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The Bowsite broke new ground by attempting the impossible - live updates from a hunt. Thanks to the magic of modern technology, we were able to share our hunt with you. We hope you enjoyed it and we will be doing this again in the future. Thanks for sharing this difficult, grueling, two week solo hunt with me in Idaho's Mountains. |
| Sunday 9/7 | I backpacked to the top of Canyon 1, the same canyon I called a monster
bull out of two years ago. The four mile hike took eight hours and covered
three thousand vertical feet. I set up my campsite and decided to stroll
down the valley a bit to try and stir up a bugle. I put my bow down on the
ground and cow called just once, a beautiful 6x6 bull literally ran up to
me just seconds after I called. My bow still on the ground with all my arrows
quivered, the bull stood less than ten yards away! My hunt could have been
over in the first ten minutes - I would never make that careless error again. |
| Monday 9/8 |  This picture shows the area that I hunted the
next morning. Talk about thick, this is where the elk hang out after they
feed in the meadows. Bugling was not working, but I managed to cow call
a silent 5x5 up to 15 yards - and passed him up. He soon winded me and will
not be so quick to run up without checking the wind. It felt good passing
him up. Another bull was behind him that I didn't see and all the commotion
caused the herd bull to blast out a raspy bugle. I hunted that area hard
and never saw another elk. |
| Tuesday 9/9 | Went back to the meadow and no bugling, no elk, nothing. I decided to pack
up camp and move about two miles to the intersection of a more secluded
canyon that only holds one small herd. I setup camp at the intersection
of the two canyons and hiked into the secluded canyon for two miles, calling
every few hundred yards. I found an area that was torn up by a bull, fresh
rubs were everywhere, so I (learning from my previous
mistake) set up, and then cow called. A crunch from above caused me to peak
through some pines. I could only see the chestnut body of an elk fifty yards
uphill from me. I started to get a little pumped, then he moved downhill
slowly, I got a lot pumped. He was a monster 6x6 that I guessed to go around
320 P&Y. But, unlike the immature 5 pt.this bull moved to check the
wind, then he slowly moved off. I tried cow calling again, then bugling
and he just stayed his course. Moving to the canyon head, I found the source
of his interest. Five cows fed at the head of the canyon in the greens,
I moved right into the cows - actually trailing them twenty yards as they
moved through broken timber. It was getting dark and I had to make a move
or lose them. I bugled aggressively, hoping to get the bull upset that another
bull was with his cows. It didn't work, and the cows spooked, taking the
bull with them. It was a very long walk back in the dark. |
| Wednesday 9/10 | My walk back the night before kicked my butt, so I slept in till 7:30 am
and hunted around my campsite before packing up and heading to another canyon
a  few miles away. I bugled once, and immediately
got a response about three hundred yards down the trail. I boogied as fast
as I could to catch up, but the bull had cows and was high-tailing it away.
By the time I gave up, I was at least a mile from camp. When I returned,
the weather started to turn sour - real sour. I spent three hours in my
tent waiting for the storm to pass. It finally subsided in time for me to
get in a quick evening hunt watching a trail with lots of fresh sign . No
elk, tomorrow I had to move. |
| Thursday 9/11 | The weather deteriorated through the night and I spent the early hours after midnight waiting for my tent to be ripped apart by hailstones the size of buckshot - or be lit up by the incessant lightning. Morning came slowly after what had to be one of my most unpleasant nights ever afield! The weather stayed nasty so I packed up my camp in a downpour and hiked out of the canyon. I'm now on my way up to another canyon where several herds usually reside.
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| Friday 9/12 |  I headed up to canyon #3 where I had a hot time with five bulls in '95.
This was one of my most difficult climbs because there are no clear trails
to get up to the high country and the hike gains 3500 feet of elevation
over four miles. The hike is also obstructed by approximately a mile and
a half of extremely steep terrain which is littered with blow-downs. The
hike took five exhausting hours so I took a short nap and headed out at
6:00 PM. Not 300 yards into my climb above camp, I heard the distinct sound
of a bull elk rubbing and breaking branches from a tree. As I moved closer,
I also heard cow mews to my left in the thick brush and a faint bugle beyond
them. As the |
| Saturday 9/13 | Got up before dawn and headed up to the canyon head where several large
meadows dot the flattened basin at 9,700 feet. On my way into the meadows,
I pushed out a cow and calf that were bedded a few hundred feet below the
meadows. I reached the meadows as the sun was poking above the mountains
and bugled. Nothing. As I moved around the canyon bugling, I saw little
fresh sign and was becoming increasingly disappointed.  The weather was
cooler, and it was quite early. I moved quietly through the higher elevations
of forests around the meadows and bumped into a very nice mule deer at fifteen
yards. He crashed off and I continued up into a series of flat benches at
10,000 where I spooked a very small bull. I spent that entire day watching
a meadow with a fresh wallow, from a 10,000 foot perch from which I could
see the entire valley meadows. I was treated to watching a nice billy goat
above me for a few hours but no elk. I headed back to camp. The evening
hunt was spent watching the area where I spooked the bull. Nothing. |
| Sunday 9/14 | Headed back up to the meadows in the morning and saw, nor heard, anything.
