TheNorthStar
Well-known member
While not exactly a "live hunt", I wasn't sure if there was another appropriate place to post this year's story, so here it is.
I first met @Sawtooth on HuntTalk back in 2017 as I was planning my first excursion to the West. Of course I had a whole pile of questions about how and what and where and he was more than eager to help someone as green as green could be, coming out to his home state of Idaho for the first time. I could tell his passion for the outdoors was great and I considered myself quite fortunate to have stumbled into an "online friendship" with someone so willing to offer up knowledge and ideas.
Fast forward to the Summer of 2019, he and his wife were planning on spending some time in my neck of the woods. They both just so happened to have distant roots in Minnesota and they were going to try and locate them on an extended work/vacation that spanned several areas of the state that I was familiar with. Along with some suggestions on things to do and places to visit here, I insisted that my wife and I take them out to dinner one of their free nights in the Twin Cities. So we met up in St. Paul, had a great dinner, went out for ice cream afterwards and talked about elk hunting for a few hours before saying goodnight and wishing them a safe trip home.
Now, I had spent a couple seasons in Montana in between that first trip and this year, but I never stopped thinking about the mountains of Idaho. I began planning my return as early as January this year, but as panic over the novel coronavirus ramped up shortly after my decision, it became evident that this year's trip West might have to be cancelled all together. Idaho fish and game even suspended license sales to non residents for a time. However, by June, it became clear that the virus wasn't the one that would end us all and Idaho saw fit to open non resident sales back up. I had my deer tag purchased no more than 20 minutes after they were available and once again, excitement was on the rise.
With lessons learned in past years in mind, I got a hold of Sawtooth asking for a favor. I'd hoped he would be able to give me some solid weather reports on the area I had hunted in 2017 in the lead up to this season. Of course he readily agreed and inquired about my plans, offering suggestions for all possible scenarios I might encounter. He and his main hunting partner had a sheep hunt to plan for September we both fed off each others optimism and excitement to get after the mountains yet again. As the time went by and tags were acquired, by mid July, he and his party knew where they would be opening weekend. One of their favorite spots for elk in his namesake mountain range. He then proposed something I'd never expected, a truly rare offer if the sentiment on this board is any metric to judge by, he asked if I'd like to come share a hunt with him on that favored mountain for a long weekend, Friday through Monday. Of course I accepted with the promise that I'd keep it to myself, and only go back with explicit permission. Hunting spots and friendships alike have been ruined by loose lips in the West.
So October came and I made the journey from Minnesota to quite possibly the steepest place you could still dig a boot toe into that I had ever seen in my life. It was intimidating, to say the least, for someone whose best opportunity for Summer training is a 700' river bluff. Sawtooth and I met at our designated spot, suited up and began climbing. There were several stops for the catching of breath, and short stories about the camp we were slowly making our way to. He assured me that the pace was a good one, even though I felt like I may have been slowing us down. I definitely wondered if this was a place I'd ever consider going to if not for the figurative tow rope encouraging me up the mountain. 4 hours or so later, we were on relatively flat terrain where we'd be based out of. With a stop for lunch, and the mistake of only grabbing 1 liter of water cramping up one of my legs, we were a little behind schedule and were only able to glass the slopes around the lake we were camped next to at 7200' for a bit before dusk closed in around us.
The next day, the hunt began in earnest. Following Sawtooth like his shadow, keeping an eye on the slopes around us for any movement, we soon spotted a beautiful, jet black bear moving with purpose across the slope another 500' above us. "And that's why you hang your food up!", he quipped and we continued up the hill. Later on that day, we jumped a couple of bedded does and he spotted 3 very nervous elk moving out of the area, but other than that, this side was pretty quiet. We spent a couple of days on this side, from this camp, the 2nd being even less eventful. Sawtooth seemed surprised at the lack of activity so it was decided that we would move to another camp the next morning.
