During the winter of 2017, I was dreaming of getting back out west to chase elk again. However, we were set to move that summer to western Pennsylvania, so I knew that it would be two falls before I would be out there again, or so I thought. Having already been on two muzzleloader hunts in New Mexico with Gila and Apache Outfitters, my brother, Lee, was itching to get back out. He gave me a call in late February, asking if I wanted to put in for the draw for a rifle hunt in unit 16D. Knowing I was going to move, I initially said no, but when I realized the extremely low chance I would actually draw and I would get a refund when I didn’t draw, I went ahead and put my application in. Why not? If he drew and I didn’t put in, I would forever be kicking myself.
Time went by, and I eventually forgot about my application, knowing the odds were slim to none of drawing. I worked an overnight shift the night before the draw and was awoken from my day sleep by multiple phone calls and text messages from Lee. Low and behold, we had drawn a coveted rifle tag! The next several months were spent working up loads for my rifle, shooting, and convincing my 77-year-old father to go with us. Lee was so gung-ho about going on this hunt that he had bought a landowner tag even before the draw for unit 16A. After weeks of convincing and obtaining a disabled hunter permit for my dad, he agreed to go with us for the hunt in 16A. Since his season was a week before ours, he was going to fly out and meet Lee in New Mexico to hunt the first week. He would stay out the following week with us, and we would all fly back to our homes after both hunts were complete.
Fast forward to October after countless days at the rifle range and moving my family to our new home. Dad and Lee flew out and started their hunt on Saturday, October 7th. I had to work that day, and I was hoping for success for Dad. We had all hunted with the same outfitter three years before on a muzzleloader hunt, and I was the only one to fill my tag with a bull. Unfortunately, a month after the hunt, my dad had a horrible fall while trimming limbs for a tree stand, one that we didn’t know if he would survive. A month in the ICU, two surgeries, and countless hours of rehab later, he was back in the woods, chasing elk in New Mexico no less.
Early afternoon, I received a text from Lee that said, “Bull down.” The pictures that followed showed a nice 340 class 7x7. What a start to our family hunt! After seeing those pictures and hearing the story, I was antsy to get out.
Finally, the day came and I was on the plane to New Mexico. After arriving, I spent the next three hours driving to Reserve with images of giant bulls in my head. I was off to the range to shoot my rifle and then off to camp. Meeting up with our outfitter, Mike Delao, we all got settled in and went over the game plan.
The next day, Friday, all three of us got up early, and went out scouting with my brother’s guide, Layne. Over several hours, we saw several herds of elk and multiple bulls. Being out there and hearing them bugle in the cool morning, I knew this was going to be a special hunt. We headed back to Reserve, got lunch, and talked about the upcoming hunt. Later that afternoon, I met up with my guide, Bryan, to get the game plan for the hunt the following day. He had been out scouting that morning, finding a nice 7x7 that he estimated at about 330 class.
“That’s a nice bull, but we’re going after something bigger tomorrow,” he said. The plan was to camp out that night and get up high on the mountain early in the morning in search of our bull.
At 3 p.m., we were packed up and on the road to do some scouting at our proposed hunting area. We saw several 6x6 bulls that night but nothing that we felt was a shooter. After a quick dinner, we set up our sleeping blankets and attempted to sleep, not knowing what excitement the hunt would bring us. Up early in the morning, we packed up our bags and prepared our gear for the hunt. We set off up the mountain in a UTV and then hiked the remaining distance to where we sat scouting the night before. As the sun came up, we were greeted by multiple bugles around us. Bryan had set us up in elk central, and the excitement level was through the roof. We sneaked up to where the first bugle came from and were greeted over the ridge by a 6x6 with several cows about 200 yards away. He was not what we were looking for, so we started glassing around, looking for other bulls. About 100 yards below us, four bulls crossed through a clearing. We got a quick look at them, and Bryan said the last one was a nice 6x6, but he wasn’t sure if it was a shooter.
We followed them over another ridge, spotting them again. This time they were at about 450 yards. As we looked closer, we decided the last one was a shooter. I quickly ranged him at 454 yards. Setting up quickly with my shooting sticks and worrying my opportunity would pass, I hastily set up for a shot. Boom! Miss! Quickly, I tried to get on him again, but before I could, he was up and over the hill. All that excitement had quickly turned to despair as I missed my chance at a shooter bull at a range I had been practicing at for months before. We headed after them, but they were gone, so we headed to another spot to glass.
Fortunes changed fast as I could tell from the excitement in Bryan’s voice that he had glassed a big bull. He was too far for us to stalk, but the plan was to let him bed and drive to an area closer to him to stalk. That was the plan, but when we got down to our proposed area, we found this would be difficult if not nearly impossible as where he was bedded was extremely thick country with a difficult stalk to get in rifle range. However, we tried to make the best of it and set up, waiting for him to come out. That same 6x6 didn’t come, but another large 6x5 made an appearance that evening. Unfortunately, he was 1,000 yards away and our attempt to get a closer shot failed. Such is hunting.
Onto the next morning with the talk at breakfast being about who would bag a big bull. Bryan wanted to try the area where he had seen the 7x7 two days before. He had shown me the video from scouting, and this was an elk that I would be happy shooting. As we drove in the UTV to the hunt site, we noticed lights from a truck behind us. As we veered off to a side road, the truck followed down a path that probably only ATVs and UTVs should go. As time went by, the lights disappeared and I figured they had stopped off behind us. We came to a dead end, and it was time to get to walking. As we were getting ready, here came the same truck and out came another guide with his hunter. He and Bryan started small talking, and Bryan told him about the 7x7 he had seen. That was the elk we were hunting.
The guide said, “OK, you boys have at that one. We will follow around here and see if there is something else to shoot.”
It was not ideal, but it was public land and there were other elk in the area. Up the hill we went with Bryan setting a fast pace to see if the 7x7 was there. I must mention, Bryan is extremely agile in these mountains and I was doing everything I could to keep up, but I was a little behind him. From the top of the ridge, I saw him motioning me urgently and pointing, meaning he must have spotted the bull. I pushed up to the top, but moments later, I heard shots ring out. For the second day in a row, the excitement went to disappointment in seconds. As I got to where Bryan was at, another shot rang out and the 7x7 we were after went down. The other guide had cut down low along the hill, and his hunter had shot several hundred yards down the ridge from us to kill that bull. Frustrated, we both figured our morning hunt was done. Another well laid out plan went up in smoke. We figured we would go to the other ridge and see if we could glass up some elk.
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