mountainlaurel3
Well-known member
Apologies for the long-windedness, but I don’t contribute much so gotta share sometime!
My career as a hunter started when my wife and I moved to Southwest CO in the fall of 2019. I had no job, and decided somewhat randomly that I should try to contribute to the household by getting us an elk. Being October already, I borrowed my father-in-law’s 30-06, got an OTC tag, and immediately fell in love with elk hunting.
Since then, I’ve trudged many many miles in my home zone in all seasons trying to learn, but went 0-4, never having pulled the trigger, despite scaring a few elk here and there. This year I grabbed a second rifle cow tag off the reissue list in a nearby zone known for having lots of elk and more limited tags, hoping the greater numbers would push me over the hump compared to my comparatively lower elk/higher hunter density home zone.
That did leave me at a disadvantage, of course, as I’d fished and hiked in the unit but hadn’t strayed far from trails and creeks. I got the tag in mid-August, and my wife, pup, and I happened to have a long hike planned for the end of the month that would start with four days along one of the unit boundaries.
I spent every morning and evening glassing from near our campsite, and saw a number of moose and deer, but not a single elk. Did manage to break my new personal record for smallest creek I’ve landed a fish from. I wasn’t too concerned by my lack of scouting success, as I hadn’t planned to hunt near the boundary we were following, and for much of it we were an impractical distance from anywhere I could get in my Subaru for an on-foot solo hunter.
My only other chance to get in the unit before heading out for the hunt was the end of our hike. We had left our truck at the trailhead in the unit before hiking home. The next day, I jumped on my motorcycle (‘90 TW200 that still has the Forest Service sticker from its prior life with the USFS) and rode back to the trailhead.
That was an adventure in itself, as it’s less than 50 miles as the crow flies, but nearly 150 on windy roads. I stopped in the last town before the trailhead for a 12 pack, wanting some for my camping and some to bribe a passerby to help me hoist the bike into the truck, as I had forgotten to put a ramp (shed door) in the truck before we left for our hike. As luck would have it, within 90 seconds of pulling into the trailhead a thru-biker pedaled up. I gave him a beer, pitched him on helping me, then we miserably failed to deadlift it up, which for some reason I remembered having managed to do previously. We got smart, drove the truck up onto a big rock to get the tailgate lower, and ran it up and in with a head of steam. I also gave him all my snacks for his ride for the extra effort, ha.
After the bike was finally loaded, I headed back to a zone I wanted to check out. I glassed for the evening and again the next morning, still hadn’t seen an elk, though I did see a bachelor herd of nice bucks. I checked some other access points and made a vague plan about where I’d be opening morning.
My career as a hunter started when my wife and I moved to Southwest CO in the fall of 2019. I had no job, and decided somewhat randomly that I should try to contribute to the household by getting us an elk. Being October already, I borrowed my father-in-law’s 30-06, got an OTC tag, and immediately fell in love with elk hunting.
Since then, I’ve trudged many many miles in my home zone in all seasons trying to learn, but went 0-4, never having pulled the trigger, despite scaring a few elk here and there. This year I grabbed a second rifle cow tag off the reissue list in a nearby zone known for having lots of elk and more limited tags, hoping the greater numbers would push me over the hump compared to my comparatively lower elk/higher hunter density home zone.
That did leave me at a disadvantage, of course, as I’d fished and hiked in the unit but hadn’t strayed far from trails and creeks. I got the tag in mid-August, and my wife, pup, and I happened to have a long hike planned for the end of the month that would start with four days along one of the unit boundaries.
I spent every morning and evening glassing from near our campsite, and saw a number of moose and deer, but not a single elk. Did manage to break my new personal record for smallest creek I’ve landed a fish from. I wasn’t too concerned by my lack of scouting success, as I hadn’t planned to hunt near the boundary we were following, and for much of it we were an impractical distance from anywhere I could get in my Subaru for an on-foot solo hunter.
My only other chance to get in the unit before heading out for the hunt was the end of our hike. We had left our truck at the trailhead in the unit before hiking home. The next day, I jumped on my motorcycle (‘90 TW200 that still has the Forest Service sticker from its prior life with the USFS) and rode back to the trailhead.
That was an adventure in itself, as it’s less than 50 miles as the crow flies, but nearly 150 on windy roads. I stopped in the last town before the trailhead for a 12 pack, wanting some for my camping and some to bribe a passerby to help me hoist the bike into the truck, as I had forgotten to put a ramp (shed door) in the truck before we left for our hike. As luck would have it, within 90 seconds of pulling into the trailhead a thru-biker pedaled up. I gave him a beer, pitched him on helping me, then we miserably failed to deadlift it up, which for some reason I remembered having managed to do previously. We got smart, drove the truck up onto a big rock to get the tailgate lower, and ran it up and in with a head of steam. I also gave him all my snacks for his ride for the extra effort, ha.
After the bike was finally loaded, I headed back to a zone I wanted to check out. I glassed for the evening and again the next morning, still hadn’t seen an elk, though I did see a bachelor herd of nice bucks. I checked some other access points and made a vague plan about where I’d be opening morning.