That next morning, we packed back up and headed for a lower, but no less steep camp. The going was slow, but mostly because we were hunting our way over. We passed through a couple of bowls that apparently should have runneth over with deer and elk, but again were uncharacteristically, quiet and empty today. My legs and lungs were both feeling pretty good at this point and I began to think about what I was actually capable of physically. Every time we stopped to glass, or catch our breath, I'd absorb another bit of information about mountain hunting, or relate the type of deer hunting I was used to. We shared stories about growing up in our respective parts of the world, things we've seen, places visited. How we met our wives, how our families had grown and hopes for the future of our children. I found a 4pt mulie shed at 7000' along the way which seemed crazy to me. We gained our 2nd camp, rested up and made our way to the water source we'd use for the remainder of our time there which is where our first encounter with a buck developed. There were several does and a couple of small bucks, jumped out of the cut just above the spring. One was undoubtedly just a forkie and 1 may have been a small 3x3. They made their way nervously up the opposite slope and I would have taken that 3x3, but a comfortable shot never presented itself and they disappeared into the timber high above us. Finally though, we had some action! We collected our water and set up to glass the opposing slope of that next ridge for the evening where we watched a cow and calf pair feed their way down and out of sight. It was good to get eyes on some animals and provided a confidence boost that we were now in the right area.
The next morning was to be Sawtooth's last. The number of cases of coronavirus in Ada county was throwing a very large and heavy monkey wrench into his work schedule, but he was determined to help me fill my deer tag any way we could. He suggested several other locations I could try out and that his main hunting partner, Bill, would be happy to have me tag along after a quick visit home to make sure everything was still going smoothly there. Wanting to maximize my time on the mountain and hesitant both to drive several hours further into the state and burden Bill, a very strong hiker, I'm told, with my Minnesota pace, I decided to stick it out there and burn up some boot leather exploring further up the mountain. So we began the same way we ended the previous day, binoculars and spotting scopes scouring the same slope that we had watched those 2 elk on till dusk. Our plan was to glass till 10am, have some breakfast, then pack Sawtooth up, climb down to my truck by noon, get him to his truck parked a ways down the canyon and have him home and working on what he was going to do for the remainder of the week by 3pm that day. I'd track the route down so I knew how to get off the hill and climb back up that afternoon to continue hunting. As they say, however, and is often true, life comes at you fast...
I first met @Sawtooth on HuntTalk back in 2017 as I was planning my first excursion to the West. Of course I had a whole pile of questions about how and what and where and he was more than eager to help someone as green as green could be, coming out to his home state of Idaho for the first time. I could tell his passion for the outdoors was great and I considered myself quite fortunate to have stumbled into an "online friendship" with someone so willing to offer up knowledge and ideas.
Fast forward to the Summer of 2019, he and his wife were planning on spending some time in my neck of the woods. They both just so happened to have distant roots in Minnesota and they were going to try and locate them on an extended work/vacation that spanned several areas of the state that I was familiar with. Along with some suggestions on things to do and places to visit here, I insisted that my wife and I take them out to dinner one of their free nights in the Twin Cities. So we met up in St. Paul, had a great dinner, went out for ice cream afterwards and talked about elk hunting for a few hours before saying goodnight and wishing them a safe trip home.
Now, I had spent a couple seasons in Montana in between that first trip and this year, but I never stopped thinking about the mountains of Idaho. I began planning my return as early as January this year, but as panic over the novel coronavirus ramped up shortly after my decision, it became evident that this year's trip West might have to be cancelled all together. Idaho fish and game even suspended license sales to non residents for a time. However, by June, it became clear that the virus wasn't the one that would end us all and Idaho saw fit to open non resident sales back up. I had my deer tag purchased no more than 20 minutes after they were available and once again, excitement was on the rise.
With lessons learned in past years in mind, I got a hold of Sawtooth asking for a favor. I'd hoped he would be able to give me some solid weather reports on the area I had hunted in 2017 in the lead up to this season. Of course he readily agreed and inquired about my plans, offering suggestions for all possible scenarios I might encounter. He and his main hunting partner had a sheep hunt to plan for September we both fed off each others optimism and excitement to get after the mountains yet again. As the time went by and tags were acquired, by mid July, he and his party knew where they would be opening weekend. One of their favorite spots for elk in his namesake mountain range. He then proposed something I'd never expected, a truly rare offer if the sentiment on this board is any metric to judge by, he asked if I'd like to come share a hunt with him on that favored mountain for a long weekend, Friday through Monday. Of course I accepted with the promise that I'd keep it to myself, and only go back with explicit permission. Hunting spots and friendships alike have been ruined by loose lips in the West.
