It all started back in 1995 when I first set foot in the “Strip,” or what my dad called “The Land of Giants.” I was 11 years old when my dad had the privilege of drawing this tag, which was and still is one of the most coveted mule deer tags in the world. I remember the longest, ugliest dirt roads you can imagine. As we cruised through the high desert on roads I thought would never end, I suddenly felt the brakes lock up and gravel spitting in the fender wells. I turned my head and peered out the window as I heard, “Look!” To my surprise, I saw 10 of the biggest bucks I’d ever seen or possibly would ever see in a lifetime. At this point, I understood why this place was so special. All of my dad’s stories of these massive mule deer were suddenly right before my very own eyes. I could feel it in my bones that someday I wanted this hunt to become my very own.
For 19 years, I had been patiently waiting to draw this tag. Up until the day I drew, I watched several family members and friends draw this tag. This included other units, and they enticed me with their stories of triumphs and defeat. The temptation to put in for the other hunts was a real struggle. The OTC archery hunting in Arizona saved me from my own demise countless times. As much as I enjoy being out in the woods chasing deer, I always had the dream of following in my dad’s footsteps and harvesting that once-in-a-lifetime buck.
Draw day can be a very bittersweet day for hunters. My phone was blowing up with various buddies’ excitement who sought after credit card charges on their accounts. I was going about my normal morning and heading to work when I decided to check my account. To my surprise, there it was, the first thing on my statement, a charge from AZ Game and Fish. Nineteen years and totally worth the wait. I quickly called one of my best friends, Grant Berry, to share the news, only to have him answer, “No freaking way!” as he knew that was the only hunt I put in for.
I started preparing and wanted a rifle that was my mine and that I trusted. I had another buddy, Tracey Boorn, help put together a custom rifle that shot lights out for me. Having this tag now in my pocket was my excuse to load up on every piece of gear I thought I could possibly need. Another good buddy of mine, Gerrad Barcom, introduced me to Tyler and Chad over at A3 Trophy Hunts. If I was going to go on this hunt, I wasn’t going to have anything but the best for guides.
The months seemed to fly by up until a couple days before the hunt. I had shot my rifle a couple dozen times and even hired a personal trainer to help me get into the best shape. My trailer was packed, truck fueled, and cooler filled with a week’s worth of food prepared by my beautiful wife. I tucked my three children into bed that night, kissing them and hugging them tight knowing I would be leaving at 3 a.m. Memories filled my mind of how much of a hero my dad was, watching him come back from a successful hunt. I was hoping my children would feel the same way upon my return.
Way before first light, I started the truck and began my journey to the Arizona Strip. It was such a surreal feeling knowing I was headed back to the land of giants after so many years. I drove down the same dusty, dirt roads that I thought would never end as a kid. Even though I’d been here before, it still felt so foreign to me.
My Uncle Travis showed up the day before the hunt, and I don’t think he realized how much it meant that he was there. As we talked stories of past hunts around the fire, it made it hard to want to sleep that night. I had dropped a pin and sent it to Grant and his buddy, Alex, before I went to sleep, not knowing what time they would be rolling into camp.
I woke up opening morning not knowing how or what to feel. It was mostly quiet as we loaded up our packs with water and some food and headed to our first spot. We met Grant and Alex on the road. We devised a plan and then went our separate directions. We got out of the truck at near freezing temps, and the sun had just barely crested over the horizon. Just as I was enjoying the sun’s warmth, Tyler spotted a buck, and it was a good one. We radioed the guys on the other side of the mountain that this was a buck we may need to take a good look at. As we waited, I watched this buck push and lip curl all his does. I was itching to make a move as I could see his antlers glare in the early morning sun, but I still wasn’t sure if he was the one.
We communicated and relocated the buck, and then we were off to the races for a second time that day. After a little bit of a hike, we got into shooting position. I lay down in the grass and started to feel my heart thump. This could be it, all those years leading up to this point. All of a sudden in the quiet of the morning, we heard deer blowing and running out from everywhere. We must have either been seen or winded. All of the does started filing out over the hill, and I fought with my pack/gun to reposition. Watching in my scope, the buck never showed himself. Later, we would realize he had back doored us.
We spent the rest of the day up on that ridge searching and hunting for that buck. As luck would have it, six hours later, Uncle Travis found him on the opposite side of the hill that we had last seen him on. He was on the move, though, and it was going to be hard to keep track of him weaving in and out of the junipers. Tyler and I raced back down the ridge to try and cut the buck off. We listened on the radios as Uncle Travis, Grant, and Alex tried to line up which direction the buck was headed. As we hiked back in, we heard that he had slipped away again. My heart sank yet again. Why couldn’t we make this happen? This buck had Houdinied us again.
Then we heard, “Colt, Tyler, do you copy? Grant found him again.”
He was another 300 yards from the last spot, and just like that, it was game on again. We hustled to a high point somewhere we could possibly shoot from. Instead, when we located the buck, we realized we were still 900 yards away. I was tired and praying to God that he could give me the strength to keep going and the opportunity before we lost our shooting light. When we finally got to the other point and peeked over, there he was! Instantly, my heart started pounding. I threw my pack down and set up, all while trying to control my breathing. Tyler ranged him, and “Crack!”
The first shot rang out in the valley. I had hit him a little high. At that point, the buck fever set in and we won’t talk about the next two shots. Finally, I was able to pull myself together and the buck walked out into an opening, giving me the perfect shot. Bang! With excitement, Tyler said, “You smoked him!” He radioed back to the guys on the ridge, “Colt now has a dead deer.”
The emotions hit me like nothing I’d ever felt before with the realization that I had just fulfilled one of my biggest dreams. All of the years of waiting and dedication to make this dream hunt my reality is something I will always treasure. As I walked up to my buck for the first time, it was bittersweet. I knew how special this hunt was to my dad all those years ago. Unfortunately, my dad passed away before I was able to draw this tag. Although he was not there in person, I know he was there in spirit patting me on the back and congratulating me. This hunt was by far more meaningful for me than most people can imagine, and I couldn’t have done it without the crazy support system of my amazing friends and family. I hope someday that I can experience this hunt with my children and pass down the memories that my dad instilled in me in this amazing land of giants known as the Arizona Strip.
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