Mikeha33
Lil-Rokslider
- Joined
- Jul 31, 2013
- Messages
- 101
Well, it’s been a while since I’ve been back from CO on my first elk hunt, and I have been overwhelmed with everything, so I haven’t had time to put anything on here about my trip. But here is a quick rundown of the events that took place, and also, the ones that didn’t.
This was my first trip into the mountains, so I was a green as you could get, and although I hunt for whitetails in KS with a bow, I have never hunted anywhere else, so saying I was anxious is an understatement.
My buddy Mike and I arrived at the trailhead, about (11,100’) late into the night on Labor Day, around midnight, and decided to sleep in the truck, so we didn’t have to unpack our packs to get set up, so I didn’t get out my bag, just my puffy, and that was a mistake. It had rained almost all day, and the temperature got to about 38, too cold for me without a bag. When we woke up, the sun was starting to peak, and after wiping the condensation off the inside of the windshield, spirits changed, immediately. There was a cow elk standing not 30 yds from the front bumper of the truck, right in the middle of the closed road. Of course, our bows were nestled away in cases, so there was no shot opportunity (I had said I was chasing antlers for 4 days, then after that I’d shoot the first legal elk that presented itself, but once I spent $596 on my OTC tag, the goal changed; fill the freezer!!!!) The cow wandered off, and we hustled to get ready and get hot on her trail, but she escaped us.
That was the only elk we saw, or heard, the entire week.
However, the 2nd day of the trip, I had an experience unlike anything I could of imagined would happen.
My hunting buddy and I decided, that since we were not seeing or hearing any elk, we would separate, and hunt/scout different directions. He went North, and I went South, about 2 miles from where we’d set up our tent, which was about 4 miles in from the truck, with the agreement to meet back at the tent at dark, even if one of us had killed. I made my way up a steep slope, to about 11700’, overlooking a park and several slopes, where I could see for a mile or so, took my pack off, leaned up against a deadfall tree, got comfy, and started glassing and throwing out a few random bugles and some cow & calf calls. After about 30 minutes, and nearing dusk , I ate a pack of crackers, and got thirsty, so I reached over my shoulder and turned my head to grab my bladder straw.
When I turned my head, I could see out of the corner of my eye, about 30 feet from me, was a mountain lion, crouched, and belly crawling towards me.
I immediately rolled over onto my knees, trying to stay low, and drew my sidearm and aimed at the cat. I had a .45, but it might as well have been a pine needle in a hurricane, because I was shaking like I can’t even explain, and there is no way I could have hit my target even if I had emptied the magazine. I stayed on my knees, partially hidden behind the tree, for protection, in my mind, and flipped the safety down, and put my finger on the trigger. The cat kept crawling, and took 4 more strides towards me, closing the gap between us to about 25 feet. At that point I freaked out. I jumped up, and started screaming at the cat, and I couldn’t even tell you what I said, and I’m sure the Lord wouldn’t repeat it. When I did that, it immediately stopped, sat on its haunch, and stared at me. No, stared through me. Then just as casual as can be, it turned and walked back into the stand of timber to my right, gone forever.
I can’t even begin to describe the rush of emotions that came over me for the next hour. Every possible horrifying thought in the world played out in my head, and really messed me up. I made it back to camp, in the dark, 2 miles, up over a 12000’ ridge, with 25 lbs on my back, in right at 30 minutes, with my bow strapped to my pack, pistol in hand, safety off, the entire way. When I got back, I tried to tell Mike what had happened, but I couldn’t even get the words out clearly, and he thought I was going to go into shock, (which I don’t think was happening), but, I was as scared for my life as I’ve ever been. I did not sleep 1 minute that night.
That incident ruined the next several days for me, as I was no longer looking for elk first, I was watching my back, and concerned with my own survival. Towards the end of the trip, I was OK again, regaining confidence that I would survive, but dammit, I could not wait to get home and squeeze my kids and wife.
That being said, and eating a bowl of $600 tag soup, we’re leaving September 5th, 2014 to do it again.
This was my first trip into the mountains, so I was a green as you could get, and although I hunt for whitetails in KS with a bow, I have never hunted anywhere else, so saying I was anxious is an understatement.
My buddy Mike and I arrived at the trailhead, about (11,100’) late into the night on Labor Day, around midnight, and decided to sleep in the truck, so we didn’t have to unpack our packs to get set up, so I didn’t get out my bag, just my puffy, and that was a mistake. It had rained almost all day, and the temperature got to about 38, too cold for me without a bag. When we woke up, the sun was starting to peak, and after wiping the condensation off the inside of the windshield, spirits changed, immediately. There was a cow elk standing not 30 yds from the front bumper of the truck, right in the middle of the closed road. Of course, our bows were nestled away in cases, so there was no shot opportunity (I had said I was chasing antlers for 4 days, then after that I’d shoot the first legal elk that presented itself, but once I spent $596 on my OTC tag, the goal changed; fill the freezer!!!!) The cow wandered off, and we hustled to get ready and get hot on her trail, but she escaped us.
That was the only elk we saw, or heard, the entire week.
However, the 2nd day of the trip, I had an experience unlike anything I could of imagined would happen.
My hunting buddy and I decided, that since we were not seeing or hearing any elk, we would separate, and hunt/scout different directions. He went North, and I went South, about 2 miles from where we’d set up our tent, which was about 4 miles in from the truck, with the agreement to meet back at the tent at dark, even if one of us had killed. I made my way up a steep slope, to about 11700’, overlooking a park and several slopes, where I could see for a mile or so, took my pack off, leaned up against a deadfall tree, got comfy, and started glassing and throwing out a few random bugles and some cow & calf calls. After about 30 minutes, and nearing dusk , I ate a pack of crackers, and got thirsty, so I reached over my shoulder and turned my head to grab my bladder straw.
When I turned my head, I could see out of the corner of my eye, about 30 feet from me, was a mountain lion, crouched, and belly crawling towards me.
I immediately rolled over onto my knees, trying to stay low, and drew my sidearm and aimed at the cat. I had a .45, but it might as well have been a pine needle in a hurricane, because I was shaking like I can’t even explain, and there is no way I could have hit my target even if I had emptied the magazine. I stayed on my knees, partially hidden behind the tree, for protection, in my mind, and flipped the safety down, and put my finger on the trigger. The cat kept crawling, and took 4 more strides towards me, closing the gap between us to about 25 feet. At that point I freaked out. I jumped up, and started screaming at the cat, and I couldn’t even tell you what I said, and I’m sure the Lord wouldn’t repeat it. When I did that, it immediately stopped, sat on its haunch, and stared at me. No, stared through me. Then just as casual as can be, it turned and walked back into the stand of timber to my right, gone forever.
I can’t even begin to describe the rush of emotions that came over me for the next hour. Every possible horrifying thought in the world played out in my head, and really messed me up. I made it back to camp, in the dark, 2 miles, up over a 12000’ ridge, with 25 lbs on my back, in right at 30 minutes, with my bow strapped to my pack, pistol in hand, safety off, the entire way. When I got back, I tried to tell Mike what had happened, but I couldn’t even get the words out clearly, and he thought I was going to go into shock, (which I don’t think was happening), but, I was as scared for my life as I’ve ever been. I did not sleep 1 minute that night.
That incident ruined the next several days for me, as I was no longer looking for elk first, I was watching my back, and concerned with my own survival. Towards the end of the trip, I was OK again, regaining confidence that I would survive, but dammit, I could not wait to get home and squeeze my kids and wife.
That being said, and eating a bowl of $600 tag soup, we’re leaving September 5th, 2014 to do it again.
