A Rollercoaster Ride Through The CO Alpine

[trb]

This past Friday night I backpacked into my favorite CO wilderness area about 7.5 miles with buck, bull, and bear muzzleloader tags in my pocket. I got home about 2 am on Tuesday night, and processed meat all day yesterday while still trying to wrap my head around what was an absolute roller coaster of a hunt. The highs and lows included my worst ever hunting moment, in some ways one of my most rewarding moments, and ultimately, one of my most physically painful.



Each year I try to think of a theme to tie my muzzleloader write-ups together. A few years ago, it was the gratification and reward of persistence of searching for years in this same area for bucks, and ultimately killing one in the alpine. Last year it was the acceptance of taking opportunities as they presented themselves as I balanced personal recreation and having a newborn at home. This year, I am still kind of at a loss for a theme. Perhaps it should be a story of what could have been, or just "almost". Maybe it's just a "lessons learned" report. Maybe it is an account of making the most of dodging intense backcountry CO hunting pressure. Regardless, I hope to provide an honest account of what was a frustrating yet action-packed, disappointing yet successful time in the mountains.



I have a lot of great pictures that I can't post due to how revealing they'd be of my location, which I am trying to be increasingly cautious of. As you will read, an excess of hunting pressure is a consistent element through this story. I'll try to get this all up little by little by tonight or tomorrow.

 

[rtraverdavis]

Hell yes. Your write ups are always top notch.

 

[trb]

Prologue: Summer Scouting

I went into the summer with just a buck muzzleloader tag to my name, and no elk tag. That was fine with me, as hunting alpine mule deer is my favorite pursuit, and I have put years of leg work into understanding the summer range and habits of the bucks in this unit. Due to the snow conditions, I didn't make my first scouting trip until early July. My initial goal was to explore one of the last basins that I haven't seriously glassed or looked into until this year. Ultimately, this basin was where my hunt would end.

I invited a co-worker who has been trying to get into backcountry recreation and hunting for a couple years now, on my first one-night trip of the year. Having never done anything outside of work with him, I knew this was a bit of a risk, but I also understand how difficult it can be to get into without prior experience or a mentor. When I picked him up the day of our hike in, I knew immediately that the way he was packing may cause him problems. Two-way radio? Handgun? Trauma kit? Sounds like a bunch of unnecessary and heavy stuff for someone that might not be ready for how that feels by the time we got to 11,000 ft. Low and behold, after waiting out an intense lightning storm, and by the time we got to camp that night, he had blisters and I could tell he was struggling a bit with the weight and endurance aspect.



From our camp in a saddle at 11k ft, I quickly threw up my tent and ran up alone another 400 ft to a knob on a knife ridge to catch the last hour of light and the best vantage into this incredibly scenic and steep mystery basin. Although the wind was absolutely ripping, making it nearly impossible to glass through my spotting scope, within minutes I picked out a handful of elk, and.....bucks! Two bucks did me the favor of walking across a snow field, outlining a decent rack which I suspected would end up being a 4x4. I knew this was not the biggest buck the unit could offer, it was gratifying to have looked at a basin for nearly a year online, and to ultimately find at least one decent buck exactly where you suspected he might be.

About 2 am, I woke up to noises outside my tent, which seemed like more than just someone getting up to pee.

"You okay?"
"Uhhhh, not sure"
"What's going on?"
"I think I am having some symptoms of altitude sickness"
"Have you slept at all?"
"No"

Although there's a couple ways to treat people for the symptoms of altitude sickness, ultimately, the most important is just to get them downhill. I got up, and after I watched him retch for a couple minutes, I poured a liquid IV into his nalgene, gave him a couple ibuprofens, and had him lie down in my tent as I got up and started to pack up his gear. Long story short, we were hiking down by about 3 am, with him luckily able to carry his own bag despite having thrown up/dry-heaved at least a half dozen times by this point.



On the 6 mile hike down we had to stop multiple times, and I kept a close eye on him, but he made it down and slept the whole drive home. I felt bad, and maybe I should've picked an easier first trip for him, but, oh well. He struggled, but his positivity was impressive, as he certainly could've complained more. A dose of alpine reality. It hasn't dissuaded him from further efforts to increase his experience since, so no long term harm was done.

 

[Dsnow9]

Looking forward to this!

 

[trb]

Over the next month, I spent a few more days in the unit, both a few day trips and a 3 day backpack. This is less time than I have spent summer scouting than in past years, but I suppose that's the reality of balancing having a toddler at home.

The highlights:




Finding a bachelor group including 2-3 great 170" type bucks at 12,000 ft.


Watching those same bucks looking down on high alert and stamping as a family of coyotes crossed below them through the rocks. (See if you can find one in the rocks)

 

[MtnElk]

Following!

 

[trb]

Finding a decent 4x4 in a new location that I'd never seen deer before.




Exploring a new side basin that held an impressive concentration of bulls.


This guy was already bugling and pushing cows the last weekend in August. He will come into play later in the hunt...


