My elk hunting started 16 years ago. I picked an outfitter and got a friend to go elk hunting with me to Colorado. We were excited and clueless. We were the first to go elk hunting of our friends and families. Most elk hunters in Wisconsin are very tight lipped and not willing to help new elk hunters.
Anyways, off we went, and it was a miserable hunt. The outfitter took us on horses to places that we could have driven to with a truck. Also, there were two other hunters with us who we didn’t know but who paid our outfitter more money to hunt some bulls we had spotted the night before. They tagged out, and we did not.
With that bad taste in my mouth, I waited 10 years to go again. I used onX to find a spot and talked to a biologist from Colorado. A year before I was able to go hunting, I had some extra vacation and decided to drive out to the spot alone. I camped and scouted the area.
With a familiarity of the area and a new hunting partner, we headed out on our own for a third season rifle hunt in Colorado. Needless to stay, the trip was another disaster. It started off great. Two days before season, we located a herd of elk with a beautiful 6x5 herd bull with some smaller 5x5s and some raghorn bulls. The first day, we got close but just couldn’t quite get close enough. This was no big deal as we still had six more days. Knowing some rain and snow were going to move in, I was excited for day two.
That night, we received eight inches of snow and the temp dropped to single digits, which I was excited about for locating and tracking the elk. My phone woke me up at 5 a.m., and I popped my head out of my tent to wake up my partner. His tent was completely clean. I was puzzled. I asked if he was up, and he said we were leaving. I was shocked and thought he was joking. Come to find out, he had anxiety. He had never camped outside of his yard and had never been away from his family for more than two days. Upon planning our hunt, he said he would take his four-wheeler and truck since I did all the legwork of planning and scouting. I had made a huge mistake of not asking more detailed questions about hunting and camping, but I had assumed he was OK because he was a good friend and a very good hunter and shooter. He told me that morning to either come with him or stay by yourself and find my own way home.
Five years went by, and I planned another elk hunt with two other guys, vetted to the extreme. In the years in between the elk hunt, I went hunting in Arizona for the late season bow for mule deer and refined my gear. One of the guys who came with me to Arizona was going to go with me to Colorado, so I knew he was good to go. He had taken an elk with a bow and a Boone and Crockett bear in Colorado. The other guy I had known for several years and was getting points in Colorado for elk but just never went.
The summer before we were to go, my dad was diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer. One of the things my dad wanted to see was me get an elk. Well, that didn’t happen. He died two months after finding the cancer. He wasn’t a big hunter himself, but he encouraged my hunting since I was a kid. Now with me turning 47, he thought I was nuts to go pitch a tent in the middle of nowhere and hunt.
November finally arrived and after several meetings with my hunting partners, going over gear lists from Huntin’ Fool, and using onX, we were off. We had three locations we wanted to check out in Northern Colorado. Our last one looked the most promising, and we pitched our tents as the snow started to fall the day before opening of the third season rifle hunt.
We started hunting in a foot of snow with snow still coming, and we scored right away that afternoon. We got a nice 5x5. Sunday and Monday went by with no sightings of elk, just tons of mule deer and several moose. Tuesday rolled around, and my other partner hit an elk about one and a half miles away around 8 in the morning. Unfortunately, he didn’t hit it very hard and ended up running only 50-60 yards away from myself and my other partner. With nearly 20 inches of snow on the ground, we never heard it.
After we all got together and started tracking, it led us down into a nasty hole towards private land. We ended up spooking a herd of cows, and they scattered the track. We made several loops trying to find the track but couldn’t. The bull never bled heavily, it was just a couple of drops here and there the whole time, so we decided to split up. My partner who had already tagged out and I stayed down in the drainage, and my other partner headed back out to where he was riginally when he
saw the bull.
We didn’t walk 60 yards before we jumped a group of bulls. I was following a small bull to the west and getting ready to shoot when my partner yelled, “Big bull in the back!” I looked up and was shocked at how much bigger it was. It stopped at 60 yards, and I had a small window to put a bullet and sent one. Right away, I saw he was hit hard and I put another one in him for good measure. The big bull went about 30 yards and then collapsed about 80 yards from private ground. We were so excited! It was a beautiful 6x6 that scored 323". We were shocked.
I shot it at 2:30, and after skinning and quartering the bull, we got back to camp at 8:30. It was very emotional for me with my previous hunts and the loss of my dad the summer before. I never thought I would get that way.
The next day, two young hunters from Colorado whom we had met a couple days before helped us old guys pack it out. It was great to see these young guys help, and it just showed there are a lot of good people out there. Unfortunately, we only hear about the bad ones.
With the help of my two partners, Adam and Thad, the two guys from Colorado, Huntin’ Fool, and onX, it was a trip of a lifetime. Getting a bull like that on public land on a self-guided hunt couldn’t have been any better. I only wish my dad could have seen it, but I’m sure he was watching and maybe helping a little.
