Richard.Howe
Member
- Joined
- Dec 23, 2003
- Messages
- 887
Three buddies from work and I got together for a little drop-camp elk pursuit in GMU24 of Colorado’s Flat Tops this year. Two of us (Shawn and Rich) are very experienced hunters, one of us moderately so (Kevin), and we had one total greenie (Jason) who’d never taken a big game animal before. I had worked with Shawn and Kevin in previous assignments and Jason in my current – the balance was about perfect, and we all got along just fine, with the exception of the inevitable minor frictions that come with being in the cold, away from home & family, working hard 24/7. Kevin and I both had a bull & cow elk tag, Jason had a buck mulie and bull elk tag, Shawn had a bull only.
Here are some of my recollections, notes written in the field, and photos of the trip. I included some extra (minor) detail for those who’ve never taken a trip like this before.
Wednesday Oct 15th
Went to the park with the wife and kids early…
…and came back home to meet Jason, who was driving up from New Orleans. We met at my house in Mandeville and headed west to Houston, where the other half of our crew lives. Got in about 5:30pm and set to work consolidating our vast array of gear, simplifying & eliminating redundancies.
By 7:30pm, we were finished and off to the races. Drove all night watching Primos Truth vids...can you tell from this photo that we were a bunch of excited young hunters?
Thursday 16th
Arrived into Rifle, CO at about 5pm. We shopped at the Wal-Mart on I-70 for cold camp foods then arranged to have dinner with some friends who live in Parachute, who then offered to let us sleep at their house. Thanks Luis and Jackie!
Friday 17th
Woke at 6am, drank LOTS of coffee, and headed north to the trailhead by 7.
Here we are…the four great white hunters set to launch:
After three hours, four pee breaks and two wrong turns, we finally arrived and saw our outfitter’s horse trailer.
All of the gear was crammed into panniers…
…and we realized some stuff was gonna have to stay in the car. This precipitated a desperate attempt at further consolidation:
“What do you mean, I can’t take my 72 MRE’s?” –Kevin
How many things in this photo indicate a bunch of engineers? Also, please overlook the unforgiveable lack of blue electrical tape…
Once our outfitter Joe, his wife, Dad, uncles, and hands got us all loaded up, we were off….
…into some of Colorado’s most beautiful territory:
We arrived into camp at ~4:30pm and started to nest. After about an hour of settling, we all got out for a brief scout of our next-morning hunt locations. Jason and I went up a steep 1/2-mile trail to an East meadow at about 10,200’ (later dubbed “The Boneyard” due to the multitude of elk carcasses in & around), and Kevin and Shawn walked North further up the mail trail about 1-1/2 miles. No game was seen, and we were collectively too wound up / tired to eat much. I think we pecked on some trail mix, tanked up on water, and hit the sack.
Saturday 18th
Woke at 5am and hit the trail by 6. This became our daily morning ritual – on one hand, it’s amazing it took us an hour to get rolling. On the other hand, when the weather is 20 degF in the tent, it’s awfully hard to roll out of the sack and put a pot of coffee on.
Shawn went to the North and didn’t see anything all morning.
About 7am, we heard a string of TWELVE consecutive shots, from over the ridge originating in the same location. BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-silence. Must have been some elk. That or Taliban.
Kevin went to the South and saw a cow at 7:45am, but had his #^%$@* scope set at 9x and missed a cow at ~50yds. The cows then ran out to about ~250yds and stopped to graze, but he was afraid to shoot again since he believed he’d hit the first cow. Later, after the AM hunt was over, we were unable to find any sign of a hit…and if he hit the cow, I believe we would have seen something – Kevin was shooting his m700 stoked with 300WM 165gr TSX’s moving out at ~3200fps. That sucker would’ve likely exited on most any broadside shot, don’t you think?
