Even though quite weary, I awoke well before the alarm clock went off.
Heard the rustlings of my BC Partner - probably making coffee I thought - and recognized I was not alone in doing so...
Visions of the previous day wandered through my thoughts as I lay there wishing sleep to come back.
How in the hell did we get ourselves involved in this mess dominated my thoughts...
Oh well, let's make the best of it, and I struggled to the spam to down a stiff shot of caffeine or two.
The "Hunt" Day Two
Our Crew began this morning just a little more subdued than the previous one. It was becoming quite apparent that a great deal of the rumors we had heard were being discovered to be true, and the task of taking a bull elk -
any bull elk - was proving to be quite the undertaking...
Nonetheless, we Manned Up, Saddled Up and soon found our way running North to the next briefing we had to attend.
The Lady had to work that day, so we would be operating solo. Well, not quite, there was one or two others we knew that were attempting to work together. And of course we welcomed that, recognizing any and all help at this point could only be a benefit. Thanks indeed to those who know who you are
The briefing itself was rather subdued that morning. Most arrived earlyish as opposed to the day before, and the numbers had declined by perhaps nearly half.
The semi-depression of the day before seemed almost omnipotent at this point amongst most, and was more or less enhanced when the CO announced that there were "
Very Few Elk in the open areas" and "
most have actually departed the base". Repeating the murmurs of his staff the day previous...
On the positive side, he also noted that to date, this was "
the best group of hunters thus far, with zero infractions recorded, rule compliance was high, and the fact that many of us were noted as working together". Both my Partners shot me a hard glance as if to say "
Shaddup" when I sat forward at those remarks, so I shook my head and let it slide...
With fewer in attendance, and most (a couple new FN's had showed) already briefed the day before, the meeting closed just a little earlier than the day before.
When it did though, the
Mad Rush once again ensued, but our strategy once again proved sound (despite a near heart attack running to the truck that hard this time!) and we ended up in Position Four for the run up the highway. The same two gates were the only access, and once again the parade commenced north towards them. This time though, the three in front of us had obviously decided
to hell with speed limits and
Really lit it up! Rolling well in excess of the limit, they drew away from us as we tried to maintain some level of self control...
At the southern gate, we noted that only one of the trucks had continued north, the other two turning in as we did.
The run across the base was somewhat swift, but we did not even bother to keep the front runners in anything more than sight.
We, after all, already had
A Plan
Nearing our destination, we saw one of the trucks continue on as we had the previous morning. No idea where the other one went. No Worries.
IF those Bulls had strayed outside their Refuge on the path they had started on at last light the evening before, they should theoretically be to the south.
Making that turn, we again slowed to a crawl, and noted that this time the wind was still very much in our favor.
Sneaking along as well as a truck is capable of, we closed towards the area we hoped the bulls might still be lingering.
The Plan worked, but only to a point. They certainly were not aware of our approach.
And, they had indeed closed some of the distance towards the Sanctuary boundary.
Unfortunately for us, just not quite enough of that distance.
For there, less than 300 yards from that damned border, stood the
Ringleaders of the entire Crew!
Their manner strongly suggested they were blissfully unaware of our presence as they continued to feed contentedly.
Immediately we backed off, and made a hasty retreat to an observation point some distance off.
While the Bulls continued to feed, we rapidly set up spotting scopes to observe them while hidden below the crest of that hill.
Call The Big One my Alberta Partner whispered.
Front and right, in the lead the reply.
Range differential between him and the fence now 382 yards...
Although accompanied by five bulls that would break 375" and several others approaching that, the lead bull simply outclassed them all.
I have a LOT of experience with mature elk, worked in National Parks, hunted the borders of some, much of the East Slopes, BC, Wyoming, Utah and more.
The only reason I bring that up is simply to put in perspective my next statement: That 7 x 8 Bull I was staring at through the tube was and is
The Biggest I have ever had the fortune to lay my eyes on! An
Incredible Animal, packing more weight & lengths in headgear than two of many mature bulls combined. I crunched the numbers a dozen times, and still could not believe what I was coming up with.
Un-Effing-Real. And it simply wasn't just the antlers - he literally
Towered over those in his company, suggesting a body weight approaching 1,200 pounds.
Shaking my head, I dropped down below the scope to give another buddy a boo.
Holy Good Christ were the first words from my BC Partner's lips.
aYup.
Grinning, my Alberta Partner whispered
What do you think of that?