Anyways, off we went, and it was a miserable hunt. The outfitter took us on horses to places that we could have driven to with a truck. Also, there were two other hunters with us who we didn’t know but who paid our outfitter more money to hunt some bulls we had spotted the night before. They tagged out, and we did not.
With that bad taste in my mouth, I waited 10 years to go again. I used onX to find a spot and talked to a biologist from Colorado. A year before I was able to go hunting, I had some extra vacation and decided to drive out to the spot alone. I camped and scouted the area.
With a familiarity of the area and a new hunting partner, we headed out on our own for a third season rifle hunt in Colorado. Needless to stay, the trip was another disaster. It started off great. Two days before season, we located a herd of elk with a beautiful 6x5 herd bull with some smaller 5x5s and some raghorn bulls. The first day, we got close but just couldn’t quite get close enough. This was no big deal as we still had six more days. Knowing some rain and snow were going to move in, I was excited for day two.
That night, we received eight inches of snow and the temp dropped to single digits, which I was excited about for locating and tracking the elk. My phone woke me up at 5 a.m., and I popped my head out of my tent to wake up my partner. His tent was completely clean. I was puzzled. I asked if he was up, and he said we were leaving. I was shocked and thought he was joking. Come to find out, he had anxiety. He had never camped outside of his yard and had never been away from his family for more than two days. Upon planning our hunt, he said he would take his four-wheeler and truck since I did all the legwork of planning and scouting. I had made a huge mistake of not asking more detailed questions about hunting and camping, but I had assumed he was OK because he was a good friend and a very good hunter and shooter. He told me that morning to either come with him or stay by yourself and find my own way home.
Five years went by, and I planned another elk hunt with two other guys, vetted to the extreme. In the years in between the elk hunt, I went hunting in Arizona for the late season bow for mule deer and refined my gear. One of the guys who came with me to Arizona was going to go with me to Colorado, so I knew he was good to go. He had taken an elk with a bow and a Boone and Crockett bear in Colorado. The other guy I had known for several years and was getting points in Colorado for elk but just never went.
The summer before we were to go, my dad was diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer. One of the things my dad wanted to see was me get an elk. Well, that didn’t happen. He died two months after finding the cancer. He wasn’t a big hunter himself, but he encouraged my hunting since I was a kid. Now with me turning 47, he thought I was nuts to go pitch a tent in the middle of nowhere and hunt.
November finally arrived and after several meetings with my hunting partners, going over gear lists from Huntin’ Fool, and using onX, we were off. We had three locations we wanted to check out in Northern Colorado. Our last one looked the most promising, and we pitched our tents as the snow started to fall the day before opening of the third season rifle hunt.
We started hunting in a foot of snow with snow still coming, and we scored right away that afternoon. We got a nice 5x5. Sunday and Monday went by with no sightings of elk, just tons of mule deer and several moose. Tuesday rolled around, and my other partner hit an elk about one and a half miles away around 8 in the morning. Unfortunately, he didn’t hit it very hard and ended up running only 50-60 yards away from myself and my other partner. With nearly 20 inches of snow on the ground, we never heard it.
After we all got together and started tracking, it led us down into a nasty hole towards private land. We ended up spooking a herd of cows, and they scattered the track. We made several loops trying to find the track but couldn’t. The bull never bled heavily, it was just a couple of drops here and there the whole time, so we decided to split up. My partner who had already tagged out and I stayed down in the drainage, and my other partner headed back out to where he was riginally when he
saw the bull.
We didn’t walk 60 yards before we jumped a group of bulls. I was following a small bull to the west and getting ready to shoot when my partner yelled, “Big bull in the back!” I looked up and was shocked at how much bigger it was. It stopped at 60 yards, and I had a small window to put a bullet and sent one. Right away, I saw he was hit hard and I put another one in him for good measure. The big bull went about 30 yards and then collapsed about 80 yards from private ground. We were so excited! It was a beautiful 6x6 that scored 323". We were shocked.
I shot it at 2:30, and after skinning and quartering the bull, we got back to camp at 8:30. It was very emotional for me with my previous hunts and the loss of my dad the summer before. I never thought I would get that way.
The next day, two young hunters from Colorado whom we had met a couple days before helped us old guys pack it out. It was great to see these young guys help, and it just showed there are a lot of good people out there. Unfortunately, we only hear about the bad ones.
With the help of my two partners, Adam and Thad, the two guys from Colorado, Huntin’ Fool, and onX, it was a trip of a lifetime. Getting a bull like that on public land on a self-guided hunt couldn’t have been any better. I only wish my dad could have seen it, but I’m sure he was watching and maybe helping a little.