Colorado longbow elk hunt

Our story starts at 7am at BWI airport Friday August 31st. I met my brother Chris and we proceeded to check in and get our bags checked. I had my Hill longbow in a >6 foot tube that had to be checked in as an oversized package. It was also my 3rd bag but the nice folks only charged me for the oversized bag ($50).

After gathering all our gear and loading it into the Escape, we headed for a quick Walmart stop and immediately headed North towards Colorado. Three and a half hours of driving later we pulled into the forest road and took in the view of the “Hill of Death” we would have to climb…again. The trail up to the hunting area consisted of 27 switch backs, 3 miles of trail, covering 1 mile in elevation. This year we were “smarter” and considerably lightened our packs. Still, my hard headed brother stuck in and included his side arm, camp chair with backrest, hunting stool, and tree saddle. These additions added up to 7 more pounds for him. My pack weighed around 50 pounds…..his around 60. He also carried a walking stick he made of ironwood, as he had been practicing with his estimated pack weight around Susquehanna park for the last few months. We also decided instead of camping at the trailhead campground the first night to start acclimatizing to the altitude (8,800 feet), we would immediately start up the mountain. There was a semi flat area about half way up the Mountain. We signed in at the trailhead and started the march uphill. Immediately, I noticed it was considerably easier to hike up there with the estimated 35 pounds less my pack weighed this year. I even went with a lighter bow!

We only took about a ¼ of the rest breaks we did the previous year. Temps began to drop as the sunset progressed, but we hardly noticed it only wearing a base layer on top and sweating under our packs. Soon we were toiling by headlamp in complete darkness. On a steep section of switch back in the dark we were startled by white lights atop two horsemen and 2 pack animals coming down the trail. I think the outfitter was more shocked then we, as he stated as he passed, “What are you folks (sure he meant fools) doing going up this hill so late?” We found out later he packed up a drop camp at another lake up there with a surgeon from West Virginia. At least there was a doctor in the area if we needed it. We reached the flats about 9 or 10 pm and set up our tents. We were pooped and really appreciated the fact that we broke up the hike this year. We could use the rest. Sleeping well was another matter though. The ground was “flat” compared to the trail, but still slightly sloped. The altitude was now above 10,000 feet and we would actually be periodically awakened in the night with the feeling of being strangled. You just could not get enough air. Now I know what a person with sleep apnea feels like.

Day 1 - Morning came and we gathered up our gear and heated some coffee packets. A couple trout fisherman came diddy bopping by on the trail and did not even see us despite only being several yards off the trail. They were cruising and we cursed them and noted how nice it would be to just carry a small daypack and fly rod up the hill. We had to have enough gear to survive for 7 days up there. We made great time now and switch back after switch back was counted off….17, 16, 15……14…….13 left to go….. Soon we were at aspen level and really feeling the altitude. We would be on the top by lunchtime! Well, we got to the top in about 2 more hours of hiking. We were thirsty at this point as we did not start out carrying a ton of water weight. In fact, I had about 3 cups of water and pounded two gatorades at the truck the night before and was now pretty empty. We were now at the camp we stayed in all of last year. This year however, the pond was bone dry. No water. We now HAD to keep going deeper in, but this was the plan anyway this year so we continued on. Our destination was another 5 miles in at a place we knew we had water (and trout), the big Lake. This was the area that “Moe”, the special forces soldier we bumped into last year, was camped. We took a short break knowing the worst of the trail was behind us, and pressed on towards the lake.

After a few more miles we hit the first big meadow. This was about the limit of our hunting territory last year. There was a small creek here and we toiled under the noon day sun to make it for a lunch break…..and water. Problem. The creek was dry. There existed only a few stagnant pools so we filled our filter bottles and tried to decant enough for a drink and cooking a dehydrated meal for lunch. It felt good to get the monkey off our backs for a few moments and rest in the shade. We took a short noonday nap after sharing a meal. My brother is 10 years my senior and was really starting to feel the fatigue at this point. We were trying to go slow and had all day to get to camp. We had another 2 miles to get to the lake. Unfortunately this was all new territory and I made a small blunder. I was in the lead and took the first trail to the right, when I should have taken the second trail to the right. Well, we ended up having to back track about ¼ mile to get back on course. My brother was not a happy camper….can’t say I blame him. We were trudging along when we heard voices ahead. There were three hunters approaching with packs and compounds lashed to their backs. We stopped to chat. They had camped since the season opener in the vicinity of the lake which was our destination. Their news was encouraging. The eldest had shot a cow and they had packed it out the day before. Now they were packing out their gear. They said that each of the three had been at full draw on an elk in the past week. Their scent had busted them with the exception of the harvested animal. They stated elk were spotted at least 2 or 3 a day by the group. Great news! We bid them ado and continued with renewed enthusiasm. At least there were others crazy enough to walk in this far. The other bit of good news we noticed was the complete lack of the pesky free ranging cattle that plagued us last year. Finally we emerged from a steep climb into a wide large meadow with a meandering stream running down the center. The lake was just ahead and we were eager to make camp and rest. The lake was a glorious site! There was a little shady wooded rise bisecting the 2 main pastures. This seemed like the perfect place to camp and we sure enough found a fire ring of rocks already set up by some past camper. What a view!