Whether we shoot or not, these moments just made my trip I murmured back.
Never imagined I'd ever see one just like that...
Just then, our waiting game with them was to unfortunately come to an abrupt end. Several trucks came over the hill, and a couple this time could not help but see them. Slamming on their brakes to get a better look, at the exact point that herd was aimed at on the fence, was apparently the right thing to do for two of them under such circumstances.
Big Boy and his
Crew didn't like that so much, nervously milling around, then slowly wandering back uphill and deeper into the Sanctuary.
Heavy Sigh. Knew this might happen under these circumstances. Watched for a rather lengthy spell until they disappeared over the ridge back towards the big river...
Lordy...
Well, that gigs up noted my still positive Alberta Buddy.
Let's roll...
Still shaking from the latest encounter, I wistfully agreed.
This time we ventured towards the middle of the area we'd wandered the day previous, with a mind's eye of taking advantage of a high hill overlooking a massive flat and lake system we had noted. Along the way we said hello to quite a few more antelope, and waved at several coyotes and the odd mulie as they fled to parts unknown.
The hill in question is likely well known, as it offers an extended view to points north over a rather large expanse.
Rolling up (and of course keeping below the skyline - even with a truck) we took position to scan the many acres laid out in front of us.
Within minutes, my Alberta Partner noted another group of antelope, but my focus was elsewhere.
Above them, to the right, and out another 350 yards I suggested.
Group of 7 or 8 elk. Bulls I believe from body size and posture.
Up with the spotting scopes. Yes. 7 animals. Unless two have mini-spikes - five bulls, a cow & a calf.
Size? queried my Buddy. Careful scrutiny.
Distance 1600 yards. Max magnification. None will break 300. Raghorns.
What do you think?
Let's get on top of them and decide...
There was a small range of hills between us and the little herd we could see from our vantage point.
If all went well, we should be able to get within 300 - 400 yards.
Agreed & Rolling.
Somewhere behind that ridge we took a minor diversion. By the time we got back on track the little herd was nowhere to be seen.
Then the rattle of rifle fire. Two distinct, then a volley. Then another...
Oh Oh.
From the next vantage point it was easy to see what had happened. We were close, but the little herd got nervous due to two trucks coming from the north. So they had turned east towards the Sanctuary and ran into a
Gauntlet. Two were down and trucks closing in. Five more trucks were in pursuit, but it was more than obvious the elk would win that particular race...
Sheesh!
After witnessing this, we decided to abandon the area and set out to explore what little of the base we had not laid eyes on to this point.
Getting away from
The Madness seemed of utmost importance to all of us at that point, and as always, we let our instincts lead the way.
Funny thing about instincts, sometime they steer you right, but occasionally they veer the opposite direction.
As we ventured further north and slightly east, fog decided to roll in.
At first just distorting the horizon, but within less than an hour descending like a wall and reducing visibility to 50 yards or less.
Great. Out with the tracking skills...
Over the course of the next several hours, we moved rather slowly, looking for sign, and often wandering trails with week's old vehicle passage marking their way. We did see tracks. Mulies. Antelope. Coyotes. Even managed to jump a good sized flock of sharptails (and MAN that brought back reminiscence and tales of years past!). The few & only elk? Days old.
Hmmm...
Eventually we made the conscious decision to return to where we'd seen
The Giant.
That too took a spell, and when we got to the observation post, the fog still prevented us from looking where we needed to.
Screw it. Sit Tight. We did. And just before last light, the fog decided to give us a break...
Again that last effort was rewarded by another sighting of the
Big Boy and his
Crew. Followed by a good handful of their
Followers.
Hmmm... Showing a similar pattern. KeRist! Almost wish they would Go Away at this point!
When the blackness consumed all, we made our retreat. The Big Bulls were once again within 400 yards of the fence... And we knew exactly where...
As we rolled out that night, late (of course) we learned that two of the three bulls harvested that day were the accidental results of our efforts.
Somehow that actually made us feel a little better...
Another 500+ kilometers. Stiffer rums. One day left forthcoming. All intel we can gather suggest failure is imminent.
We simply cannot accept that synopsis...
Worsening case of
Truck Butt. Codeine is your friend...
![Wink ;)](./images/smilies/icon_wink.gif)
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"Political correctness is a doctrine, fostered by a delusional, illogical minority, and rabidly promoted by an unscrupulous mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick up a turd by the clean end."