Monday, 9/15: Get to the ridge top at 6AM in the dark. I hear bugles in the valley below me on the other side. It is a bull bugling and chuckling to his herd. At this point, I have 60 lbs of gear with me as I have no idea where I expect to find elk, and I don't know the country so wait until it's getting light so I can decide what to do. While I'm dicking around, I turn around and there's a nice sized bull looking for whatever's making the noise about 60 yards over my left shoulder. Probably a decent sized 5x5, but he immediately trots off. I head down the other side of the ridge, across a big meadow, and start up the mountain the other side. As I'm going up, I crest a small bench and see movement. Not one bull, but two. THen, they start some light sparring with each other. I am 70-80 yards out, thermals are beginning to swirl, but I drop my pack, put a pine tree between us, and try to stalk in. I make it to 40 yards without a shot, and they spook. Not sure if it was sound or wind. Thermals were heading uphill, I elect not to go after any of the bulls, and to continue my plan of getting above treeline to have a look around and scout. I make it to an alpine lake for a look around, find a great early season area way up high, but no new sign (5 miles from the trailhead, up from 6800' to around 9000 now). Seeing nothing, I make camp, and a very exciting first day of elk hunting ends with seeing 3 good bulls, and hearing a bugling herd bull that I never laid eyes on.
Tuesday, 9/16: Had a gorgeous above treeline sunrise, and sat listening for bugles hearing nothing. I continued my hike through several areas trying to get a lay of the land. I'll leave Tuesday like this: Damn this pack is heavy and this terrain is rough. Unlike day 1, I'm now pretty exhausted, and I didn't see a damn thing. The day ends with a sketchy unplanned descent of a steep rock / scree field to get back to a trail. As I hit the trail I hear a big, majestic sounding bugle go off on a big north facing slope on the other side of the valley. At least I heard something. I file this away, it's 7PM and I want to get back to the truck, so I finish a 2.5 mile level hike back to camp, quick dinner and collapse.
Wednesday, 9/17: I find myself atop the same ridge as Monday hearing bugles in the dark at 6AM. I let out my first location bugles receiving responses from afar each time I do, but sounding like a bull moving away with his herd. This time, I race down the slope, across the meadow, and start heading uphill as it's getting light, not sure if I'm pursuing or parralleling the herd. As I'm going up the hill into the wind, I hear the bull bugle to my left (not sure how far) so I begin closing the distance. I am in fairly open lodgepole pine at this point, and all of a sudden - I see the big herd bull screaming and coming my way about 100 - 120 yards out. I drop to one knee and get ready, but within a minute, cows begin filtering in as close as 10 yards as the bull runs around screaming and chuckling. I remain frozen for a couple minutes as the cows feed, but then they start to spook. What the hell, I let out a huge challenge scream and that get's the bull's attention. He starts coming directly my way, in to about 40 yards, but it's too open, I have no shot, and no way to draw without being seen. We had a little bit of a screaming match as I dogged them up the hill, but thermals began to change, so I tried to pin down where I thought they were bedding.
2:00 I am coming back down the hill, still hunting very slowly, more resting than anything but trying to hunt. I spot a bull drop to a knee and begin searching with my binoculars. I convince myself I was seeing things, but let out a calling sequence and sit for half an hour. Nothing. Begin slowly still hunting down, suspicious there's something around, and I spot a bull's leg through my binoculars about 100 yards off. I close the distance to 50 yards on what turns out to be a very nice sized solo bull, but then he spots movement. 10-15 minute staredown, he moves through an opening and gives me a chance to stand up and get ready if I get a potential shot. Surprisingly, he reverses course, back through the opening. I draw, and shoot one right over his back. Damn. I'd estimated his range at about 50 yards based on a previous rangefinder reading when it was closer to 43-44. In a rush, I'd also held a little high. I began to move in after the shot, turns out he hadn't gone far. He spooked, and took off FAST. Lesson learned.
Went down to a stream, filled up with water, and back to where I'd seen the lone bull, and I hear the herd bull from the morning bugling and coming back down the hill around 3-4:00. Again close the distance, get in a screaming match, He's a big 6x6 who trashes the hell out of a good sized pine tree trying to get me to show myself, but the herd heads down the hill faster than I can pursue. I try to parallel hoping I will catch them at the field, but stop hearing bugles and don't see them again.
Make it back to the truck soon after dark, with 3 more exciting encounters, one shot fired and a clean miss (Very glad it was clean...) Day 3 ends with the Bull Count at 6.