Footsore and weary we set up our new home for the next 7 days. Dog tired but excited for the prospects of the mornings and evenings to come. We gathered deadfall pine and started a nice crackling fire as the shadows elongated across the landscape. As I sat by the glow, I wondered how much we would have left in the tank….and what would happen if we shot a bruiser back here. It took us a day and ½ to get out here and my gps told me we walked a touch over 8 miles with the unscheduled detour. This was the end of the first real day and we were exhausted. Would we have enough fortitude to persevere? I had the phone numbers of a few outfitters who would pack out our animal from this distance, but we would still have to pack it from the kill site here, and then go all the way back down to get their help. At this point we could not even fathom going back that far. Time for some rest. I fell stone cold asleep before I hit the bedroll. The first morning in our new home came with anticipation and sore bones. We decided not to get up before dawn and the first glow of morning light filtered through my tent as the first birds and red squirrels rousted us out of our stupors. I frantically unzipped my many tent flaps as quietly as I could, and groped for my binoculars on the floor of the tent. I knew with the 4 or 5 meadows visible at our current spot, chances were good there would be elk out. I slipped on my LL Bean Maine Hunting boots without tying them and hobbled to the edge of the trees to peer out. Glassing from left to right in the “front” meadows I spotted a small group of elk. There they were! The reason we came out this far. We knew we had little chance of stalking up on this particular group from the open, but it gave us an area to focus our morning stalk in. As we made coffee and ate some granola, we would periodically check on them through the binos until they slowly filtered back into the wood line about 15 minutes later. At least we knew we had elk in the area. The aches and pains quickly gave way to excitement and anticipation. After breakfast we decided since the wind was blowing from the wood line where we saw the elk to us, that we would flank the “finger” of woods on each side from opposing edges and see if we could sneak up on something or push one toward the other. Then we would go off and explore, find some areas to sit in the evening. It took us a fair amount of time to traverse the open meadows while peering down the runways for elk as we neared our rendezvous point. The one thing that strikes you about the backcountry is that there is total silence. A raven’s wing beat “swooshing” can be heard for a mile it seems. The gentle breeze through the pine needled trees, creates a sound much like an eastern windstorm would generate. Everything is just amplified because it is just so very quiet! That is until those damn little red squirrels spot you and sound an alarm that will make you jump out of your base layer and rattle your brain inside your head. We eventually maneuvered into the target area and stated a slow sneak through. It was difficult to stay quiet though, as the forest was littered with deadfall. This area had not been logged in eons (if ever) and every tree that fell from storm and wind littered the forest in every direction and state of decay. It was thick! Many times requiring you to climb overtop massive fallen pine logs to get through. Not a quiet proposition.

There were sections that received many microbursts near hilltops that were totally impassible. It looked like a tornado had been through. Adding to the difficulty, there were years and years worth of pine cones and deadfall twigs and branches carpeting areas under larger trees. These crunched and crackled no matter how quietly or softly you tried to step. After a few hours of sneaking as best we could, my brother calls on the radio and says he may have heard something crash out earlier, but now let’s go and explore….he’ll meet me back for lunch. He heads out towards the NE, and I head back in the area west of camp. Despite all the miles we logged the previous day with pack, we ranged all over the meadows and runways looking for signs and a possible set up area. Most of the heavy sign was on trails in the open meadows draining one to another, and we suspected these were used mainly at night. They would make good ambush areas in the evening though, if the animals made it down to them from the bedding areas before light faded out. Some of these trails looked like horse trails! We saw good, fresh sign! Some tracks were as big as the toe of my size 12s! Many tall rubs.

Sneaking around another several miles makes one tired and hungry. Time to head back to camp for lunch, maybe a small nap, and perhaps some target practice. The weather had been great so far. Chilly mornings, sunshine in the afternoon, and no rains. I heated my ramen lunch and pulled up the stool to take in the panoramic views of the lake. This even made ramen seem like a gourmet meal with such a view.

Lunchtime was a chance to wash out some filth in the lake (pretty chilly though when your head goes under), do some laundry, and take a short nap. I brought my collapsible fishing rod and some mepps spinners to try for some fresh trout for lunch, but never got a bite on about 3 or 4 extended attempts. The lake was shallow around the edges and deeper in the middle. We saw some very small trout in the creek that drained the lake, but could not get them to bite either. Maybe I should have brought some flies? We woke from our naps and heated a cup of tea to shake out the cobwebs. We were both excited to sit in ambush along some of the nice trail we spotted on our recon of the morning. We wished each other, “good luck”, and headed in opposite directions. We knew after we set up and the sun set, the winds would shift and we would have our best shot at an elk going towards the meadow early. I headed back up west of the camp. I crept along the meadow edge using the intermittent spruce as cover as I moved. Occasionally I would flush a spruce grouse, but they almost never presented a close enough shot. As I entered a small clearing I saw a very well concealed camp. I thought to myself….hmmmm…..this seems like what Moe would do. The fire ring stones were scattered as well as the coals, there was a hollowed out half-log that was propped up to make a recliner, and there was a very adequate stash of firewood stored nearby. Seems like something an SF guy would do. I’ll have to verify later as Moe should be out there around this week and away from the computer. I found a nice hiding spot in one of those inter meadow connector trails and made myself comfy for a sit.

