Operative word being "try." I know I'm tempting but keep me out of your male schoolteacher fantasies seeth!!!
A Rollercoaster Ride Through The CO Alpine
- Thread starter trb
- Start date
Monday - The Climb
I quickly packed up my camp, and dropped to the bottom of the basin. I moved down the trail a mile and a half, then began to climb the 1,400 feet to the saddle below where the satellite bulls had been feeding.
Halfway up, I heard a bugle off to my left in a stand of thick beetle kill timber. And then another. I gained about 200 feet to get above it and make sure my wind wouldn't drift into the stand. I have often heard "cow call, and if you get a response, it's not a hunter", but I am not sure that logic works when the "elk" is bugling every 30 seconds. I stood around, shifting my view, thinking, as I listened to at least 30-50 bugles over the next 15 minutes. I feel like I can usually tell if it's a hunter or a bull, especially from this close (maybe 400-500 yards away?), but this one had me stumped. Given my experience the night before, and the fact that I had passed a SO tipi setup in the basin bottom below, I elected to bypass whatever was bugling and stick to my plan. If I had to guess, I'd say it was 2 hunters doing a sort of cow party/bugling setup, but that were actually decent callers.
I got to the saddle and quickly setup my camp (where it still sits....I am hiking in 6 miles to go retrieve it today). I grabbed the necessary day gear and began to loop around and climb up above where I'd seen the satellite bulls last. I had glassed them once on the climb up, so they had been unseen for about an hour or so now, and it was probably about 10 AM at this point.
The views on the climb were phenomenal. Everything felt right. The wind and thermals were perfect for my planned setup. Non-threatening clouds rolling through, not too hot, I was feeling good. Once I was within about 300 yards or so, I slowed wayyy down and crept among past destroyed krumholz spruces from testosterone fueled giants.
I got to a rock pile that was less than 100 yards from where I had last seen the bulls. Given my last experience two days prior, I got out all my reloading equipment and laid it neatly before me to be ready. I began softly with the calling with two different cow calls. I continued the sequence for close to 15 minutes. With no responses or action, I assumed the bulls had kept feeding in the direction I had seen them facing last, and shadowed their imaginary path. I repeated the calling sequence twice more from excellent vantages above prime bedding zones. Unfortunately, nothing. Hard to say whether they had been sucked in by the bugling going on below us that I had passed, just moved on, or just not interested.
Regardless, I had options. I looked at the mountain ridge above me, knowing that the herd bull (at least 2 of them in fact) could be just around the corner or over the ridge. I decided to move that way. This plan would be counting on the fact that the elk would have moved down slightly out of the sun into timber or some sort of cover, because the slope was extremely exposed alpine where an elk could spot you from a mile out easily.
I kept climbing, sidehilling across some sketchy steep loose dirt and scree, until I reached a broad rolling ridgeline flat where the sunrise skylined bull has been standing 4 hours before. I kept dropping off until I had a decent vantage of the treeline edge of the basin now in front of me.
I had been sitting for less than a minute when I picked up 2 blaze orange hunters about a mile and a half way, setup to be glassing the basin I was now standing above. Damn. But then, a loud, clear, and real bugle from my left and down the continuing ridgeline. I glassed the hunters, no reaction whatsoever, and perhaps even glassing the opposite direction of the bugle. I glassed a mile down the ridge, and low and behold....the skylined 6x6 was aggressively chasing cows and what looked like another bull. No reaction from the hunters. The wind was perhaps carrying his frequent bugles away from them? But they should have been able to glass him from their vantage. With them making no move and over a mile away, I decided, f*ck em.
I marked where he was with onX and a quick photo, and began to move towards the herd.
I quickly packed up my camp, and dropped to the bottom of the basin. I moved down the trail a mile and a half, then began to climb the 1,400 feet to the saddle below where the satellite bulls had been feeding.