Jason and I were sitting on the same East meadow we’d scouted the afternoon before. At 7:30am, we heard a ruckus off to the right – a big group, and getting closer. Since Jason had never taken a big game animal, I told him he could have first shot any day we hunted together. Wouldn’t you know, here comes a stinking HERD of elk straight for our meadow. I told Jason to get ready and emphatically asked him to wait for a good broadside shot – although he was shooting a 300WSM, his bullet was a 180gr Ballistic Tip, and I didn’t want to have to track an elk this early in the game.
First, the cows came out at ~200yds. They KEPT filtering out until there were about 9 in the meadow before us. Then, some spikes and small bulls followed, mixed in with more cows. At the end was a respectable 5x5 that I’d take any day of the week.
Jason set up for his shot, and I set up for mine – I was hoping to take a cow in the confusion that followed his report. As I was scanning the herd at 2.5x (looking for a nice, fat cow), I tracked back to the herd entry point. More cows…uh oh….and then Big Daddy came out. This guy was 6x6 with big, thick beams and one heck of a fishtail. Immediately, I tried to interrupt Jason’s shot and whispered, “Jas-“…………and BAM, he’d taken the shot. I wheeled back onto Big Daddy, and he gave me about half-second Texas Brain Shot before bounding back into the thicket. I passed up on the shot – as I would have with most any rifle – but especially shooting my Kimber .308 at 225yds with 180 Partitions @ 2750fps. Many of you would have taken the shot, but my gut wouldn’t let me.
As Jason’s 5x5 rolled down the hill toward our position, I scanned quickly for a good cow (one that was holding still for the moment). The rest of the herd started sprinting right-to-left across the meadow when I found her on the left side of the meadow, and squeezed off a shot. My cow, too, began rolling downhill towards us. We had just batted 1.000 and couldn’t contain our collective excitement…then Jason said, “Hey, your cow’s back up.” As I brought the Kimber back up and readied to administer the final shot…I saw the spike horns.
The animal was wobbly and obviously hurt badly, so I shot again and put him down. The spike beams were easily 15” long – impossible not to have seen when I was aiming at the animal. This was not a case of mistaken identity. So what had happened? All I could figure was the spike ran into the sight picture when/after I shot and caught the bullet. Either that, or I missed ridiculously badly and hit the spike while aiming at the cow. Regardless, I had an illegal bull and had to figure out what to do. In the end, I decided to call the outfitter on our sat phone and make a report…then wait.
We gutted Jason’s bull and headed back down to camp to make the call. Although it was an accident, I was still sick at my stomach. It was hard to share Jason’s elation and accept his gratitude while feeling like such a stupid fool. Regardless, Jason had a nice animal and deserved every bit of his moment:
Since Jason had never field dressed, much less quartered anything, I took over and showed him how. We had to open the bull about 2" higher into the sternum than I like, but were forced to by the incline.
While opening the second bull, I got distracted and cut my left index finger to the bone between the cuticle and first digit…
We spent the rest of the day – the four of us – hauling two heads, eight quarters, four backstraps, tenderloins, neck meat, rib meat, etc. down 1000’ over the course of half a mile. We were beat puppies by the time the work was done, and I had caught a bug complete with nausea, chills, and fever. Then I spilled my dinner and had to start again from scratch…very bad day for Rich…
The rest of the guys in camp enjoyed a nice venison stew my wife sent with us. Great dinner.
Sunday 19th
None of us saw anything in the morning. We had a very relaxed mid-day at the camp – the last for the rest of the trip – and had spaghetti with seasoned backstrap chunks. Great lunch.
That evening, we all hunted again. I saw another hunter on the Boneyard – a surprise given our remoteness – but an even bigger surprise since this idiot wasn’t wearing any orange. I thought (at 250yds) he was a black bear, since he was dressed all in black. He was lucky I don’t glass meadows through my riflescope. I moved away from the meadow after identifying him as another hunter, went back to camp, set up my spotting scope, and watched him hunt. At about 6pm, he put an orange band on his hat and sat there ‘till dark. Very weird…but we never saw him again.
