lbirch
Member
I just wanted to share this story. Sorry no pictures but it's a good read.
The day after my buddy and I packed out half of my elk last month we rested our tired aching legs while we glassed the sunlit mountain the next morning. Our glassing spot revealed the usual bulls in their drainages and I even spotted the 370 6x7 bull further up from where we saw him the day before...I still think about that bull. After 3 hours we decided to run to town for supplies and for some A&D. On our way out we came upon a couple jeeps near the gate and they were kind enough to open it for us so we decided to turn off the diesel and chat.
Three generations of a family and gear were packed into two jeeps. The grandpa was the one that met us at the gate so we asked the usual questions like how's the hunt and how many tags do you guys have. He then told us that his granddaughter had the tag but was curled up in the back seat due to a bad burger she had at some jailhouse grille last night. They were just looking around until she felt better. They asked how our hunt was going so we showed them the pics on the camera. This nice guy motioned to his son to come take a look and we could tell right away they were good guys and avid hunters.
Before we left we asked what kind of bull their daughter was looking for then we pointed in a direction and said there is a good group of elk right there with several bulls in it. If you take this road right there it would take you to this trail putting you within 1.5 miles hiking distance to them. The road is one of those old roads that is good for scratching up rigs like mine but you could scoot up there quick in those jeeps. We were sure they could get her on those elk. They thanked us for the information and they closed the gate for us. I remember wishing them luck hoping she would get better so she wouldn't miss the great weather.
After a restful day we decided to get to bed early and get to the trailhead by first light to get the rest of my elk out. We were terribly nervous that some hungry coyotes would find him and we were anxious the entire time. The drive up was nice and pleasant and with the stars out it looked like another great day ahead. We neared the end and saw a truck behind the trees. Driving a little further we noticed two trucks, no, jeeps. It was them. We didn't think we were too far behind so we waited in my truck until our coffee cups were empty.
We tiptoed up the trail hoping to not make noise but also wanting to hurry because we still had a long day ahead of us. About 3/4 of a mile up we heard a shot then a thud that stopped us in our tracks. A few seconds later we heard the same thing followed by some yells amongst screaming. We walked quicker now not even worrying about the crunching, frozen snow. Around the corner we see the grandpa getting up from glassing through his spotting scope after watching his granddaughter drop a good 5pt bull with two well placed shots. The first shot had him dead in his tracks and the second shot was for insurance or so I was told. I'm thinking it was similar to advice given me once, long ago on a moose hunt. Make the first one count then hit him again until he falls.
We came upon dad running back to grandpa to get the packs. His daughter was left to soak it in as she watched the bull she just put down. We would offer our help but we have a few miles to go and elk to pack out ourselves. We said goodbye as we headed south thinking they would be done and gone by the time we returned.
A couple hours later we made it to my elk. Not a single coyote track could be seen in the snow but it was evident that the buzzards had been eating good. Good thing they like the guts first. Besides, I could smell my stinking inner layers I left rotting in the snow by the meat bags. Not a chance there was a brave enough coyote on that mountain willing to test those shirts for signs of life. Our fried chicken lunch never tasted so good as we sat overlooking the carcass and the valley below.
We deboned the meat, packed our backpacks full then turned for the comfort that only a hunting rig after a long, heavy, miserable but wonderful hike could provide. We made it to the truck after leaving 6 hrs and 45 minutes earlier that day. Turns out the two jeeps were there and it looked like they still had half an elk to pack out. My buddy emptied his pack and headed up the trail to help. He was not gone for long because they we almost back and motioned him to stay.
We watched as they walked around the trees, past the trailhead and toward the jeeps. She looked really proud of her elk as she packed his cape, head and antlers on her pack frame. It was a pretty good looking pack picture I thought to myself as they neared. Hopefully they took some of those because a good part of the reward is the hard work.
We all rested and talked that afternoon as we sat there reliving the hunts near our rigs in the middle of nowhere. Three generations of a family successful on a difficult elk hunt. Me and my hunting buddy resting from ours. Life was good and we knew it. But what made it a really good day was seeing new friends have success after one hunter was willing to share a little information. It was knowing that a grandpa saw his college age granddaughter from Fallon tag a 5pt Nevada bull. Here's a shout out to her, way to go girl!
