gitano's and hunterbug's elk hunt

[gitano]

Well boys, I hate to put you off again, but I'm trying to 'drain the swamp' created by a 10-day trip, and I'm up to my butt in aligators. The heat 'went out' while I was gone, and by the time I got the problem figured out, it was Thanksgiving. Plumbers don't work "inconvenient times" in the first place, and you can bet your life that if you want one on Thanksgiving, "It ain't gonna happen". It's -12 F at the moment in Wasilla, and hasn't been above -8 for for the overnight low for 14 days. I've got to get a new circulating pump and get it installed before my house freezes, so the story and more pics will have to wait one more day. I'll try to make it worth the wait.
 
Paul

[Brithunter]

Oh dear ................................... Sorry to hear that Gitano. Hope it all goes well with the repair and replacement programe.

[buckshot roberts]

:(Sorry to hear about that Paul hope ya get it dry'ed out, be looking for your post, Ron

[Hiker]

Paul, sorry to hear about that.
Guys, Good job on your hunt and Congrats. Freezers should be full with some great wapiti meat.

[gitano]

Hokay… Here’s the 411 on the Hunterbug/gitano elk hunt. I don’t tell short stories, so gird your loins, and stand by for heavy rolls.
 
It started some time back, maybe as long as a year, when HB and I were talking about his elk hunt of last year, and I was commenting on how bad the hunting in Alaska had gotten. After hearing what the cost of hunting in Alaska was, HB started ‘encouraging’ me to apply for a Colorado cow elk license. (Just for clarification, in CO you can have many big game hunting “licenses”, as each animal you hunt has their own “license”. In Alaska, you get one big game hunting license and a tag for each animal you intend to hunt.) So finally, I succumbed, and applied for a cow elk license in Unit 2. The outcome was as sure as those things can be, and sure enough, I was given a non-resident cow elk license for Unit 2.
 
In the mean time, ‘things’ had happened. Ol’ John had finished my .338 Mauser Ackley Improved, and I had received my Martini Enfield back from the ‘smith that had bored the .22 barrel to .51 caliber and chambered it in .50 Alaskan (.510 x .348 Win). The MAI wasn’t ‘blooded’ and I really liked the “fifty” so I decided to take them on the Colorado elk hunt. Here’s where things start to get ‘interesting’.
 
John had designed the MAIs (he has one too), for the 200-grain Combined Technology Ballistic Silvertip. I worked up loads for the 200 CTBS in John’s MAI. However, John’s MAI had a 26” barrel on it, and my MAI had a 24. When I started ‘crunching numbers’, I found that the new 180-grain Accubond was delivering more energy out of a 24” barrel than the 200-grain CTBS was. So… I had more workups to do, and as some of you may recall, I was having a devil of a time with ‘scopes on that rifle.
 
As far as the Fifty was concerned, there were several obstacles to overcome, and very little time to overcome them. The load workup turned out to be fraught with problems. First, I was getting terrible leading, even with fairly hard (BHN 22-24) cast bullets. Second, accuracy with those bullets was inconsistent. Some sessions I’d get good (2 inch-ish) groups, the next I’d get 6 inch-ish groups. To combat the horrendous leading, I even tried making my own jacketed bullets. That was an interesting exercise, but in the end, the bugs weren’t worked out enough to take them on an important long-distance big game hunt.
 
The second obstacle was the stock on the Fifty. As configured, it was absolutely unacceptable for hunting. First it was so garish that I would have been embarrassed to be seen with it, and second, there was precious little time to get a new one. However, the motivation to use the Fifty on an elk was great. I got after modifying the butt, and fabricating a new forearm. The exercise in high speed fabrication was educational.
 
I had had a similar leading problem when I got the H&R Buffalo Classic in .45-70. Drinksgin had solved the problem for me by making a small hand-operated lathe to turn gas-check heels on cast bullets. Voila’! No leading in the .45-70 with cast bullets. Trouble was, the collet was sized for .458” bullets, not .510” bullets. A call to Don and the .510 collet “problem” was history. Jay Edwards had been listening to my whining about the Fifty’s leading too, and tried to stem it, (the whining), by sending me some gas-checked bullets that he had cast. Both Don’s lathe-turned-gas-checked bullets and Jay’s gas-checked bullets shot well and didn’t lead. Jay’s shot a little better, but I only had six left by the time it was time to leave for Colorado. I took 22 cartridges for the Fifty – six with Jay’s bullets, and 16 more with the lathe-turned ones.
 
