diamond hitch
Well-known member
Sometimes the choices offered in the field are difficult and not easily swallowed. Growing up, meat on the table meant elk. A failure to secure one led me to option "B" - macarony and cheese. Since I hate option "B" there is no limit to what I will try for option "A".
In the early 70s, I only had one horse so the horse stayed in camp aind we ventured forth on foot until the horse was needed. A 2-3 hr walk to get where the hunt was for the day was normal but then again I was younger. I would hike out on the trail and then drop off and walk a sidehill traverse about 1/3 of the way down for 2-3 miles then return. This year I was exploring a new path so I dropped into a basin and as I crossed over a slight rise I jumped a nice bull in the 300 range. Not one that caused drooling but he caught my attention. He crossed the creek below me then hung up in a patch of young lodgepoles just a little higher than his head. He didn't know what I was so he held tight trying to figure out where I was or what I was. In that thicket, he just wouldn't offer a clean shot. He finally positioned his head perpendicular to me and I figured the only shot I was going to get was his antlers. I placed a 7 mag bullet through the web at the base of his fourth point and knocked him down and out of the thicket. When he tried to stand up I placed a bullet behind the shoulder and he rolled down the hill and into the creek - upside down with the antlers under him.
To gut him I had to peel off my boots and stand in the creek with the water running over him. A bit like gutting a fish under water. When I got done I was really cold, he was clean and wet but I couldn't move him. I got myself together and hiked back to camp for the horse. When I returned I tried direct towing with the horse but no luck. I pulled out my block and tackle, attached it to a tree on one end, to the elk on the second end and tied the loose rope end on to the pack saddle rings. I tried to maintain a straight line through the trees and led the horse away. I swear that parachute chord stretched nearly twice its length before that bull popped out of the creek.
I got the front quarters loaded and started up the hill. That horse had a nasty habit of trying to jump every log even though they were small and on the ground. Half way up the hill in a steep patch he reared up to jump and flipped over backwards and I got to reload and start over. I got half to the trailer and sent my partners to town for supper. I made it back to the hind quarters but before I could get them loaded a weasle had laid claim to the hide. As I mannied up the quarters the weasle would hiss, scare the horse, and then it would grab my boot and try to shake my leg. Then he would run back under the hide and scold me and then repeat the event. Ever once in a while a grouse would bomb through to the creek to get a drink. A little bit like conducting business in a war zone.
I eventually got the last of it loaded and made it over the ridge to the truck for dinner.
In the early 70s, I only had one horse so the horse stayed in camp aind we ventured forth on foot until the horse was needed. A 2-3 hr walk to get where the hunt was for the day was normal but then again I was younger. I would hike out on the trail and then drop off and walk a sidehill traverse about 1/3 of the way down for 2-3 miles then return. This year I was exploring a new path so I dropped into a basin and as I crossed over a slight rise I jumped a nice bull in the 300 range. Not one that caused drooling but he caught my attention. He crossed the creek below me then hung up in a patch of young lodgepoles just a little higher than his head. He didn't know what I was so he held tight trying to figure out where I was or what I was. In that thicket, he just wouldn't offer a clean shot. He finally positioned his head perpendicular to me and I figured the only shot I was going to get was his antlers. I placed a 7 mag bullet through the web at the base of his fourth point and knocked him down and out of the thicket. When he tried to stand up I placed a bullet behind the shoulder and he rolled down the hill and into the creek - upside down with the antlers under him.
To gut him I had to peel off my boots and stand in the creek with the water running over him. A bit like gutting a fish under water. When I got done I was really cold, he was clean and wet but I couldn't move him. I got myself together and hiked back to camp for the horse. When I returned I tried direct towing with the horse but no luck. I pulled out my block and tackle, attached it to a tree on one end, to the elk on the second end and tied the loose rope end on to the pack saddle rings. I tried to maintain a straight line through the trees and led the horse away. I swear that parachute chord stretched nearly twice its length before that bull popped out of the creek.
I got the front quarters loaded and started up the hill. That horse had a nasty habit of trying to jump every log even though they were small and on the ground. Half way up the hill in a steep patch he reared up to jump and flipped over backwards and I got to reload and start over. I got half to the trailer and sent my partners to town for supper. I made it back to the hind quarters but before I could get them loaded a weasle had laid claim to the hide. As I mannied up the quarters the weasle would hiss, scare the horse, and then it would grab my boot and try to shake my leg. Then he would run back under the hide and scold me and then repeat the event. Ever once in a while a grouse would bomb through to the creek to get a drink. A little bit like conducting business in a war zone.
I eventually got the last of it loaded and made it over the ridge to the truck for dinner.
