The road from south Mississippi to central Colorado was long and exhausting. The unprecedented early September snowstorm deteriorated driving conditions to that of almost being unpassable. Snow and ice covered the highways, and even worse, the entire mountain was blanketed with a foot of fresh powder. All the deer were driven into the timber, causing me to worry that the 14 years it had taken to draw this high- country muzzleloader buck mule deer tag were all for naught.
We pulled the Sierra into camp and unpacked our gear. My good friend, Brian, had braved the trip out to help my guides, Steve, Cody, and Molly, and me locate a great high-country buck. Shortly after arriving, we were out glassing. That first evening, we spotted a single doe. The next morning, snow continued to swirl. We pressed on scouting and climbed into our first basin of the trip. The snow was too thick to spot, so we cooked our Mountain House meals and waited for a break. Hours passed, and I slowly lost hope of spotting a great buck on day two of scouting. Back to camp we went to warm our spirits and garner fresh hope of the weather breaking and us locating a target buck on opening day, which was the next day.
Tomorrow arrived, and more snow fell. Steve and I left camp well before first light. Hours passed as we climbed. Up on top, the snow had crusted over, and each step was a task. We climbed dressed lightly, but once on top, chills quickly set in. The Kelvin down pants and hoody were essential to packing light and staying warm. Hours of glassing yielded only miles of empty range. I felt helpless, but we pressed on.
The next morning, Cody asked me where we should go. I had the privilege of hunting with him way back in 2008 and remembered a valley we had hiked into. I recommended that same valley, and he agreed that we should check it out. Three hours of hiking later, we were set up glassing just after first light. Within minutes, we located several good bucks. Finally! After 14 years of applying, four days of scouting, and hours of hiking, we were into some conditions that the deer seemed to like. The sun had finally broken through the clouds, and the ranges came to life in splendid scenery. Snow shone brilliantly through the Swaro scope as a really good buck stepped from the timber. The buck was a bit over a mile when we spotted him, but Cody and I agreed I should attempt a stalk on him.
Four hours of climbing later, I was in position. The buck was bedded with three other bucks, so I dared not get any closer than 100 yards, which was close enough for the Thompson Center Omega. As luck would have it, all four bucks stood for their evening feed and fed away from me. Another trip back down the mountain, tag securely in my pocket.
Back in camp, I treated my blistered feet and tried to rest my weary legs. The day after day mountain climbing began to weigh on me, and I worried if I was going to be able to complete the five-day hunt. Thank goodness for ibuprofen and liquid ambition.
The alarm went off the next morning, and back up the mountain we went. Brian, Cody, and Molly all accompanied me. The sunshine was again brilliant, the air was brisk, and most of the low-country snow had melted. We hiked back into the same valley as yesterday and quickly located our target buck as he rubbed the velvet from his rack. Cody and I went back down and then around to the other side of the range that the buck was on, while Brian and Molly kept a close eye on the buck. After another quick six-hour climb, we were in position. I mustered as much energy as I had left and began the slow stalk down towards the buck. I knew about where the buck was bedded, but I couldn’t see him as I snuck in to 70 yards. After several nervous minutes of scanning the brush, I finally saw a tine move. Minutes ticked by as the buck inched forward. Everyone’s nerves were frazzled as I waited on a clear shot. Suddenly, I saw his heart through a small hole in the willows. Almost in one single motion, I cocked the hammer and squeezed the trigger. Boom! Whap! I heard the Thor bullet hit the buck hard. He was strong and carried the round several yards before he lay down. I reloaded, but the buck was down for good. I dropped, overwhelmed with elation and exhaustion. Fourteen years of applying, months of training, days of hiking, and now it was time to hold our buck. Ground growth! We thought we were hunting a buck pushing 190", but our buck actually pushed 200".
There’s no way I could have fulfilled this hunt without Steve, Cody, and Molly. I have hunted with these guys many times, and they only get better at their crafts. The weather gave us a bit of trouble, but we pressed on and did far better than I could have ever hoped for. A special thanks to Brian for accompanying me on the trip. It made all the difference. And finally, thanks to my beautiful family for allowing me to chase my dreams and the good Lord above for giving me the means.
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