours and we hunted cows down in Hell's Canyon.

It was the four of us, Karen, me, the outfitter and his wife. We bought the food and the outfitter supplied the stock and camp. Friends hunting together.

About the time we got to Joseph, the thermometer simply plummeted.

We hauled the horses and mules to a point past Imnaha and took the old College Trail up and over Freezeout Pass, climbed to Granny Springs and ran along the top, by Memaloose (7,200 feet) and one to Warnock Corral. To be honest, we were walking, leading our horses most of the way. We were literally freezing out of the saddle.

You guys been there, I know you have.

I will not state what the temp was on a Certified Thermometer at Warnock ... you'd call me a liar. Lets just say that it was the coldest I've ever seen in Montana, Sask, Alberta, Alaska and the Yukon. So cold that you simply cannot get away from it.

So cold that it should be worth a medal for bravery to take a leak. And you had to break off the icicle before you could get Ol' Hoss back in again

And we had to get off the top. It was midnight and we would freeze to death up there.

So we dived off into Temperance Creek and it was a balmy -38� in camp at 4,000 feet. We took care of the horses and mules, busted a hole in the gorged-up creek and collapsed in our sleeping bags.

We'd started out from Joseph at 5AM and arrived in camp, on Temperance Creek, at 6AM ... 25 hours on the trail. We were ehxhausted.

We got up around noon. Fed and watered the horses (the creek was obviously froze up again).

Then, Karen and I wandered out and whacked two cows in about a half hour. I remember cutting a hole in the hide of a cow, ripping off my mittens and thrusting my hands into the HOT guts of my cow. Heaven, my Lord that was HEAVEN.

Anyway, I got the cows gutted, skinned, quartered and hung ... five hours, kind of a record in the snow.

Meanwhile our friends whacked their two on the other side of the creek and one fell right into our sometimes water hole. Hell of a mess.

They returned to camp, bloody and grinning, just as we got the pot of coffee boiling and the tongues of our cows in the bay-leaf can.

We stayed the next day and headed out the day after than.

Here are some photos of our pack out.





Here is our little Gypsy camp at the mouth of Saddle Creek. We'd been on the trail all day from Temperance Creek. We hung our frozed-to-the-bone elk quarters in hackberry trees and collapsed in our little tent.

Temperature -38�F






On the trail, up Saddle Creek. Oh my goodness, it was soooo cold. We stopped about halfway up and set a snag afire and it happened to be a pitchlog ... we were roasting elk tongue in the flames and freezing on the backside. Prolly -40� or colder.




Going over the top of Freezeout Saddle. It was fully forty below zero, likely colder. The horses and mules were cranky, the tack is creaky, our elk parts are literally froze to the bone and we are bordering hypothermic.

Like the title of that fabulous book ... A Tough Time In Paradise or maybe Osborne Russel's Journal of a Trapper - 1834-1843.

Hope you enjoyed this little trip with us.

God Bless,

Steve

You just made my morning Steve.

Seeing the picture of Karen on that horse, goodness, what a gal.

Thanks!

And yeah, I believe you. I've hunted those Oregon Blues too.

Awesome story. Thanks for sharing as always.

Thanks for sharing. have hiked on that same trail in the Summer and Fall. Wild and beautiful country.

Cannot imagine being that area in below zero temps.

I spend alot of time in that area not being to far from here..Great place but steep as hell.My best bud has a cabin in Bear and his brother in Cuprum south of Joseph.....Year after year we used travel that area up to Joseph hunting and snowmobiled it all..

Can't imagine it getting cold there.

Jayco

Not all that far from there.Me and Ma horsing around in our back yard.Fun country.



Jayco

Friend of mine used to hunt out of Mahogany Cow Camp by Morgan Butte. It was the cow elk season and it was always during Thanksgiving. One year they were there, they nearly got snowed-in.....The National Guard arrived in helicopters to rescue any stranded. Was in the 1980's, and could have been the same year.

Steve thanks for the story and pictures.

I enjoyed the story and pictures.

Coldest elk hunt I've been on was in s.w. Colorado, when it got down to -20*F. That was plenty cold enough for this child, I assure you.

I got a nice six point bull down and tried to shoot a couple pictures. My battery-dead camera refused to cooperate.

The guide had already started to work with his knife on that elk. I asked him, "What can I do to help?"

He said, "Build a fire!" Which I did.

L.W.

Great read Steve. As others have said......."the book please". We are TRYING to be patient. <grin>

Thanks for sharing Steve! That's some beautiful country. I had the "pleasure" of chasing smoke in that country back in the day and spent a long three weeks out from Memaloose working the canyon ridge up to Deep Creek....they sure named that drainage appropriately. I almost had the dubious honor of falling a 28" fir tree on an out-house at one of the old historic cow-camps during some "structure protection" activities. We were released from the fire because mother nature gave us a skim of snow at the end of August!!! The Forest Circus was issuing 2 sleeping bags per personnel. The cold you describe puts a chill in my bones. Saw plenty of elk and more blue grouse than I have ever seen.

Thanks Steve, per usual a great story.

I remember that year. One of the outfitters in the area also had an entire pack string of horses run off. They got started down into Hell's Canyon and I never heard if they found them. Probably not ... they were tailed and horribly spooked and they could have easily gone off a rim.

