My daughter, Brooke, was lucky enough to draw one of Utah’s youth-only elk hunts. The youth hunt allows young hunters the opportunity to use a rifle during the rut after the general archery season ends and before the muzzleloader/rifle seasons start. Basically, it’s a week of hunting with your kid during the rut with essentially no other hunting pressure due to the limited number of youth tags. To say Brooke and I were excited is an understatement.
I had a rough idea of the region I wanted to hunt as I had spent time in Utah for work as well as a couple deer hunts in past years. Additionally, I had a friend who had lived and hunted the area with his family for years, so that gave me a leg up on narrowing down likely spots. Rick, thanks again for all your help! I picked three areas we would hunt during the week and called the local USDA Forest Service ranger station to see what camp areas were open and if there were any fire restrictions, etc. We settled on a small campground that was about an hour drive from each of the three spots I wanted to hunt.
We drove from Vancouver to Heber City the first day. It was a long haul, but that would give us time the next day to make the final push and be at the campsite in time to set up. It would also give us a little time to drive to the trailhead in daylight so we would not have any issues the next morning getting there in the dark.
On hunting day one, we got up at 4:30 a.m., ate a quick breakfast, and drove to the trailhead. Our plan was to hike in the dark and try some locater bugles. We spent the better part of the day bugling, cow calling, hunting out ridgetops, looking for sign, etc., but we never saw or heard a thing.
On day two, we went to our second of the three target areas, and much like day one, we saw some awesome country but no elk. This repeated itself the next day at our third-choice area. On top of not having any elk encounters, the weather changed significantly for us with temps dropping and some occasional snow and sleet flurries blowing through in advance of what looked to be a big front that would hit us that night. Back at camp, we had dinner. As we discussed options and made plans for going back to our day one hunt, the storm rolled in. The initial wave of the storm was high winds and a massive thunder and lightning show. We were camped at 10,000 feet, so the storm was up close and personal. Within 20 minutes, the wind gusts picked up even more followed by sheets of rain, and then sleet started coming down on us.
As with day one, we left the truck in the dark to hike up the trail to the ridge. Neither of us were in a good mood after some not so good dad cooking, a poor night’s sleep, and a chest cold settling in. Brooke never complained a bit, but I could see by her facial expressions the fun factor of this hunt was diminishing, especially since we hadn’t seen any elk.
After about an hour, we got to the ridge and sat down to take a break. I decided to throw out a bugle and could hardly believe it when I got a response right away from maybe 300 yards down the ridge. I bugled again and immediately got a response, and this time, it was a bit closer. I told Brooke we needed to move up a bit and get to some trees closer to the crest of the finger ridge. I bugled again, and there was another immediate response but even closer. I told Brooke to forget about moving, we needed to set up right there. The bull was coming in right now! I tucked her up against the bows of a tree, and she got her gun up on the “trigger stick” tripod. I bugled again and got the same immediate response, but now it was within 75 yards. I could see his legs filter through the trees and then occasionally antler tips. Brooke was ready, and the bull started getting confused that he wasn’t seeing the elk that was calling at him and wasn’t seeing any cows either. He started walking back down the ridge away from us. I gave another quick bugle and started raking the trees behind me. He fired up again and started heading back, but now he started angling down to try and get our wind. I whispered to Brooke that I needed to leave her there and move 20 yards or more behind her to try to draw the bull out in front of her in an opening.
I backed off and started raking the trees again and doing some low chuckles. The bull kept coming and kept bugling. He was now within 50 yards but obscured by small trees. I couldn’t see the bull, but I could see Brooke, so I got my cell phone out and hit video and then bugled again. As soon as I did that, I saw Brooke get on the gun and look through the scope. I heard the bull take a few more steps and then stop. I saw Brooke’s head lock in on the scope, and she pulled the trigger. The bull ran about 30 yards downslope through some trees. I ran over to Brooke who immediately asked if she hit him. I told her I was sure she had but to get another round in the chamber. She got another round in, and we quickly picked our way through the trees to where I had last seen the bull. As we got to the spot, I looked down and saw a massive blood trail. We slowed down and crept down the ridge another 20 yards. We broke into a little opening with a view of the meadow below us and saw the bull lying dead. He had run maybe 50 yards from where Brooke had shot him and piled up. Brooke had made a perfect shot, right behind the front shoulder, took out both lungs, and broke the opposite shoulder. I couldn’t have been prouder of her. I gave her a huge hug and then we stood there just taking it all in. We went down to the bull and took some photos of Brooke with her first ever elk, a 5x5 bull. Maybe it wasn’t a trophy for some people, but for us, it was the best ever.
Brooke took about 25 pounds of meat and the head, and I loaded up with a heavy pack for our first load. About two hours later, we got to the trailhead, and as we rounded the corner to where I could see my truck, I saw Rick’s dad, Randy, walking toward us with his pack frame. How great is it that Randy had dropped everything and driven two hours to help us out? Brooke and I put the head and meat bags in the truck, grabbed some Gatorade, and turned around to hike back up to her bull.
The next morning, we had a huge breakfast and then drove over to Randy’s house to grab the meat. We thanked Randy and his wife for their help and hospitality and then started our long trek back home.
As rocky as this hunt started, it turned out better than I had ever expected. It was a lasting memory for all involved. Again, my heartfelt thanks to Rick and Randy.
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