About 6:30pm, we heard a shot from out Shawn’s direction, but didn’t hear anything from him on the radio. At about 8pm, well past dark, Shawn calls in to say he’s shot a nice 6x6, but it’s on a high ridge and he’d going to go get it. At 9pm, he’s still not to the animal and asks if we’d come bring him some water. Shawn had been climbing since 7pm and was still not to the bull yet…and so decided to come back the next morning to climb in the light.
We ate hash browns and chili at 9:30 that night. As the food got worse throughout the week, it just seemed to get better. I think you know exactly what I mean.
Monday 20th
Kevin hunted his aspen meadow and didn’t see anything, while Jason (deservedly) chose to sleep in.
Since I wasn’t hunting without a ruling from the CDOW, I went up to help Shawn collect his bull. We left camp at 7am and made it to the bull at 10am – a three-hour slog – but finally reached him at 10,750’. The incline was consistently 40 to 50 degrees with no easy way up:
We were lucky. Shawn had taken a true 500yd uphill shot and pulled it off with a not-insignificant measure of good fortune. He had held his 450yd B&C hatch mark low on the vitals. But the effect of the incline essentially halved the distance, and the bullet nailed the spine, dropping the bull where he stood. A vitals shot would have permitted this guy to cross the ridge and start heading back down the other side…which would have made the awful recovery effort into a horrible one.
The bull was a nice one:
Shawn was nice enough give me a shot with his bull since I was helping him get it down.
We decapitated the bull for a European mount then started to roll him down the hill. Several times, the animal wanted to roll into the woods adjoining the alpine meadow, so we had to get creative and pendulum-swing it back out into the middle.
Where trees could not be used for the pivot point, we twice used large embedded rocks.
The head was too large to safely carry, so I skied it down an adjacent scree slide:
That was more fun than I’ve had in a long, long time…
Joe, our outfitter, showed up at about 12:30 on a meat run, and informed me that he could talk with the local CDOW Enforcement Officer that night, and wanted to make sure that’s what I wanted him to do. I reconfirmed my desire to self-report, and he headed back in with Jason’s bull.
Shortly after Shawn and I got to work on his bull, a snowstorm blew in and we were forced to make shelter in a nearby grove.
I headed back off to camp to make sure everything was square with the spike, i.e. carcass tag properly filled out, head nearby, etc., in case we got a visit from the CDOW field officer. Shawn snapped a pic as I headed back to camp:
Jason left camp to help Shawn finish his bull. As it turned out, the meat was unfortunately rancid from the delay in processing. In retrospect, there was really no better alternative – climbing that hill in the dark would have been foolish, especially for two guys with eight kids between them. Still, we quartered and deboned, and prepped for chilling.
That night, we had venison sausage for dinner. Ungarnished, unaccompanied, straight sausage…and it was wonderful. At least, until it hit bottom – I had to “do paperwork” three times that night. And it was COLD.
Tuesday 21st
We woke at 5am as usual, and it was ~20 degF outside with ~4 inches of snow on the ground.
Shawn went for an AM scouting hike.
Jason slept in and packed, cleaned camp, dishes, etc., and made lunch.
Kevin and I hunted the Boneyard again. We saw a nice cow headed right-to-left and I told Kevin to get ready. He did, and when the cow stepped out with a perfect stationary, broadside shot at 351 yds, I told Kevin to “shoot…shoot…Shoot, Kevin…SHOOT.” Well, as it turned out, he had been breathing on his eyepiece while looking at the cow, such that it was completely fogged when it was time to take the shot. Poor guy, his whole week was kind of like that.
When we made it back to camp, I called the outfitter to get the verdict from the CDOW. Turns out they were sincerely appreciative for the self-reporting, and advised me to keep hunting on BOTH tags, but only to fill one. When I filled one (either bull or cow), I was to take the other and affix it to the spike carcass, which they would then have to confiscate. They were apparently willing to go way out of their way to be helpful to someone who tried to do the right thing. Something for the new hunters to bear in mind.
Shawn and I hunted that afternoon off to the North, but got hit by a serious white-out and turned back in early. You could barely see 100yds at times.
