2020 started off just like the previous 20 years had, surveying my four hunting partners on points and what tags we thought we could draw. Typically, we draw one good out-of-state tag a year, but this year had other plans with a late Arizona bull, early Utah bull, late Colorado bucks, and a Nevada buck. We hit the jackpot on tags, and there was still one big draw coming, Arizona mule deer. As a max point holder, I checked my credit card pending charge. I had only applied for 13B. We had just drawn five coveted tags, and they were playing second fiddle to an Arizona Strip tag.
My friend, Mike, and I have been Huntin’ Fool members since it was a small monthly newsletter. All of our hunts had been self-guided in the past, but we told ourselves when we drew the Strip tag we were getting a guide. I immediately contacted A3 Trophy Hunts. Matt Schimberg, one of the owners, said he felt it would be a good horn year. I was excited. This would mean a lot of long weekend hunts with late night driving to save vacation for the Strip tag. The Wasatch tag was first in line. The hunter was unsuccessful, but it wasn’t for lack of shooting. I was spotting for my brother on the Nevada buck hunt when I got a text from A3 asking if I had bought PointGuard. I immediately called Matt. He explained that Arizona had experienced a 100+ year drought and horn growth was less than spectacular. He recommended turning my tag back in and trying a different year. I was sick to my stomach. I consulted with Mike and my brother, Scott. It went something like this. The difference between 190" and 200" is an inch per tine. I don’t see that well anymore, and I would never notice. Mike just got cancer free, and my father in-law was over 70. This may be the last time he could go with us. I was keeping the tag. I let Matt know the plan, and he said they would approach it with the same enthusiasm.
Did I mention our Colorado tags overlapped with the Strip tag? Shoot a big one on the Strip and drive to Colorado and shoot two more. We told ourselves it should be doable.
The day arrived for us to head to Arizona for the hunt. We had 18 hours of driving to talk about big bucks. Everyone was talking about score and tine length. I didn’t come to the Strip for a score, I was here to shoot one of the super massive non-typical bucks. I didn’t care what it scored.
We met at the predetermined area, set up camp, and met the guide for the hunt, George Garcia. We got the plan for the opener, did a little scouting, and called it a day.
On day one, George and his son, Georgie, had a buck picked out that we were going to look for. Georgie’s client was a max point holder as well. We were the only non-residents in camp, and we were headed after the biggest buck they had seen. We glassed for four hours and came up blank. This was desolate country. There were six of my friends, the two guides, and the other client. That’s a lot of glass to not see anything. George kept telling me this can be grueling, but we would eventually see what we were looking for. The evening hunt went about the same as the morning.
We split my spotters into two groups on day two. Mike and I went with the guide. Finally, we spotted a couple does and a small buck on the morning hunt. It was good to finally see a deer. We headed back to camp to chat with my faithful spotters. They had seen about the same thing. As the day progressed, the wind started picking up and the clouds rolled in. Being from Oregon, we thought this was a good thing. The wind blew, and it snowed for the next couple days. We couldn’t find a deer or track anywhere. Apparently on the Strip, the deer don’t move around much when the weather is bad.
Half my spotters had to fly home on day three, so I was down to my father-in-law, Clayton, my cousin, Craig, and Mike. We were in two groups now, scouring the countryside for tracks or deer. We saw zero all day.
Day four was a repeat of the previous day, except Georgie’s client tagged out right at dark. Fresh horns were in camp. This gave everyone some optimism for the next day. Snow had melted, and the wind was settling down a little.
On day five, we headed to the area where they had killed the buck the night before. A few other guides came along for the fun. I heard whispers about “The Grandpa Buck,” so I inquired about it. Everyone was pretty tight lipped. We drove in the dark for an hour to an area I hadn’t been to before. As we were heading through a big, wide open canyon, we lost a belt on the pickup. George went to work on the pickup, and all of my spotters scurried up the bank and started looking for deer. Within 10 minutes, we had spotted 10 does and three nice bucks. We all agreed it was a great place to break down. One of the owners, Jay, told us there were big bucks here, we just had to find them. We got to the top of the mountain, and Mike and I bailed out. We scoured every nook and cranny on the way down. Nothing but a couple does and a small buck. Jay picked us up at dark with a smile on his face and said, “You guys just cut the hiding place in half. He has to be on the other end of the mountain.” Of course, I asked he who was but got no answer.
I had a big crew going the morning of day six with three guides in one pickup that left early. Then my crew and guide left. We headed to the other end of the mountain from yesterday and started glassing. It was half an hour after daylight and we had seen some average bucks when Georgie called on the radio. He had seen The Grandpa Buck. It had just walked into the rock canyons straight across from us. I still didn’t know what The Grandpa Buck was, but everyone seemed pretty excited. We turned to glass the canyon, and George said, “There he is, let’s go.”
We left Craig and Clayton on top to enjoy the show while Mike, George, and I headed for the bottom and back up the other side. When we hit the bottom, Georgie and Jay were waiting for us. They were fairly excited. Georgie said they were going to film the whole thing. We climbed the slope and spotted the buck and five does heading down the canyon, feeding straight towards us. The cameras were set up, and I had a good rest. Then Georgie said that it was not the right buck. I wondered how that could be. That thing was huge. Georgie called on the radio to Craig that it was the wrong buck and to look in the next canyon over. All the while, I hadn’t seen anything near this big in six days and it was walking right at me. I whispered to George, “They better hurry. When that buck hits 100 yards, I’m dumping it.”
Just then, Craig called on the radio that he was in the next canyon over. We packed up and headed to the top where we could see into the next canyon. Georgie spotted the buck and set up the camera. The buck was at 200 yards downhill and standing straight away. I got a rest on an old tree and took the only shot I had. He went down, but I couldn’t see him. I ran about 10 yards when he stood back up. I took an offhand shot and later found out I had hit him in the ear. Thank goodness it was just the ear. I got another rest and put him down for good. We gathered all of our stuff and went to the buck. The whole crew came to see him. Jay told me I had just shot “The Grandpa Buck.” They had been hunting him for three years. He had to be around 10 years old. The one buck he had wanted to see shot this year was that buck. Talk about excited! The buck had huge mass, many points on both sides, and was exactly what I came to shoot. They asked if they could score him. I told them not to bother because he was big enough. It was an awesome feeling. I had just shot a named Strip buck, and it was exactly the type of buck I had dreamed about for 20+ years.
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