With all of the snow on the top of the mountain, my assumption was that the bulls would be feeding lower than they had been. So instead of waking up at 0330 and hiking to the top of the mountain like I had been, I decided to sleep in a little and get up to a low saddle that had a good view of a few lower meadows.
As the sun began to appear over the horizon, dark spots in the meadows morphed into elk. More and more detail began to appear and I could pick out a few decent bulls in a meadow below what I called "the bedroom," a steep, south-facing hillside with good cover, but plenty of grass and sun exposure. I saw bulls go toward that hillside every morning and come out of it every afternoon.
One of the 4 bulls was a GIANT. He was what everyone imagines a big Arizona bull would look like; long beams, long times, and wide. He was in the treeline and too far away to get a good photo of him. I assessed the wind and the terrain and knew the only way to get to the bedroom would be to walk back down the mountain and up a steep, boulder covered ridge.
With the knee deep snow, boulders and deadfall, it took me almost 2 hours to get halfway up the ridge. Even though I was wearing only a t-shirt and it was 20 degrees, the amount of effort and concentration it took to stay on my feet and move up the hill had me drenched in sweat. I also needed to get my heart rate down before I got into the bedroom if I had any hope of getting an accurate shot off. I decided to take a break, eat some food, dry the sweat off and change my socks. I also FaceTimed the wife and kids to show them the awesome view.
After the much needed break, I continued up toward the bedroom. I only had 500 more feet to climb, and the elk could be anywhere, so I took it slow.
It wasn't long before I spotted the first brown body through the snow covered trees. I was surprised the elk didn’t just blast out of there since I was only 30yds from the elk at times and the wind was swirling. Each time the big bull needed to take a step or two forward, he stopped, stared and me, took a step back, and turned away. They fed away 3 times and I gave them a few minutes to calm down before going back after them. One advantage I had was that the icy snow on the trees was constantly falling and creating a ton of noise and movement. I also think the elk assumed no human would ever bother them in that spot; it was their sanctuary and they were comfortable.
Normally, (actually every other time in my hunting experience) I shoot the first good bull that presents a shot. If an animal was larger than anything else I’ve ever killed, I have never passed it. Well… I've also never had a Boone and Crockett bull inside of bow range before. The big bull was close, and almost gave me a shot several times, but the opportunity never presented itself. I could have shot a terrific bull twice, but the big bull was SO close and ALMOST in the open. I couldn’t believe it, but I let some really nice bulls walk that I would have been extremely happy to shoot.
Eventually, the elk were tired of me sneaking into their party and they left. They didn’t crash out of there like they were going to leave the state, but it was obvious they weren’t going to hang out with me any more. I gave them about an hour before I took up the track.
If you haven’t already got the hint that the terrain isn’t exactly the easiest to walk around on… well, it’s not. Add falling chunks of trees and ice to the equation, and you have a recipe for quite an adventurous hike.
I followed the 4 bulls to the top of the mountain (another 800 feet of gain). Instead of going up and over to the other side of the mountain, further away from roads and my truck, they decided to side-hill toward a road I knew I could access. I wouldn’t have followed them if they went over, but they didn’t, so I had to follow them.
I followed the herd of bulls to the edge of a steep clearing. The fog was too thick to see much further than 100 yards, so I waited for it to clear before moving. When the fog cleared, I spotted a lone bull on the other side of the clearing.
He was the 2nd smallest bull from the group of 4 I saw in the morning, but he was all alone and feeding without a care in the world. The only problem was that he was in the open and there was only 3 trees between us with enough branches to provide concealment. He was also feeding downhill faster than I would probably be able to catch up with. My plan was to use the few trees in the clearing and the occasional fog to walk straight at the bull. It was a low probability hand, but it was the only hand I had to play. So I played it.
Every time I needed fog, it came. Every time I needed a little bit of concealment, the bull moved behind something. The bull was feeding downhill painstakingly slow, but when I made it to about 120 yards a thick fog rolled in and the bull decided to just walk down the hill and out of sight. I thought he for sure walked past me and out of my life.
I worked my way up the hill to pick up his track and hopefully follow him again. When the fog cleared I glassed down the hill, but didn’t see him. “Dang it. He’s gone,” I thought to myself.
I took a step or two to get a better view… Then I saw the tips of his antlers! He as close. I had glassed right past him. I started ranging things and I couldn’t believe how close he was.
For whatever reason, the bull had turned around as was feeding back up the hill, straight to me.
I’ll be honest, I contemplated letting him walk since he was far from being the largest bull on that mountain. But… I already looked too many gift horses in the mouth on this trip. Call it destiny, divine intervention, coincidence, luck, or whatever, but the stalk across that thorny, deadfall and boulder covered hillside to work out took a miracle of some sort. The setting sun, clouds, fog, and snow made for an awe-inspiring scene. I don’t know what Heaven is like, but I imagine it looks something like that mountainside.
The bull fed in the same spot, nearly facing me, for about 20 minutes before he turned broadside and presented a shot opportunity.
I ranged him for the millionth time, drew back, settled my pin, and executed a proper release. The arrow buried itself to the fletch exactly where I intended. The shot was perfect.