I awoke once again quite early this, our final day.
Not due to anticipation this time, but rather the aches and pains of both body and mind.
The body in that my butt now felt like I had been dropped 30 feet onto it - directly onto concrete, and every joint was now singing it's own little tune of resentment.
The mind chewing on much of what we had seen & been told - the five dead cows we had wandered across the day previous (and the fact that no-one seemed to want to know or care), the antics of some of our fellow "
hunters", the understanding that some elk had managed to make it back into the Refuge - only to die a slow lingering death there, the overt misinformation and seemingly lack of concern amongst those overseeing this "hunt" - all this and more dominated my waking thoughts, and I felt the early warning signs of an intense bout of heartburn setting in...
Stumbling to the kitchen, I washed down several Tums with strong black coffee, and openly wondered just what the presence of a potential 100 more guns would bring to the coming day. Our Crew worked each other hard - trying to rebuild some of the Confidence & Anticipation we had enjoyed just a couple short mornings ago. So it was that within moments, and after a few headshakes, we managed to somehow convince our spirits to rise to the task at hand and make the best of the situation we possibly could...
Despite our grim reports, The Lady decided she would take in at least the morning of our final day. So once again we squished into our chariot, and began the pilgrimage towards the briefing hall a few miles north.
The "Hunt" - Day Three
The scene was chaotic upon our arrival. Whereas the day previous, the parking lot had still offered room when the meeting was called to order, it was strikingly obvious this was not to be the case today. Although an hour early yet again, the lot was full, and trucks were circling - some simply looking for a place to park, others jockeying for the best position from which to launch in the upcoming race. Thankfully for our aspirations, no-one had recognized our particular strategy, and we managed to park the two rigs in our own preferred launch site.
The line up ran right outside the doors this time, and many were attempting to fill out their required forms in the jostling crowd.
Initial registration took much longer than any day previous due to the large increase in numbers, and it was a considerable while before the meeting could be called to order as a consequence. A quick head count at that point suggested around 180 were in attendance for the briefing this morning.
The briefing itself was much more detailed than the previous two days, and you could simply sense the levels of apprehension and frustration building.
That certainly wasn't alleviated when the CO announced that the southern most block - an area locally know as
The Bowling Alley would not be opened this date - due to an angry submission by a local landowner who noted hunting pressure had caused many elk to destroy the fence adjacent to his property there, and the elk to take up residence for several days following. That announcement was accompanied by a lot of heavy sighs when it was openly admitted that there was a recognizable elk presence there, but "
not a lot in most of the open areas". The matter was then compounded by the CO's announcement that another, unrelated area would also be closed off this date. No reason forthcoming, just that it was to be closed. That generated a fair bit of debate, and eventually the CO backed down on that proposal due to the fact the area simply was not delineated on the maps they had just handed out.
Bizarre!!
While we had thought the dispersal following the briefing to be
Lunacy the previous two days, we simply were not prepared for what would occur this morning!
It was quite obvious that many of the cow hunters were extremely eager to get out there asap, and the ensuing scramble would have been almost comical in another situation. Our strategy continued to pay off to some extent, and we found ourselves in Position 8 as we rolled out onto the highway.
This however was not to be the somewhat orderly procession to the gates of the previous dates. Nope - more akin to actions any stock car rally would be proud of! The front-runners kicked into
High Gear. Even running about 10 clicks over the speed limit, they soon left the majority in their dust.
Suddenly the entire procession was stalled by the glaring of flashing overhead crosswalk lights. Those closest simply hammered on the gas, and surged through the intersection in a desperate attempt to catch those rapidly disappearing over the distant horizon. As we idled down and stopped, two trucks well behind literally roared into the left (turning) lane and raced tight up to the small crowd of children and adults crossing the road. WTF? The instant the last child was no longer directly in front of them, they launched
HARD, illegally passing us and several others in their bid to be First.
Unbelievable!!
The race continued towards the gates, and as far as we could determine, all but two trucks turned to the east at the first one as was our plan.
Position 8 (?) at this point.
At the first road south, only two carried on east, the rest running hard towards the newly opened areas to the south. Position 3.
At the critical intersection that followed, both rigs in front of us continued east. Excellent. Position One!