I was elated DOW’s leniency and eager to get my bull (or cow) tag filled the next morning. I made venison sausage jambalaya – easily the best meal all week – and we all ate until we were as full as ticks. The mood in camp that night definitely ended on a high note (it was 15 degrees in the tent):
Wednesday 22nd
Snowed all night. There were at least six inches of new snow accumulation and it was somewhat chilly…
Jason and I hunted the Boneyard one last time before he and Shawn packed out. The temperature was about 10 degrees and we sat there until 9:30am…before wimping out and heading back down to camp. All of our water froze solid while sitting there.
I took a moment to snap a gratuitous photo of the 84M:
Jason and Shawn left out at 1:30pm, headed back to Luis’ house for a shave & shower, leaving me and Kevin to hunt until this time tomorrow.
I had a lasagna and headed back out.
I decided that the elk had been pressured from the South, so went hard about 3 miles in to the North, and up about 1200’ to the base of the Flat Tops plateau to still hunt. Saw absolutely nothing and developed a powerful case of homesickness – probably the worst I can remember. Something about being hurt, cold, alone and dejected makes a man see just how deeply he needs his family.
Tired and freezing, I went back to camp after dark and made dinner with Kevin. We were trying to clean out the cold-food igloo to make the next day’s packing easier. The remaining ingredients were polska kielbasa, shaved ham, bacon, tortillas, and some kind of MRE Velveeta cheese spread. So….we made fried ham, fried sausage, fried bacon and cheese tacos wrapped in hot tortillas. Holy Toledo those things were good. We’re thinking of selling our “3-Meat Turd Launcher” recipe idea to McDonalds.
Thursday 23rd
Next morning we got up and hunted, and again saw nothing. It was so cold that night that my water at my bedside did this…
…and the condensation from my breath created a pleasant sheet of ice around the opening of my mummy bag. Always nice to wake up to.
But it sure was nice to see that pack train coming with some nice, warm weather just before lunch.
We made it back to the trailhead at 4pm…just in time to see the CDOW officer show up. We talked a while and he assessed me a $68 / 5-point fee…much better than the $1,400 / 15-point I deserved.
We drove from Thursday afternoon to 5am Saturday morning to make it back to good-ole New Orleans. Overall great trip -- we put in a deposit to do a repeat next year, and doggone it -- I'm shooting first next time.
Rich
Here are some of my recollections, notes written in the field, and photos of the trip. I included some extra (minor) detail for those who’ve never taken a trip like this before.
Wednesday Oct 15th
Went to the park with the wife and kids early…
…and came back home to meet Jason, who was driving up from New Orleans. We met at my house in Mandeville and headed west to Houston, where the other half of our crew lives. Got in about 5:30pm and set to work consolidating our vast array of gear, simplifying & eliminating redundancies.
By 7:30pm, we were finished and off to the races. Drove all night watching Primos Truth vids...can you tell from this photo that we were a bunch of excited young hunters?
Thursday 16th
Arrived into Rifle, CO at about 5pm. We shopped at the Wal-Mart on I-70 for cold camp foods then arranged to have dinner with some friends who live in Parachute, who then offered to let us sleep at their house. Thanks Luis and Jackie!
Friday 17th
Woke at 6am, drank LOTS of coffee, and headed north to the trailhead by 7.
Here we are…the four great white hunters set to launch:
After three hours, four pee breaks and two wrong turns, we finally arrived and saw our outfitter’s horse trailer.
All of the gear was crammed into panniers…
…and we realized some stuff was gonna have to stay in the car. This precipitated a desperate attempt at further consolidation:
“What do you mean, I can’t take my 72 MRE’s?” –Kevin
How many things in this photo indicate a bunch of engineers? Also, please overlook the unforgiveable lack of blue electrical tape…
Once our outfitter Joe, his wife, Dad, uncles, and hands got us all loaded up, we were off….