The unwaxed dental floss on my upper limb tip said the wind was shifting; the now swirling air currents kept spoiling my spot. I knew I may as well move, and snuck back toward camp in the waning light. I glanced back up towards the top far right meadow and saw a lone, very large, cow near the tree line. I wondered where Chris was and if he spotted her?? I started a fire and soon heard Chris huffing and puffing back to camp. He had spooked another on his way into the woods that afternoon, but had no sight or luck with anything else. He did end up walking very far again….and he was again whooped! I told him about the large cow but he did not see it before darkness fell. We discussed our strategy by crackling campfire and mountain house meal. The elk seem to be in the meadows at day break, but presumably were feeding there all night. There was not much chance of us sneaking on them or getting close in the darkness before they saw us. We agreed it was better to let them filter back into the woods and try to ambush them in those areas, perhaps on the way back out. So, no bother getting up before sunrise. We would sleep in and glass the meadows again when the first bird or squirrel woke us up. The light glow of the dawn filtering through my tent walls roused me out of my first real sounds sleep. Until this time, the altitude would wake you every few hours when you really started to breathe heavy. You felt like someone was just sitting on your head and preventing you from air! Anyway, I raced to get on my pants and boots and get out there to glass the meadows. I put my lightweight compact Minox 8x25 glass up to my eyes and swept from left to right. “CHRIS! Get over here”, I tried to whisper authoritatively. Out in the top middle meadow I counted 8 cows and one fine looking bull. We kept tabs on them as we moved purposefully to get ready for the day. There were 2 larger animals that seemed to stay off on the left side of the meadow, and the rest filtered into the right side of the meadow. The bull all the while keeping watch on the herd. The strategy would be simple. Chris would flank the right side and go after the main herd in the woods, while I would flank left and see about the 2 loners. I was not naive enough to think I might sneak up on them in their beds, but just maybe I could find a nice trail up there to sit and catch them that evening. I moved quietly and quickly to skirt the edges of the meadow in view of their area. They glanced up the chute to ensure no elk were there and headed straight across the open. I was feeling deadly as the lightweight bamboo longbow in my hand was barely noticeable. Felt lean and mean and quiet. I shifted gears when I got to the bottom of the drainage and started to pick my way ever so slowly now through the massive tangle of noise making underbrush and deadfall. I knew if I did not see them first, they would be crashing off without even a chance. I used the binos as every few agonizingly slow steps. I was making progress and nearing the meadow edge where the two disappeared when I put my glass to my eyes and it happened…… My radio broke squelch and Chris whispered that he had run headlong into the main herd, pushed them out and spooked them, and he was heading back down toward camp. Darn! Another missed opportunity. I snuck around above where Chris was by noting my gps, and circled back down towards camp. I saw a lot of good looking area, and sign, but no elk. I exited the wood line and came across the back of the pond toward camp. As I glanced down the draining creek as I crossed, something caught my eye. The next riffle down, I saw movement near the rocks. This was a very shallow creek and only about 2 ½ feet wide. There hung up on the rocks…I could not believe my eyes! I dropped my bow in the tall grass and pounced down into the water. I could not believe it! I had just caught about a 2 pound rainbow trout Grizzly style with my hands!

As I approached camp Chris was in his camp chair and fooling around with something in his pack. I said, “Are you hungry”? He kept looking down, so I restated it a little louder this time, “I said, Are You Hungry?” He looked up and was completely astonished! I had a section or two of aluminum foil just in case we caught some fish, or a grouse, but I never imagined I would catch one like that. Man-O-Man was it good after 3 days of Mountain house and ramen!

