I first met Rusty Hall at the Dallas Safari Club’s hunting show where he was manning a booth for his business, Offgrid Outdoors. He was offering antelope hunts in Wyoming. I’m no stranger to hunting as my father was a game warden back in Ennis, Montana. Getting permits and access to private land is a big deal in the West, and now living in Texas, I simply don’t have the time for the research or scouting. I’ve hunted antelope before, but my friend, John David Ickes, had never killed a buck. It seemed like the perfect opportunity for both of us. Rusty applied for our permits, and by mid-July, we got the good news that the permits were in the mail. The hunt was on. We had a great time, and John and I both harvested award-book antelope.
Rusty and I hit it off, and we soon realized we had a lot in common. We traded stories, cracked jokes, and simply enjoyed the hunt. I went on to book more hunts with him over the years, including three trips to Mexico for Coues whitetail and mule deer.
In Wyoming, drawing tags takes time. We had to accumulate points and let some previously booked hunters finish their hunts. After six years, I finally had 6 points, and when the availability opened up for an elk hunt, I applied with my good buddy, Bubba Hoffman. We drew the permits, and the hunt was set. The hunt was scheduled for the first week of the season, and I couldn’t wait to hear the elk bugle during the rut. We arrived the day before the hunt opened, zeroed our rifles, and settled into camp.
Rusty was joined by his right-hand man, guide Taylor Anderson. They’d scouted a couple of good bulls, and we were excited to get into the action. The bulls on our hit list were both exceptional. One had long, heavy first, second, and third points, along with devil points and extra points in the back. The other bull had long points everywhere with a whaletail main beam and several extra points. Either one would be a great trophy, but I had my heart set on the whaletail bull.
The bulls and their cows would travel down to the meadows and creeks in the evening and then retreat to their bedding areas (deep ravines filled with shade and concealment) in the morning. We had a plan.
On opening morning, we took our positions. Taylor would guide Bubba, and I was with Rusty. As dawn broke, we watched the elk work their way back up the hill and into their bedding areas. The whaletail bull disappeared from our view, but Taylor and Bubba had eyes on both bulls. Bubba had undergone back surgery just before the trip. His doctor had advised against hunting, but after six years of waiting, he insisted on coming. Rusty reassured him that he wouldn’t have to do much walking or exertion. We decided not to make a move, worried that any disturbance would spook the whaletail bull and strain Bubba’s back. We backed out of the area and returned in the evening when the elk would come down for water.
The plan worked for the bull with the long lower tines. He moved below Taylor and Bubba’s position and disappeared around a bend in the hill. We could hear him bugling, and we estimated he was about 400 yards away. However, since I had my heart set on the whaletail bull, we held off. The whaletail bull had other ideas. He stayed on the hill, herding cows and chasing off smaller bulls. It was getting late, so we decided to regroup and return the next morning.
The following day, we were up before dawn to execute a new plan. Taylor and Bubba would check the meadows, then move up the hill to glass for the bulls. Rusty and I would circle around and wait above them in their bedding area. Taylor and Bubba didn’t see much, so they switched locations, but Rusty and I stayed put, waiting for the elk to bed down. We glassed a few herds across the neighbor’s ranch and wondered if the bulls had moved that way. Then, Rusty spotted movement. First, it was a few cows, then about 20 with a smaller 6x6 bull in the herd. As we watched, a big bull appeared at the back. The sun was still low, making it hard to see details, but we could tell he was a big 6x6. They were heading toward their bedding area.
We made our move. Staying below the skyline, we crossed several ravines, carefully keeping our wind in check. As we crested the ridge, we saw the elk disappear into the drainage, but we couldn’t approach directly because of the cows still being visible. We backtracked 300 yards and circled below them. Cautiously, we approached the ravine where we had last seen them. Rusty cow called, and we got a response. The bull bugled, revealing his position. We were close. After several more cow calls, six cows appeared across the ravine, and then the smaller 6x6 walked up behind them. Suddenly, the whaletail bull emerged in front of them broadside at 220 yards. Rusty whispered, “Get on the sticks and shoot.” I was already set. As the crosshairs settled on
his shoulder, I squeezed the trigger of my 7mm WBY Mag loaded with 160-grain Nosler Partition bullets. The bull staggered, took a few steps sideways, and then tipped over. The cows bunched up and ran off to our right, leaving behind the massive antlers of the bull we had been after. Rusty grinned. “You got your whaletail bull!”
We took a moment to soak in the experience and then began working our way down into the ravine. The area was thick with beds, evidence of how much the elk loved this cover. When we reached the bull, we couldn’t believe how massive he was. Eight points on the right antler, eight on the left. The body was huge. Rusty and I even joked about whether we could roll him onto his belly for photos.
While we were celebrating, Bubba had been dealing with his own challenges. He’d had several close encounters with good bulls, but each time, something wasn’t quite right, either the bull spooked or the shot wasn’t ideal. It wasn’t until the last day that Bubba found the perfect moment. After a long, patient wait, he finally took a 5x5 bull that came within range. It wasn’t the monster he had hoped for, but after the close calls and the effort he’d put in, it felt like a perfect ending to a great hunt.
We called Taylor for help, and by the time he arrived, we had the bull cleaned and started processing the quarters. Nothing beats a good elk steak.