Halfway up, I heard a bugle off to my left in a stand of thick beetle kill timber. And then another. I gained about 200 feet to get above it and make sure my wind wouldn't drift into the stand. I have often heard "cow call, and if you get a response, it's not a hunter", but I am not sure that logic works when the "elk" is bugling every 30 seconds. I stood around, shifting my view, thinking, as I listened to at least 30-50 bugles over the next 15 minutes. I feel like I can usually tell if it's a hunter or a bull, especially from this close (maybe 400-500 yards away?), but this one had me stumped. Given my experience the night before, and the fact that I had passed a SO tipi setup in the basin bottom below, I elected to bypass whatever was bugling and stick to my plan. If I had to guess, I'd say it was 2 hunters doing a sort of cow party/bugling setup, but that were actually decent callers.
I got to the saddle and quickly setup my camp (where it still sits....I am hiking in 6 miles to go retrieve it today). I grabbed the necessary day gear and began to loop around and climb up above where I'd seen the satellite bulls last. I had glassed them once on the climb up, so they had been unseen for about an hour or so now, and it was probably about 10 AM at this point.
The views on the climb were phenomenal. Everything felt right. The wind and thermals were perfect for my planned setup. Non-threatening clouds rolling through, not too hot, I was feeling good. Once I was within about 300 yards or so, I slowed wayyy down and crept among past destroyed krumholz spruces from testosterone fueled giants.
I got to a rock pile that was less than 100 yards from where I had last seen the bulls. Given my last experience two days prior, I got out all my reloading equipment and laid it neatly before me to be ready. I began softly with the calling with two different cow calls. I continued the sequence for close to 15 minutes. With no responses or action, I assumed the bulls had kept feeding in the direction I had seen them facing last, and shadowed their imaginary path. I repeated the calling sequence twice more from excellent vantages above prime bedding zones. Unfortunately, nothing. Hard to say whether they had been sucked in by the bugling going on below us that I had passed, just moved on, or just not interested.
Regardless, I had options. I looked at the mountain ridge above me, knowing that the herd bull (at least 2 of them in fact) could be just around the corner or over the ridge. I decided to move that way. This plan would be counting on the fact that the elk would have moved down slightly out of the sun into timber or some sort of cover, because the slope was extremely exposed alpine where an elk could spot you from a mile out easily.
I kept climbing, sidehilling across some sketchy steep loose dirt and scree, until I reached a broad rolling ridgeline flat where the sunrise skylined bull has been standing 4 hours before. I kept dropping off until I had a decent vantage of the treeline edge of the basin now in front of me.
I had been sitting for less than a minute when I picked up 2 blaze orange hunters about a mile and a half way, setup to be glassing the basin I was now standing above. Damn. But then, a loud, clear, and real bugle from my left and down the continuing ridgeline. I glassed the hunters, no reaction whatsoever, and perhaps even glassing the opposite direction of the bugle. I glassed a mile down the ridge, and low and behold....the skylined 6x6 was aggressively chasing cows and what looked like another bull. No reaction from the hunters. The wind was perhaps carrying his frequent bugles away from them? But they should have been able to glass him from their vantage. With them making no move and over a mile away, I decided, f*ck em.
I marked where he was with onX and a quick photo, and began to move towards the herd.
Last edited:
woods89
Well-known member
- Joined
- Oct 27, 2021
- Messages
- 821
I feel like the fact that he has to go back to get his camp is a good sign.....
SCliving Outdoors
Well-known member
This is the best thread I’ve read in a while. Excited for the conclusion. You better not be teasing us.
Irrelevant
Well-known member
Still manning my post, albeit a different one, in the GDD... looking forward to the next entry.
noharleyyet
Well-known member
HappyCamper
Well-known member
I sure hope you have more hunts planned this fall so we get more good reads like this.
Hunting Wife
Well-known member
This is why he’s a perennial Talkie nominee. The man just knows how to tell the story.
Can’t wait for the next installment!