I joked with Chris, “tomorrow you get lunch for us”. The evening hunt brought me back up on the west side of camp and exploring. I ended up through one of the thickest deadfall strewn sections of “woods” I have even been caught in. I was attempting to cut between two meadows through the woods. I mean, this area looked like it had been bombed in WWII! I was not successful in being very quiet, and by the time I “broke through”, I was not even sure where I was. I headed up a rise and consulted my topo map. As I glanced up the meadow I saw another lake and a herd of elk. A HERD of ELK!!! I looked up and about ¼ mile away was a herd of 8 with a respectable herd bull overwatching them. I moved up to a spruce tree and fumbled for my camera. When I looked back up the group was on the move and very agitated. They looked behind them a few times as the bull led them over a rise and drop off the back side of the meadow. I knew they had not seen me at that distance behind the tree, and I had the wind in my face. They were obviously preoccupied with something. After a few moments, the bull stuck his head over the rise (along with those dark chocolate antlers with bone white tips). Then, he disappeared back down and the cows came bounding up over the rise back from the direction they came from. I wondered what had happened there? Had the surgeon from West Virginia had an opportunity? What happened to that bull? All I knew was that I was far from camp near another Lake and it was time I headed back. When I got back, I glanced back up that far meadow and saw that same large cow was heading toward the woodline. I was sensing a pattern with her…..and a plan for me. That evening was a cold one. The full moon that had predominated earlier in the week was waning, and we awoke shivering a few times in our sleeping bags. When we got up to glass the meadows there was a white layer of frost. For the first time, we glassed the front meadows and did not see a single elk. As usual we went to the rear meadow where we have yet to see one elk…. and there they were. Nine animals in all and a herd bull slightly smaller than the one from the previous day…but still massive!

We watched them filter into a funnel exit from the far side of the meadow and devised a plan to intercept them perhaps. The wind was such that we needed to get wide around them and travel across wind. It took us a while to get back around the hills at them, but came up as planned and slowly separated and stalked across the wind. I swung around behind the terrain as we thought they may bed near the top of that forested mountain above the meadow. Chris moved up the hillside while I gained the ridge and was walking quietly along the rocky ridge toward him. It was a good plan and set up…..but the animals had presumably already passed us when we set up. We saw nothing but sign. There was a nicely used trail leading from the meadow across the ridge to the other side, and Chris had plans to sit there that night. We broke up and I went back down to the meadow to try to get a grouse for lunch, while Chris continued on the higher ridgeline toward the back of camp. I unknowingly spooked something up the hill at Chris during this jaunt, that almost resulted in a shot for Chris. He could not tell if it was a large Mule deer or a elk, but I had pushed something into his lap. Unfortunately, it moved off just out of sight and range. We again returned to camp for lunch. I came up empty….but Chris came back carrying a dead grouse! I jokingly said, “it was my turn tomorrow” again. We ate well with roasted grouse and some garlic spices I brought along. Yummy! Chris was really feeling fatigued, his allergies were bothering him, and he was still fighting the altitude. He lay down for a nap and I left camp to give him some peace. I took a handful of blunts and went exploring the meadow edge. I came across many old outfitter camps. What junk they left behind. Some were very old as evidenced by a pull top root beer can. Some were newer. Some left cans, bottles, rope, and I even found a rusted out stove at one, and a rotted out wall tent at another. I did find something useful at one in particular. I half full bottle of Bertolli olive oil. We used it to help us get our nightly fire going.

The moon was still high in the sky when Chris woke up and we again broke camp to hunt the evening. I was off to intercept that big cow in the upper meadow. Chris was also giving the lower meadow a rest and headed off to my east in the adjacent chute. I quietly entered the woods from the downwind side and began a slow stalk up to where I continually saw that big cow in the evenings. There was a trail just a few yards inside the wood line. I set up about 12 yards from the trail and about 25 yards from the meadow edge. I wanted to be able to get a shot if she came down either avenue. I was early, and the warm sun made it hard to stay alert. I had brushed all the pine cones and branches out of the way on a little trail so I could periodically sneak out and glass the meadow. I have twin deadfall trunks behind me, but little cover in front. The trail would make for a close and difficult shot. The wind was quartering away perfectly and I melted into the woods while things became peaceful and deadly silent. After a few hours the quiet was shattered by a twig crack! Not the normal activity of the small red squirrels and birds. I readied my arrow. When I heard the second twig crack a few minutes later I felt that the time had come. Something was approaching from the upwind side...the thick side. I prayed it would emerge before running over me or winding me. Then 20…..then 25 minutes of silence happened. I became impatient. I put the small diaphragm mouth call in and softly blew my best mew….. Nothing. Damn! A little later the wind again became unstable. It started blowing in circles and toward the meadow edge. I conceded and packed up my gear. Quietly creeping to the edge I emerged and slid my way along the meadow glassing as I went. About 50 yards from my hide up the meadow, I took a step in the soft mud and long grass of the meadow when a very large animal came crashing out. THAT COW! She was there all along. She must have snuck in and bedded down waiting for the encroaching darkness so she could safely emerge from the trees. If I had just been a little more patient…..if……. The next morning brought in a front. There was no precipitation, but lots of cloud cover and a brilliant sunrise. It was also the first time we did not see any elk in ANY meadow of the area. By now the morning rituals were automatic and we prepped our gear and got underway in short order. Since we had no target area to focus on now with no animals in sight, I took to the area west of camp and Chris took off for the east side where he had kicked the herd before. There was that feeling maybe we had put down a little too much scent and a little too much pressure…..were the elk gone? I knew by now a couple of those cross meadow trails quite well, and I was hoping I may run into the heard from below crossing back. I worked quietly now moving more and more comfortably and quietly. I peeked out of the trail into the top meadow and saw a young coyote. I immediately looked for stalking route as it was about 60 yards away, but opted to just watch him with the binos for now. Then his companion emerged from behind a tree. I would have been busted for sure. I just watched them pounce on unseen mice and gophers, roll on their backs and wrestle. They were obviously young and playful. Pretty cool to watch as they scampered out of the back of the meadow… and out of sight. I spotted a nice hiding spot that will be perfect for the evening sit. The area watches two trails and made mental plans to return later in the day. The rest of the morning was spent slowly stalking and exploring more of the upper side, farther from camp. I got back to camp first and started lunch. Chris came back a little later with his head down low. He had quite a story to tell. Like me, he had spent the majority of the morning on the move and exploring. The morning got late and he became even more tired. He decided to get back towards camp via the deep dark timber and got caught up in one of those thick deadfall hell areas. He was being loud and not really trying too hard to be quiet because he was traveling downwind. He glanced up and saw an “odd looking boulder”. It made him pause and rip open the Velcro on his binocular case and check it out. He looked…..convinced himself it was just a rock and kept moving. Glancing up again, he could not get over how odd and out of place that boulder was….why it even looked like an elks rear end….and there was even a crease near where the front end was. So much so it bothered him he decided to pull out a grizzly tipped hickory arrow and shoot the rock. Just to see if he could hit it well…..he did not even care if he destroyed a good arrow on that rock. Well, he drew and bored a hole in that crease…. Then, suddenly, the bull elk whose head was until now, behind a tree, turned it’s head toward Chris and as he put it, “the whole woods seemed to move with it”…. There was that much antler! His mind went from “pick a spot” to “get it off”……biggest mistake in instinctive shooting…..his focus was gone and the arrow missed high and struck a pine.