…into some of Colorado’s most beautiful territory:
We arrived into camp at ~4:30pm and started to nest. After about an hour of settling, we all got out for a brief scout of our next-morning hunt locations. Jason and I went up a steep 1/2-mile trail to an East meadow at about 10,200’ (later dubbed “The Boneyard” due to the multitude of elk carcasses in & around), and Kevin and Shawn walked North further up the mail trail about 1-1/2 miles. No game was seen, and we were collectively too wound up / tired to eat much. I think we pecked on some trail mix, tanked up on water, and hit the sack.
Saturday 18th
Woke at 5am and hit the trail by 6. This became our daily morning ritual – on one hand, it’s amazing it took us an hour to get rolling. On the other hand, when the weather is 20 degF in the tent, it’s awfully hard to roll out of the sack and put a pot of coffee on.
Shawn went to the North and didn’t see anything all morning.
About 7am, we heard a string of TWELVE consecutive shots, from over the ridge originating in the same location. BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-silence. Must have been some elk. That or Taliban.
Kevin went to the South and saw a cow at 7:45am, but had his #^%$@* scope set at 9x and missed a cow at ~50yds. The cows then ran out to about ~250yds and stopped to graze, but he was afraid to shoot again since he believed he’d hit the first cow. Later, after the AM hunt was over, we were unable to find any sign of a hit…and if he hit the cow, I believe we would have seen something – Kevin was shooting his m700 stoked with 300WM 165gr TSX’s moving out at ~3200fps. That sucker would’ve likely exited on most any broadside shot, don’t you think?
Jason and I were sitting on the same East meadow we’d scouted the afternoon before. At 7:30am, we heard a ruckus off to the right – a big group, and getting closer. Since Jason had never taken a big game animal, I told him he could have first shot any day we hunted together. Wouldn’t you know, here comes a stinking HERD of elk straight for our meadow. I told Jason to get ready and emphatically asked him to wait for a good broadside shot – although he was shooting a 300WSM, his bullet was a 180gr Ballistic Tip, and I didn’t want to have to track an elk this early in the game.
First, the cows came out at ~200yds. They KEPT filtering out until there were about 9 in the meadow before us. Then, some spikes and small bulls followed, mixed in with more cows. At the end was a respectable 5x5 that I’d take any day of the week.
Jason set up for his shot, and I set up for mine – I was hoping to take a cow in the confusion that followed his report. As I was scanning the herd at 2.5x (looking for a nice, fat cow), I tracked back to the herd entry point. More cows…uh oh….and then Big Daddy came out. This guy was 6x6 with big, thick beams and one heck of a fishtail. Immediately, I tried to interrupt Jason’s shot and whispered, “Jas-“…………and BAM, he’d taken the shot. I wheeled back onto Big Daddy, and he gave me about half-second Texas Brain Shot before bounding back into the thicket. I passed up on the shot – as I would have with most any rifle – but especially shooting my Kimber .308 at 225yds with 180 Partitions @ 2750fps. Many of you would have taken the shot, but my gut wouldn’t let me.
As Jason’s 5x5 rolled down the hill toward our position, I scanned quickly for a good cow (one that was holding still for the moment). The rest of the herd started sprinting right-to-left across the meadow when I found her on the left side of the meadow, and squeezed off a shot. My cow, too, began rolling downhill towards us. We had just batted 1.000 and couldn’t contain our collective excitement…then Jason said, “Hey, your cow’s back up.” As I brought the Kimber back up and readied to administer the final shot…I saw the spike horns.
The animal was wobbly and obviously hurt badly, so I shot again and put him down. The spike beams were easily 15” long – impossible not to have seen when I was aiming at the animal. This was not a case of mistaken identity. So what had happened? All I could figure was the spike ran into the sight picture when/after I shot and caught the bullet. Either that, or I missed ridiculously badly and hit the spike while aiming at the cow. Regardless, I had an illegal bull and had to figure out what to do. In the end, I decided to call the outfitter on our sat phone and make a report…then wait.
