LNGBOWFLYER
New member
This year was a special year for me. Not only was my camp blessed to fill all 5 of our tags. But, it was the first time that me, my brother (BLRMan) and my Dad were able to hunt elk and share camp together. It was truly a blessing for us all. This summer was also much different than previous summers because for the first time since 2003 I drew a tag. Its not like we drew some coveted "Any Bull" tag in the Blue Mountains, but it did afford me the opportunity to hunt with my brother Karl and my Dad. Which with my upcoming deployment to Afghanistan, is something I'll take over a branch bull tag any day of the week. So if you are hoping to hear tales of bugling bulls screaming every paragraph or pictures of me long arming a 300 inch bull trying to make him look like a 350 inch bull, this is not the story for you. However, if you are looking to read a story about a family spending time together carrying on a family tradition than this is the story for you.
Last Thanksgiving (2011) my Grandfather passed away. And while my Grandfather had been physically unable to hunt elk for quite some years he was at least waiting in his recliner eagerly awaiting the phone to ring or the sound of tires crunching gravel in his driveway announcing the arrival of one of his sons or grandsons coming home to tell him stories about that years elk hunt. This would be the first elk camp without him there to come home to, to share stories with. So before the season had even started we had decided to make this elk camp "Grandpa's Elk Camp" and to do things in his memory.
Two days before the season started once again found me on a plane leaving out of Syracuse, NY bound for Yakima, WA. And once again I eagerly awaited the sound of screeching tires meeting the pavement on Yakima's runway. My Dad was there to meet me and away we went chatting like a couple of school kids with the excitement of their first elk hunt. The next day after my brother got off work found us racing up the mountain to set up our spartan camp. Well at least as fast as you can go up into the Cowiche in a 1 ton diesel truck. If we thought we were excited my brother's buddy Phil and his son-in-law Tyler were ecstatic about the start of the muzzle loader elk season. He had forgotten to get gas after work and barely made it to our camping spot because he was so excited. He also spent that first night freezing his buns off because he had also forgotten his sleeping bag. He wasn't the only one that didn't get much sleep that night. All of us tossed and turned waiting in anticipation for our alarms to go off.
The next morning greeted us with a frost and a clear bright sky full of stars. Perfect for elk hunting. Since my Dad was with us my brother Karl rolled out the red carpet and treated us to a royal feast for a breakfast. Sausage gravy with elk burger, mixed with fried potatoes and hot coffee. Shoot, the year before I was lucky if my brother boiled me some water for my mountain house meal. After we had a huddle deciding who was going to go where off we went. Tyler and my Dad would set up on a well traveled draw and I would cover another one with the hopes that once the shooting started something would come our way. Well we made it about 1/4 mile from elk camp when I spotted movement on a far hillside. A quick check with the binos confirmed what I already knew. It was a lone elk on the bare hillside across from us. So I throw out a few lost cow calls and I hear a spike bugle and here he comes. I start trying to get the attention of my Dad and Tyler all the while thinking man this is gonna be way too easy. Plus we're still on the skid road. Well Tyler and my Dad kept walking even though I was throwing rocks and trying to get their attention. We were on a bare ridge line and I needed a shooter if I hoped to drag this spike (no matter how dumb he might be) out into the open and in position for a shot. Well Tyler and my Dad just keep going so I decide I have to do something fast because this spike is literally running full steam towards me and I know he's gonna be here sooner than later. By this time this spike is bugling and squealing his way down the draw and up through the thicket below me. I decide that I better find a place to hide behind if I'm gonna make this happen. The only thing I have though is some cheat grass and a small bush, so I go with the bush. Before I know it and before I'm set up, out he pops and immediately zeroes in on me. And we start to play the stare down game. Well you can guess who won that game. At 40 yards he whirled and I pulled up clicked off the safety, blew out a cow call. He stopped turned broadside at about 60yds, I thought "oh man 10 minutes into shooting light this is to easy" pull the trigger with the authority and confidence of a sniper. My shoulder feels the full recoil of 100 grains of 777 powder while at the same time my ears are met with a loud KABOOM! Since there was a slight breeze it didn't take long for the smoke to clear. But instead of seeing a dead spike laying on the ground I instead saw a very much alive spike running down the hill and through the trees. I guess that will teach me to be so cocky.