Monday - The Pursuit
I covered about 3/4 of a mile quickly, sidehilling across some loose post snowmelt dirt and a couple rolls in the terrain that kept the elk from seeing me standing out like a sore thumb in the alpine, but also me from seeing them. Once I was within about 500 yards or so of where I had last seen them, I slowed down and started to creep up to little rolls of the sidehill behind stands of spruce.
I had unquestionably gained on the elk, but the intermittent bugles were not sounding as close as I would have expected. I closed more distance, and now was within 200 yards of where I had expected them. I cow called, immediate bugle response, but sounding like he was facing away. This same process began to rinse and repeat as I'd sneak another 50 or 100 yards, and the immediate bugle response to my cow calls would always seemingly be 200 yards away.
The ridge was beginning to peter out, where the elk would either stay put in the thinly vegtated alpine, turn to their right into burnt timber where they'd be very visible, or turn to their left and drop into a thick, steep north facing slope.
As I was creeping up to the final saddle where they'd be forced into this decision, I was hearing glunking about 100 yards ahead. I was encouraged and fully focused ahead of me, trying to gain the vantage of a stand of trees 10 yards in front of me. But instead to my right, my eyes were suddenly distracted by movement.
Admist a dense patch of 5 ft tall scrubby spruces, were tines, maybe 20 yards away and directly facing my position. I froze, slowly trying to strain my eyes and hands to face up to this other bull that had snuck into me completely silently. Through the trees, I could tell that he wasn't the caliber of the herd bull I was chasing, but he was also not a raghorn.
After a minute standoff, he pranced off behind some larger trees, until I cow called which stopped him again, but again, behind way too much cover to even consider a shot. I was in a terrible shooting position, sidehilling with a variety of dense conifers around me blocking views and shooting lanes from every direction except uphill/downwind. I moved forward more aggressively to get out of the cover, and despite a couple cow calls, the bull was too put off and nervous by this movement to stick around. He had definitely not winded me, but he again pranced off across a larger opening and into burnt timber in front of the saddle where the larger bull had just been glunking from.
Another bugle ripped from about 150 yards up and to the left, from the dark N facing timber. Surprise, surprise. I decided to forget the satellite bull and continued after the herd. The same song and dance continued for another 15 minutes, now moving downhill fast through the timber. I'd move 50 yards, cow call, immediate response, but always 100+ yards ahead of me. My guess was that a combination of the midday heat and this other bull was willing the bull to continue to push his cows to thicker cover.
Finally, I came to an acre sized depression in the slope. The depression was relatively clear, so I seriously took my time approaching it as I heard more glunking across the opening. I was also seriously worried about the wind, which on the steep N facing slope was somewhat in the lee of the prevailing breeze that had been so consistent on the clear alpine ridge.
I saw no elk but could hear the bull glunking clearly. With a decent shooting lane in front of me I cow called again. Immediate bugle, but no movement in my direction. Wait a minute, rinse and repeat with the most seductive cow whine I can muster. Bugle, but from what I thought sounded like a few yards further away.
"Sh*t", I thought, "on the move again." Silence. I stuck to the shadows and started to make my way quietly across the small opening. Simultaneously as I did this I felt an extremely light swirl of wind, and an immediate stick pop, crash, bang in front of me. "You've got to be sh*tting me"
After a nearly mile long, hour plus long stalk, and shadowing the herd within 300 yards for about half of that, now nearly 4 miles from my new tent location, I had apparently just blown it. I wasn't sure if it was sight or smell however, so I ran forward to the end of the depression and where the steep incline restarted. I gave a cow call, nothing. I bugled in desperation. Nothing.
I covered about 3/4 of a mile quickly, sidehilling across some loose post snowmelt dirt and a couple rolls in the terrain that kept the elk from seeing me standing out like a sore thumb in the alpine, but also me from seeing them. Once I was within about 500 yards or so of where I had last seen them, I slowed down and started to creep up to little rolls of the sidehill behind stands of spruce.
