Hunting Success

Phew, I can only say that I got my tuckus kicked today. Ron got his elk. And, it took us ALL day to get it off the mountain. I am so sick. My cold is settling into my chest, and I feel horrible. I'm so glad that we're going home tomorrow. I don't want to be here anymore.

This morning started as it did yesterday. We were up at 430 AM and on the road by 500 AM. It was a foggy morning. Dense fog had settled into the valley. It seems the fresh snowpack, along with clear skies and very cold temperatures allowed dense fog to develop. However, as we ascended in elevation, we quickly drove out of it with a veil of fog below us. It was weird.

Upon driving up the trail to the mountain, we came across a spike elk. He was alongside the trail, and then bolted around the corner. As we drove further in, he stopped and looked at us. He was 25 feet from the truck. We drove around for awhile, commenting on how nice it would be if an elk would scamper onto the trail we were driving. We found a point to drive out onto. It didn't offer the best vantage point, so we found another point. And, it didn't take long. It was about 630 AM, just 5 minutes after the legal time to start shooting.

Ron got out of the truck to hike down the hill just a bit. He asked if I wanted to come. I was feeling very sick. I declined, and said I'd watch the hills from the truck, and if I saw something, I'd come get him. It wasn't more than 5 minutes and I heard a shot. Then another. And finally a third. I glanced over to my right, and saw three elk running down the hillside. They were about 300 yards away. Then they were gone. I got out of the truck and ran to where Ron was standing. He said he saw 4 elk, and thought he hit the third one, because the shot ended with a thud. We waited. We scanned the hillside. But, we didn't see anything. Then, on the far hillside, about 600 or 700 yards away, we saw three elk, standing, waiting, looking back. But, we didn't see the fourth elk. It gave us more confidence that Ron indeed had a hit with his third shot.

We decided to drive around to the next point to look back into the valley. At first glance, we didn't see anything, although Ron did see a patch but he thought it was rock. So did I. I took a second glance though after hiking down the hill about 100 yards to get a better look. Sure enough, I saw a leg. It wasn't a rock, but Ron's elk afterall. I looked up the hillside from where it was and saw a blood patch on the snow. It apparently ran about 50 yards from where Ron hit it, then stumbled, and rolled down the hill into a thicket of trees. Jackpot. The hunt was over.

However, the work was just beginning. Ugh. The euphoria was quickly overshadowed by the realization that this was going to be a next to impossible task. We had to hike about 1/2 mile down the mountain to get to her, and upon arriving at the scene, Ron realized that this was the biggest cow elk that's he's ever shot. He estimated that the elk weighed at least 500 lbs. Indeed, we found out that it weighed over 650 lbs from the butcher. Damn. It was huge.

Ron quickly got busy doing what was necessary. Even though I was born and raised on a farm, I've never seen this in person. Let's just say it wasn't what I expected. It was worse. Because the elk was so big, we decided to cut in half, just under the rib cage, and haul each piece out individually. Ron brought along an old army stretcher for just this purpose. So, we hiked back up to the truck to get all of the necessary gear. It was going to be a long day. And, my cold was getting worse.

After hiking back down to the elk once more, we tied the hind quarters onto the stretcher, and realized that it was going to be nearly impossible. It simply weighed too much. Ron decided to skin the elk right then and there, to remove as much weight as possible. After about 45 minutes, the elk weighed about 50 lbs less, and we again tied the elk to the stretcher. We began the trip up. It was hard going, and we could only carry the elk for about 10 seconds before having to stop for a break. For some reason, my left arm couldn't take the weight. I did slip on the snow earlier in the morning, and must have tweaked my arm some how. So, 10 seconds at a time we hauled the elk up the mountain. At one point, I thought I was going to die. The 10000 feet of elevation was killing me, and my cold was really straining my system. I couldn't catch my breath, and I started to hyperventilate. I lied down, and really thought it was the end. I'm not joking. I think my heart rate was over 250 beats per minute. I told Ron that if I died, to tell my wife and daughter that I loved them, and that I was sorry. But, eventually, I caught my breath and prevailed.

Unfortunately, only half the work was done. We had to make another trip down the hill to get the front quarters and head. I really didn't want to do it, but we had no choice. At this point, my cold was overtaking me, and I was feeling very bad. I couldn't keep my sinus under control, and I was coughing nearly constantly. Breathing that cold mountain air at 10000 feet was making it worse. I knew that I was getting very sick, but I didn't tell Ron a thing. I took a deep breath, and hiked back in to do what I came to do.

The second trip was just as bad as the fist. Ten seconds at a time, and after about an hour, it was over. Both halves were in the truck, and we were heading down the mountain. It was about 530 PM. The sun was just setting, and it was beautiful. I felt horrible, as my cold was really moving into my chest. I really thought it would have turned into pneumonia if we'd had stayed one more day.

We did stop at the meat processor on our way into town. Ron wanted to get the elk quartered and cleaned up for the trip home. The sun was down, and it was getting cold. It took about an hour to get the job done, which didn't help my condition any. By the time we got to town, I just wanted to sleep. We did head up to the restaurant to eat, however I wasn't hungry. I did eat some soup and had a couple of crackerss, but that was it. We went back to the motel, I took a warm shower, and am heading to bed.

We're getting up at 430 am again tomorrow to make the trip home. I'm thankful that Ron got his elk. He hasn't gotten one in 3 years, so it was his time. However, I'm also thankful that we're going home. While I learned a lot here, I doubt I'll ever come again. It's just not my cup of tea. I'm glad that I was able to help Ron get the elk off the mountain, but I don't want to do it again.