The day after my buddy and I packed out half of my elk last month we rested our tired aching legs while we glassed the sunlit mountain the next morning. Our glassing spot revealed the usual bulls in their drainages and I even spotted the 370 6x7 bull further up from where we saw him the day before...I still think about that bull. After 3 hours we decided to run to town for supplies and for some A&D. On our way out we came upon a couple jeeps near the gate and they were kind enough to open it for us so we decided to turn off the diesel and chat.
Three generations of a family and gear were packed into two jeeps. The grandpa was the one that met us at the gate so we asked the usual questions like how's the hunt and how many tags do you guys have. He then told us that his granddaughter had the tag but was curled up in the back seat due to a bad burger she had at some jailhouse grille last night. They were just looking around until she felt better. They asked how our hunt was going so we showed them the pics on the camera. This nice guy motioned to his son to come take a look and we could tell right away they were good guys and avid hunters.
Before we left we asked what kind of bull their daughter was looking for then we pointed in a direction and said there is a good group of elk right there with several bulls in it. If you take this road right there it would take you to this trail putting you within 1.5 miles hiking distance to them. The road is one of those old roads that is good for scratching up rigs like mine but you could scoot up there quick in those jeeps. We were sure they could get her on those elk. They thanked us for the information and they closed the gate for us. I remember wishing them luck hoping she would get better so she wouldn't miss the great weather.
After a restful day we decided to get to bed early and get to the trailhead by first light to get the rest of my elk out. We were terribly nervous that some hungry coyotes would find him and we were anxious the entire time. The drive up was nice and pleasant and with the stars out it looked like another great day ahead. We neared the end and saw a truck behind the trees. Driving a little further we noticed two trucks, no, jeeps. It was them. We didn't think we were too far behind so we waited in my truck until our coffee cups were empty.
We tiptoed up the trail hoping to not make noise but also wanting to hurry because we still had a long day ahead of us. About 3/4 of a mile up we heard a shot then a thud that stopped us in our tracks. A few seconds later we heard the same thing followed by some yells amongst screaming. We walked quicker now not even worrying about the crunching, frozen snow. Around the corner we see the grandpa getting up from glassing through his spotting scope after watching his granddaughter drop a good 5pt bull with two well placed shots. The first shot had him dead in his tracks and the second shot was for insurance or so I was told. I'm thinking it was similar to advice given me once, long ago on a moose hunt. Make the first one count then hit him again until he falls.
We came upon dad running back to grandpa to get the packs. His daughter was left to soak it in as she watched the bull she just put down. We would offer our help but we have a few miles to go and elk to pack out ourselves. We said goodbye as we headed south thinking they would be done and gone by the time we returned.
A couple hours later we made it to my elk. Not a single coyote track could be seen in the snow but it was evident that the buzzards had been eating good. Good thing they like the guts first. Besides, I could smell my stinking inner layers I left rotting in the snow by the meat bags. Not a chance there was a brave enough coyote on that mountain willing to test those shirts for signs of life. Our fried chicken lunch never tasted so good as we sat overlooking the carcass and the valley below.
We deboned the meat, packed our backpacks full then turned for the comfort that only a hunting rig after a long, heavy, miserable but wonderful hike could provide. We made it to the truck after leaving 6 hrs and 45 minutes earlier that day. Turns out the two jeeps were there and it looked like they still had half an elk to pack out. My buddy emptied his pack and headed up the trail to help. He was not gone for long because they we almost back and motioned him to stay.
We watched as they walked around the trees, past the trailhead and toward the jeeps. She looked really proud of her elk as she packed his cape, head and antlers on her pack frame. It was a pretty good looking pack picture I thought to myself as they neared. Hopefully they took some of those because a good part of the reward is the hard work.
We all rested and talked that afternoon as we sat there reliving the hunts near our rigs in the middle of nowhere. Three generations of a family successful on a difficult elk hunt. Me and my hunting buddy resting from ours. Life was good and we knew it. But what made it a really good day was seeing new friends have success after one hunter was willing to share a little information. It was knowing that a grandpa saw his college age granddaughter from Fallon tag a 5pt Nevada bull. Here's a shout out to her, way to go girl!
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