Finding a cactus bull who had two tennis ball-sized pedicle knobs, and the biggest body I have ever seen. Here he is dwarfing a solid 5x5.

 

[dmarsh2]

I know moose are extremely large critters but jeeze do they always seem bigger when you get a glimpse of them standing on clear ground and not in the willows.

 

[trb]

Leading up to the hunt:

After spending my summer off (I am an elementary school teacher) hiking 3-6 miles with my daughter on my back nearly every day, I was feeling in pretty great shape.

Daily dad-daughter adventures:



However, a week and a half before season, I drove myself to the hospital in the middle of the night with what turned out to be a kidney stone. The less said about that experience the better, but the next 36 hours were not my favorite. This brief experience sapped my energy and strength a bit, and I was barely feeling myself before the hunt was to begin. A strange and random experience that I wouldn't wish on anyone. Well...maybe some people.


What took the sting off said kidney stones was my success on the reissue list. CPW's admirably just and benevolent system saw fit to grant me with a concurrent bull tag to my muzzleloader buck tag. Some might curse my luck. But to them I say, there is nothing lucky about reshaping your 5th grade literacy schedule to accommodate Mr. trb clicking for 10 minutes straight at 11 am on Wednesdays while his students independently read. Suck it covetous non-residents.

 

[RyGuy]

Great write up and pictures so far!

 

[trb]

The Hunt

Having packed and meal prepped last week, I left work Friday as soon as possible and got to my chosen trailhead about sunset. I would be packing in 7.5 miles to a favorite off trail campsite that I have frequented over the past few years. It provides a very specific vantage of the slope where the bucks would likely be located, while also giving me access to another drainaige/ridgeline for glassing.

As soon as I got to the trailhead, I'd be lying if I didn't say I was a bit disappointed. It was as full as I'd ever seen it, with multiple stock trailers. A crew of experienced llama hunters were going in deep the next day, and they informed me that a group of South Dakotans were already up the trail headed into the same basin I was. I wasn't particularly worried about other hunters in there, as I have watched how these bucks have responded to recreational pressure, sometimes moving higher up the mountain to an even more advantageous stalking position. In addition, these bucks are extremely difficult to glass unless you are at a specific angle.

However, two years ago when I spent muzzleloader season in this basin, I had it largely to myself. Unrealistically, other hunters are just a variable I prefer not to have to think about. That would not be the case this year.

Buck from 2 years ago off this mountain:


I passed the South Dakotans about 9 PM still working their way up. It was clear they were not making it to the head of the basin that night. The alleviation of my concern was short lived, as I walked past at least 5 more tents on my way to my spot. Despite this, I knew my target bachelor group of bucks would likely be undisturbed.

I had camp set up by 10:30, and my brother, who had packed in to join me for the weekend. arrived sometime before midnight. I set my alarm, and pretended to be sound sleep for the next 5 hours.

 

[BenP]

like waiting for the next episode to come out of your favorite show, ready for more updates

 

[trb]

Opening Morning

My fake sleep was shattered by my alarm at 5:30. I made my way to my glassing knob a whopping 30 yards from my tent and took in the quickly brightening scene of opening morning.

Within minutes of first light, I picked out a smaller 4x4 that I had never seen before accompanied by a doe on the slope I expected them to be. Below them about 600 feet of elevation were two hunters in blaze orange. A few minutes later, and even higher up on the slope, nearly exactly where I'd left them two weeks before, bucks. Six bucks, four of whom were definitely very interesting to me, drifted through boulders at just above 12k ft. I was excited simply for the fact that I knew the other hunters couldn't see these bucks, and it meant I'd be attempting a stalk.




Shortly after spotting the bucks, my brother wrapped around the knob to check the N facing slope of the basin. He jogged back quickly to inform me that he had heard two bugles and there were cows filtering through the strip of timber on the slope 7-800 yards behind us. I grabbed my gun and followed him to take a look.

Sure enough, after wrapping around the edge of the knob, a bugle erupted from the willows and timber below us, as we watched dozens of cows pop in and out of the small chutes on the slope. As we made our way forward to see if we could actually get eyes on the bull, I quickly dropped to my knees at movement about 300 yards to my right.

On the alpine flats to the side and between us and the elk, three bucks were unreservedly playing and feeding in the wide open. One of them was probably a mid 150's buck with bright red, bloody antlers. He was unquestionably a step smaller than the bucks 1k ft above us...but he was here, and now. And I had 3 tags in my pocket. I told my brother, "I'd shoot him."

We watched as they continued to feed and chase each other closer and closer to us. I crawled out to a ledge to shoot just as they cut further to our right at about 150 yards. I got up, and looped around through strips of impenetrable alpine spruced with gaps perpendicular to their path. I crept down behind a SUV sized boulder at the opening of one of them, with a large pool about 50 yards out. I knew he would likely walk between me and that water. I got a glimpse of him running a loop chasing his buddy, then disappear again out of view.

I had my muzzleloader 90% ready, kneeling on one knee and watching for him to emerge gracefully in front of me, unawares of my ambush. After about a minute of silence, instead, the buck broke the silhouette of the boulder in front of me at a full sprint and slammed on the brakes just past it, staring at me, coiled like a spring at 15 feet away.