What Chris called his “magazine cover” just bounded about 15 yards….and calmly walked away. He was dejected. It was hard for him to get to sleep that night. Well, it was now Wednesday afternoon and we knew time was running short. We needed to break up the hike out of here into two legs so we devised a plan. We would hunt the evening and Thursday morning here and try to get it done. Then, we would pack up camp and hike to the top of the entrance trail where we had our base camp last year, hunt there Thursday evening and Friday morning, then leave back down the trail Friday afternoon and head back to Albuquerque. We wanted to get things done back here and now we had a good idea of good ambush spots. The question was if we had already applied too much pressure in these spots. So after lunch I headed up west of camp around that cross meadow trail, and Chris went down the lower section to sit in ambush along that ridge crossing trail. We knew we would not get many more opportunities. I set up my stool and got tucked into a good downwind spot of the trail. Things looked good and I began to feel especially deadly. I could visualize an elk coming into that restricted area and my arrow slicing through it. My floss told me the wind was steady and away from me, perfect. Things stayed pretty quiet for several hours until the sun went down behind the ridges and temps cooled. The breezes picked up and now my floss was again circling and swirling back toward the trail. Great, I muttered to myself, now I need to get up and move. I wanted to hi-tail it to another crossing trail farther away towards the Victoria Lake where the wind might be more favorable. I quietly packed my stool, gathered my quiver and pack, and stepped cautiously out into the trail to check things out. I could not believe my eyes when I looked up the clearing and saw a huge old cow feeding with it’s head down and looking just like a big horse! It was about 80 yards away at this point and up a slight rise above a small bowl-like depression with boulders along the edge. She was quartering away slightly and feeding toward a small strip of trees that separated another small clearing that butts against the main deadfall strewn dark timber. I immediately felt my heart in my throat. THIS WAS IT! It all depended on me now. I quietly melted back into the woodline and closed the distance to the beginning of the grassy bowl as quickly as possible. I got there and had a decision to make. She was feeding now and had stepped completely through the strip of trees. I could try to continue up my side of the woodline and fight to stay quiet amid the dried twigs, cones, and brambles of the timber and still might not be able to close much distance since she was on the other side of the clearing…….. Or I could take aggressive action and head straight for her. The wind was at my face pretty strong now and that was also helping to mask any noise of my approach. Once I got to the large boulder my cover ran out. I lost sight of her by now, but if she was still feeding in the same direction, she would be a little over the terrain and allow me to get under her using the bowl for cover but I would be momentarily exposed. Time to take a chance! I stripped off my pack, my stool, and shouldered my back quiver. I took a deep breath, looked for her one last time, and headed low, quick, and crouched, through the grassy bowl and up the slight rise to the wood line edge. By the time I got there my heart was pounding and every sinew in my body was tense and ready for an opportunity I was sure would present itself at any second. I still saw nothing, heard nothing. I froze. An animal that big would have to at least make some noise if I had spooked her?! I started to slowly creep up the edge and weave my way in and out of the small spruces, trying desperately to peek and peer into the next clearing. I finally cleared the small peninsula of trees at a snail’s pace and quiet as a mouse. I glanced back down into the pocket of the clearing and there was nothing. Darn! I stayed for some time listening and was kinda pretty sure I heard a twig break in the dark timber……or was it one of those damn red squirrels again dropping a cone on a branch??? I had little chance of following her in the timber quietly. I thought it best to just back out, head back to my trail overwatch, and hope she came down the trail when light faded. Of course I never found out what happened. Not sure if she saw me make my dash in the open or she just fed quicker than I reacted and got to the dark timber and wandered off never knowing I was there. Oh well, I did not much matter at that point. Darkness started to envelope the land and I headed back to camp. As I turned a corner of