I was leaving for Colorado on Sunday, and I still didn’t have loads finalized for either the Fifty or the MAI on the previous Thursday. I had hoped to be able to get to the range on Wednesday, then Thursday, but “things,” like work, kept getting in the way. Finally, on Friday I got to the range. All good news! Everything shot well! The MAI was keeping them at just over and inch for 3 shots, and the Fifty was keeping them at about 2”. Both at 100 yds. That would do fine for Elk out to 300 for the MAI and 250 for the Fifty. Whew! I went home and loaded 20 rounds for the MAI. Sunday, I was off to Colorado, as the local temperature in Wasilla dropped to daytime highs in the single digits, and overnight lows in the negative teens. It’s still there, two weeks later.
 
You’ll have to ask HB about his preparation for the trip. All I can say is that he and his family were very gracious, and put me up for the two days before and two days after the 5-day hunt. It’s no small matter to have a person move into your house for a week when you have two working parents, an almost 3-year-old, and a 7th grader.
 
I arrived about 1800 on Sunday, and HB picked me up at the Denver airport. After the initial amenities were attended to, we got down to the serious business of ‘inspecting’ each other’s rifles. Typical stuff, if you know what I mean.
 
While I was trying to select a rifle to take on the hunt, I had expressed to HB that I was facing no small dilemma. On one hand, I wanted to ‘blood’ the MAI, both for John, and for myself. On the other hand, I really wanted to take an elk with the Fifty. I am completely smitten with this cartridge on the Martini-Enfield action. HB volunteered without hesitation to use the MAI. He’d bring his .338 WM as ‘back up’, but he’d be glad to carry the MAI and use it. So… all was falling into place. I’d use the Fifty, with Jay’s bullets, and HB would use the MAI with the CTBS 180-grain bullets.
 
On Monday, we took care of last-minute requirements like a $5 “Habitat” stamp I needed, and a small game license. We also picked up food and other sundries. By Monday evening, we were ready to go. We planned to leave the following morning about 1000. Such are the plans of mice and men. That evening, a big storm blew in from the northwest. It was predicted to dump 20” of snow at elevations above 8,000 feet and 10” at elevations between 6 and 8 thousand. It did. In doing so, it caused the closure of the primary routes we were going to use to get from Denver to Unit 2. HB, born and raised in Colorado, knew of alternate routes but all had their ‘down’ sides. After wrestling with the weather reports, highway reports and our choices, we got on the road at about 1400. HB can explain the route options. While it was slow-going, we did get through. We arrived in Craig at about 2000 if I remember correctly.
 
We had hoped to get to our campsite with enough daylight left to do some pre-opening day scouting. As it was, we didn’t even get to the area in daylight. Recoil Junky lives just outside Craig, and he had very generously offered to put us up if we needed it. We decided we needed it. We met RJ at his place after he got off work, chatted a bit, looked at guns, and went to bed. We thought we might get up in time to be hunting by daylight. Such was not to be the case, but it was with good reason.
 
I was not particularly comfortable hunting with either the Fifty or the MAI after having had the deck-apes at Alaska Airlines handle my rifles. RJ had a nice 100-yd range set up at his place, and I really wanted to get a few shots through both rifles before we relied on them to hunt with. Furthermore, HB hadn’t even hardly held the MAI let alone shoot it. I just thought we needed to shoot before we hunted. Turned out we did.
 
The Fifty was shooting about 6” low and left of where it was in Alaska, but when HB shot the MAI, it was pretty much right on if I remember correctly. It took several shots to get the Fifty to where it was printing about 2” high at 100. I offered it to RJ to ‘have a shot’. He said he thought he’d ‘kill a rock’, and drew down on a rock about 100 yds off. At the shot the rock splintered a bit, and the bullet whined off into the distance. As the rifle came down from his shoulder, there was a grin on his face just about from ear-to-ear. And that is precisely what I had felt like the first time I shot it, and still do every time I do. It’s just a hoot to shoot. I told him to take another, and he did, then HB took a shot or two. Then I took a shot. It was good.
 
