As most hunts start in the planning stage, Steve’s hunt was 19 years into it. Steve and I have been on many great hunts together, but he had some health issues that set him back a few years, although he kept stocking up points. This year, luck came his way as he drew one of Nevada’s best late elk rifle tags and one of Nevada’s best deer rifle tags. Let the games begin!
He started his homework, and his friends and family helped any way we could. After a lot of research and stressing, Steve decided to turn his deer tag back in and focus strictly on the elk hunt this year. He made a ton of calls and bought maps, and we all scoured the collected information. Steve and his brother, Ron Dodd, made a scouting trip, found a camping spot, and waited for the opener. Candy and I said we were in from the start along with Ron Dodd, Stan Russell, Stan’s son, Zach (who also is our son-in-law), Steve’s son, Pete, and Steve’s son-inlaw, Justin Walsworth. These are great folks to hang out with if you want to have a good time and a great hunt!
Most of the team went down a few days early. Candy and I were there two days before the opener, and all of us were there to scout and glass for the “Big Boy.” We got a few inches of snow the day before season, and we spotted a few decent bulls, including one we thought needed a closer look. The plan was made for opening day to leave a couple guys at the bottom to glass and the rest would head towards the bulls we had located.
Opening day arrived, and we were socked in with fog. The spotters down low could see nothing all day. We went up and hiked in a few miles straight up, slipping and sliding. Finally, we got to where the elk were. We all looked them over, and Steve decided to pass. It was a hard decision as the hike was a butt kicker.
We were out the next day trying to glass as best we could 144 as the fog was still thicker than pea soup. Zach and Justin went up a canyon to a trailhead and hiked in above the fog to check out an area where Zach had seen some bulls a couple days earlier. The rest of us were looking for holes in the fog to glass through and hopefully spot a bull. Stan, Ron, and Candy needed to go out and get some service, and I got a text telling me to get up to the trailhead with Steve, hike him in about two and a half miles, and take a look at something. After a little convincing, I had Steve and Pete easing up the trail.
A couple hours later, as we came over the top of the mountain to where Zach and Justin were, Steve’s very words were, “They better not be looking at something across SOB!” Across, there was a canyon like no other. The magnitude of it was a little more than Steve expected. As luck would have it, when we asked the boys where they were looking, with big smiles on their faces, they pointed about three-quarters of the way up the opposite side of that great expanse. Steve said, “I am not going across that!” We put some food in his belly, hydrated him, had a lot of pep talks, and showed him a couple great bulls the boys had found. One was extra special, so Steve was ready. The words he still regrets at times and cherishes at others are, “Let’s do it!”
After a quick look at the maps, we figured the best way down and made our game plan for once we got over there. Taking off shortly after noon, the treacherous hike down and up the other side was a slow process. The bulls were bedded, and we finally got where we were sure they were. We peeked out and an elk rack was about 300 yards away. Due to the roll of the hill, it was going to be very tough to get Steve in position where he could actually see the bodies of the elk, not just the antlers. It was 45 minutes before dark would set in, and if the bulls fed away, we were done. However, the bulls stayed just over the roll, not giving a shot. We decided to try to push it a little closer. At 250 yards in a patch of pinyon pine, we were as far as we dared go. The boys said the big boy was up and feeding. Pushing shooting light and the roll of the hill, the bull finally got to where Steve could barely see his vitals. I was trying to get where I could get it on film, and the bull spotted movement and started to spin around. Boom! Whack! Steve made a great shot. As he walked up to his magnificent bull, with tears in his eyes, he was in awe of such a beautiful animal. Steve thanked us all from the bottom of his heart.
As we field dressed the bull and took some pictures, it was after dark. We should have spent the night right where we were, built a fire, and enjoyed our cold night on the hill, but we didn’t. Taking off at 6 p.m., trying a different route so we didn’t have to do the major canyon, we got back to camp the next morning at 3:30 a.m. It was almost a true death march! Candy, who hadn’t heard a word since early evening, was at camp alone and had dinner ready at 8 p.m. She was ready to kill us but was also glad to see us that next morning all in one piece.
With two hours’ sleep, Steve and the rest of us decided after the last two days he better not go back in for the pack out, so Zach, Justin, Pete, Candy, and I headed back in to the bull to pack it out. Candy was not taking no for an answer as this was going to be a long, slick, tough pack, but as always, she was right there to do her part. She’s one tough lady, I tell you! We all grabbed a load, and between us all, we packed out that beautiful bull in one load.
Steve shot a bull-of-a-lifetime and has not quit thanking us. He is a great friend, and he is blessed with great friends and family. One thing is for sure, you always remember the tough hunts, the ones where the misery factor is high. In this case, Steve will never forget this hunt and the neardeath march.
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