Sheesh, thanks for putting me down, guys. I didn't say I could hump an elk solo 10 mi one way out of the Frank Church. That would be insane.
Anyway, I decided to go up a drainage I hadn't been to before based on low number of trails and popularity, relatively wide basin to help spread out any hunters that were in there, and no ohv/atv roads. The trail wasn't too bad... There were some roller hills and rock boulder strewn sections, but nothing crazy. I think I was probably around 2.5 miles off the "trail" at the point of kill. Even then, that 2.5 miles wasn't bad because it was high altitude without the nasty undergrowth and deadfall you'd find elsewhere.
I was sitting right around treeline on a boulder field glassing across the basin while eating lunch. I spotted a couple of cows out for a midday snack and then heard a bull that started screaming his head off. The deep growly type that is obviously not a hunter (or it could be an extremely skilled caller). So I sat awhile looking for him through the open spots in the timber waiting for him to peak out but I never saw anything. So I finished lunch and decided I'd head down to the trees and see if I could get set up somewhere within range of a shot if he showed up where the cows came out, or at least be in a better position to make a move if I could spot him.
As soon as I packed my bag and got down off my boulder, I looked across and there was the, or at least a bull, wallowing on the edge of the trees and occasionally bugling like he was really pissed. I couldn't tell exactly how big the antlers were since he was wallowing and I was shaking trying to get a range to see how far I'd need to go to get a shot. I could tell from the size of his body though that he was an older one.
I scrambled down the small boulder field as fast as I could while being quiet but still tumbling some rocks occasionally. The range I had on the bull was about 800, so I figured it was far enough that he wouldn't hear the rocks if he was busy wallowing. The wind was really good, a constant 5mph or less at a 90 degree angle between us, and sometimes directly at me. I put a large tree between he and I and jogged up a couple hundred yards to about 300. I ran out of cover at that point and didn't want to give him time to go back in to the trees so decided I'd drop to prone right there.
Well as soon as I was stepping out from behind the large tree and getting my pack off, there were two smaller bulls that ran in front of me out of some cover that was uphill and to the left. Then I was worried about them blowing my cover with the other bull across the marsh.. I looked across and he started bucking and thrashing and took off. I wasn't sure where he went and I wanted to stay in cover in case he or the smaller ones were still within range, because I had planned to shoot any legal bull.
I started moving slowly to the side to see if I could get a visual on the big one or the smaller ones, since they weren't moving at full speed. Sure enough, one of the smaller bulls stopped at about 110 yards (ranged after), slightly quartering away, and I had a half second pause on whether I wanted to wait for the bigger one or not and decided to take my opportunity.
After scrambling down, then jogging, then almost getting a shot at a big bull, my HR was jacked and I was trembling. But I somehow remembered to tell myself in that 1/8 second "calm" and "don't pull that trigger unless you're steady on point". My hold almost seemed more steady than any other off hand shot I've taken and the trigger pull wasn't even a thought. It felt good. Even the crack of the rifle sounded good. In that split second of watching the bull bolt through my scope, I listened to the sound of that rifle crack echo off the 1500 feet of rock walls all around me. That was awesome.
So immediately after the shot, I jacked another into the chamber but couldn't shoot because he went behind through the trees towards the marsh. I stopped and thought about the bulls reaction. He didn't seem to flinch or jerk much that I could tell... He just spun around, somewhat awkwardly, and ran hard. In my experience, that either means it's a great double lunger or a graze. There were too many trees in the way to be able to run to the side and get a visual on him before he made it into the trees on the other side of the marsh, so I figured my best option would be to stay on the spot where I shot so I could inspect it.
I went over to the spot I shot nearly immediately so i could assess the situation. I didn't find a single speck of blood or hair. I also couldn't find any tracks that looked like they'd be from the movements he made running off. I looked at a point slightly farther and did find some tracks that looked like they matched what just took place, but still no blood or hair. The hair, I could understand not finding any because the color of the ground was a near identical color match of his coat. I figured depending on the hit, since he was quartering away, maybe the bullet didn't exit and it would take a minute for blood from the entry wound to drop. At this point though, after going to each point I thought he was standing at multiple times, getting 6 inches from the ground and not finding anything, I thought I'd completely missed him and wasn't sure how. I knew it was a good shot and started to beat myself up on it thinking I had either clean missed or injured him and I'd have to punch my tag empty handed if I didn't get lucky finding him again.
I decided to follow the path I thought he took for 30 yards or so to see if I could find anything. I knew I wouldn't bump him following that much because he was hauling ass and it was a good 150+ yards before he could get back into trees to lay down. Sure enough, I saw his tan rump on the ground about 50 yards from where I shot him. I stood there for a few minutes in disbelief that he'd dropped that quickly when he had me thinking I'd missed him.
The bullet hit slightly farther back than I wanted and it hit a rib on entry. I found the bullet just under the skin on the opposite side near the shoulder. The base still intact with lead, about 104 grains left of a 180 grain Speer hot cor moving at about 2700 fps on impact. I'm thinking the front end of the bullet exploded, caught some stomach, shredded both lungs, and possibly some heart. It dumped ALL that energy into his vitals, so I'm not surprised that he dropped quickly.
I had planned to take his organs and ribs, I even packed in a saw for them. But he was swelling within minutes of death and I could see some bile looking liquid coming up from the entry, so I knew I'd caught some stomach with the bullet. So, I got all four quarters, the loins, all the neck, all the rest of the trim I could get off, and the head off and skinned with tongue removed, and into bags and resting on pine branches within about 4.5 hours. I decided I'd let the meat cool overnight in the low 30s before starting to pack.
I got my pack loaded up the next morning and started off with the first load at 7:30 for the 9.3 mile trip. I had all of my gear (about 50-52 pounds), the head/antlers, a rear quarter, and both loins in the first load. I took that to about the 6 mile mark, and decided to go back for the rest. I was worried about coyotes finding it because I'd heard them the night before and I didn't hang the meat due to there not being any suitable trees for hanging. After getting back up to the other meat, I had an empty pack so I got the rest of the meat in there. I put the other rear quarter and trim in the main bag and the two front quarters in the meat shelf area. Then took that to where I had stashed the other meat and my gear. I took a break for a few minutes, changed socks, ate, and pissed a couple times in hopes that I could deter coyotes from getting too interested.
I took that load that was already packed back to my vehicle and got there at about 4:30. I took a break again for some food and a sock change, turned down a moose steak from a couple neighboring guys that were top notch due to worrying about critters getting into my goods, and went back for the rest. I got back to my gear and meat, took a food break, changed socks, and headed out at about 7:30. Gear, head, rear quarter, two loins. I had to sit on any log i passed that was appropriate in height so that I could take the pressure off my hips. I told myself as long as I get to sit when I really want, I can keep going all night. I definitely could have packed it out over a couple of days, but I wanted to get it all out and processed in time to take my kids out to hunt on Friday. I also really didn't like the idea of unpacking and repacking that load yet again. It was tough to get all my gear and that meat adequately secured .
In the last 1.2 mile of the trail, it splits and there's two options. One has a lot of mucky marshy horse hole stuff that I thought would be awful and a river crossing that I figured I'd fall over in and drown. So I picked the other one and for some reason had it in my memory that the trail was just fine. It was not! At least 10 deadfalls across trails with massive piles that I either had to climb over or go way around, constant boulder cobble stuff with mud in between, and much more hills than the other route. That last 1.2 miles was hell, for sure. Made it back to my vehicle around 11:45PM.
Yup, that hurt. If it was the larger bull, I'd have taken a couple of days to get it out.