the meadow I saw a huge animal crossing just 15 yards from me. Man that thing looked like a wolverine in the dark! I was able to get my binos up and check it out….it was just a large porcupine! I had to laugh at myself….wolverine LOL! Anyway, he did not seem to mind me and I was not about to shoot him….he was too cool. I watched it ramble away through the spruces. Is this county cool or what?! Back at camp, I swapped stories with Chris by the warm fire. It seemed that directly before my encounter with the cow, he had a cow of his own come up the mountain side near his hide. It inexplicably stopped about 60 yards from him….then resumed feeding off in a 90 degree angle from him and never coming any closer. It headed in my direction and could very well have been the cow I saw. Now we again took stock and regrouped. This would be our last night by this wonderful lake. Tomorrow we would hunt the morning for one last shot, then pack up and hike the 5 miles to the top of the trail. There was our old stomping grounds from last year. We knew some good spots there, and I was optimistic about hunting that pond in the morning where I had my missed opportunity last year. I wondered if there was still water in it? Until then we had one more quality chance at this area. I planned to go back in the vicinity of the cow I had just blown the stalk on; Chris planned to go back through the area that big bull that was haunting him was. He was really beating himself up about that shot. “If only the bull would have not tuned his head”, “If only I had continued to focus on the crease”, “if only I had one more second”. He was kinda in shock and stated that he would never have a better chance at an animal like that. I tried to calm him down saying. “it wasn’t so great, it was 40 yards away”, “the experience would make him focus the next time”. He would not listen. He was a bit of a basket case after so much effort thus far. He relegated himself to just enjoy the hunt as his time was over. I was still deadly serious. I had an idea of still hunting toward the probable bedding area at the top of the Mountain and getting there before that cow arrived. The morning came and we woke up again with the first squirrel and headed our separate ways. It was chilly out, but I stripped down to just my base layer and lightweight camo top, as I knew it would warm up and I had a small hike ahead of me. I started my trek uphill at the meadow I blew the stalk on. I worked slow and deliberate up the mountainside. I was paralleling a small saddle and corresponding Valle Victoria horse trail. The South side of that saddle has hit heavy by blow downs and the rise offered a view of anything moving down the trail. I suspected this would be a good bedding place. Hell, I would lay there if I was an elk. I knew I would have to spot the elk before it spots me. A low percentage rate of success but I might get lucky. It was my only chance. If I did get up there ahead, I would wait out an elk coming in for a nap. I knew there was at least one cow in the area from the night before. I moved each foot at a slow deliberate pace by placing my weight first on the toe and feeling for any twigs through the soft sole of my Bean Hunting shoe (great stalking boots by the way), adjusting as necessary. I was getting much better at navigating through the thick stuff quietly. I planned my route 30 yards ahead to avoid the thickest junk, and slowly crept…..bow loosely at the side for a quick swing draw should I need it. I eased closer to the top and the edge of the super blow down area. I really slowed things down now and could feel something…. Then I looked up after a step and 30 yards in front I see ears and a head of an animal that just stood up! I brought the bow arm up and tension mounted on the string, but as my focus fixed I realized the color was not quite right…more gray. Darn! Mule deer doe! She bounded off and my scalp was thumping with my heartbeat. I eased forward to her bed area and located my butt atop a large half buried boulder. The wind was blowing downhill and I thought if the Mulie thought it was a good bedding area, an elk may also. The ridge had a decent trail leading to this spot. I was in ambush mode. Several hours passed and all remained quiet. I began to cramp up and decided to keep the wind in my face and stalk down the reverse slope to the large meadow I knew was there. I continued hunting very well, moving like a cat, and soon poked out into the big meadow. I ended up at Lake Victoria. I was beautiful! I saw a couple ducks, some nice boulders along the edge and splendid pasture above. I took a few photos. No elk to be seen, but it is no wonder this was the spot the outfitter took most of his clients to.

