My good bud and I got lucky and drew Gila Wilderness tags this year. Of course we had heard about the rain in CO, but never knew NM was wrecked so bad too. that is, until our packer called a day before we were to leave and warned us it was bad. Then the motel on the outskirts of the unit where we were supposed to stay our first night caled and cancelled too. Mud wiped out their place. We probably should have heeded their warnings, but instead said hell with it, we have the tags and are going anyway, determined to make the best of it! The bad part was this was a wilderness hunt in remote, rough and hot country. It took a lot of planning and now every one of our plans were tossed out the window.
What we saw when we arrived was total devastation. Our packer ended up canceling on us entirely. Roads washed out, downed timber everywhere, creeks turned into big rivers and rivers turned into tsunamis. The closest "town" was literally washed away. Rigs were stuck everywhere, the National Guard had been pulling people out in choppers. Horses were sunk in mud up to their bellies. But there was one trailhead open and some limited access, so we were goin!
The trailhead parking lot looked like Kmart on a blue light special day. Dozens of rigs. Problem was, you couldn't go far without hitting uncrossable watersheds, even on horseback. Everyone was confined to the same general small area. So we had the deck stacked against us. We hiked in on foot the first afternoon and there were camps everywhere. To say we were dejected was an understatement.
But I had an idea... We decided to go the other direction from all the other people, even though that limited us to even less huntable land as it was right up against the unit boundary. We walked the perimeter the last hour of light before opening day and called every so often. Finally, a bull answered from a mountaintop above us. We hoped nobody else heard it too, and headed back to camp. I wanted to be on that mountaintop well before it got light.
So we humped it up there under the light of the full moon. Now before I left I started getting a cold. By now my head was so stuffed up I couldn't breathe at all. It made hard hiking miserable. I got to the top and was dizzy and lightheaded. But I let out a little cow music and the same bull answered right back from a few hundred yards away. Bingo! Despite the chips being down, we were in the game. We sat down on a log and waited for light. About 5 minutes before dawn I called just once to see if he was still there. He was!
We crept in with the wind in our favor. We got about 150 yards out and set up. Chris made the 22 hr drive so I gave him first shot. I backed off and waited for his thumbs up. I called. Instant bugle. I called again, a little more whiny. Bugle again, closer! Oh man was I jacked. Called one more time and he screamed from just right out of view. Then branches breaking. Then rapid glunking, closing in. Out ran one elk, a little cow. And then there he was, in hot pursuit. He stopped once to bugle, then kept on charging. I looked over at Chris and saw him draw. The cow hit the brakes. The bull stopped broadside, picture perfect. Then I heard the crack! Oh baby, what a magical sound! They bolted.
I cow called, then swung my bugle around and let one rip. He stopped. I got my glasses on him and confirmed the hit was pretty good, but maybe a bit high. Then I looked at his rack. Holy whizz! That's a nice bull, I thought! He was looking sick and I thought be was about to go down, but then he just trotted off, over a rise and out of sight. Uh oh! The cow trotted to the left, then momentarily stopped, looked downhill, freaked out and took off.
I walked over to Chris and we talked it over. We forced ourselves to sit it out for 40 minutes. Then walked to the shot. Followed tracks a few yards and found good blood where he stood right after I bugled. Then nothing. Not another drop. We went over the hill where he went out of sight and still nothing. That sinking feeling was setting in. We looked for sign for 30 minutes, nada. We lost tracks in a maze of other tracks. I could see desperation in my friend's face. I kept thinking that the cow freak out was a good thing and likely happened as the bull flopped over, just out of our sight.
We spread out for a body search. I was lower on the hill and worked left, where the cow had been looking when she freaked. I found a set of fresh bull tracks that looked like a fleeing animal. I followed them about 25 yards when I looked ahead and saw something out of place. Binos revealed something that we had long since labored over. A muddy elk hide, dead as a doornail, with a big ass rack up front! Given the short season and bad conditions, we had both decided to take the first decent bull we had shots at. This bad boy far surpassed our expectations!
I called Chris and he came running over in celebration. Wow, what a feeling to score under those conditions. I told Chris that no matter what happened the rest of the trip, it was a huge success.
The hit had been a bit high, but still got both lungs. Amazingly, Chris' VPA broadhead had blown completely through the shoulder blade of the onside, and buried into the offside. The bull hadnt made it 100 yards.
We got to work. I got the fronts and the straps off while Chris took off with both straps in his little pack. Fortunately, as he hit the trailhead he ran into my new favorite guy. Tom Klumker, the best packer, guide and outfitter in the Gila Wilderness.
I had just finished hanging the last boned out load of meat and cape when I heard horses hoof beats. Yeah baby! Chris made some quick arrangements with Tom as he was making a resupply run to his guided camp and he saved us a hell of a lot of work. We were back at the truck, cooler, and cold beer before noon! You couldn't wash the smiles off our faces, and believe me, Mother Nature tried.
So the rest of the trip we tried to get me a bull. I passed up a little one at ten steps, but that was it. Mother Nature threw all she had at us. More rain, hail, downed trees, soaked clothes and boots that we couldn't get dry. Washed out roads. At one point we were stuck in there due to a washout. It was stressful.