I was now confident that both rifles would hit where they were pointed. We headed for the hunting grounds.
 
Here are some pictures of the country in which we hunted.
 

 

 
Round two sooner than it took to get this up, and it'll have dead animal pictures too.

Paul

[Hunterbug]

We were glad to have Gitano stay with us. He stayed in the girls room while Hunter slept on the couch and Peyton stayed with us in my room. We spent the weekend before he arrived cleaning and such, the kind of things that you always do before company comes. That Sunday my wife made an elk roast for Gitano. This was to give him a taste of how good elk is and add that extra sence of urgency. :D
 
The storm the Gitano is speaking of closed I-70 between Georgetown and Vail due to poor visibility. I normally take I-70 to Silverthorn and then go up to US-40 but Silverthorn happens to lie right between Georgetown and Vail. Our other two options were to take US-40 the whole way which would mean crossing Berthoud Pass or to take I-25 to Wyoming then take I-80 across and back down. Berthoud is not far from the closed section of I-70 and not as well maintained but was not listed as being closed. Going up through Wyoming is taking the long way for sure. We decided to try US-40 for two reasons. 1. It was close to the closed part of I-70 and there was some hope that it would reopen before we got there, which didn't happen. And if it was closed we would know before we were too far from home and we could turn around and go through Wyoming. As it turns out we made the right choice. Like Gitano mentioned we left my house about 2:00pm and got to Craig about 8:00pm. My friends Bob and Jeff left about 10:30am and went through Wyoming arriving in Craig at about 8:00pm. When we got to Kremling we thought about getting something to eat but we still had to cross Rabbit Ears Pass and it was snowing pretty hard up there so we pressed on deciding to wait untill after we had crossed that obstical. We passed several vehicles off the side of the road and a tow truck. I'm sure that he made alot of money that night.
 
I took along my 338 Win Mag as a back up rifle. I didn't like the idea of being that far from home without a back up especially considering all that Gitano had gone through to get here for this hunt. I also took my 222 hoping that we would have time to hunt some coyotes and my Winchester Model 67 22 for rabbits.
 
That's all the details from my end untill Gitano posts more.

[M1Garand]

Jeez you guys are as bad as TV series leaving us with these cliffhangers. Great hunting read so far though.

[Hunterbug]

Jeez you guys are as bad as TV series leaving us with these cliffhangers. Great hunting read so far though.

It's sweeps week.

[Brithunter]

Ahhhh,

      Looking good Gitano and with promise too!

    Glad to see you back which mean I hope that your little plumbing problem is sorted.

[buckshot roberts]

:DHB an Paul , Now this is a post, congrats when is the DVD do out, much enjoyed it, Ron

[gitano]

So, we didn't get to the hunt area 'til about 1000 or so. We went to a campsite HB had used in the past, and got the camp set up. Here's a picture of what it looked like early in the morning.
 
Once camp was set up, we headed out to hunt. The place we were hunting was absolutely lousy with rabbits. I've never seen such density. On our way out, we stopped to take some more pictures. While I was 'composing', Pat noticed a cotton-tail (Sylvilagus floridanus). When I got back to the truck, Pat asked if I wanted to shoot a bunny, and I said sure, as I had brought along my Ruger 10/22 just for that purpose. Bringing the 10/22 is a story in itself.
 
As most know, the airlines limit a person to two checked bags. One of my checked bags was of course my rifles, and the other was my gear. If I wanted to bring the 10/22, or any other firearm for that matter, I was going to have to bring a third checked bag... which I really didn't want to do. However, the 10/22 can easily be disassembled into four major components: 1) Receiver, 2) trigger assembly, 3) Barrel, and 4) Stock, using only a screw driver and Allen wrenches. (The scope of course is detachable too, but that's not technically part of a 10/22.) I was able to fit the receiver, trigger assembly and bbl in the existing gun case, the 'scope in my gear bag – all that was left to deal with was the stock. I decided I would just carry it on the plane.
 