The wind was wrong on the walk back to camp, so I proceeded swiftly and kept an eye out for a grouse lunch. No luck there either. It was a good morning. Chris also had a pleasant but uneventful walk. We took a rest, got our food down from tree (bear prevention), and ate some lunch. Then we started packing up our home form the past 5 days in preparation for the long walk back. We must have been hungry, or we wanted to carry less, but we ended up finishing two mountain house meals. We said goodbye to our lakefront property.

Before I left I deceived on bit of ceremony for our mountain home. Who knows if I will ever be back there. I remembered stories of Fred Bear and the fact that he liked to fire a broadhead arrow into whatever cabin he was staying at (Little Delta, Grousehaven, etc.). I decided to fire one of my homemade arrows into the large pine in the center of our camp. Maybe one day another group of hunters will be resting under this tree….gaze up….see my arrow, and wonder about the other mysterious hunters that had camped here. No real damage otherwise as eventually my douglas fir shaft will rot away and my steel head will rust to oblivion.

Then we started the long walk back toward the top of the plateau…. and our old hunting grounds. There will be more hunting to do. We headed back across the big meadow back. On the walk back we found a carbon arrow with quick spin vanes, and a broken off head, on the side of the rocky trail. It was half bloody and had bits of feather stuck on it. We thought, “who would litter like that out here in the pristine wilderness?”…and leave it right on the trail….. The sun was hot and by the time we got to our old camp, we were pretty tired and dry. We had little water left, so I volunteered to take the jug about 2 miles to another Lake and get water for the walk out and for dinner. I pretty much gave up this hunt in the afternoon to make sure we had enough agua. Chris set out to explore his old areas. I got back in time to walk around camp and look for grouse for dinner. I spotted one in the field edge and then noticed a pack by the side. There turned out to be 5 grouse in this group but as I crept close none offered a shot until one had only his head and neck stuck out from behind a tree trunk. It was the best shot I had and was only about 12 yards away. My arrow skimmed over the birds head by a feather. I was looking for my errant shaft in the field when I heard voices and looked up. There were two younger looking hunters approaching. They had 2 grouse in their hands and only one carried a compound in a sling. Now I know who left the shaft up there. I chatted with them and curiously wondered why they only had 1 pack and 1 bow between them. They asked if bulls were bugling and I told them no. I mentioned about the bulls we saw and they asked how far it was to the lake, then they left. Chris returned and we ate dinner (not as good as a fresh grouse would have been). He had seen some fresh sign and lots of rubbed trees. We were both excited to hunt the next morning. It was our last chance. I knew I had a pretty good shot at my little pond in the morning. Chris would sit on his “highway trail”. This was IT!!! I got up before the dawn this day and prepared in quiet anticipation. I knew this was the last shot. I knew I had a good chance at catching an elk at this water hole. It was dry this year, and last year I had opportunities there. I skipped my morning coffee and headed up the rocky hillside toward the pond. Memories of the previous year flashing before my eyes. I knew the way without even consulting the gps. Sneaking was much harder on this side of the plateau. There was hardly any soil and it was rocky like a moonscape. As the sun came up, I crested the hill above the pond and quietly peered into the surroundings. This was a good area and I did not want to spook anything already there. I picked my way through the trees to two big rocks I had sat on last year. They were still there stacked atop one another. The place was already set up, branches clipped and a clear shooting lane to the pond and access trail from the right. I gently moved the rocks aside as I had my stool this year. That would give me some added inches for shooting the longbow. I took off my quiver and settled in. I drew an arrow at the pond… then at the access trail. Both were clear….I was ready! As the daylight became more intense I melted into the forest background amongst three spruces. The pond was much lower this year, but still had sufficient drinking water. The surrounding area was alive with birds of every species. Birds ranging from large Ravens and jays down to little sparrows and songbirds were milling about the trees and taking turns chasing each other from the water. This place was a giant birdbath. I was loving it. I knew at any moment an elk would come in also to drink, this was the only water for miles and it would be a hot day. It was only a matter of time!

Then, in a few minutes, the culmination of 2 years and 100s of hiking miles, magic happened……………I was startled by the radio. Chris was calling but the transmission was severely broken up by the terrain. His voice was an excited whisper, hard to understand if the call was clear. I held the radio higher and whispered, “say again?”. I heard…..SHHHHHHHHSSSTTT…….hit…..SHHHSSHHHHHHHT……Cow……….SHHHHHHHHTT ran……..SHHHHHTTT. Well, that was enough for me! I asked if he needed me to come right over. He said, “No, I’m going to back out and call you when I am ready. I acknowledged and warm excitement overcame me. Holy cow indeed! I could not wait. I thought about what if another big one comes in front of me right now……could we handle two down? We’ll worry about that if it happens…. The ensuing hour was one of the longest of my hunting career. Finally, Chris called back and told me to meet him on the main trail. I packed up my gear and stepped out. I glanced back at the pond, and briefly reflected on what was, and what might have been. Flashed a picture off….and was on my way to meet Chris. He was waiting on the trail with his empty ruck and I quickly followed him to where he was sitting. The site was pretty cool. He had found a spot above the trail where the bank of the hill was eroded to form a pit. A flat root was exposed to form a perfect seat. There was a tree that was in the perfect spot for cover of anything advancing along the trail. He proceeded to point towards where the elk was standing, about 12 yards from his hide.