Thursday, 9/18: This was about to turn into the one of the most exciting days of the trip. Repeat of yesterday, herd bull bugling and chuckling in the same place, I pursue down the ridge, across the meadow, and up the other side again. After losing contact, and not getting any responses, I am resting higher up around 9 AM when surprisingly, I hear a bugle fairly close. The bull and his herd have worked back across above me, presumably working across and uphill towards a bedding area. Pretty sure it's the same bull and his herd I've been hearing / dogging for a couple days now. This began a 2-2.5 hour stalk & encounter. I'd scream at him, he'd come towards me screaming and grunting, thrashing a tree, and I would have to stay motionless, and wouldn't have a shot. He'd move off and I'd pursue, I'd scream and grunt at him, he'd come back looking for me. THe short story is, I got him to "present" himself several times at short range (15-20 yards) looking for his challenger, but we'd moved into very thick cover and I never had a shot. Eventually, he was figuring out something wasn't right when he still hadn't seen an Elk. He'd start to spook, and I'd scream at him, he'd stop and come back - but eventually they swung around that wind was no longer in my favor. I was exhausted from chasing him up a mountain and being so concentrated for the last couple hours, so backed out hoping I hadn't spooked and blown him and his herd out of the area entirely. During the "chase" I got a real nice look at him from 15 yards as he stared me down, a real nice 6x6, but I saw nothing else for the rest of the day. Day 4 ends with the bull count at 7.
Friday, 9/19: I am now hearing and seeing nothing. Very worried I scared that bull out of the county yesterday, so decide to "scout" another area that would end up being about a 10 mile day hiking round trip. Mid afternoon, I am exhausted, 70-80 degrees on a south facing ridge thinking to myself - this sucks. I am hot, tired, blistered, it's the middle of the day and there are no elk anywhere here. Another lesson learned: Always be hunting. Soon after taking a digger off a rock, and tromping downhill on this hot open slope, A huge bull scream erupts from about 25 yards to my right. Not paying attention, I have descended right along to the head of a stream, where there was all of a sudden a very cool, wet pocket on this south facing slope. I froze for a minute, thinking, and it was too late. Out of the brush to my right comes a BIG bull strolling directly towards me. Frozen without an arrow on the string he goes from 25, to 20, to 15 and still closing the distance directly at me. That's when I begin thinking: Uh-oh... He's going to walk right over me. I think he saw me at about 6-7 yards, either shaking, or trying to very slowly move my hand towards my quiver. Very cool watching the expression on his face as he realized there was all of a sudden a hunter standing directly in front of him that close - sort of like "Predator" uncloaking from the forest in front of him. I have never seen an an animal that large move that fast. Pretty sure I just scared the hell out of him in his bedding area, and probably ruined that area for the rest of the hunt, but very cool experience. Made it back to camp after a very long day, found some very good wet, swampy areas and wallows to hunt in the future. Day 5 ends with the bull count at 8.
Saturday, 9/20 I hunted the 6th morning. It was getting hotter, and I was hearing nothing. Hiked back to the truck, and made it the hour and a half drive to the nearest large town for a beer, burger, and to check in with friends and family. Made it back to camp late afternoon, I sat that night on the ridge top seeing and hearing nothing. I am exhausted at this point, and things are getting frustrating, but I remind myself, this is hunting, and I'll be looking forward to it all year. Bull count remains at 8
Sunday, 9/21, Day 7: Tried a different drainage with a steep north facing slope I spotted on day 2. Surprised a spike bedded right next to the trail but that's the only elk I'd see. The north slope I was interested in was an absolute impenetrable thicket. After spending the morning hearing and seeing nothing else, getting hot, and realizing I didn't have a good plan for this area, I hiked back to the truck. I've probably put 8 miles on so far, but hike back up to the ridge top to listen until dark, again hearing and seeing nothing. The bull count goes to 9 seeing the spike, but it's feeling like the hot weather has shut things down (Plus, me spooking at least 3 bulls over the prior week)
Monday, 9/22 - Wednesday 9/25: I am going to hunt the area I know best, for better or worse. Plan a 3 day, 2 night backpacking trip to get farther back in and sit some water holes and wallows several miles back from the trailhead. I need to leave Thursday, so this is my last big shot. Busting my rear for 3 more days in rough country, awake at 4 am and then hunting to dark, setting up camp in the woods in unfamiliar country, getting hit by afternoon rainstorms, I spend those 3 days in several different areas, sitting some water holes and wallows, but seeing and hearing nothing at all.
Wednesday night, feeling defeated after 10 brutally difficult days of hunting alone, I make it back to the truck. I keep telling myself, this is why they call it hunting, but tell myself to enjoy my last night in Montana before starting the long drive east. 3 glasses of my new favorite scotch follow under the montana stars, and I convince myself to get up to the ridge at 6 AM, stay till 8 Am before hiking down to break camp.