Of course I knew I would have to deal with the mental giants at TSA, but I thought I'd give it a try anyway. As I went through Security, I wrapped the stock in my coat and put it on the belt for the x-ray machine. Of course you can imagine the scene. I never cease to be amazed at the pettiness of people. The short story is: While they could find absolutely nothing in the "regulation book" about wooden gun stocks being prohibited, the Shift Supervisor made a "command decision" that I could not bring the stock along. One of the gawkers standing by kibitzing told me: "If it was purple or plastic or something it would have been OK". How do you argue with that kind of steel-trap mentality? Fortunately, I had anticipated this possibility, and had told my wife to stick around just in case. I gave her the stock to take home, and then called HB.
 
Another great thing about 10/22s, is that they are so ubiquitous, getting parts on short notice is not a challenge. I called HB and told him that I needed a 10/22 stock. He said he'd get right on it, and by the time I arrived, he had one in hand.
 
Now, I could have simply borrowed a .22 from HB, but this 10/22 was not 'normal'. (I'm sure you're shocked to find that out.) I am quite taken with the Aquila SSS 60-grain cartridges. They are the "hammers" of the 22 RF world. The problem was, the bullets are so long, the 1:16 standard 22 RF twist rate wouldn't stabilize them. So, after a lot of wrangling, and parting with a $150 bill, I got Volquartsen to make a barrel for my 10/22 with a 1:9 twist rate. It shot the SSS 60-grainers great, and they hit 'like a ton o' bricks'. I wanted to use this rifle to shoot rabbits. And so I did. That bunny that HB saw was gun-murdered with the Aguila SSS 60-grain bullet from my 35-year-old (at least the receiver and trigger assembly were 35-years-old) 10/22. Big grin.
 
Anyway, after the slight diversion, we headed on out after bigger game. We drove to the top of a juniper-covered mesa, got out and started looking for elk. This mesa overlooked several square miles of country, some of which was juniper-covered, and some of which was nothing more than sage brush.
After walking through the timber and seeing only very old tracks, we went back to the top of the mesa and glassed the larger area.
 
We could see a few mule deer



and a coupe of herds of wild horses,

but no elk. After a while, we headed back to the truck. Just as we were approaching the truck, HB saw a large herd of elk out in the opening - the really big opening. They were strung out in a line moving along smartly. There were at least four bulls in the herd, two of which were very large. The two 'smaller' ones were still easily 5x5s. However, we weren't after bulls, we were after cows, and there were 15 or more cows in this herd. They were at least half a mile off, and headed for timber that was another half mile away. We took off to try and cut them off. On our way off the mesa, we ran into a couple of HB's friends that were also elk hunting. We told them to "follow us".
 
We got off on some serious 4-wheelin' kind of "roads", but in the end it was to no avail. They vanished into the woods. We hunted for them, but as dark settled in, we headed back to camp.
 
After the sun went down, it was fairly chilly, probably in the low teens or single digits. We got in the tent and fired up the heater and the two-burner, propane stove HB brought. All of a sudden, HB is doing some kind of strange dance. For those of you familiar with Patrick McManus, it was very similar to the Modified Stationary Panic. He was kicking at the small propane bottle beneath his cot, and the growing flames surrounding it. The valve was leaking propane, and the leaking propane was on fire... and so was the floor of the tent. As HB kicked the propane bottle in an attempt to get it out of the tent, it came to the end of the hose attaching it to the stove. That kept it from leaving the tent as HB kicked at it. However, it did get near the door, and near the door is the wall... which promptly caught on fire too. Things were getting exciting fast.
 
HB continued to kick at the bottle as he exited the tent, and the bottle actually got out the door, but the hose was keep it next to the tent, and lighting new places on fire. I picked up the stove and 'moved' it out of the tent. Now, it was kinda important to get the tent put out. If it burned down... well, that'd be a real 'bummer'. It was touch-and-go for a couple of seconds, but we got the best of it, and got the tent put out. However, the propane bottle was still burning. I grabbed the shovel and started to shovel dirt on it. It's surprising how much dirt it takes to smother a burning propane bottle.
 
After all the excitement, about a quarter of the front of the tent was 'gone' and the foot of HB's sleeping bag was singed. The door was now permanently open. Still, the tent was otherwise perfectly fine. We draped a tarp over the new 'french door' and everything was fine. We had elk stew for dinner, cooked on the "backup" stove HB had brought along "just in case". Here's what the tent looked like "afterward".
 
