After nine years of waiting, I could not be more excited to have finally drawn bull elk again. My first hunt was with my dad, and I killed a little spike. I was determined to get anything bigger.
On opening morning, I was devastated to be loading our horses up and heading down the mountain due to a massive snowstorm. Our tent ripped a couple hours prior to sunrise, horses were freezing, and all our gear was under snow or wet from the ride up in the rain. The storm was not letting up, so down the mountain we went. After regrouping, we chose to leave the horses behind for the second morning of the hunt. We hiked back in and glassed the only bull we’d seen all morning. My bull, the one we were after and watched the previous weekend. The only problem? He was 2,000 yards away. It took us three hours to close the distance to 800 yards as the country was rugged and unforgiving. We waited for him to give us a shot, which felt like forever, and time was against us as the sun would be setting soon. Finally, he stepped out from behind the rocks. At 804 yards, he was finally in my crosshairs. I shot with my 28 Nosler and dropped him. He was still moving, so I reloaded and smoked him again at 800 yards. We started hiking to him and realized there was no way we’d get him out before dark. We had to come back the next morning.
I didn’t get a second chance of sleep because I was so excited to finally get my hands on my bull. Although I was dreading the 16.5-mile hike with 1,400 feet of inclines again, I was pumped when we finally found him the next morning. He was well worth the tough hunt, scoring 370" broken. This could not have happened without my husband and owner of G3 Outfitters, Spencer Berns. It is an experience I will never forget.
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