I have gone over what happened next in my head a hundred times. When I retell it to myself, it's impossible for it not to sound like a series of excuses. Regardless, here is my best piecing together of the facts of what happened based on my own memory, my brother's account (who was 10 yards behind me), and what we saw on the deer:

He was quartering slightly to, facing my right, at 15 feet, staring directly at my face. As fast as possible, I raised my muzzleloader the final 10% to sight him, pulled back the hammer, and shot. Simultaneously, he dipped and loaded up to leave and turned to his right, my left. I followed him in the sights in this motion. At the shot, he was bowled over, falling away and to his right, with his belly and legs now facing me. He kicked frantically in the way I have seen several animals die before.

Within 5 seconds, I was beginning to reload. By the time I had poured powder down the barrel, he was up and hobbling to my right, downhill, towards the bottom on the basin. "F*ck." I could see a streak of blood about 6" long coming from an obvious bullet wound high front shoulder. Approximately here:


By the time I had a bullet seated at the muzzle, he had begun to trot and was 50 yards away. "F*CK."

By the time I had the bullet pushed down and a primer in the breech he was 100 yards away and running downhill. "f***ck."

I took one attempt to aim, but then got up and ran to the edge of the cliff as he continued he run to the bottom of the basin and increasingly prevalent cover. This whole time, I was half expecting him to just tumble over at any step, but also extremely concerned by his quickening pace.

My brother stayed at that vantage while I ran as fast as I could 200 yards back to our original glassing knob and the best possible view of the bottom. My brother recounts that he dipped through two small patches of timber and emerged from the last one stotting, with a upside down V of blood coming from his wound about a foot, but not reaching the bottom of his belly. By the time I got to our original knob, I would not glimpse the deer again. From his vantage, my brother saw him enter a larger patch of timber at the bottom of the basin. The deer had now traveled almost a half mile in the matter of maybe 2 minutes.

My brother watched for 10 minutes, then ran up to inform me of what he saw, while we basically set watch on the patch where we thought he was. Due to the vantages and the initial gaps in coverage, we didnt have eyes on that patch for probably a minute total. We waited for about an hour and a half, glassing, watching, and waiting. To say it was an anxious hour and a half would be a massive understatement.

Eventually, we descended upon the timber patch, the wind in our face, moving slowly and glassing carefully. There was nothing. We combed the ground for sign where my brother saw him enter. We found a track or two in the dirt, but the surrounding area was boggy marsh thick with willow and various forbes, some of which were beginning to get fall flecks of red. I will summarize the next 6 hours by saying we thoroughly gridded the area around this patch of trees. The tracks in the wet ground were indecipherable. Moose, elk, and deer tracks were everywhere, of various ages impossible to tell due to the wetness. We found 0 blood. We went all the way back to where I had shot him, following nearly useless sign as best we could back down to the patch. 0 blood. We gridded the thicker timber cover closest to the smaller patch. Nothing.

If I had found any discernable sign whatsoever in terms of his direction, I would have kept looking for another two days. Instead, I had literally nothing to go on besides his general direction, and a "last-seen" spot. At the speed he was traveling when my brother last saw him, he could easily have been a mile away within 10 minutes of the shot, in an ocean of timber.

We repositioned, feeling completely hopeless, at our original knob. I punched my tag. My best guess is that as he was loading up to bail, and as he crouched to spring away, his scapula would have popped high as his body dropped towards the ground. I was aiming where his body had been a millisecond prior, not where it was then. The shot likely passed through a no man's land in front and high of the tops of his lungs, but just below his spine. I just cannot believe that a .50 caliber bullet did not slow him down more, despite clearly passing through at least one and likely the tops of both scapula.

This was my first experience with wound loss, and it truly sucked. I am sure there are things I could have done better, both in the shot execution, decision making, and tracking. But my main takeaway is that was the first time I have ever shot at an animal that knew I was there, and essentially knew I was a predator. That was my true mistake. I'd give a lot to go back and just stick to my plan and stalk the bucks 1k ft above us, but regret wasn't, and isn't going to change a thing about the reality of the situation.

 

[trb]

Will finish this up tomorrow

 

[Andrewlonghi]

Great write up and the pictures are awesome. Looking forward to the next chapter

 

[Kiwi]

Wow. I need to get back to the CO high country! Thanks for posting.

 

[JoltnJoe]

This is an AWESOME write up… can’t wait to hear how it ends!

 

[RyGuy]

This type of thing happens unfortunately. It’s a very real part of hunting that is hard to talk about. I appreciate your honesty and detailed description of your hunt so far.
Hope to hear more soon

 

[DouglasR]

Will finish this up tomorrow

Do we have to wait till the end of the school day for the rest of the story?

 

[BoulderBulls]

Looking forward to the update. Wound loss is part of the game but totally sucks. I have 2 buddies up in the elk woods making a last ditch blood trail this morning on a muzzleloader bull