We got up at "oh-dark-thirty", ate some instant oatmeal, had cups of tea, and were back at elk hunting before first legal light. Shortly thereafter we saw a small herd (about 7) of elk. They had busted us, but weren't running off yet. HB had graciously offered to let me have the first shot, and I was trying to get in position and pick out a cow. The animals were milling around, and there were at least a couple of bulls in the mix. Finally, a cow was 'alone' without another behind her. She was standing between two bulls and all three were looking right at us. Her body was just barely between the two bulls, but it was a clear shot and I started to squeeze the trigger. I don't know how close the sear was to releasing, but just as I thought the rifle was going to go off, she moved behind the left bull, and when she moved, they all did. I didn't get a shot. Still, this was the first moments of the first morning, and we were encouraged by the sighting and 'almost' shot.
 
Not much later, we spotted three herds a little over half a mile off. One of them was probably the big herd we had seen the first day, plus two smaller ones. Those were certainly wall-hanging bulls in that big herd. We would have gotten after them, but two hunters were already putting the sneak on them. Without elaborating, they did get an elk, but they did a very poor job. A very poor job.
 
After spending several more hours beating the bushes, we had seen only one other bull "going away". HB decided we should go over and have a look around DouglasMountain.
 
DouglasMountain was entirely different terrain and habitat. Much more like you see in the hunting rags – fairly close woods comprised of spruce, pine and juniper. We stalked thorough this for about half an hour or so when I heard what I thought was a "cow call". I alerted HB and he confirmed that it was indeed the alarm call of a cow elk. We split up, hoping to drive her to one or the other of us. Shortly later, I heard HB shoot. Only one shot, so I'm thinking "This is good." However, when I meet up with him, there are no grins and no elk. He'd taken a 'parting shot' at the south end of a north-bound elk and missed. We pressed on.
 
After another hour or so of beating the bushes, we headed back to the truck. Once back at the truck, I again heard a cow call. We took off again. This time, after an hour-and-a-half or so of tracking fresh trail, we still didn't jump another elk. It was getting dark, so we called it a day. At that point, HB pulled out of his pocket the case from the missed shot. As he looked at it he said "Hey, look at this." I looked at it... the primer was gone. Not only was the primer gone, I could see that the primer pocket was seriously enlarged. This was weird! I looked again at the cases from the cartridges we had fired at RJs, and all were normal with tight primer pockets. I examined the chamber and bore, and there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. This was weird. Even discounting the 6 shots fired the previous morning at RJ's, these weren't "hot" loads to begin with. I decided to fire another round and see if it was just something in the bore for that specific shot. As I extracted the case, the primer fell out of that case too. What in the world was going on? Regardless of the explanation, the MAI had to be taken out of service. The cause remains a mystery. HB would use his own .338 WM from then on. We headed back to camp with me scratching and shaking my head. This evening we had Mountain House dehydrated dinners, and the following morning, Friday, was the same routine. By first legal light, we were 'elk ready'.
 
Sure enough, we busted a few as they crossed an opening. I thought for sure they were well beyond my 250 yd max range, so HB got positioned and let one fly. And missed. A parting shot proved no better. We went to check out where she had been standing, hoping we might catch them down in a gully. No luck. As we examined the spot of the shot and paced it off, we realized that she was only 200 yds off. We had both seriously over-estimated the range. That was 'annoying' – to say the least. Later in the morning, we spent a little time estimating ranges and checking them with the range-finder. It was a good exercise.
 
We ranged far and wide over the rest of the day but saw only four more elk, and they were a) a LONG way off, and b) rag-horn bulls. We headed back to camp. Just as the last light was waning, we got charged by a small band of about 5 cows – close. I bailed out of the cab, and headed a little off the road toward them. They were milling around, but there were no bulls, so I wasn't concerned except about a pass through. At my first shot, they didn't even bolt. At the second, though, they took off 'with intent'. I was sure I had seen one fall at my second shot, but try as we might, we could find no sign of a hit. Still, I was sure I had seen her collapse. A while later, we marked the spot and decided to come back in the morning to look for her. More elk stew for dinner, and oatmeal and tea for breakfast.
 
