It was late June when I received a phone call from my Uncle Matt telling me that he had just drawn one of the big three tags-of-a-lifetime in Oregon and wanted to know if I would like to tag along on the adventure with him. Before he could even get the words out of his mouth, I was asking “When do we leave?” Matt made a few other phone calls. This was going to be a full family adventure that none of us would ever forget. Three uncles, Matt (he had the tag), Mark, Joe, my 9-year-old cousin, Grady, and I tagged along as well.
Impatiently awaiting opening morning, we set off for eastern Oregon for a scouting trip in the beginning of October. Boy, was that an eye opener. Going from hunting the coastal range in the northwest corner of the state for Roosevelts to almost as far east as we could get in the middle of the rut fest is not something any of us will forget anytime soon. A herd of elk crossed the road right in front of the truck. We waited for them to cross, and we were not disappointed. At the end of the herd was a 330”+ herd bull pushing his cows. We waited for them to get settled down and followed them down into the timber patch they crossed into. We were a few hundred yards in when my uncle gave one cow call and the valley erupted. Our were hearts racing with anticipation, bulls started screaming from every direction, and cows were running amuck. We knew right where we could be come opening morning.
The long-anticipated night before opening morning, we were like little kids on Christmas Eve. We tried to get a good night’s rest, anxiously waiting for daylight. We were greeted with a blanket of fresh snow and the tops of all the mountains socked in with fog. The fog really threw a wrench into our plans. After a lot of driving around and looking at maps, it was tough, but we were finally able to get low enough and get below the fog to glass up a few smaller bulls but nothing worth my Uncle Matt punching his tag for.
We fought the fog on day two as well. We moved to a new area that we had never been to before. After a short hike, we were below the fog just enough to be able to start glassing. After about 20 minutes, my Uncle Mark glassed up a shooter bull, but the problem was that he was right below the fog line and about 1,300 yards away, just out of range. We tried to make a move on him, but by the time we got into position, the fog had settled and the brute of a bull was nowhere to be found. After we determined the fog was not going anywhere, that shooter bull was going to live another day as we decided to move on.
Day three brought a cool, clear morning and raised hopes. After checking a few spots where we had seen a few good bulls in October, we reverted to OnX Hunt for our next move. As we bounced around the ridgetops, glassing every chance we got and playing with the Phone Skope, we turned up another shooter. The only problem this time was that he was very deep in the wilderness. There was no chance of getting to him before dark. Reluctantly, we let him be and were going to keep him in our back pocket. We decided to stop by one last spot as we hunted our way out of the woods. Matt spotted a bull only about 500 yards away. This bull was right around the 270-280" mark, a young bull with a lot of potential. After a few minutes of Mark and Matt going back and forth as only brothers can do, Matt with an itchy trigger finger wanting to take him and Mark telling him to hold out for something bigger, the bull made the decision for them and walked off into the timber, never to be seen again.
As we headed for camp, Matt was kicking himself and feeling a little bit of regret for not taking the bull. Mark said, “You can’t shoot a 340 inch bull on the fifth day if you shoot at 270 inch bull on the third.” After we got back to camp, spirits were high and optimistic for the morning of day four.
Morning brought breakfast, coffee, and the question of the day. Mark looked at Matt and asked him, “Do you want to shoot a bull today?”
Matt replied, “Well yeah, that’s what we are here for.”
Mark said, “Alright. You’re gonna shoot a bull today because I’m putting on my lucky shirt.”
After we all laughed about Mark wearing his lucky shirt to ensure Matt his bull-of-a-lifetime, we set out for the morning hunt, only to have our spirits shot down a little bit due to the rain and fog. As we tried to figure out where to go next, I was able to get just enough cell service to get a text from a buddy who was hunting in the same unit and had already tagged out. He gave us a tip on a few spots to check out.
Running out of options, we got in OnX to see if we could locate a couple of spots that my buddy had told us to check out. With pins dropped and spirits high, we set out for the pins. As we dropped further and further down in elevation, we were hoping to drop below the fog and look around a bit. Spot number one was really good and very promising, but there were no elk to be found at 10 in the morning.
We moved on to spot number two. The road “Y'd” and we turned right and started heading down into the draw. We all noticed that we were now well below the fog, the first time all morning. We were in a bowhunters paradise. The only problem was that we were rifle hunting and the bulls were not talking anymore. As we headed back out, we took a left at the Y and started working out to the ridge. When we were finally able to reach the end of the road, we knew this was the spot.
