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Member's Elk Hunt

The Colorado Elk Hunt; Details, Strategy and Luck…

By Mark Helminiak

It was Wednesday afternoon and I was scheduled to meet Jeff my hunting buddy in Des Moines, Iowa already twelve hours into my drive from Michigan.  Jeff had to work half of the day at Victory Motorcycles in Wisconsin and Des Moines seemed like to best place to meet.  We transferred all of my gear into his Chevy step-side/utility trailer combination and prepared for the remainder of the drive to Colorado.  It was our fourth year at attempting to fill bull elk tags and a small mule deer was the only consolation prize, the year before.

We were planning on hunting this year in our typical “all out” fashion.  This meant no guides, long hikes, tent living for a week, cooking every meal and of course using the converted lawn chair with shovel, for the occasional latrine run.  Jeff is an ex-Marine, who lives for hunting and the outdoors.  I on the other hand, had been training at the local Gym and the stair-stepper became my daily enemy.  Being in shape and an attention to detail were lessons that were learned during our previous trips West at high altitude.  There were also the basics that you read about, such as the abundance of Mountain Lions and the chance to stumble upon a random Bear with cubs in the black timber.  Both of which were experienced on Jeff’s first trip to Colorado.  We would carry side arms, as well as our rifles, just in case.  Jeff’s set-up included his Para-Ordnance .45 and a tricked out Remington in .300 Weatherby Mag.  I preferred a standard Glock Model 21 and my tack driving stainless Ruger in .30-06cal.

This year’s new location was hand selected using past success statistics, number of hunters, topo maps, water availability and the just plain remote setting.  We were heading for an area about one hour east of Steamboat Springs and couldn’t wait to see the mountains again.  The drive into the night brought out discussions about rifle calibers, bugling, cover scents, past hunts and of course our strategy plan.  The idea was to hunt deep in the woods where no “average” hunters would travel.  We knew that it was time to pay our dues and we would savor every minute.

Once we were close to the area, our first stop was in Steamboat at the local Game Warden office.  We needed to gather additional hunting information, check-up on local regulations and let the staff know where we were in case of storms or whatever else could happen.  The office was crowded with hunters and about six Game Officers attempting to answer twenty questions at once.  Just then Jeff and I noticed that there was a young female Officer that was being side-stepped by the macho hunters.  We sized up the situation and figured that a lady in a clearly defined mans’ world probably has all of the smarts to put up with the “good ol’ boys”, so we gave it a shot.

We explained who we were, where we were from and that we didn’t have much time for scouting the terrain.  She explained that the western slope of the divide had experienced a timber blow-down covering an area three by eight miles.  The blow-down was dangerous and not worth considering since all of the Elk were now on the east side of the range.  So that narrowed the area down, but we were hoping for more.  I politely agreed with her that the east side would be our destination and questioned the likely place for a herd.  She looked at the map, pointed to a valley that encompassed about five square miles, looked at us and smiled.  The message was clear and we felt like we had just been given the winning Lotto numbers, a day before the drawing.  We thanked the female officer and headed out.

The valley two track lead us through the last ranch with grazing cattle and then between the snow covered mountains.  The air was clear and fresh.  We picked our base camp roughly one hundred yards from the wilderness trail head near a stream.  This was as far back as we were allowed to travel by truck and the rest would be on foot.  We set up the cabin tent, assembled cots, unpacked gear, ate dinner and once again talked strategy.  Thursday was one of the longest days and a good night rest was badly needed.

The plan was be to spend Friday night before opening day in a pup tent five miles from base camp at a higher altitude, nearing ten thousand feet.  This would allow us to roll out of our sleeping bags and have a jump on any other hunters or unsuspecting Elk.  It took us most of Friday to hike the trail and find a relatively sheltered flat spot.  The large bear tracks on the trail added a silent edge to every step we took.  We cleared out the two feet of snow between two massive fallen logs and pitched the tent on what we thought was level land.  Sticks and brush were piled up at the closed end of the tent, as a simple warning method for unwanted toothed critters.  The night passed slowly as we joked about the freezing temperature, constantly sliding downhill toward the tent opening, the four inch boulders imbedded in our backs and the fact that no one would ever believe us.