At first light on Saturday, we were waiting at what was hopefully a good spot, but the elk didn't show up. This was the first day of the weekend on a hunt that ran from Wednesday to Sunday, so today there were quite a few more hunters in the area. Nobody reported any luck. About 0900 we decided to go look for the cow and maybe shoot some bunnies. After an exhaustive search, I concluded that I had simply missed twice. The sight picture had be a good one I thought, but there was absolutely no blood or hair. I think I shot over her, and what I thought was her collapsing was actually her responding with as "shrink" as the second bullet passed close over her back. Dang. We got our .22s out and chased bunnies around for an hour or so. I shot two more.
 
Things were getting a little 'tense'. Tomorrow was the last day of the season, and neither of us had gotten one. Although... we had both missed. Time to get 'serious'. We both were a little shaken by our misses, and we thought it might be wise to check the rifle's zeros. It was the middle of the day so we found a secluded place where we wouldn't spook any game and checked our rifle's aim. Our misses weren't the rifle's faults. Both were right on. We just plain missed. Dang!
 
On a previous scouting trip, I had noticed a "road" (we jokingly called these "car-trails"), that went right through the heart of the most heavily wooded area. This was also where we had seen most of the elk coming from or going to. We decided to try to find that trail and get up in the middle of the densest woods. As we were looking for this trail, we found an old stone house It was interesting. Here are some pictures of it.
and the
obligatory woodrat (Neotoma lepida) nest inside,
We did find the trail, and were able to get right into the heart of the woods.
 
We followed the fresh trail of a pretty good-sized herd for quite a ways, but never actually saw or heard it. As we approached a secluded canyon, I saw a spike bull making his way out the other side. He was alone, and very spooky. I later trailed him and confirmed that he was traveling solo. Think that is why he was so nervous.
 
We watched some great country for a couple of hours, but there just wasn't anything moving, and we decided to head back to the truck. This country is a stalker's paradise. There is almost not ground vegetation, and what there is, is easily avoided. It is easy to track, and easy to be very, very quiet. Nonetheless, we saw nothing in our mile or so trek back to the truck.
 
As we approached the general vicinity of the truck, I spotted two elk across a small canyon. There were two cows, and they had 'made' us, but I don't think they yet knew what we were, or they were thinking we hadn't seen them. HB couldn't see them from his vantage point, but I was certain that they were at 300 yds at least, and beyond what I was will to shoot at with the Fifty. I told HB to "Get in position." He asked how far I thought they were, and I said "At least 300". With the bipod deployed, he settled in quick in the prone position. At his shot I clearly heard a very loud "whack", and both animals took off at a dead run. We watched as they passed out of sight about 50 yds from the point of shooting. Other than the "whack", there was no indication that the 200–grain Barnes "X" had found its mark. We hustled over to the point where they were standing at the shot.
 
Immediately we found blood, and 'good' blood, both in quantity and color. I marked the spot of the last blood, and HB moved forward following tracks 'till he found the next blood. We did this for about 50-60 yds where the two animals separated. This, along with the fact that the bleeding animal's tracks were starting to spread out, was encouraging, and sure enough, we spotted her, down and dead, about another 50 yds off. Smiles all around.
 
I was immediately impressed by two things. First, this was a bigger animal than I was expecting. She probably went a little over 500 pounds on the hoof, and it takes a very large caribou bull to exceed 450. Second, the hit was excellent, being right behind the shoulder midway between the back and brisket. The bullet had center-punched the right lung, and exited the far side after perforating the left lung in the rear lobe. After all of that, she had shown no sign of being hit, and had run all of 100 yds. Tough critter. I appreciate the elk's toughness more than I did before, AND I appreciate those that like through-and-through shots more than I did before this hunt. That's not to say that I now prefer T&T shots to stay-inside-shots, but I do appreciate the value in a critter as tough as an elk more than I did before.
 
HB went back to see if he could negotiate the terrain and get his truck closer. He did. While back at the truck, he got the range-finder out and ranged on me as I stood where the cow had been when shot. The range was exactly 300 yds. Given that he wasn't exactly where he had been when he shot, I think the shot was a little over 300, but less than 325. It was an outstanding shot.
 