We gutted Jason’s bull and headed back down to camp to make the call. Although it was an accident, I was still sick at my stomach. It was hard to share Jason’s elation and accept his gratitude while feeling like such a stupid fool. Regardless, Jason had a nice animal and deserved every bit of his moment:
Since Jason had never field dressed, much less quartered anything, I took over and showed him how. We had to open the bull about 2" higher into the sternum than I like, but were forced to by the incline.
While opening the second bull, I got distracted and cut my left index finger to the bone between the cuticle and first digit…
We spent the rest of the day – the four of us – hauling two heads, eight quarters, four backstraps, tenderloins, neck meat, rib meat, etc. down 1000’ over the course of half a mile. We were beat puppies by the time the work was done, and I had caught a bug complete with nausea, chills, and fever. Then I spilled my dinner and had to start again from scratch…very bad day for Rich…
The rest of the guys in camp enjoyed a nice venison stew my wife sent with us. Great dinner.
Sunday 19th
None of us saw anything in the morning. We had a very relaxed mid-day at the camp – the last for the rest of the trip – and had spaghetti with seasoned backstrap chunks. Great lunch.
That evening, we all hunted again. I saw another hunter on the Boneyard – a surprise given our remoteness – but an even bigger surprise since this idiot wasn’t wearing any orange. I thought (at 250yds) he was a black bear, since he was dressed all in black. He was lucky I don’t glass meadows through my riflescope. I moved away from the meadow after identifying him as another hunter, went back to camp, set up my spotting scope, and watched him hunt. At about 6pm, he put an orange band on his hat and sat there ‘till dark. Very weird…but we never saw him again.
About 6:30pm, we heard a shot from out Shawn’s direction, but didn’t hear anything from him on the radio. At about 8pm, well past dark, Shawn calls in to say he’s shot a nice 6x6, but it’s on a high ridge and he’d going to go get it. At 9pm, he’s still not to the animal and asks if we’d come bring him some water. Shawn had been climbing since 7pm and was still not to the bull yet…and so decided to come back the next morning to climb in the light.
We ate hash browns and chili at 9:30 that night. As the food got worse throughout the week, it just seemed to get better. I think you know exactly what I mean.
Monday 20th
Kevin hunted his aspen meadow and didn’t see anything, while Jason (deservedly) chose to sleep in.
Since I wasn’t hunting without a ruling from the CDOW, I went up to help Shawn collect his bull. We left camp at 7am and made it to the bull at 10am – a three-hour slog – but finally reached him at 10,750’. The incline was consistently 40 to 50 degrees with no easy way up:
We were lucky. Shawn had taken a true 500yd uphill shot and pulled it off with a not-insignificant measure of good fortune. He had held his 450yd B&C hatch mark low on the vitals. But the effect of the incline essentially halved the distance, and the bullet nailed the spine, dropping the bull where he stood. A vitals shot would have permitted this guy to cross the ridge and start heading back down the other side…which would have made the awful recovery effort into a horrible one.
The bull was a nice one:
Shawn was nice enough give me a shot with his bull since I was helping him get it down.
We decapitated the bull for a European mount then started to roll him down the hill. Several times, the animal wanted to roll into the woods adjoining the alpine meadow, so we had to get creative and pendulum-swing it back out into the middle.
Where trees could not be used for the pivot point, we twice used large embedded rocks.
The head was too large to safely carry, so I skied it down an adjacent scree slide:
That was more fun than I’ve had in a long, long time…
Joe, our outfitter, showed up at about 12:30 on a meat run, and informed me that he could talk with the local CDOW Enforcement Officer that night, and wanted to make sure that’s what I wanted him to do. I reconfirmed my desire to self-report, and he headed back in with Jason’s bull.
Shortly after Shawn and I got to work on his bull, a snowstorm blew in and we were forced to make shelter in a nearby grove.
I headed back off to camp to make sure everything was square with the spike, i.e. carcass tag properly filled out, head nearby, etc., in case we got a visit from the CDOW field officer. Shawn snapped a pic as I headed back to camp:
Jason left camp to help Shawn finish his bull. As it turned out, the meat was unfortunately rancid from the delay in processing. In retrospect, there was really no better alternative – climbing that hill in the dark would have been foolish, especially for two guys with eight kids between them. Still, we quartered and deboned, and prepped for chilling.