I had unquestionably gained on the elk, but the intermittent bugles were not sounding as close as I would have expected. I closed more distance, and now was within 200 yards of where I had expected them. I cow called, immediate bugle response, but sounding like he was facing away. This same process began to rinse and repeat as I'd sneak another 50 or 100 yards, and the immediate bugle response to my cow calls would always seemingly be 200 yards away.
The ridge was beginning to peter out, where the elk would either stay put in the thinly vegtated alpine, turn to their right into burnt timber where they'd be very visible, or turn to their left and drop into a thick, steep north facing slope.
As I was creeping up to the final saddle where they'd be forced into this decision, I was hearing glunking about 100 yards ahead. I was encouraged and fully focused ahead of me, trying to gain the vantage of a stand of trees 10 yards in front of me. But instead to my right, my eyes were suddenly distracted by movement.
Admist a dense patch of 5 ft tall scrubby spruces, were tines, maybe 20 yards away and directly facing my position. I froze, slowly trying to strain my eyes and hands to face up to this other bull that had snuck into me completely silently. Through the trees, I could tell that he wasn't the caliber of the herd bull I was chasing, but he was also not a raghorn.
After a minute standoff, he pranced off behind some larger trees, until I cow called which stopped him again, but again, behind way too much cover to even consider a shot. I was in a terrible shooting position, sidehilling with a variety of dense conifers around me blocking views and shooting lanes from every direction except uphill/downwind. I moved forward more aggressively to get out of the cover, and despite a couple cow calls, the bull was too put off and nervous by this movement to stick around. He had definitely not winded me, but he again pranced off across a larger opening and into burnt timber in front of the saddle where the larger bull had just been glunking from.
Another bugle ripped from about 150 yards up and to the left, from the dark N facing timber. Surprise, surprise. I decided to forget the satellite bull and continued after the herd. The same song and dance continued for another 15 minutes, now moving downhill fast through the timber. I'd move 50 yards, cow call, immediate response, but always 100+ yards ahead of me. My guess was that a combination of the midday heat and this other bull was willing the bull to continue to push his cows to thicker cover.
Finally, I came to an acre sized depression in the slope. The depression was relatively clear, so I seriously took my time approaching it as I heard more glunking across the opening. I was also seriously worried about the wind, which on the steep N facing slope was somewhat in the lee of the prevailing breeze that had been so consistent on the clear alpine ridge.
I saw no elk but could hear the bull glunking clearly. With a decent shooting lane in front of me I cow called again. Immediate bugle, but no movement in my direction. Wait a minute, rinse and repeat with the most seductive cow whine I can muster. Bugle, but from what I thought sounded like a few yards further away.
"Sh*t", I thought, "on the move again." Silence. I stuck to the shadows and started to make my way quietly across the small opening. Simultaneously as I did this I felt an extremely light swirl of wind, and an immediate stick pop, crash, bang in front of me. "You've got to be sh*tting me"
After a nearly mile long, hour plus long stalk, and shadowing the herd within 300 yards for about half of that, now nearly 4 miles from my new tent location, I had apparently just blown it. I wasn't sure if it was sight or smell however, so I ran forward to the end of the depression and where the steep incline restarted. I gave a cow call, nothing. I bugled in desperation. Nothing.
Monday - The Kill
With no responses, I sat down in exhaustion and desperation. I was wearing way too many layers for the heat and how fast and focused I'd been moving. I flung off my pack, chugged water, and took off my bino harness.
I had been sitting there for less than 5 minutes when I heard a soft but clear stick pop behind and to the right of me. To my right there was 6' tall straight berm that formed the edge of the depression on the slope. I left my gear and grabbed my gun and snuck up it.
From the top, and in the shadows of several very large spruces, I saw a full rack, with a body blocked by smaller trees. I reached for my pocket slowly where my backup cow call was stashed from hours before. I took what felt like a full minute to bring it to my lips as the antlers were frozen at attention in my direction, not more than 30 yards away.