We took her apart, and I decided to take the hide. I was quite impressed with how pretty she was. Most female ungulates aren't as pretty as the males. In fact, they are often almost ugly. No so with elk. If I remember correctly, it was almost exactly 3 hours from the time of the shot to the time we headed back to camp. Oh yeah, I was just going over things in my head, and I realized that the cow had NO blood coming from either her nose or mouth. Look closely at the pictures – there is NO blood. That is very strange. That animal was shot fatally through both lungs, and ran over 100 yds before collapsing. What was she doing, holding her breath? Very strange indeed.
 
By the time we got back to camp that evening, we were pretty done in, so we ate a hasty supper and sacked out. However, in the morning, I made a fire, and we had fresh elk liver for breakfast. Mmm, mmm, mmm.
 
I could have hunted that Sunday, but it would have really put a lot of logistic pressure on us. I decided that I would have to wait for another time to blood the Fifty, and get my first elk. I am not the type to say "We didn't get anything, but it was still a great hunt." I go hunting to kill whatever I hunt – otherwise it's just camping. I can camp for a whole lot less money and less trouble than I can hunt. If I go hunting and don't kill what I went to hunt, it was most definitely NOT a successful hunt. This was not a successful hunt for me, and it would be wrong to say that I wasn't disappointed. HOWEVER...
 
I did indeed have a good time. The scenery was gorgeous and the country is spectacular. The place was crawling with game. We saw tons of critters every day, many of which were genuine wall-hangers. We heard coyotes howling every night, and the weather was perfect. We saw lots of wild horses, (which HB had to practically physically restrain me from shooting), and HB even took me to a place where we fossil hunted for a while. All in all it was truly a great time. Here are some pictures of part of what made it a great trip.






 
Paul

[Hunterbug]

I too was disappointed that Gitano didn't connect on an elk. Being limited to 250 yards or less in that kind of territory makes it difficult but not impossible. If it had only been a scope problem with the 338 MAI we could have taken the one off my 222 but it was a rifle problem. I was thankfull that I was able to get the 4Runner close to the elk with only a little excitement. At one point all 4 tires were not on the ground at the same time but it was all good. But it was nice to have the headlights to finish skinning by and to only have to carry her about 10 yards.
 
Monday after we got back we took her to the processor. I normally process my own but since we were splitting it and Gitano would need to have his shipped home we decided to let someone do it so that they could handle the shipping part too. Then we had a heck of a time trying to find someone to prepare the hide for him to take it home. Finally a little taxidermy place down the street from my house fleshed it out and salted it for him and had it ready in a few hours so that he could take it home on his flight. That evening Gitano took my family and I out to dinner which we all enjoyed very much. The next morning I took him out to the airport so that he could go home.
 
My wife was comenting that there were not enough pictures of Gitano so here's a few more.
 

 

 
Here's a picture of the cow just as we found her.
 

 
I forgot to mention. The morning that we were leaving Gitano asked me if I had a skewer of some kind for the elk liver and I told him that I didn't. After a couple of minutes of watching him trying to cook it over an open flame with a 12" sage stick I asked him if he wanted to use the cast iron skillett. He just said, "Yea" and gave me a funny look.:D

[RatherBHuntin]

Great read guys and a great hunt, even if not all were successful.   I sure like hearing the details and seeing all the great pics.    The house is really cool, can you just imagine living in it during the winter?  Any ideas yet why the loads blew the primers?  Elevation?  Ya'll have any flame grilled rabbit?

[MountainMafia]

Thanks for a very well written and entertaining hunting story. The photographs were awesome and dipicted why I so love the desolte beauty of the high-desert area of NW Colorado. This has become one of my stomping grounds. During the non-hunting seasons, when few people visit this area, a person feels so insignificant and small in God's vast world., but blessed for the opportunity to be here.
 
Gitano is correct in his estimate of the toughness of elk. They have lots of stamina and are often hard to bring down even with a well placed shot. They often don't show any sign of being hit, leading lots of hunters to believe they have missed.
 
A big cow like Hunterbug's will often equal or out-weigh a three and half year old bull.

[Daryl (deceased)]

Sounds like you all had a pretty good time!
 
Congrat's on the elk 'bug, and thanks for sharing the story Paul.
 
Daryl