On May 21, 2023 I received an email from the Nevada Game and Fish Department. I was in Canada fishing on Lac Seul with my buddy, Woody, and had just returned to the lodge after an incredible day of catching oversized walleyes.
After supper, I jumped onto my phone and checked emails. I was stunned. With 20 and 17 points, respectively, I had drawn the best archery elk tag (111-115) and the best muzzleloader mule deer tag (241-245) in the state. With only three non-resident elk tags and one non-resident deer tag available in 2023, drawing both tags in the same year was like winning the lottery, Las Vegas style.
After returning home to Wisconsin, I notified my wife, Amy, and the planning process began. I decided to do the elk hunt on my own with the help of Amy and my buddy, Brian, and his wife,
Susie, from Idaho, but for the mule deer hunt, I knew I needed help, so I contacted Greg Krogh at Mogollon Rim Outfitters. Greg and I had been talking about Nevada for years, hoping one day I would finally draw, so when I called and told him the good news, he could not believe it. I booked a seven-day hunt, and plans were made. I also contacted Huntin’ Fool for a list of successful prior applicants for both hunts, which they emailed to me. I spoke with quite a few people on each list. One member in particular, Miles from Utah, would end up playing a pivotal role in the success of my elk hunt, more on that later.
About a month prior to my hunts, I ended up in the ER twice with severe abdominal pain. The doctor informed me that I had both a kidney stone and umbilical hernia. I called my buddy, Brian, who is a doctor, and told him the good news. He assured me that neither would kill me, I would just feel like I was dying if the kidney stone got stuck in my ureter while hiking the mountains of Eastern Nevada. He reminded me to take it easy packing heavy loads to avoid complications with the hernia. We laughed at the timing of it all.
On September 1st, I flew to Salt Lake City where I rented a 4x4 truck and headed to Ely for the night. Brian planned on hunting the entire season with me, which ended on September 16th, with our wives coming out for a week mid-season. Once in Ely, I grabbed dinner and retired to a hotel room for the night.
The next morning, I picked up the UTV I had rented along with some groceries and headed east toward Mt. Moriah where I had decided to start my elk hunt based on information provided by another HF member, Mark. He had drawn the same tag a few years prior and had killed a giant bull approaching 400". I made it to my pre-determined camping spot around noon, set up the tent for the night, and decided to sit water that afternoon. I sat until just after dark but didn’t see or hear anything.
The following morning, I got up an hour before sunrise, ate breakfast, and drove the UTV to a glassing point I had found using the onX offline maps I had downloaded before leaving civilization. I had only glassed a short time before I picked up some elk, mostly cows but a few bulls, too. Nothing big. I also glassed up hunters, a lot of hunters. I was surprised by this. Most were driving around looking for deer as the archery deer season was also underway. I did not want this, so I decided to go somewhere else. I texted Greg, told him what was going on, and he recommended a new location which I moved to after Brian showed up a couple of days later.
After two days in the new spot, I texted Greg to let him know that we had not seen a single elk. He was in shock. I started to panic thinking I was blowing it when I remembered Miles from Utah, so I gave him a call. Talk about the difference a single phone call and person can make. Miles had drawn the same tag a few years earlier, killing a beautiful bull on the last day of his hunt. He wanted to help and graciously texted his waypoints to me. Off we went after meeting up with our wives.
The next 12 days were a bugle fest. We had found the elk, and there were bulls everywhere. Thank you, Miles! This new location was a large pinyon-juniper flat with burns mixed in. It was easy to navigate and perfect for bowhunting. Brian and Susie would stay back calling, while Amy and I would position ourselves 50-100 yards ahead, pulling lovesick bulls past us. They had no idea we were there. Amy and Susie had to leave eventually, and as is the case with all great hunts, Brian and I were down to the last day. It was time to make something happen.
The final morning began like all the others with bugling bulls everywhere. They led us into a new canyon this time where we discovered a pond, fresh wallows, and 10 screaming bulls all trying to stake their claim. They were all in that 320-340" range but no bigger. After things settled down, I told Brian I wanted to come back in the afternoon and hunt the little pond. I was convinced something bigger would show up for a drink as temperatures were climbing.
That afternoon, about three hours before sunset, Brian and I made our way to the little pond for the afternoon hunt. We were full of hope but also realistic about our chances. We needed a miracle. We brought two folding chairs, so we were comfortable. We had no more than sat down when we looked across the valley to see elk emerging from the thick pinyon/juniper about 400 yards away. Initially, it was just cows, 10 in all, but eventually, we heard a bugle and then another. They sounded big and unfamiliar. When the bull finally stepped out a few minutes later, Brian and I looked at each other in disbelief. He was beautiful, easily the biggest bull of the trip. Heavy racked with six long points per side and pushing 50" wide, he was a definite shooter.
For the next hour, he presided over his harem, running off satellite bulls in the process. We decided to throw out a couple of soft cow calls just to let the entire herd know we were there at the waterhole waiting for them and then we shut up. It worked perfectly. I’m not sure what got the best of the lead cow, but eventually, she couldn’t take it any longer and began working herself our way, dragging the entire herd with her, including the herd bull bringing up the rear, bugling and screaming the whole time. My heart was pounding. It’s funny how a person’s brain short-circuits when things go south. I don’t remember missing the first shot or trying to frantically nock another arrow before the entire herd took off, but I do remember Brian’s raw emotion as the bull collapsed from a well-placed second shot as the bull stared in our direction from the other side of the little pond that had saved the day. What came out of that man, my goodness, will remain with me until the day I die. It was special. We estimated the bull to be in the 360" range, which was plenty for me.
Brian and I said our goodbyes. He took the elk rack with him (to be returned another day), and I made my way south to Caliente for my mule deer hunt with Greg Krogh where I ended up killing the biggest typical mule deer buck of my life, pushing 195", with Trevor Davenport’s help two weeks later. That is another story for another day.
I spent 30 days in Nevada pulling off an unlikely “double.” I want to thank Brian and Susie for all their help on this trip. I could not have done it without them. I would also like to thank Greg Krogh and Trevor Davenport for helping me kill the largest typical mule deer of my life, Huntin’ Fool for making dreams come true, and the Nevada Game and Fish Department for doing such a wonderful job managing their limited big game resources. And to Miles from Utah, thank you. You are one good man, Miles. Without you, this story could not have been told.
And to my wife, Amy, thank you for coming to Nevada with me and for the past 35 years. I look forward to growing old with you and traveling the world.
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