He said he did not see the arrow impact, but heard it, and he was certain it was a good one. After the shot, the cow ran downhill about 10 more yards and stopped quartering away. He reached for another arrow, but grabbed a judo tipped one. He threw it down and went for another, nocked it on the string, and quickly fired another arrow from his 63@28 inch MOAB. He saw this arrow stick somewhere above the rump in the side of the animal. Two arrows where in it when it was crashing off down the hill. After explaining, we went to the estimated area of the initial arrow strike and found blood. Then a few yards later we found his arrow broken in half. Good red blood and ½ shaft of penetration.

We went to where he last saw the elk and had the follow up shot. Only a couple small pin drops of blood. There was really no real blood between them. Elk have such a big body and chest cavity, we were not too worried at this point. Now we just had to find it! We went to where Chris thought the cow ran. There was no blood. We separated and started to fan out moving down the hill. Then I peeked up through some trees and saw the rear of a cow laying down. I pointed with my upper longbow limb so Chris could see, and stated authoritatively to Chris, “LOOK”!

I could see Chris raise both hands up skyward in my periphery. Meanwhile, I whipped out a broadhead from my backquiver and started to make was to a flanking position in case she had ideas about getting up again. There would be no more though. She was dead. She was not a full grown adult, more like a year and ½ old, but she was still big. We had won this battle…..and now the work began. That is…..after some celebration!

His first arrow center punched a large rib and we think only got one lung. The second actually skimmed along the outside of the ribcage and embedded in the spine area.

After the pictures it was time to get to work. The sun was getting higher and it was getting hotter. We spread out a couple space blanket and stated skinning her. We were going to go gutless method on this one and remove the meat from the bone as quickly as we could. I worked from the back and he worked from the front and soon we had one side skinned. Chris removed the front leg and I set to work on the blanket deboning that while he worked on getting the loins and rear quarter free. Soon we flipped her over and repeated that on the other side placing all the deboned meat into 4 game bags. The flies and yellow jackets were becoming relentless until things were covered. The whiskey jacks and jays had all the scraps they wanted from our bone pile. The tenderloins were finally teased out from above on the back of the cage, and I worked to get any leftover neck meat out. We were finally done. Now, we had about 130 pounds of deboned meat cooling. Chris loaded two larger quarters into his pack. I struggled with two bags one in each hand. Luckily the elk had run downhill toward camp. We got to camp and decided to pack all the meat out first, get it in coolers and on ice, and then come back up the hill for our gear. The animal was just too small for outfitter help and too close to the trail. It would just be more work. We had to hustle. The flight left Albuquerque the next morning. Going down the mountain with about 65 pounds each too about 2 hours, but was pretty demanding. By the time we reached the truck our feet and legs were whooped and we knew we had to go back up sometime. We flopped by the truck and I crawled to the door to get out a few warm gatorades which tasted like heaven! We glanced over at 3 groups of outfitters packing their horses and getting ready to take their clients up the mountain for the muzzleloader opener the next morning. After collecting ourselves, we got directions to the nearest store that had coolers and ice. It was an hour away in Alamosa. There was nowhere to freeze the meat as the only guy who had a deep freeze was out sheep hunting somewhere on the mountain. We purchased 2 coolers and 4 bags of ice, got the meat in there, and used the small grocery store bathroom to try to get all the dried blood off out hands and wash our faces. We hit a local Mexican road stand on the way out of town. We got cheeseburgers and french fries, our stomachs were not in shape for anything more “indigenous”. We drove back to the trail head and put on our empty packs knowing we just had to get it done….back up the mountain. We could rest back at camp for a while, but would have to be back down the mountain by 4am to make our flight and the 3.5 hour drive back to Albuquerque. The hike wasn’t too bad by then. I think our legs were numb by them. Going up empty is definitely easier. Then, the skies opened up and thunder started. A nice little storm to help motivate us. We had to laugh. Could it get any harder? Near the top we bumped into those two compound bow guys (with one compound) and they stated that they were exhausted and the big guy “would never come back up here again”. We had to laugh. We got to our camp stripped off our wet clothes and crawled into our sleeping bags and tents for a little rest. Man did it feel good to lie down! After about 15 minutes we were warm and the rain had stopped. No time to rest, we had to get back down. We had to travel the last 1/3rd of the trail in total darkness. The trail seemed like it would never end in the dark. When I got down to the Ford my gps said I walked 54 miles. We figured between last year and this, we walked a total of 200 cumulative miles in hard country to get this animal.

We struggled to keep each other awake on the 3.5 hour trip back to our hotel. We got there a little after midnight, completely exhausted and filthy. We ordered a domino’s pizza and I took my first warm shower in 7 days. Aaaaaah! We wolfed down a large pie! The next day we flew back to BWI with $200 more of extra checked baggage (the 2 coolers) and I spend the next half day cutting up elk steaks. Man they are good!

Anyway, thank you for coming along on my hunt. I never got a shot but felt a major team effort in Chris’s animal. It was very satisfying. The trophy is truly a reflection of the work involved. One we will never forget.