SixPoint
Active member
Hello, fairly new to the forum, have been a lurker for quite sometime. Finally have a story worth sharing. Hope you all enjoy.
My Uncle and I have been hunting Montana’s Breaks Country for nine seasons, and you could say that it has become and annual event that both of us spend the entire year looking forward to. The Breaks to me are an area that is unforgiving, mysterious and on occasion, plentiful. This year was the first year I hadn’t drawn a bull tag; yes, I was one of the unlucky 20% that found the elk permit under the “unsuccessful” column this year, and yes it took several months for me to quit moping around the house feeling sorry for myself. However, my Uncle was more fortunate than I, and was able to pull the tag. With the odds ever decreasing each year, and if you put in long enough, it’s bound to happen. Regardless of my poor attitude just getting the excuse to take a week off of work and chase elk with my Uncle wasn’t even a question. I did purchase an over the counter Elk B tag and coupled with a deer tag it’s not like I didn’t have options.
Driving to Central Montana from Southwest Montana doesn’t take too long, but when you are heading to elk camp it always seems to take an eternity. This year I must have checked the weather update on my phone a hundred times, as it had been forecasted to rain prior to and upon our arrival, which for those of you familiar with what that means for travel in the Breaks, it’s not good. By the time we reached our jump off point where the road goes from improved gravel to unimproved two track the closest weather station was reporting over 1/2” of precip. in the last 24 hours. At this point there is one last farm, and we knocked on the door to see if we could leave my trailer and atv in his equipment yard for a couple of days until things dried out. He said not a problem and then asked if we’d be willing to leave our pickups and drive our atv’s the last 4 miles to camp. We quickly agreed as it dawned on us that he uses this road all winter long to access the stack yard to feed his cattle, and for us to create huge ruts because we were in a rush to get to elk camp would be a very rude thing to do, not to mention give the rancher a bad taste for hunters.
As we unloaded our ATV’s we learned real quick what was essential and what was extra. Our plan was to make multiple trips if the travel was okay, but still you can only pack so much on an ATV. We made it about a 1/4 mile before I looked back and noticed my Uncle wasn’t behind me. I got turned around, and with mud flying went to see what was going on. When I crested the hill I found my Uncle trying to dig out his ATV which was now so encased in gumbo that it had permanently adhered itself to the road. When he put it in low gear or reverse and gave it full throttle it wouldn’t move an inch and would die… not good. Thankfully the configuration of my Honda Foreman didn’t have this problem, so we unloaded most of the gear on mine, doubled up and with mud flying again headed in with even less than half the gear we’d left the trucks with.
Thankfully we made it to camp, but with next to no gear. The cabin we stay in sit’s atop a hill and as we neared the top my Uncle motions to kill the engine so we can walk up to the top and glass for elk. We walked the last bit and as we crested the top of the hill we about crapped as there was a pile of elk bedded 100 yards below us, including several mature six point bulls. Not thinking, I tell my uncle to get his bow and we’re going to get him one of these bulls right now. He looks at me as if I’m crazy and motions to his bow which is covered in mud and then I look at us in our carharts covered in mud and it hits me that it would probably not be the best idea to kill an elk right now. As hard as it was for me we left the elk alone and began making trips to get our gear and my Uncle’s ATV unstuck. This took the rest of the afternoon and gave us about a half an hour to glass from the cabin. At least now we would be organized and prepared to hunt the next day. I often need to remind myself that the hunt is more about the stories and the journey than just the harvest. My Uncle and I have a week off of work and for him he’d rather hunt all week and go home empty handed than to shoot a bull the first day and be home early. This decision would turn out to be one of the best one’s he’s ever made.
Day one and two of the hunt turned out to be as good as archery elk hunting can be. The elk were around, the bulls were rut-crazed and the weather was cool. We hiked 10-12 miles each day and had several close encounters with bulls, just not any quite close enough or at the right angle for a shot.
Day three was like the switch turned off. The wind direction switched 180 degrees and the temperature started to warm back up again, which was great news for the road and getting our trucks to camp, but terrible news for the elk hunting. We hiked all day exploring new country but we never heard a single bugle. This year we were late due to work schedules so being there the first week of October we had expected things may be quieter than normal. However, when your first two days of hunting are as good as it gets and then to have it shut off just like that, it can crush morale.
Day four was similar to the previous in that we never heard a bugle. My Dad, who isn't an archery hunter but likes to spend a few days in camp, joined us in the afternoon. The road had finally dried out enough that we were able to get the trucks in. My Dad can be a lucky hunting charm, especially for my Uncle. I am not sure how this works but the year before my uncle killed a nice six point bull only after my Dad’s presence had been in camp.
Day five we rolled out of bed slowly to turn the alarm off. After hiking nearly 10 miles a day for the past four days and getting up early my Uncle and I were beginning to get worn down, especially since the past two days had been so frustratingly quite in the elk woods. The story I am about to share with you is the very reason you need to get your butt out of bed each and every day and hunt hard regardless of the conditions. You never know what might happen, and as is a favorite saying in our camp “it only takes one”.