My Dad and Tyler both sat on one draw while I covered another draw. Since my brother Karl and his buddy Phil lack the capability to sit for long periods of time they went on about an 8 mile hike. Naturally since Phil didn't have a cow tag he saw about 50 cows that day. Meanwhile that same spike that I had given an education to was creeping along a path that Tyler and my Dad had set up on. This was Tyler's first day ever hunting elk. And about an hour and a half into the hunt this spike made the fatal mistake of walking within 30yds of Tyler and my Dad. Since Tyler didn't have a cow tag and my Dad did it was Tyler's shot. Tyler made a great broadside shot and dropped the spike in his tracks. To make things even better the spike died about 20yds above an old logging road. So we would be able to get to it using our game cart. And for once our backs would get a break. And hour and a half into opening day elk number 1 was down.
After taking care of elk number 1. Me, my Dad and my brother moved into a large bedding area with a cool creek and lots of deep dark timber. My Dad stays high, I go in the middle and my mountain goat brother hikes all the way to the bottom. I get almost all the way through this bedding area when I see a set of antlers. Time stands still as well as my heart as we play the game once again. This bull however, knows something just isn't right and takes off running along with about 15 of his cows. So I did what any sane elk hunter would do. I ran straight at them as fast as I could and started doing regathering sounds. Sure enough about a minute later a cow and calf come wandering in. In fact they get about 70 yards away and start feeding again. The brush is much too thick though and all I get is a half way decent head shot. Which I don't take. Eventually the wind shifts and I'm busted. This time the crazy mountain man charge followed up by the regathering sounds technique doesn't work. Just as I'm thinking "well its time to go back and get a sandwhich" I hear a KABOOM just down the drainage. It was 2 o'clock on opening day and my brother Karl had just shot a cow, elk number 2.
While I was playing the stare down game with the elk in the bedding area my brother was farther down the drainage doing a lost cow call scenario. He had gotten the attention of a bull and a group of cows on the other side of the drainage who had become quite vocal. He was hoping to get a look at the bull and maybe even get a chance for a long range shot at a cow. It was during this time, and midway through a calling sequence that he heard rocks being kicked and branches being broken and saw two cows running right towards him. At 15 yards his Knight Bighorn barked and the 300 grain Speer Deep Curl did its job dropping the cow in her tracks. The only distance she traveled was when she slide down the hill. I got over to him a short time later and we started going to work. This was the first time I had seen the gutless method and let me tell you I was impressed. It was a life changing event. So after some pictures and getting the elk broken down our journey straight up the drainage began.
By the time we got BLRMan's cow back to camp we had hauled 2 elk out in 1 day and we were a little pooped. Also Phil's wife had arrived with a couple gas can's full of gas and his sleeping bag. She also had come up because Tyler had to work the next day and could only hunt opening day. Which luckily for him he only needed about an hour or so to fill his tag.
Last Thanksgiving (2011) my Grandfather passed away. And while my Grandfather had been physically unable to hunt elk for quite some years he was at least waiting in his recliner eagerly awaiting the phone to ring or the sound of tires crunching gravel in his driveway announcing the arrival of one of his sons or grandsons coming home to tell him stories about that years elk hunt. This would be the first elk camp without him there to come home to, to share stories with. So before the season had even started we had decided to make this elk camp "Grandpa's Elk Camp" and to do things in his memory.
Two days before the season started once again found me on a plane leaving out of Syracuse, NY bound for Yakima, WA. And once again I eagerly awaited the sound of screeching tires meeting the pavement on Yakima's runway. My Dad was there to meet me and away we went chatting like a couple of school kids with the excitement of their first elk hunt. The next day after my brother got off work found us racing up the mountain to set up our spartan camp. Well at least as fast as you can go up into the Cowiche in a 1 ton diesel truck. If we thought we were excited my brother's buddy Phil and his son-in-law Tyler were ecstatic about the start of the muzzle loader elk season. He had forgotten to get gas after work and barely made it to our camping spot because he was so excited. He also spent that first night freezing his buns off because he had also forgotten his sleeping bag. He wasn't the only one that didn't get much sleep that night. All of us tossed and turned waiting in anticipation for our alarms to go off.