Meanwhile, umpteen rigs were stuck up there on the road between Hat Point and Warnock. Somebody ponied up the bucks to bring in a couple of big road graders, must have cost a fortune.

At that time, we were literally snowed in, but didn't know it. We just kept killing elk. When it came time to tackle Freezeout Saddle, some industrious crew had SHOVELED the top mile of horse trail ... can you imagine that? Heck, we just horsed up and over and dropped down into the Inmana drainage.

Speaking of Thanksgiving:



Our personal cow hunts were seemingly always over Thanksgiving, too.

I remember one warm year. Karen and I were riding straight down a trail and our horses were bunched up and sliding down what looked like a cement trough. It was raining, we were wet to the skin, regardless of ponchos, and the mud was sliding ahead of us down the trail.

Then, a decent lone cow stepped right out in the center of the trail. I led Karen off to the side, got her off her horse, held both horses and talked her quietly into the shot.

Karen knelt down, took a spot-weld on a small tree, and proceeded to whack the cow in the center of the face. BANG-FLOP.

And the cow started sliding down the trail, six-inches deep in sliding mud and blood and brains and all kindsa fun [bleep] goin' on. Anyway, the cow was flopping in the mud, brainless but flopping, and rolling over and over. Legs up and down and stuff.

And I'm thinking, "Holy CRAP, this is going to be a fuggin' MESS."

Anyway, the cow hit a turn in the mud trough, flipped off onto a small flat and came to a rest. We on-horsed and moseyed down there.

Karen's cow was on her back, nice and level and there was even a tiny stream there, one that eventually hit Eureka Creek. And it was running pretty clear. I took a rag and started washing off the cow as best I could. Given about fifteen minutes, she didn't look bad at all. Meanwhile, Karen got a fire started, so we'd have a bit of warmth.

Then, I washed, skinned her and got the hid pegged out nice and clean. And Karen held legs and basically stayed out of the way so she wouldn't get cut while I was slashing and slitting. Soon, we had her (the cow, not Karen ) gutted, quartered and hung the pieces in a really convenient tree.

It took us maybe an hour and a half, but the job was clean, pretty, hairless and quite proper. Hey, the old gal was in the tree and that's always a good thing.

Then, the sun broke through the clouds as we roasted Turkey Weenies over the fire and shared a few raw liver slices. Bloody and muddy and happier than anything, we kissed and said to each other, "Happy Thanksgiving My Love, Happy Thansgiving."

God Bless,

Steve

Great hunting stories Steve. As others have said you REALLLY need to write a book. It would become an instant classic must read for all hunters.


I am cold all over just seeing that picture of Karen. BRRRR!

Here's a photo of a butcher scene. Karen whacked her usual bull calf and I kicked it down to a flat place and right above the horse trail.

Small, but steak all over. And shot in the face.

The country is typical ... we NEVER killed an elk below the horse trail. Always above and kick it down.






I killed this bear there one year. Karen had just whacked a big cow and this bruin showed up like we'd rung a dinner bell. Turned out he had a broken canine tooth and a horrible abcess in the jaw, so it came for the soft guts.

Pretty bear. Shot him in the throat at about 200-yards and it dived off a rim and right into some sticker bushes. That SUCKED.





Me, pretty much in my prime. Karen and I whacked a pair of elk that we thought were a cow and a calf. Turned out to be a BIG cow and a HUGE cow.

Anyway, we head-shot the pair and they rolled down into deep brushy crap. We finally waded out and caught our horses about midnight.

This photo was taken the next day, when we rode up the little side canyon to recover our eight quarters and skullplates.

Hey, nobody would buy a book of crap like this. Just the reminiscences of an old broken-down cowboy. Rodeos, turned pack saddles during a dark night pack, rides through deep snow and freezing to death, getting your foot stepped on by a tall mule ... [bleep], such fun.

God Bless,

Steve

How about a cowboy poem I wrote? Kinda explains what it's like.

This is from my Personal Writing, so accept it as a gift ... a very rare gift.

[bleep], I literally cry every time I read this.

If you've been there, you know. If you haven't been there, well maybe reading this slowly, like sippin' whiskey, will 'splain a little.

God Bless,

Steve



Night Riding

Have you ridden in the total darkness,
where the only things in your world are
a creaking saddle, a warm horse
and dark, dark shadows floating by?

Have you seen the sparks that shoot out
from a horse's sharpshoe
when it hits a rock in the trail at night?

Have you been filled with awe, as
a frozen night-moon turns the snow
into a billion sparkling diamonds?

Have you looked up a snow-covered slope
and seen a huge bull elk
outlined against the star-lit sky?

Yes?

Then you�ve been night riding.


by Steve

Wow...quite the experiences. Bet it took a while to feel warm again once you got packed back out from the cold elk hunt. You are lucky to have a wife that would hunt with you in those kind of conditions.

Thanks for the great stories.

Thanks for the story, Steve.

Mark

+1

I have spent the weekend getting my gear together for a hunt coming up in 2 weeks in that same country. I was trying to decide whether or not to bring my heavy Columbia parka. Usually it's not cold enough to warrant it, but it's going now!