Saturday morning broke at about 5:00am without any sign of daylight.  Gear was prepared, power bars eaten and it was time to hunt.  We decided to go in opposite directions and re-group at 10:00am back at the pup tent.  I traveled south and Jeff headed north/west.  I found tracks, but no Elk.  We regrouped later to find out that my complete strikeout was quickly erased by Jeff spotting the Elk herd across the valley with a 6x6, a 5x5, a 4x4, a spike and plenty of cows.  He glassed them since daylight, as they browsed and I caught the last few heading down into the black timber.  We talked over the odds of sneaking up on the herd in the dense timer and knew that it was nearly impossible.  Now we needed a very good plan B.

Our revised effort was to be in that meadow before sun-up on Sunday morning.  If the herd isn’t disturbed, it should be in the same place to feed the next day, right?  We mapped out the trek that we would need to follow in the dark and counted the ridgelines from our high vantage point.  Hiking a trail is one thing, but finding your way up and across a mountain with a flashlight and a compass would be another challenge.  We packed our gear and quietly hunted our way down the mountain to the base camp.

Sunday morning would start at 3:30am with a quick breakfast, gear check and hiking by 4:00am.  It had been a clear cold night and the expectations were high.  We used the foot trail for about two miles and then broke off north directly up the mountain.  This wasn’t going to be easy since we needed to climb over or under downed trees for about half a mile, while going up hill.  Once we hit the rock slide that we glassed the day before, we would then travel west over ridges until we were in the grazing meadow.  An hour or so later we found the meadow and decided that it was time for stealth mode on our hands and knees.  It was still dark and a small patch of three to six foot pine trees would act as our cover.

The hike had kept us warm and the morning mountain air was now chilling, as we prayed for Elk.  The sun was now a faint easterly glow and we could start to see details beyond fifty feet.  Jeff was the first to spot a cow and pointed me in the direction across the field.  Sure enough, there was now a procession of cows, calves and we were both looking for the bulls.  We continued to examine the herd through our scopes, as the sun started to slowly provide light.  We cautiously checked with each other with whispers of, “It’s a cow”…  Our search for the elusive bulls seemed to continue for hours.  I finally decided to look uphill and spotted a larger bodied Elk with its head down behind a bush.  I kept my eye on him with my scope and carefully reported that it was a 5 X 5 and good bull!  Jeff shifted his direction to look and we were busted by the cows that were now within fifty feet from us.  The early sun had uncovered our stealth attack and it would all be over soon.

I also noticed the eyes looking in our direction and clicked off the safety on my Ruger .30-06 rifle.  The bull was broadside and I didn’t think that we would have much time.  The shot rang out across the mountains as I worked the bolt and regained my scoped view.  The bull just stood there and all of the other Elk were on red alert.  However, they didn’t move.  That’s when we realized that we were almost completely surrounded be Elk.  No wonder they didn’t move, they couldn’t believe it either.  The question was, “Did I hit the bull?”  I held my breath, picked the spot and let the second shot fly.  This time all heck broke loose with the heard forming a single line and heading over the ridge.  I can still recall the speed and almost effortless strides as the surviving Elk headed for a safer valley.

Jeff spotted the 6 X 6 just fifty feet from us on the other side of the short pine trees directly uphill and attempted a shot, as the massive bull headed north.  He had a clean miss, but I watched as my bull fell from two good hits.  The Hornady 180 grain Light Magnum bullets had done their job and I had been blessed with my first Elk.  It had been a well planned, demanding and now rewarding hunt.

The Elk’s size was impressive, compared to Michigan Whitetails.  We would work the remainder of the day cleaning, skinning, de-boning and packing.  The rack, hide, and as much meat as we could carry would be taken.  Any remaining meat was carefully packed in double plastic bags and buried deep in the snow for the next day backpack retrieval.  It took us two days to completely claim our rewards and it was probably the most strenuous task I had ever done.

We had proven that it doesn’t take a lot of money and costly guides to hunt a totally new region for Elk.  It does take planning, discipline and above all the desire to succeed.  Will I remember it?  For the rest of my life.  Would I do it again?  In a minute.  Why? That 6 x 6 might still be there…

For Pictures of Mark's Elk, Click HERE.

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Last modified: 05/05/08