Back at camp, we caped the head and got the meat into the freezer. Rusty measured the antlers multiple times, double- checking the numbers. When he was done, the tape read 398". Back home, the bull officially scored 395". This hunt was worth the wait. I had killed the biggest bull of my life, and Bubba had bagged a nice 5x5 to end the hunt on a high note. Thanks, Rusty and the Offgrid crew. I can’t wait for our next adventure!
Rusty and I hit it off, and we soon realized we had a lot in common. We traded stories, cracked jokes, and simply enjoyed the hunt. I went on to book more hunts with him over the years, including three trips to Mexico for Coues whitetail and mule deer.
In Wyoming, drawing tags takes time. We had to accumulate points and let some previously booked hunters finish their hunts. After six years, I finally had 6 points, and when the availability opened up for an elk hunt, I applied with my good buddy, Bubba Hoffman. We drew the permits, and the hunt was set. The hunt was scheduled for the first week of the season, and I couldn’t wait to hear the elk bugle during the rut. We arrived the day before the hunt opened, zeroed our rifles, and settled into camp.
Rusty was joined by his right-hand man, guide Taylor Anderson. They’d scouted a couple of good bulls, and we were excited to get into the action. The bulls on our hit list were both exceptional. One had long, heavy first, second, and third points, along with devil points and extra points in the back. The other bull had long points everywhere with a whaletail main beam and several extra points. Either one would be a great trophy, but I had my heart set on the whaletail bull.
The bulls and their cows would travel down to the meadows and creeks in the evening and then retreat to their bedding areas (deep ravines filled with shade and concealment) in the morning. We had a plan.
On opening morning, we took our positions. Taylor would guide Bubba, and I was with Rusty. As dawn broke, we watched the elk work their way back up the hill and into their bedding areas. The whaletail bull disappeared from our view, but Taylor and Bubba had eyes on both bulls. Bubba had undergone back surgery just before the trip. His doctor had advised against hunting, but after six years of waiting, he insisted on coming. Rusty reassured him that he wouldn’t have to do much walking or exertion. We decided not to make a move, worried that any disturbance would spook the whaletail bull and strain Bubba’s back. We backed out of the area and returned in the evening when the elk would come down for water.
The plan worked for the bull with the long lower tines. He moved below Taylor and Bubba’s position and disappeared around a bend in the hill. We could hear him bugling, and we estimated he was about 400 yards away. However, since I had my heart set on the whaletail bull, we held off. The whaletail bull had other ideas. He stayed on the hill, herding cows and chasing off smaller bulls. It was getting late, so we decided to regroup and return the next morning.
The following day, we were up before dawn to execute a new plan. Taylor and Bubba would check the meadows, then move up the hill to glass for the bulls. Rusty and I would circle around and wait above them in their bedding area. Taylor and Bubba didn’t see much, so they switched locations, but Rusty and I stayed put, waiting for the elk to bed down. We glassed a few herds across the neighbor’s ranch and wondered if the bulls had moved that way. Then, Rusty spotted movement. First, it was a few cows, then about 20 with a smaller 6x6 bull in the herd. As we watched, a big bull appeared at the back. The sun was still low, making it hard to see details, but we could tell he was a big 6x6. They were heading toward their bedding area.
We made our move. Staying below the skyline, we crossed several ravines, carefully keeping our wind in check. As we crested the ridge, we saw the elk disappear into the drainage, but we couldn’t approach directly because of the cows still being visible. We backtracked 300 yards and circled below them. Cautiously, we approached the ravine where we had last seen them. Rusty cow called, and we got a response. The bull bugled, revealing his position. We were close. After several more cow calls, six cows appeared across the ravine, and then the smaller 6x6 walked up behind them. Suddenly, the whaletail bull emerged in front of them broadside at 220 yards. Rusty whispered, “Get on the sticks and shoot.” I was already set. As the crosshairs settled on
his shoulder, I squeezed the trigger of my 7mm WBY Mag loaded with 160-grain Nosler Partition bullets. The bull staggered, took a few steps sideways, and then tipped over. The cows bunched up and ran off to our right, leaving behind the massive antlers of the bull we had been after. Rusty grinned. “You got your whaletail bull!”
We took a moment to soak in the experience and then began working our way down into the ravine. The area was thick with beds, evidence of how much the elk loved this cover. When we reached the bull, we couldn’t believe how massive he was. Eight points on the right antler, eight on the left. The body was huge. Rusty and I even joked about whether we could roll him onto his belly for photos.
While we were celebrating, Bubba had been dealing with his own challenges. He’d had several close encounters with good bulls, but each time, something wasn’t quite right, either the bull spooked or the shot wasn’t ideal. It wasn’t until the last day that Bubba found the perfect moment. After a long, patient wait, he finally took a 5x5 bull that came within range. It wasn’t the monster he had hoped for, but after the close calls and the effort he’d put in, it felt like a perfect ending to a great hunt.
We called Taylor for help, and by the time he arrived, we had the bull cleaned and started processing the quarters. Nothing beats a good elk steak.
Back at camp, we caped the head and got the meat into the freezer. Rusty measured the antlers multiple times, double- checking the numbers. When he was done, the tape read 398". Back home, the bull officially scored 395". This hunt was worth the wait. I had killed the biggest bull of my life, and Bubba had bagged a nice 5x5 to end the hunt on a high note. Thanks, Rusty and the Offgrid crew. I can’t wait for our next adventure!