I grew up in Hermiston, Oregon hunting with my father since the age of two (the earliest my mother would allow) when he would pack me around the mountains on his back. As a young man, I spent my days alongside my brother and father hunting, fishing, and learning proper hunting etiquette and outdoorsman skills. My father taught me that ethical hunting leads to an appreciation and understanding of nature and life. I truly believe that the lessons I have learned through honing my hunting and outdoorsman skills over the years, such as the importance of discipline, perseverance, and hard work on one’s success, have had a vast contribution to my life accomplishments thus far.
My father and I are Huntin’ Fool License Application Clients. After 23 years of applying, my father, at 64 years of age, successfully drew the Wenaha Bow No. 1 tag. From the moment he told me, I knew this was one hunt I did not want to miss out on. To put into perspective just how long my father had waited for this hunt, I was 7 years old when he began putting his name in for this tag and just turned 30 years old this past February. By saving my money, I was able to purchase the Governor’s tag and a guide so that I could hunt alongside my father. I immediately called Huntin’ Fool and was introduced to Isaiah Joner who referred me to Brian Sanders of Oregon Backcountry Outfitting.
Hunting the Wenaha unit was a dream come true for my father, and as he put it, “a once-in-a-lifetime hunt.” His passion for hunting the wild Wapiti is next to none. Over the six days we hunted the Wenaha unit, we averaged 11 miles of walking a day with numerous falls and tumbles thrown in between.
One of my high school friends, Eloy DeLaCruz, joined us on this hunt, along with a professional photographer/videographer friend, Leo York, who we nicknamed “Camera Hanes.” My little brother also made a guest appearance for one of the days.
Over the six-day period, my father had multiple opportunities to shoot a trophy bull but could not quite connect the pieces. He pulled back on four bulls that I can remember and did not take the shot/could not take the shot. We chased two bulls throughout the week that were trophy class. We found them through the spotting scope on the first night, and my dad said, “That’s what we are here for. I have waited my whole life to hunt a bull that big.” We nicknamed them “Big 6” and “Big 7.”
The next morning, we ran into Big 6 and Big 7 not too far from where we had spotted them the night before. We initially went after Big 6 instead of Big 7 because he was a little closer and easier to access as our feet were hurting and it was close to sundown as we slipped in. No shots, but we were close, so we came back the next day to hunt and ran into Big 7. We cow called and bugled, but because he already had cows, he pushed away from us. The only way he would push was into the wind, so we hustled down and across the canyon to head him off and get the wind right. We sat there as he pushed the cows right towards us. As he got closer, we got a true understanding of what it’s like to hunt a trophy class bull – pure shock and awe. As he approached, I slipped back and cow called as my dad and Brian slowly crept up through thick brush and trees in hopes of a shot. This bull sounded like a T-Rex screaming from Jurassic Park. He was so big and loud, and the ground shook when he bugled. It was amazing. Big 7 was within 30 yards, and as he was coming into a decent shooting lane where my dad would have had a clear shot, a cow smelled us as the wind changed and alarm barked. The bull turned and ran straight uphill, and we did not get a shot of catching him again before dark. However, morale was high as we walked back down the trail to camp and we talked about how big and beautiful the typical 7x7 was. It was pretty great to be close to that size bull, well over 350"+, the biggest bull my dad and I had ever encountered.
The next day, we hunted close to where we thought Big 7 might have been headed. During midday, we found our way into what felt like a Colosseum where we had elk bugling and fighting like gladiators all around us. My dad passed on a few smaller bulls in hopes of seeing Big 7 or another trophy-sized bull. Some of the bulls he passed on were in the 320" range. This was a great experience for us both as there were 10+ bulls bugling around us and fighting.
During all this commotion, we heard what sounded like a dinosaur off in the distance and we knew we were back in the show. As we crept closer and closer to Big 7 screaming his head off, I slowly slipped back as my dad, Brian, and Camera Hanes crept forward for a potential shot. The wind was right as they crept past cows 5 and 10 yards below them bedded down. As they closed in and spooked the cows, Big 7 closed the distance to see what was going on and was broadside at 25-30 yards with a very small tree between. As my dad pulled back on the bull and held for what seemed like an eternity, the bull trotted off. My dad felt that there was no shot. After watching the film footage, it is still up for debate and he has been given a hard time around camp.
On day four, we found Big 6 and it was my turn as my dad had had multiple bulls in front of him at this point and his feet needed a break. I was getting excited to try my chance at a dandy bull! Before this hunt, I had very little understanding of how to score a bull due to the fact I’ve archery hunted my whole life and I usually shoot the first bull with horns. I am sure glad I hired Brian and his team of guides. They are a book of knowledge when it comes to scoring mature bull elk. I was able to shoot my bull after an upsetting miss on day four. I didn’t understand what caliber of bull he was until I looked over and Brian was almost in tears. Poor guy was working his butt off to get my dad and me a bull and we couldn’t connect. He said that a big 6x6 in Oregon with long thirds is very rare.
Day five had us sneaking in on two bulls for my dad when I spotted Big 6 off in the far distance. My heart started pounding, and with my mind on redemption, I was determined to not let him slip away this time. My dad turned to Brian as I had already started down the hill and was out of sight after him. He said, “Go get ‘em,” as he knew it would be a foot race to the top of the mountain and he wouldn’t be able to keep up. I don’t think I have ever seen anyone fly up the hill quite like Brian can. As we sprinted down a trail to catch him as he pushed his herd of 30 cows away, he peeled back to fight off two smaller bulls. This was amazing for me to watch as my heart beat out of my chest, and it was a costly mistake for Big 6. We closed in and crawled on hands and knees to the ledge. As I looked over Big 6, he was bugling while running uphill chasing a cow. I jumped up on my feet and didn’t miss this time!
As my dad caught up and saw I was smiling ear to ear and had harvested the bull, he was full of joy. We stood in awe of the bull’s thirds and horn mass. We have always hunted for meat and had never taken an elk anywhere near the horn or body size of Big 6. I already have a long list of friends hounding me for jerky every year, and I believe I’ll be able to supply everyone a couple of times over.
The last days of hunting were some of the best hunting my dad said he’s ever done. We encountered multiple bulls bugling and hiked rough, tough country that was fulfilling to push our bodies to the brink of exhaustion. More opportunity was available, but my dad never connected on a bull. This was a great memory for both of us, and we look to many more outdoor adventures.
Oregon Elk
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