My Uncle and I have been hunting Montana’s Breaks Country for nine seasons, and you could say that it has become and annual event that both of us spend the entire year looking forward to. The Breaks to me are an area that is unforgiving, mysterious and on occasion, plentiful. This year was the first year I hadn’t drawn a bull tag; yes, I was one of the unlucky 20% that found the elk permit under the “unsuccessful” column this year, and yes it took several months for me to quit moping around the house feeling sorry for myself. However, my Uncle was more fortunate than I, and was able to pull the tag. With the odds ever decreasing each year, and if you put in long enough, it’s bound to happen. Regardless of my poor attitude just getting the excuse to take a week off of work and chase elk with my Uncle wasn’t even a question. I did purchase an over the counter Elk B tag and coupled with a deer tag it’s not like I didn’t have options.
Driving to Central Montana from Southwest Montana doesn’t take too long, but when you are heading to elk camp it always seems to take an eternity. This year I must have checked the weather update on my phone a hundred times, as it had been forecasted to rain prior to and upon our arrival, which for those of you familiar with what that means for travel in the Breaks, it’s not good. By the time we reached our jump off point where the road goes from improved gravel to unimproved two track the closest weather station was reporting over 1/2” of precip. in the last 24 hours. At this point there is one last farm, and we knocked on the door to see if we could leave my trailer and atv in his equipment yard for a couple of days until things dried out. He said not a problem and then asked if we’d be willing to leave our pickups and drive our atv’s the last 4 miles to camp. We quickly agreed as it dawned on us that he uses this road all winter long to access the stack yard to feed his cattle, and for us to create huge ruts because we were in a rush to get to elk camp would be a very rude thing to do, not to mention give the rancher a bad taste for hunters.
As we unloaded our ATV’s we learned real quick what was essential and what was extra. Our plan was to make multiple trips if the travel was okay, but still you can only pack so much on an ATV. We made it about a 1/4 mile before I looked back and noticed my Uncle wasn’t behind me. I got turned around, and with mud flying went to see what was going on. When I crested the hill I found my Uncle trying to dig out his ATV which was now so encased in gumbo that it had permanently adhered itself to the road. When he put it in low gear or reverse and gave it full throttle it wouldn’t move an inch and would die… not good. Thankfully the configuration of my Honda Foreman didn’t have this problem, so we unloaded most of the gear on mine, doubled up and with mud flying again headed in with even less than half the gear we’d left the trucks with.
Thankfully we made it to camp, but with next to no gear. The cabin we stay in sit’s atop a hill and as we neared the top my Uncle motions to kill the engine so we can walk up to the top and glass for elk. We walked the last bit and as we crested the top of the hill we about crapped as there was a pile of elk bedded 100 yards below us, including several mature six point bulls. Not thinking, I tell my uncle to get his bow and we’re going to get him one of these bulls right now. He looks at me as if I’m crazy and motions to his bow which is covered in mud and then I look at us in our carharts covered in mud and it hits me that it would probably not be the best idea to kill an elk right now. As hard as it was for me we left the elk alone and began making trips to get our gear and my Uncle’s ATV unstuck. This took the rest of the afternoon and gave us about a half an hour to glass from the cabin. At least now we would be organized and prepared to hunt the next day. I often need to remind myself that the hunt is more about the stories and the journey than just the harvest. My Uncle and I have a week off of work and for him he’d rather hunt all week and go home empty handed than to shoot a bull the first day and be home early. This decision would turn out to be one of the best one’s he’s ever made.
Day one and two of the hunt turned out to be as good as archery elk hunting can be. The elk were around, the bulls were rut-crazed and the weather was cool. We hiked 10-12 miles each day and had several close encounters with bulls, just not any quite close enough or at the right angle for a shot.
Day three was like the switch turned off. The wind direction switched 180 degrees and the temperature started to warm back up again, which was great news for the road and getting our trucks to camp, but terrible news for the elk hunting. We hiked all day exploring new country but we never heard a single bugle. This year we were late due to work schedules so being there the first week of October we had expected things may be quieter than normal. However, when your first two days of hunting are as good as it gets and then to have it shut off just like that, it can crush morale.
Day four was similar to the previous in that we never heard a bugle. My Dad, who isn't an archery hunter but likes to spend a few days in camp, joined us in the afternoon. The road had finally dried out enough that we were able to get the trucks in. My Dad can be a lucky hunting charm, especially for my Uncle. I am not sure how this works but the year before my uncle killed a nice six point bull only after my Dad’s presence had been in camp.
Day five we rolled out of bed slowly to turn the alarm off. After hiking nearly 10 miles a day for the past four days and getting up early my Uncle and I were beginning to get worn down, especially since the past two days had been so frustratingly quite in the elk woods. The story I am about to share with you is the very reason you need to get your butt out of bed each and every day and hunt hard regardless of the conditions. You never know what might happen, and as is a favorite saying in our camp “it only takes one”.
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