Harleys Adventure: September 2010

Dad got an elk on Friday. He was pretty excited about it. Here’s his version of the story:
I got to elk mountain at the Notellem creek crossing at 10:30 pm on Thursday. It was a far cry from the 10:30 am arrival I had anticipated, but I did ward off an OSHA citation, published a monthly report, and set-up a Regional Director visit – not bad for a day’s work. Since it was so late, I pulled onto the roadside and slept with the Hillbilly Hilton still attached to the truck. The alarm went off at 4:00 am and I started my trudge up the mountain.

I arrived to my treestand around 5:30 am. I had installed the treestand and an electronic trail camera two weeks prior. The camera only had 6 pictures. One picture was of me this morning, one was completely black (no exposure), the next had nothing but scenery, but the last three had pictures of elk! The first elk arrived on August 31st in the evening, and the second elk (two pictures) had visited the wallow on September, 2 at 8:00 pm.

Wait a minute! September 2, at 8 pm? I was supposed to be sitting in that tree on September 2nd. You mean, instead of saving the day at work, I could have had a chance at this poor, unsuspecting elk? Boy, was I bummed! But, I convinced myself that the elk would return; even though he had only visited twice in 2 weeks………..approaching Las Vegas odds…..

The sun glowed over the mountain at 6 am and found me perched on my narrow platform, shivering to stay warm. I left Hagerman at 90 degrees, and arrived at elk mountain for a 30 F morning.

At 6 pm (12 hours later), I was still perched on my narrow platform, with waning confidence. Why hadn’t I brought a book? I had named all of the chipmunks around my tree: Simon, Theodore, and yes, noisy Alvin! They were having a grand time eating pine cones, breaking branches and causing havoc around me! Despite Alvin’s best attempts to cheer me up, I had completely lost faith that any elk would appear. Two hours later, the sun was setting and I was dozing off. My three chipmunks had retired for the night, and the air had started to chill. Just my head was about to bob into never-never land, I heard some rustling to my right….

I must be dreaming, that can’t be an elk. WAIT, that is an elk! Bow, arrows??? Where is all the stuff I am supposed to have? Of course, way back at 6 pm I had given up on holding my bow in the “ready” position and had clipped it to my back pack. In its current spot, it looked hung hopelessly as the bull nervously tested the air and glanced around the wallow a mere 40 feet from my tree.

I slowly unclipped my bow and stood to face the goliath. I peeked at his antlers and gasped, my knees shoke and the bow trembled. I forced myself to concentrate on something besides all those antlers. The bull stepped into a wallow at 10 yards and started to paw at the mud lying the edges. My heart pitter pattered. Now was the time……

The bull stretched out his front legs exposing his chest. I drew the bow back and eased into posit$%#........ OH NO! My safety strap had caught my arm and I couldn’t put the bow up to my eye. I hesitated, the bull continued to paw, finally I let the bow back down. I re-clipped the release with my arm over the strap and re-drew the bow. I settled into my shooting position and realized that a tree was flanking the front half of the elk. My mind raced,

“If my shot is off by an inch, I will be eating rather large lodgepole pine steaks….”

My thought never finished before the arrow was gone.

The bull wheeled at the shot and crashed off through the brush. I took my first breath since the encounter started; wow breathing felt good! After 30 minutes I took up the trail of the bull. The arrow had found it’s mark and he lay only 50 yards from the shot. I was elated! What a beautiful animal. I took a minute to give thanks and hung one of Grandpa’s medicine pouches as an offering. The light was fading fast, so I snapped a few pictures and started into the work.

After 1 ½ hours of skinning and de-boning I was halfway finished with butchering. My headlamp was also running on empty, I was a mile from the truck, covered in elk blood, I was in a small depression where I couldn’t see 20 yards, and I had the pin pulled on my bear spray.
“This is how people get eaten by grizzly bears,” I thought. Now almost in a panic, I decided to retreat with what was left of my sanity. The darkness had enveloped everything, but I made the mile back to the truck without a mental breakdown. The elk would be fine overnight with 30 degree temperatures as long as a bear didn’t find it.

The next morning, Lance, Kevin and I backpacked out the bull. Luckily, no bears had found the carcass, but I carried bear spray and a shotgun just in case. It took two trips of groaning, but we finished packing by noon. We turned the truck towards camp, but we only traveled two miles before we were run off the road by a curious hunter,

“Nice elk,” he bubbled out his truck window.

“Thanks,” I replied.

Rob, became our new best friend, asking for directions to Notellem creek, which we promptly explained was between Notinurlife Mountain and Findamap road. At least Rob didn’t ask us to spell it! Later he stopped by our camp with another friend and we swapped hunting stories; no hard feelings that we didn’t give him a map. His friend scored the bull at 315 which would tentatively put the antlers in the Pope and Young record book – neat!

I helped Lance hunt for two more days without any success. I really was lucky to get an elk on my first day out – especially with my 5 year track-record of only one other elk with a bow!
On Monday, I somehow got the 250+ pounds of elk meat, coolers, and hunting gear stuffed into the truck. All that stuff made a great platform for the elk antlers. Antler points were sticking out like a Christmas tree. I had driven for about 30 minutes when I saw a car speeding to catch me. At first I thought they were practicing NASCAR maneuvers; but I finally realized that the girl driving wasn’t pointing a gun over the steering wheel, but rather balancing a cell phone camera on her steering wheel taking a picture of the beasts’ antlers. Go figure, this elk must be big. That started an interesting 4 ½ hour trek home of near collisions, pictures, thumbs-up signs, congratulations (from the State Patrol), and gesturing out sunroofs. Only in Idaho do elk antlers attract so much attention…….ahhh bliss……………The End.

Dad's story is so long, I thought the antlers look like a neat teething toy.......let me out of this bumbo thing!

-H