I went back to the area that I spent the evening in and again, no sign.
I decided to As my car approached the area I knew well two years ago, I began to feel sick. Unlike two years ago, my quiet, no pressure area was now dotted with one campsite after another. ATV's buzzed by my truck and horse trailers were everywhere. I wondered if I took a wrong turn and was now at the county fair? But against my better judgment, I decided to head up to my secret areas, which were only accessible by backpacking and just maybe, the elk were pushed there from all the pressure below in the canyon. On my way to the high country, I ran into two guys looking around, another two guys who lost their horses, and a Mexican sheep herder who was looking for his dog. My God! I reached camp feeling like I was wasting time here but I decided to stay anyway. I watched a meadow until the sun went down and the full moon came up - no elk, no bugles. |
| Monday 9/15 | Up before dawn, and headed to the high peaks where my secret places produced
numerous elk two years ago. On my way through a meadow, I saw movement above
me. Hundreds of little white sheep were moving rapidly through the high
country surrounded by dozens of sheep dogs. The sheep dogs spotted me then
went ballistic, running at me, barking, yelping. I headed into the timber
and moved away from the noise which never seemed to stop. An hour later,
convinced that there was no possible way of seeing any elk, I headed up
to the real high country. As I moved past 10,000 feet, I began to see a
little sign. I cow called and bugled and then heard a noise from below me.
From the trees below the meadow came the Mexican sheep herder on a horse,
followed by a dozen dogs. They moved past me and I headed even higher. The
wind picked up and at 11,000 feet, I found myself in a high country blizzard.
That was neat. The blizzard ended quickly and I moved down toward a lake.
Movement again caught my eye, but it was not a sheep. It was an absolute
monster mule deer. He was a 5x6 with a ten inch drop tine, very massive,
and about a 30" spread. It was the biggest mule deer I had ever seen,
P&Y for sure and maybe B&C. The wind was perfect and the blustery
condition made stalking conditions perfect. I moved cautiously down the
mountain, moving only when he was feeding or behind a bush. After a half-hour
stalk I was within 20 yards and had a clear, quartering away shot at a superb
trophy mule deer. There was only one problem, I never bought a deer tag!
That evening I headed across the stream to a very steep, North facing slope,
nothing. |
| Tuesday 9/16 | Woke up to a dusting of snow, hunted around camp a bit, then packed up for
another area - just where yet I did not know. The hike out
didn't take very long and I was soon looking for a new area. The president
of the Idaho State Bowhunters had mentioned about meeting up at an area
not far from where I was hunting. But I had difficulty finding them and
gave up after a couple hours (and a 4x4 rental that somehow got stuck in
4 low). I was getting that creeping feeling that the gods of the hunt were
no longer with me. Desperation was creeping in. I ended up doing what I
vowed I would not do; go back to my original area and hunt a canyon which
showed little sign two years ago. It was also my most dreaded hike, taking
me three thousand feet in four miles - of nearly all blow downs. The hike
took me all that day and I reached a camp by 5 P.M. The only sign was of
a moose, where he had busted up the area I was camped in.  With only a couple
days left, I would hunt this area hard and hope that some pocket of elk
were somewhere in this canyon. Nothing that evening either as a terrible
storm blew in, further complicating my last few days. |
| Wednesday 9/17 | With spirits sagging, I dragged my butt out of bed and hunted hard for twelve
hours straight with no food or water. I did find an area that was hot with
elk a  few days ago but they were gone now. The wind
was picking up again and turned into gale-force conditions. I got back to
camp after dark and had two scrumptious freeze dried meals. The winds whipped
my tent around as two different trees crashed to the ground within thirty
yards of my tent. I tried to sleep but there was no way. The rain began
shortly after three in the morning which was a blessing - because the winds
ceased. |
| Thursday 9/18 | I hunted around camp that next morning but there was no elk there. I climbed to the top of the canyon wall and just sat there enjoying the magnificent scenery. The storm had white-capped the surrounding mountains and the red morning sun glistened off those peaks. My hunt was over - I hiked out of that canyon that day. |
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sound grew more clear, I began to
see movement above me. The image of a bull sharpened into a very respectable,
but not trophy-quality 6x5 that had good mass but was short on brow and
bez-tine length. No matter, I wanted him. The bull was so caught up in his
rubbing that I made the decision to stalk this bull. At fifty yards, I removed
an arrow, and moved closer with carefully planned steps. At thirty yards
it was all coming together. I now had a clear shot at him but I wanted closer,
I moved diagonally toward him and was now at twenty five yards but the bull
moved away from the tree and the once-favorable wind swirled directly at
the bull. He stiffened up and headed out through the brush. I tried cow
calling, then bugling, but the bull was gone. I found the cows and followed
them - bugling while I trailed. The other bull was gone as well. 
leave the canyon and drive three
hours to my second major area, unit 50 in the Challis National Forest. This
was my ace in the hole - having spent over a week here before, and knowing
all of the secret pockets where the bulls hide. I hiked out of the canyon
and headed to the area called the Big Lost River.