We decided to hit our vantage point rather than roll right up on where we thought the Big Bulls might be.
Upon arrival there, our hearts immediately sank.
They there were, most feeding contentedly, some lying down, all just shy of being sky-lined about 1100 yards into the Sanctuary.
Hmmm...
As we sat watching, a literal parade soon wandered down the road below and between us and the bulls. Once again we marveled how they simply did not seem to see that herd, as they all continued south at a pretty good pace without slowing. The elk seemingly paid no attention to that intrusion, likely recognizing they were entirely safe where they now stood. We continued our vigil for perhaps another hour, until the last of the
Big Boys wandered over the top, deeper into the Sanctuary, and forever out of our hopes and aspirations.
It's Over I mumbled.
But what the hell, let's go do a tour of the "new" areas they opened up today. If nothing else we will get to see some territory we haven't looked at yet. Decision made, we rolled slowly southwards into new-to-us terrain. Along the way we took advantage of numerous high points to engage our powerful optics and sweep the vistas for sighs of life. More groups of antelope. Mulies, and for whatever reason, quite a bit less spooky down here than the northern areas. The coyotes however reacted as if we were the Four Horsemen intent on doing them great harm, and streaked away immediately upon every sighting. And tracks.
Elk tracks...
Of course we investigated the tracks every time we encountered them quite carefully. Most were from the previous evening or even earlier than that.
And so the morning rolled on. We saw trucks scattered here and there, most simply creeping along or parked on vantage points - seeking.
One set of tracks we encountered looked to be a fair bit fresher, so we studied them at length. Yeah - this morning. 25 elk, no big boots. Likely cows & calves, but WTH, best sign we've seen in the open areas, and btw, wandering directly
away from the nearest No Go zone. Worth a look...
Thus began a series of winding loops, utilizing the roads to intercept the small herd's passage where they crossed in their wandering.
As the morning wore on the tracks became increasingly fresh, and it was obvious to us they were using the rolling terrain to their maximum advantage so as to not be seen from any nearby roads. Finally they crossed over yet another hill above a wide and lengthy valley encompassing a couple of lakes. We quickly determined we were at most fifteen to twenty minutes behind them at this point, so locating a small trail we approached the hilltop vantage point. There, on the far side of the valley against a range of hills stood the herd. Quickly mounting the spotting scope I noted "
mostly cows & calves alright. A unicorn - single horned spike that is quite small, and a normal spike considerably larger." As we studied them from 1200 yards out, a pick-up appeared on the valley floor well behind them. Two folks got out, dressed in the mandatory orange, and began walking rapidly and directly at the herd across the wide open?
Huh? These fellas were at least 1,000 yards distant, but the herd spied them immediately and began to slowly trickle away from them along the valley floor...
Well? my Alberta Friend queried.
Let's get back down this hill, out of sight, and get well around out in front of them my reply.
At that point we called our second team, hoping to get them in on any possible action.
They were too far, but working their way now towards us.
Onwards...
As we skirted the hill and slowly made our way towards the road perhaps 600 yards off, we agreed the plan was solid.
Going to shoot that spike my Partner's asked?
Given half a chance was my reply, but it will be tricky with that many others with him...
Suddenly to our right another spike appeared out of nowhere? WTF? Just where the hell did he come from?
Any sane individual would have immediately stopped affording the Shooter an opportunity at the rapidly fleeing little bull.
For whatever reason, sanity went out the window, and my BC Partner gunned the Toyota's engine.
He later explained he was attempting to put us on a small rise a short distance away so as to afford the longest possible sight window.
Unfortunately that did not happen. In his haste, he lost the trail, but knowing where the main road was, made for that with speed...
Something I have yet to mention was the preponderance of tank tracks pretty well everywhere one goes on the base, and certainly the vast majority of hilltop vantage points. Some of these tracks cut rather deeply into the prairie, often as much a a foot plus deep.
Unbeknownst to us, there were a series of three such sets of tank tracks running parallel between us and the road we were aimed at.
Contact with the first set was realized a tad better than 30 miles per hour. The Toyota leapt wildly into the air, and then crashed back down with a vengeance.