That night, we had venison sausage for dinner. Ungarnished, unaccompanied, straight sausage…and it was wonderful. At least, until it hit bottom – I had to “do paperwork” three times that night. And it was COLD.
Tuesday 21st
We woke at 5am as usual, and it was ~20 degF outside with ~4 inches of snow on the ground.
Shawn went for an AM scouting hike.
Jason slept in and packed, cleaned camp, dishes, etc., and made lunch.
Kevin and I hunted the Boneyard again. We saw a nice cow headed right-to-left and I told Kevin to get ready. He did, and when the cow stepped out with a perfect stationary, broadside shot at 351 yds, I told Kevin to “shoot…shoot…Shoot, Kevin…SHOOT.” Well, as it turned out, he had been breathing on his eyepiece while looking at the cow, such that it was completely fogged when it was time to take the shot. Poor guy, his whole week was kind of like that.
When we made it back to camp, I called the outfitter to get the verdict from the CDOW. Turns out they were sincerely appreciative for the self-reporting, and advised me to keep hunting on BOTH tags, but only to fill one. When I filled one (either bull or cow), I was to take the other and affix it to the spike carcass, which they would then have to confiscate. They were apparently willing to go way out of their way to be helpful to someone who tried to do the right thing. Something for the new hunters to bear in mind.
Shawn and I hunted that afternoon off to the North, but got hit by a serious white-out and turned back in early. You could barely see 100yds at times.
I was elated DOW’s leniency and eager to get my bull (or cow) tag filled the next morning. I made venison sausage jambalaya – easily the best meal all week – and we all ate until we were as full as ticks. The mood in camp that night definitely ended on a high note (it was 15 degrees in the tent):
Wednesday 22nd
Snowed all night. There were at least six inches of new snow accumulation and it was somewhat chilly…
Jason and I hunted the Boneyard one last time before he and Shawn packed out. The temperature was about 10 degrees and we sat there until 9:30am…before wimping out and heading back down to camp. All of our water froze solid while sitting there.
I took a moment to snap a gratuitous photo of the 84M:
Jason and Shawn left out at 1:30pm, headed back to Luis’ house for a shave & shower, leaving me and Kevin to hunt until this time tomorrow.
I had a lasagna and headed back out.
I decided that the elk had been pressured from the South, so went hard about 3 miles in to the North, and up about 1200’ to the base of the Flat Tops plateau to still hunt. Saw absolutely nothing and developed a powerful case of homesickness – probably the worst I can remember. Something about being hurt, cold, alone and dejected makes a man see just how deeply he needs his family.
Tired and freezing, I went back to camp after dark and made dinner with Kevin. We were trying to clean out the cold-food igloo to make the next day’s packing easier. The remaining ingredients were polska kielbasa, shaved ham, bacon, tortillas, and some kind of MRE Velveeta cheese spread. So….we made fried ham, fried sausage, fried bacon and cheese tacos wrapped in hot tortillas. Holy Toledo those things were good. We’re thinking of selling our “3-Meat Turd Launcher” recipe idea to McDonalds.
Thursday 23rd
Next morning we got up and hunted, and again saw nothing. It was so cold that night that my water at my bedside did this…
…and the condensation from my breath created a pleasant sheet of ice around the opening of my mummy bag. Always nice to wake up to.
But it sure was nice to see that pack train coming with some nice, warm weather just before lunch.
We made it back to the trailhead at 4pm…just in time to see the CDOW officer show up. We talked a while and he assessed me a $68 / 5-point fee…much better than the $1,400 / 15-point I deserved.
We drove from Thursday afternoon to 5am Saturday morning to make it back to good-ole New Orleans. Overall great trip -- we put in a deposit to do a repeat next year, and doggone it -- I'm shooting first next time.
Rich