The next morning greeted us with a frost and a clear bright sky full of stars. Perfect for elk hunting. Since my Dad was with us my brother Karl rolled out the red carpet and treated us to a royal feast for a breakfast. Sausage gravy with elk burger, mixed with fried potatoes and hot coffee. Shoot, the year before I was lucky if my brother boiled me some water for my mountain house meal. After we had a huddle deciding who was going to go where off we went. Tyler and my Dad would set up on a well traveled draw and I would cover another one with the hopes that once the shooting started something would come our way. Well we made it about 1/4 mile from elk camp when I spotted movement on a far hillside. A quick check with the binos confirmed what I already knew. It was a lone elk on the bare hillside across from us. So I throw out a few lost cow calls and I hear a spike bugle and here he comes. I start trying to get the attention of my Dad and Tyler all the while thinking man this is gonna be way too easy. Plus we're still on the skid road. Well Tyler and my Dad kept walking even though I was throwing rocks and trying to get their attention. We were on a bare ridge line and I needed a shooter if I hoped to drag this spike (no matter how dumb he might be) out into the open and in position for a shot. Well Tyler and my Dad just keep going so I decide I have to do something fast because this spike is literally running full steam towards me and I know he's gonna be here sooner than later. By this time this spike is bugling and squealing his way down the draw and up through the thicket below me. I decide that I better find a place to hide behind if I'm gonna make this happen. The only thing I have though is some cheat grass and a small bush, so I go with the bush. Before I know it and before I'm set up, out he pops and immediately zeroes in on me. And we start to play the stare down game. Well you can guess who won that game. At 40 yards he whirled and I pulled up clicked off the safety, blew out a cow call. He stopped turned broadside at about 60yds, I thought "oh man 10 minutes into shooting light this is to easy" pull the trigger with the authority and confidence of a sniper. My shoulder feels the full recoil of 100 grains of 777 powder while at the same time my ears are met with a loud KABOOM! Since there was a slight breeze it didn't take long for the smoke to clear. But instead of seeing a dead spike laying on the ground I instead saw a very much alive spike running down the hill and through the trees. I guess that will teach me to be so cocky.
My Dad and Tyler both sat on one draw while I covered another draw. Since my brother Karl and his buddy Phil lack the capability to sit for long periods of time they went on about an 8 mile hike. Naturally since Phil didn't have a cow tag he saw about 50 cows that day. Meanwhile that same spike that I had given an education to was creeping along a path that Tyler and my Dad had set up on. This was Tyler's first day ever hunting elk. And about an hour and a half into the hunt this spike made the fatal mistake of walking within 30yds of Tyler and my Dad. Since Tyler didn't have a cow tag and my Dad did it was Tyler's shot. Tyler made a great broadside shot and dropped the spike in his tracks. To make things even better the spike died about 20yds above an old logging road. So we would be able to get to it using our game cart. And for once our backs would get a break. And hour and a half into opening day elk number 1 was down.
After taking care of elk number 1. Me, my Dad and my brother moved into a large bedding area with a cool creek and lots of deep dark timber. My Dad stays high, I go in the middle and my mountain goat brother hikes all the way to the bottom. I get almost all the way through this bedding area when I see a set of antlers. Time stands still as well as my heart as we play the game once again. This bull however, knows something just isn't right and takes off running along with about 15 of his cows. So I did what any sane elk hunter would do. I ran straight at them as fast as I could and started doing regathering sounds. Sure enough about a minute later a cow and calf come wandering in. In fact they get about 70 yards away and start feeding again. The brush is much too thick though and all I get is a half way decent head shot. Which I don't take. Eventually the wind shifts and I'm busted. This time the crazy mountain man charge followed up by the regathering sounds technique doesn't work. Just as I'm thinking "well its time to go back and get a sandwhich" I hear a KABOOM just down the drainage. It was 2 o'clock on opening day and my brother Karl had just shot a cow, elk number 2.
While I was playing the stare down game with the elk in the bedding area my brother was farther down the drainage doing a lost cow call scenario. He had gotten the attention of a bull and a group of cows on the other side of the drainage who had become quite vocal. He was hoping to get a look at the bull and maybe even get a chance for a long range shot at a cow. It was during this time, and midway through a calling sequence that he heard rocks being kicked and branches being broken and saw two cows running right towards him. At 15 yards his Knight Bighorn barked and the 300 grain Speer Deep Curl did its job dropping the cow in her tracks. The only distance she traveled was when she slide down the hill. I got over to him a short time later and we started going to work. This was the first time I had seen the gutless method and let me tell you I was impressed. It was a life changing event. So after some pictures and getting the elk broken down our journey straight up the drainage began.
By the time we got BLRMan's cow back to camp we had hauled 2 elk out in 1 day and we were a little pooped. Also Phil's wife had arrived with a couple gas can's full of gas and his sleeping bag. She also had come up because Tyler had to work the next day and could only hunt opening day. Which luckily for him he only needed about an hour or so to fill his tag.