After several more days, and maybe the full moon, the pressure, the weather, my sinus infection, etc, the elk started to shut down. We could glass them up and hear some bugles way off in the distance, but they were in no mans land across an impassable flooded creek. We ran out of options. We eventually packed it up and headed home happy campers.
Thanks for reading.
What we saw when we arrived was total devastation. Our packer ended up canceling on us entirely. Roads washed out, downed timber everywhere, creeks turned into big rivers and rivers turned into tsunamis. The closest "town" was literally washed away. Rigs were stuck everywhere, the National Guard had been pulling people out in choppers. Horses were sunk in mud up to their bellies. But there was one trailhead open and some limited access, so we were goin!
The trailhead parking lot looked like Kmart on a blue light special day. Dozens of rigs. Problem was, you couldn't go far without hitting uncrossable watersheds, even on horseback. Everyone was confined to the same general small area. So we had the deck stacked against us. We hiked in on foot the first afternoon and there were camps everywhere. To say we were dejected was an understatement.
But I had an idea... We decided to go the other direction from all the other people, even though that limited us to even less huntable land as it was right up against the unit boundary. We walked the perimeter the last hour of light before opening day and called every so often. Finally, a bull answered from a mountaintop above us. We hoped nobody else heard it too, and headed back to camp. I wanted to be on that mountaintop well before it got light.
So we humped it up there under the light of the full moon. Now before I left I started getting a cold. By now my head was so stuffed up I couldn't breathe at all. It made hard hiking miserable. I got to the top and was dizzy and lightheaded. But I let out a little cow music and the same bull answered right back from a few hundred yards away. Bingo! Despite the chips being down, we were in the game. We sat down on a log and waited for light. About 5 minutes before dawn I called just once to see if he was still there. He was!
We crept in with the wind in our favor. We got about 150 yards out and set up. Chris made the 22 hr drive so I gave him first shot. I backed off and waited for his thumbs up. I called. Instant bugle. I called again, a little more whiny. Bugle again, closer! Oh man was I jacked. Called one more time and he screamed from just right out of view. Then branches breaking. Then rapid glunking, closing in. Out ran one elk, a little cow. And then there he was, in hot pursuit. He stopped once to bugle, then kept on charging. I looked over at Chris and saw him draw. The cow hit the brakes. The bull stopped broadside, picture perfect. Then I heard the crack! Oh baby, what a magical sound! They bolted.
I cow called, then swung my bugle around and let one rip. He stopped. I got my glasses on him and confirmed the hit was pretty good, but maybe a bit high. Then I looked at his rack. Holy whizz! That's a nice bull, I thought! He was looking sick and I thought be was about to go down, but then he just trotted off, over a rise and out of sight. Uh oh! The cow trotted to the left, then momentarily stopped, looked downhill, freaked out and took off.
I walked over to Chris and we talked it over. We forced ourselves to sit it out for 40 minutes. Then walked to the shot. Followed tracks a few yards and found good blood where he stood right after I bugled. Then nothing. Not another drop. We went over the hill where he went out of sight and still nothing. That sinking feeling was setting in. We looked for sign for 30 minutes, nada. We lost tracks in a maze of other tracks. I could see desperation in my friend's face. I kept thinking that the cow freak out was a good thing and likely happened as the bull flopped over, just out of our sight.
We spread out for a body search. I was lower on the hill and worked left, where the cow had been looking when she freaked. I found a set of fresh bull tracks that looked like a fleeing animal. I followed them about 25 yards when I looked ahead and saw something out of place. Binos revealed something that we had long since labored over. A muddy elk hide, dead as a doornail, with a big ass rack up front! Given the short season and bad conditions, we had both decided to take the first decent bull we had shots at. This bad boy far surpassed our expectations!
I called Chris and he came running over in celebration. Wow, what a feeling to score under those conditions. I told Chris that no matter what happened the rest of the trip, it was a huge success.
The hit had been a bit high, but still got both lungs. Amazingly, Chris' VPA broadhead had blown completely through the shoulder blade of the onside, and buried into the offside. The bull hadnt made it 100 yards.
We got to work. I got the fronts and the straps off while Chris took off with both straps in his little pack. Fortunately, as he hit the trailhead he ran into my new favorite guy. Tom Klumker, the best packer, guide and outfitter in the Gila Wilderness.
I had just finished hanging the last boned out load of meat and cape when I heard horses hoof beats. Yeah baby! Chris made some quick arrangements with Tom as he was making a resupply run to his guided camp and he saved us a hell of a lot of work. We were back at the truck, cooler, and cold beer before noon! You couldn't wash the smiles off our faces, and believe me, Mother Nature tried.
So the rest of the trip we tried to get me a bull. I passed up a little one at ten steps, but that was it. Mother Nature threw all she had at us. More rain, hail, downed trees, soaked clothes and boots that we couldn't get dry. Washed out roads. At one point we were stuck in there due to a washout. It was stressful.
After several more days, and maybe the full moon, the pressure, the weather, my sinus infection, etc, the elk started to shut down. We could glass them up and hear some bugles way off in the distance, but they were in no mans land across an impassable flooded creek. We ran out of options. We eventually packed it up and headed home happy campers.
Thanks for reading.
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