"mew"
The bull dipped his head twice like a horse, and walked slowly forward. I had expected him to bust, but instead the wind was nonexistent and he was walking directly at me. He was shadowing the same herd I was. I took advantage of him passing in front of thicker cover in a couple steps and dropped to one knee slowly. He passed the cover and now stood in a small gap between two small pines, directly facing me but apparently unaware of what the hell I was.
We were frozen there for less than 5 seconds before I made a decision. I slowly moved my thumb to the hammer, pulled it back, and fired. At the shot and the smoke, the bull turned and ran directly away, unflinching.
The first thought in my mind was "not again." I heard more sticks popping as he ran away back through the depression and clearing. I heard a louder set of sticks break, then silence. I reloaded, and left my muzzleloader at the site of the shot while I walked the 20 yards back to the rest of my gear and collected it. Now in my mind I knew I should have hit him dead center frontal unless I had hit a branch or something. I was also planning on giving it an hour before following him.
When I got back, I paced out the 15 yards from where I had shot to where he had stood. No blood. Then, I walked another 20 feet. Blood. A significant and consistent trail. This was hugely relieving, but not the end of the anxiety. I figured that he would never have bedded or stayed in the clearing, so I grabbed my gun and walked slightly further forward through the clearing following the trail. The blood was doing nothing but increase in volume, culminating in an impressive spray across a log.
I lifted my head up from the trail, and there he was, less than 75 yards from where he had been shot.
With no responses, I sat down in exhaustion and desperation. I was wearing way too many layers for the heat and how fast and focused I'd been moving. I flung off my pack, chugged water, and took off my bino harness.
I had been sitting there for less than 5 minutes when I heard a soft but clear stick pop behind and to the right of me. To my right there was 6' tall straight berm that formed the edge of the depression on the slope. I left my gear and grabbed my gun and snuck up it.
From the top, and in the shadows of several very large spruces, I saw a full rack, with a body blocked by smaller trees. I reached for my pocket slowly where my backup cow call was stashed from hours before. I took what felt like a full minute to bring it to my lips as the antlers were frozen at attention in my direction, not more than 30 yards away.
"mew"
The bull dipped his head twice like a horse, and walked slowly forward. I had expected him to bust, but instead the wind was nonexistent and he was walking directly at me. He was shadowing the same herd I was. I took advantage of him passing in front of thicker cover in a couple steps and dropped to one knee slowly. He passed the cover and now stood in a small gap between two small pines, directly facing me but apparently unaware of what the hell I was.
We were frozen there for less than 5 seconds before I made a decision. I slowly moved my thumb to the hammer, pulled it back, and fired. At the shot and the smoke, the bull turned and ran directly away, unflinching.
The first thought in my mind was "not again." I heard more sticks popping as he ran away back through the depression and clearing. I heard a louder set of sticks break, then silence. I reloaded, and left my muzzleloader at the site of the shot while I walked the 20 yards back to the rest of my gear and collected it. Now in my mind I knew I should have hit him dead center frontal unless I had hit a branch or something. I was also planning on giving it an hour before following him.
When I got back, I paced out the 15 yards from where I had shot to where he had stood. No blood. Then, I walked another 20 feet. Blood. A significant and consistent trail. This was hugely relieving, but not the end of the anxiety. I figured that he would never have bedded or stayed in the clearing, so I grabbed my gun and walked slightly further forward through the clearing following the trail. The blood was doing nothing but increase in volume, culminating in an impressive spray across a log.
I lifted my head up from the trail, and there he was, less than 75 yards from where he had been shot.
Addicting
Well-known member
Great hunt and even better recap. Thanks for bringing us along.
DouglasR
Well-known member
That’s a tight pitch.
txco
Well-known member
- Joined
- Apr 27, 2017
- Messages
- 231
Awesome! Well done