So October came and I made the journey from Minnesota to quite possibly the steepest place you could still dig a boot toe into that I had ever seen in my life. It was intimidating, to say the least, for someone whose best opportunity for Summer training is a 700' river bluff. Sawtooth and I met at our designated spot, suited up and began climbing. There were several stops for the catching of breath, and short stories about the camp we were slowly making our way to. He assured me that the pace was a good one, even though I felt like I may have been slowing us down. I definitely wondered if this was a place I'd ever consider going to if not for the figurative tow rope encouraging me up the mountain. 4 hours or so later, we were on relatively flat terrain where we'd be based out of. With a stop for lunch, and the mistake of only grabbing 1 liter of water cramping up one of my legs, we were a little behind schedule and were only able to glass the slopes around the lake we were camped next to at 7200' for a bit before dusk closed in around us.
The next day, the hunt began in earnest. Following Sawtooth like his shadow, keeping an eye on the slopes around us for any movement, we soon spotted a beautiful, jet black bear moving with purpose across the slope another 500' above us. "And that's why you hang your food up!", he quipped and we continued up the hill. Later on that day, we jumped a couple of bedded does and he spotted 3 very nervous elk moving out of the area, but other than that, this side was pretty quiet. We spent a couple of days on this side, from this camp, the 2nd being even less eventful. Sawtooth seemed surprised at the lack of activity so it was decided that we would move to another camp the next morning.
That next morning, we packed back up and headed for a lower, but no less steep camp. The going was slow, but mostly because we were hunting our way over. We passed through a couple of bowls that apparently should have runneth over with deer and elk, but again were uncharacteristically, quiet and empty today. My legs and lungs were both feeling pretty good at this point and I began to think about what I was actually capable of physically. Every time we stopped to glass, or catch our breath, I'd absorb another bit of information about mountain hunting, or relate the type of deer hunting I was used to. We shared stories about growing up in our respective parts of the world, things we've seen, places visited. How we met our wives, how our families had grown and hopes for the future of our children. I found a 4pt mulie shed at 7000' along the way which seemed crazy to me. We gained our 2nd camp, rested up and made our way to the water source we'd use for the remainder of our time there which is where our first encounter with a buck developed. There were several does and a couple of small bucks, jumped out of the cut just above the spring. One was undoubtedly just a forkie and 1 may have been a small 3x3. They made their way nervously up the opposite slope and I would have taken that 3x3, but a comfortable shot never presented itself and they disappeared into the timber high above us. Finally though, we had some action! We collected our water and set up to glass the opposing slope of that next ridge for the evening where we watched a cow and calf pair feed their way down and out of sight. It was good to get eyes on some animals and provided a confidence boost that we were now in the right area.
The next morning was to be Sawtooth's last. The number of cases of coronavirus in Ada county was throwing a very large and heavy monkey wrench into his work schedule, but he was determined to help me fill my deer tag any way we could. He suggested several other locations I could try out and that his main hunting partner, Bill, would be happy to have me tag along after a quick visit home to make sure everything was still going smoothly there. Wanting to maximize my time on the mountain and hesitant both to drive several hours further into the state and burden Bill, a very strong hiker, I'm told, with my Minnesota pace, I decided to stick it out there and burn up some boot leather exploring further up the mountain. So we began the same way we ended the previous day, binoculars and spotting scopes scouring the same slope that we had watched those 2 elk on till dusk. Our plan was to glass till 10am, have some breakfast, then pack Sawtooth up, climb down to my truck by noon, get him to his truck parked a ways down the canyon and have him home and working on what he was going to do for the remainder of the week by 3pm that day. I'd track the route down so I knew how to get off the hill and climb back up that afternoon to continue hunting. As they say, however, and is often true, life comes at you fast...
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