At that point everything goes quite bleary for me. My Buddy's foot landed
FIRMLY on the gas pedal upon landing, sending us bouncing into the next set of tank tracks at a rapidly accelerating rate. Again airborne, the sensation was much akin to what I imagine a piece of popcorn goes through inside a popcorn maker on full roar! We then hit the third and deepest set, still accelerating, and the resulting
LEAP was nothing shy of
Spectacular!
Somewhere in this Madness, my Weatherby decided to try and leave the scene via my open window. Desperately grabbing it, I only managed to do so after the forearm tore the weatherstripping right off the upper window. As I hauled it back into my clutches, the truck took another huge leap, causing the stock to collide most firmly with my upper right thigh. Instant explosion of
PAIN. Then my right hand was slammed into the window frame, rifle behind it, creating an instantaneous bruise across the back of my shooting hand the size of an apple.
OUCH! The final insult to injury was the little button on the top of my camo hunting cap force-ably attempting to penetrate my skull and visit my nether regions!
KeRist!! In a world of hurt, and eyes full of water, the driver finally comprehended the Screams of
For Christs Sake STOP emanating from both me and our Alberta Buddy in the back seat. Pounding on the brakes, the truck slid to a stop, and I attempted to leap as far away as possible from that Demon Truck! And of course my full weight landed on my mangled right leg, forcing me to drop for an instant...
Attempting to shrug off the pain, I staggered to my feet to see the little wide eyed bull (after witnessing that rodeo, I had No Question in my mind as to why his eyes were so dishpan HUGE!) streaking along about 275 out, nearly broadside.
Under most conditions I have no issue making such a shot. Those who have grown up hunting the prairies will well recognize what I say here.
As I lined up, blinking the tears away, I tried desperately to calm my shattered nerves. Right... About...
There...
The Weatherby rolled back in my arms, and I instantly knew that while the lead was perfect, I had sent the round under the bugger's chest.
Then he was gone.
Dammit!
Call the shot I cried.
Cleanly under the brisket. Chit.
Let him go I replied.
Back to that herd on the other side of the hill. By now, another truck had seen the single spike, and they set off after him in Hot Pursuit. Good Luck you little Bugger I recall thinking. You've Earned It!!
We checked the truck over, and amazingly enough we could find no damage (realizing later the only casualties were the windrow trim and a wheel alignment). Damn
Tough Rig! I honestly believe mine certainly would have disintegrated!!
With the word to our driver:
Do NOT make a move without clearance, we hit the road, and boogied a fair ways down alongside the hill we had so recently departed. Hoping the elk on the other side and across the valley had not been perturbed overly much by the rodeo they obviously could not see.
When we encountered a trail that slipped into a small notch in that hill, we approached with caution. At this point, were all things to be equal, we should enter the valley better than 1000 yards out in front and across the valley from the herd we were attempting to close on. Yup. There they were, still moving slowly up the range of hills on the far side. And, now close to 2,000 yards back behind them still came the Walkers??
The white truck we were in blended nicely with the snow and it was obvious the elk were entirely unaware of our presence. Perched low down on the hill, we began to analyze the situation. Small range of hills on the valley floor in front of them and between us. Here's hoping they swing that way, and head in our direction. Just then a truck appeared atop of the range of hills behind them. The elk simply paused, then continued at a stroll, but had indeed altered their direction - right towards us. Then another truck parked further down on top of the same range. That moved the elk to a trot. Not running, but that mile eating gait they are so famous for...
When they disappear behind those knolls, move closer along the base of the hills on our side I directed our driver.
At the very first sign of them stop IMMEDIATELY. Got it. The elk disappeared. We rolled about 400 yards. The first head appeared at our end of the knolls, and we slid to a stop behind another small knoll. I bailed and readied myself, trying to pick the larger of the two spikes out from among the many cows and calves. Got him. No Shot. Too many bodies around and behind him.
Hold...
The little herd then crested another small hill which formed the base of the range on our side of the valley.
Range Them I cried, while grabbing my own finder at the same time. 310 yards the reply. Mine read 297.
Close enough.
Just then, the lead cow stepped on the brakes.
Something ain't right I could almost
hear her thoughts. That caused the main body to do the same, some twenty yards out behind their leaders. A quick check on the Walkers. Well hidden behind the knolls the elk had departed and a large angle away from the herd in front of us. As the two groups stalled out, the larger of the two spikes stepped right cleanly into the opening between them, then stopped almost facing me. The Weatherby is sighted in for 300 yards, and very much likes that range. In less than 1/10th of a second, the 180 grain Nosler Partition was on it's way.
