For 10 long years, I’d waited to draw a coveted tag. Relying heavily on my research tools available, I utilized onX and Huntin’ Fool to accomplish all the prep work before driving north on a self-guided mission.
Thankfully, my work schedule accommodated me gracefully with three days off prior to the hunt. I packed my gear into the trusty vehicle and set off for Colorado, eager to begin my scouting adventure. The road was unforgiving, though, and after a few miscalculations, I found myself stuck on the first night. Once I was not trapped among the rocks, I decided to call it a night and retreated to a campsite back down the road a mile to fall asleep under a blanket of stars.
The sun rose early, but I was on the move by 4:30 a.m. Halfway up, fate dealt me another blow – a flat tire. I took a moment to assess the damage, snapping some photos of the landscape that surrounded me. With no other choice, I limped back to camp, broke down my setup, and drove further up another road, but the terrain was relentless and I barely made it a mile before utterly destroying my carrier.
With ratchet straps, holding my tongue just right, and steady driving, I made it into town. The local Game and Fish aided me by pointing me in the direction of some town bucks, suggesting the aspens might be a better bet without having to work as hard to get to the high country. Realizing a chance to hunt a basin buck in the backcountry with a bow was a young boy’s dream of mine, I set up camp at a campground nestled against the northern edge of a wilderness area as a last-ditch, feasible effort.
I awoke again before dawn as to reach glassing points I had e-scouted. Hours passed as I glassed the basins, but the desired wildlife was not to be found. By lunchtime, I made a final push to a higher basin and, to my delight, spotted a herd of mountain goats. I reveled in their majesty, snapping photos. As a storm approached, I quickly melted snow for hydration and my freeze-dried meal, but my campsite choice turned out to be a mistake. I picked the flattest spot I could find but still spent the night sliding into trees and roots.
To make the most of my efforts, I arose early again to peek into three other basins that morning but found nothing. After hiking down, I realized I had covered six basins, 15 miles, and now had a vehicle that couldn’t make it up the mountain roads. I decided to pivot and called a Hail Mary play. I met up with AEI Outfitters who just so happened to have only one opening for a deer hunter when they only take two.
The opening day of the hunt dawned bright and full of promise. I arrived at the glassing point where my guide, Allen, had been following a stud deer for four years to find numerous other hunters already there with eyes on the target buck. As the day unfolded, we watched the deer navigate their terrain and be pushed around by unsuccessful hunters. We finally watched the buck, now called “Oxbow,” bed. We strategized a plan of attack and went full send, but a series of unfortunate events ensued. As we quietly worked our way into 60 yards, here came a hunter walking straight between us and the bedded deer. Allen got his attention with soft clapping and arm waving. When he arrived, we told him of the bedded buck. As we closed the distance to 45 yards, the bucks were on their feet. Thanks to our friendly set of eyes up top, Sean and his son Mark who had a buck and an elk tag in the unit, we were informed that the other hunter followed us on our stalk and pushed a moose into the deer. Quickly, our route was to circle back up and around to cut off Oxbow, but halfway there, the hunter pushed another moose which charged to within 10 yards of us before we escaped. All this commotion caused the bucks to disappear for the day.
To my surprise, the buck was in the basin first thing the next morning. After he found his bed, we descended into the basin. We got within 70 yards and sat down, waiting on Oxbow to stand up. He got up and started feeding, but a doe had snuck down behind us and caught our wind, effectively ending day two of the hunt.
With Allen and Leche, a guide with a knack for mountain goats, I returned to the basin. As a team, we spotted Oxbow again, but he was slippery, evading our attempt to close the distance. Leche spotted a young 6x4, so I pursued him but was never able to see hide nor hair of him. Each stalk had felt like a dance between hope and frustration with missed opportunities lurking at every turn, and thus ended the third day.
The next day, my guide was top notch and laid eyes on Oxbow again! In a great position, we made it into 40 yards of him in the willows. Pressing forward and arriving at 31 yards, the bachelor group busted out. Sean and Mark informed us that the spike had bedded within 15 yards of us to spoil our stalk. Later that afternoon, we found him on the opposite side of the basin at the base of the timber. The buck got up from his bed and was staring uphill at us from 84 yards. Allen sent me behind some trees to work down to an old four-wheeler path. Peeking out behind the trees, I could see his entire body minus his neck and head. Kneeling just outside of cover, I drew and he busted out. On the way to him, we spotted a 3x4, and with it now being day four of a five-day guide contract, I said, “Let’s go get him.” Going to the same spot back uphill, we found him bedded alone. The 3x4 stood up, so I drew back but rushed the shot with a clean miss. Completely embarrassed, we took the time to find my arrow and confirmed our suspicions.
Yet again, Oxbow was back in the exact same spot as when we had stalked him at 31 yards the day before. We got into position to go down to him, and the 3x4 was standing right off the road broadside, staring at us. Walking straight toward him, I got far enough off the road for no one to question the legality, but unfortunately, it was only 64 yards and steep willow terrain in front of me. I took the opportunity and shot. I lost track of the arrow before impact and thought it went over him. Allen saw him run off limping and saw the arrow hit plumb center of his shoulder, but he also saw the arrow bounce up and away. Confused, we backed out and waited 45 minutes to check for blood but nothing!
Convinced he was alive and doing everything we could to do the right thing, we prepared for the evening hunt. Allen flagged me down to tell me Oxbow was 10 yards off the road. I high tailed it to him to make a plan of attack. I went as quietly and as quickly as I could to get through thick timber and in bow range only to find he ghosted me. With darkness looming and not knowing if I’d see him again, I vowed to push through the final days of the hunt without a guide.
Officially out of AEI base camp and with the good graces of the outfitters, I was packed up and got to the basin at daylight. I glassed all day with no sign of the 3x4 or Oxbow and then Sean and Mark returned for the evening hunt, giving me a radio to communicate. The weeks’ worth of tutelage with Allen had paid off as during the last hour of hunting light, I found him, Oxbow had returned! Hitting the radio to inform, we convened to strategize. Sean would go straight into the tall willows along an old road, and I would loop back uphill and around the long way to create our pincer move.
With under 30 minutes of light, I started working back to the road and found a well-worn trail headed out. Not 15 paces down, I stopped as I had the sudden feeling I was being watched. Turning to my left, I saw and ranged a broadside buck of proportions I had dreamed about. As I drew back my bow, everything fell into place. I released the arrow and it hit its exact mark. The buck dropped instantly. I stood frozen for a moment, allowing the reality of the moment to wash over me. I collected myself, savoring the hard-fought victory. With my son waiting back home, I knew I’d have stories to share, not just about the hunt, but about the mountains, the friendships forged, and the relentless pursuit of dreams.