Mark and I went one way, and Matt, Joe, and Grady went another. Mark and I set up and began glassing, I instantly get on OnX to start figuring out how to get across the massive draw for when we spotted a bull. After getting a general layout of the land, Mark and I both agreed that this was a spot that we needed to keep checking. With timber with openings in it, this was just what we were looking for. It was prime elk country. Mark looked at me and said, “It’s 11:15. These elk should be getting up any time now and start eating again.”
After Mark and I glassed and reglassed, we were confident that there weren't any elk out at the moment, so we headed over to meet up with Matt, Joe, and Grady. Once we all met up, Mark and I were talking and both look across the draw. We both said, “What’s that?” Sure enough, it was a bull. Once I got the spotter set up and determined it was a smaller bull, feeling a little disappointed, Mark told me to get down the ridge as he had spotted another elk in the timber to the left of the smaller bull. Upon locating the elk in the spotting scope, all I was able to see was the top left side of his antlers, his fourth, fifth, and sixth, and I instantly knew that this was a bull we needed to try and get Matt on. I put Mark on the spotter, and he said the same thing.
Mark ranged the bull, and he was at 1,085 yards. Mark helped Matt get set up and made sure he was comfortable and as calm as one could be when getting ready to take a monster bull. After about five minutes and multiple dry fires, Matt said he was ready to take him. With the Phone Skope rolling on the spotting scope, Matt settled in locating the bull in the scope and touched one off. Matt hammered the bull, and it took about four steps backwards. It was hidden in the timber ever so slightly. I was watching the bull and told Matt to shoot him again after the bull stepped forward out of the timber. Watching the bull through the scope, I knew he wasn't going anywhere. The bull was dead on his feet, but he was still standing. Matt touched off another round, hitting the bull in the same exact spot as the first time. The bull fell to the ground. After anxiously watching him for five minutes to make sure he didn't try to get up, we determined Matt had just taken a bull-of-a-lifetime. Smiles and high fives were all around. Now came the hard part of having to figure out how to get to him.
Being the tech savvy one of the group, I dropped a pin on OnX right before we left the ridge from which Matt had shot the bull from so we had somewhat of an idea where Matt’s monster bull lay waiting. After conversing, we picked the road we needed to head up to get onto the same ridge as the bull.
After a very stressful hour and a half drive around the mountain, we got to the road we needed to head up. Now here was the problem. The road was gated off with no trespassing signs all around. Back to square one. Back on OnX, I located another road to try, but the map indicated that road went through private land as well. We decided to give it a shot in hopes the state had an easement through the property to access the public land on the other side. We nervously work our way towards the road. Sure enough, we were in luck, there was an easement. As we worked our way through the road systems, we finally arrived on top of the ridge where the bull had expired. Matt, Mark, and I got the packs strapped to our backs and headed over the ridge in search of the bull.
I got back on OnX to locate my pin that I had dropped from across the draw. I noticed the pin was to our right. After a brief conversion with Mark, who thought he was to the left, I told him, “I’m going right. You can go left, but I’m telling you the bull is dead over here to the right.” He gave in, and he and Matt followed right behind me. I knew I had better be right or I would never live it down with my uncles.
About 10 yards down the hill, we cut fresh elk tracks and the smell his us. I knew we were close. I looked at a picture I had taken earlier and noticed a patch of smaller trees just to the left of the bull. We were standing right about in those trees. After another 40 yards, I came out into and opening and looked down the hill. All I saw were tines sticking up out of the brush. I turned around and looked at Matt, who was between Mark and me, and pointed down the hill. As soon as Matt saw his bull, you would have thought he had just won the lottery. As he ran down to his bull, his excitement could not be contained.
Once we got to the bull, I looked at OnX and located the truck. I called my Uncle Joe who was impatiently waiting at the truck with my little cousin, Grady, and told them where to go. They were able to come join in on the experience. After all the pictures were taken, the work began breaking the bull down and getting him up the hill. This was Grady’s first time helping with the breakdown and pack out of a bull, and it’s safe to say he’s hooked for life.
After it was all said and done, we put a tape on the bull back at camp and he scored 340 3/8". After we taped the bull, Mark looked at Matt and said “I told you you would kill a bull. I mean, I did put on my lucky shirt.” Matt learned that good things come to those that wait, not only waiting 21 years to harvest a bull-of-a-lifetime, but also not killing a 280” bull on day three when you can kill a 340” bull on day four.
Matt had waited for 21 years to draw this tag and harvested a bull-of-a-lifetime. All in all, this was one of the best hunting experiences of my life and I know it’s one that none of us will ever forget. We have all gained many great things from this experience. Pictures, videos, memory making, stories to tell, these are all things that will never get old and these are all things we will never forget.
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