No Visible Effect? WTF?!?
As the herd now resumed their trot up the hill, I tried desperately to find a clean window to send another round through. Nope.
Did you see that hit behind him? I cried to my Crew.
NO! I believe I heard it hit the reply.
Hmmm...
Tracking the young bull well inside the herd, he suddenly began to drop back - fast.
Before the final cows made it past him, he was folded up and down.
Down for the count that is. The bullet had struck exactly where I had aimed.
High Fives, and we wandered over to investigate. A Fine Young Bull, and likely as tender vittles as a man could ever ask for!!
Grinning, I rolled the little bull over and began to clean him. My Alberta Partner then deemed me
The Happiest Spike Killer in the Province of Alberta. And at that point, after all we had been through, I Really Was!
Still complying with the No Photo Rule prevented us from taking any pictures at the kill site itself, but we did a little set-up a while later outside the base simply to capture the moment:
While my BC Buddy & I attended to the task at hand, our Alberta Partner re-established contact with our second Team.
They had gotten reasonably close, and ended up tracking the herd as they circled and wound their way back into the Sanctuary.
Along their path, three of the cows met with hunters and were being loaded up. The balance now deep inside Safe Haven.
Our Team Two Commander had a matter come up he had to deal with quite shortly, so we hooked up, and collected The Lady who now assumed my previous position of Shooter in the Shotgun Seat.
Recognizing our tracking strategy had paid off, we set about with the same in mind. One two hour working of three sets of tracks (one HUGE) ended up in a very recent gutpile, and the smaller two sets of tracks wandering off. Another set put us on a cow calf combination, and a third, a big old solo cow in a very crafty hidey hole. Again, multitudes of antelope were encountered, more Mulies, and more Rocket Coyotes.
Along the way, we also found yet another dead cow, and one that had been gutshot. The latter was poised on a hill, and doing quite poorly. It took everything our Crew could do to persuade me from finishing her off, something I still haven't quite gotten completely over...
The hours raced by as we used our collective expertise to try and put The Lady in a shooting position. Towards early evening, we once again set up on the Big Bulls for 1/2 hour, noting they were still quite content on their hilltop haven, and showing no signs of wandering from there.
Darkness eventually found us up to the north east corner, but alas, although we did encounter more wildlife, none resembled an elk of any sort.
At the main gate upon departure, we learned that two "good" bulls had been taken that morning by the two trucks which had continued east in front of us, and another smaller one by another fellow coming down into that area from the north. Funny thing about what "good" means to some people. When I asked the technician if he knew anything about Boone & Crockett Scoring, his reply was "
sort of". When I then asked if the two "good ones" would make 400" or better, he replied
No, but they are all of 380". We later determined that a good friend, a well experienced guide had personally checked out both of those bulls.
Neither will break 320" was his assessment. And it turned out the our spike was the fourth of only four taken that day.
Regardless, the little spike was something of a Trophy to me. He has indeed turned out to be the best eating elk I have ever taken, and the first spike of my elk hunting career. My Alberta Buddy already had some fine eating elk in the freezer, so a full half of this one went into my BC Buddy's hands.
Despite our weariness, we celebrated well into the morning again, and my Title of
Happiest Spike Killer was reaffirmed many times.
It took us a couple of days to wind down, during which we visited a few local Buddies and simply relaxed.
The journey home was broken up by visiting yet another long lost Friend in Calgary for the eve, then a blistering run over the mountains.
Certainly was an "
interesting" ride home through which the weather constantly shifted from damn near white out to near clear skies:
And amazingly enough, we managed to roll right onto the 3:00pm Ferry in Vancouver, getting us home at a decent hour (for a change).
I still feel the effects both physically and mentally of this particular run. Some of that is entirely unlikely to ever fade.
And so this concludes the "Hunt" portion of my report.
Ahhh... But there is indeed more to come. I have some thoughts, some concerns, and musings that I plan on sharing regarding this entire scenario.
But that will wait for another day.
For now, a Rum and some Fine Elk Chops are calling my name...
Cheers,
Nog
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