Growing up, I would shoot guns with my brother and my dad and hear them tell hunting stories. As an adult with a passion for everything outdoors, I knew I wanted to try hunting. After several years of excuses, I met my husband, Mark, and he gave me the encouragement I needed to take hunter safety. I did some great general deer hunts in my home state of Washington with my cousins, Lydia and Tyler. Mark likes the self-guided type of hunts and was always going out of state, and it wasn’t long before I started applying for them as well.
Last year, we knew there was a chance that I could draw a Wyoming buck tag, but we had to wait until the June results to confirm. When the results were out, I was going on my first out-of-state hunt as the tag holder. I was excited, nervous, and even a little scared. Everything that we had researched, read, and studied said that this was not going to be an easy hunt. We would have to backpack through rough terrain, endure whatever weather was thrown our way, and prepare for longer shots in the big Wyoming mountains. This was my chance to get a bigger buck than my husband.
Before I knew it, September was here. We had prepared as much as we could, but that still wasn’t enough for what we were about to experience. The morning we arrived at the trailhead, I was a little discouraged as we pulled up to see about 20 trucks parked and no one around. After discussing our options, we decided to stay with the original plan in hopes that most hunters would leave after the weekend or weren’t headed as far back as we were planning.
We started the burley climb, and the first three miles going up 800 feet in elevation went well. However, the next mile was not so good. We gained over 1,000 feet of elevation, and I could feel the effect from being at sea level the day before. However, it was encouraging to see fewer and fewer people the further we got away from the trailhead. We bumped into a couple of horsemen, and wanting any reason to stop and take a break, we started asking if they had seen any bucks. We made some small talk, and after they realized that I was the one with the tag, they asked what kind of buck I was looking for.
I looked right at Mark and said, “A 161 inch buck. Mark has a 160 inch buck on the wall, and I want to get one bigger than his.” After some laughs, they told us about a basin where they had seen what could be a 160" buck. The only problem was, it was another two miles in, and back here, nothing was easy.
Shortly after the encounter with the horsemen, we found water and started setting up our camp. Our plan was to go hunt the evening, but with it taking longer to get to camp and being totally exhausted, we decided to stay close and glass some open fields nearby. We only saw a couple deer way out in the distance. I was glad to stay close to camp to get some much needed rest. The next morning came early as we got up a few hours before daylight. We had breakfast, packed up for the day, and started the hike to a glassing point about an hour away. We got to our point just as daylight came. The mountain sunrise was beautiful, and elk were bugling everywhere. We glassed some and then hiked down a finger ridge. Hearing bulls bugle and watching them fight made my morning exciting, but it was a little disappointing that we couldn’t find many deer. We hiked back up the finger ridge during the midday hours and decided to go look over the basin the horsemen had told us about.
We got to the steep, rocky lookout and decided to stay put for the rest of the hunting hours. An hour went by before Mark spotted a buck, and then I spotted another. Before he could get the spotting scope on my buck, he spotted another. The only problem was that the bucks were all smaller than 161". It was only day two, and I wasn’t ready to settle on these bucks. At least we had found a place that had deer, and we agreed to be back first thing in the morning.
Waking up two hours before the sun was not getting easier. We arrived at our lookout just in time to bundle up from the Wyoming wind. Two hours of glassing went by, and we only saw a couple deer. That’s when I started to doubt myself. I wouldn’t say I was at a low, but the questions started going through my mind. How could we put so many deer to sleep the night before and wake up super early to be back to the same spot and now see nothing?
At around 8 a.m., Mark spotted a lone deer feeding between two groups of trees. He reached for the spotting scope since the deer was about 1,200 yards away. I could hear the excitement in his voice as he said, “There’s your shooter.” He instantly got up and started getting the packs ready. I looked through the scope and couldn’t believe it. This buck was definitely a shooter. We hurried to get our packs on and quickly discussed a plan. We then started the steep downhill hike, staying on the opposite side of the ridgeline from the buck to stay hidden. We found a clearing between trees and popped over the ridge to check on him.
“He’s still there at 700 yards,” Mark said.
Looking down the ridge, it seemed like we could get closer, so back down the side of the ridge we went. After rushing downhill more, we peeked over again and Mark ranged the buck at 575 yards. The buck was still feeding calmly, and we thought we could get closer on a rocky bench we had spotted. Once we reached the bench, we hid behind a couple of pine trees as we peeked over. Mark whispered that 429 yards was my sweet spot. I got into the prone position but had to lay downhill with my feet higher than my head and my arms supporting all my weight. I looked through my Leupold scope to see the buck in the crosshairs, facing me straight on. Mark was right behind me ranging the buck again and setting up his spotting scope.
Mark said, “429 yards, I’ve got it several times. Wait until he turns broadside.”
I adjusted the turrets on my scope, tried to get comfortable, and waited for what seemed like forever. I had shot at this range many times, but the nerves had started to kick in. I kept telling myself to stay calm and take deep breaths. This was for real. All of the hard work we’d put into this hunt came down to this. As the buck started to turn, I focused and told Mark that I was steady. I slowly pulled the trigger and the .270 bullet hit its target, but the buck was still standing and trying to figure out where the shot had come from. I jacked another bullet into the chamber and took a second shot. I looked up and watched the buck roll several hundred feet down an avalanche shoot.
After some high fives and hugs, we began our descent into the basin, hoping the antlers had stayed intact through the 500 vertical feet the buck had tumbled down. After some searching to find blood or some evidence of the buck’s final resting place, we finally made our way down to the bottom of the basin and I was amazed to see that the antlers weren’t damaged. I just knew I was going to have the biggest buck on our wall.
I looked around at the beautiful mountain scenery and thought about how fortunate I was to be able to experience such an adventure. The buck and the smiles on our faces from our success made us forget about all of the ups and downs and all of the physical and mental challenges. These are memories that will last forever, and this is why we hunt. It doesn’t matter if we are men, women, children, or grandparents; we hunt for the rush, for the reward of knowing all of our hard work paid off, and most of all, for the good memories that we will forever hold.
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