When you put in your applications, you hope for the best and pray for something legendary. I was lucky enough this last year to draw a great archery mule deer hunt in Utah. Regardless, I thought I would throw a “Hail Mary” and see if I could draw an extremely high-rated and rare December rifle hunt in Idaho for elk. I pulled the miracle. This hunt proved to be an epic experience with a memorable animal.
After pulling the tag, I immediately contacted Huntin’ Fool for a Member Draw list so that I could do some research. Between this resource and talking to a Professional Hunt Advisor, I felt like I had a great plan. The location in Idaho was a bit remote, so it gave little options for an ideal hunt. Since the hunt was the meat of the trip, my cohort and I decided to stay in the small town of Jarbidge, Nevada and ride ATVs into the site every day.
Our arrival in Jarbidge had us crossing paths with a few other non-residents who had taken a bull the day before, and they gave us some good insight into where the animals were making camp. This saved us a day or two as we didn’t need to spend a lot of time tracking. The bad news was that the bulls were even further into the region than anticipated, 35 miles one way.
On the first day of the actual hunt and after the 35-mile ride in, my buddy, Mike Calvert, and I split up in an effort to cover more area. I knew going in that this was a oncein- a-lifetime hunt, meaning I was looking for that bull that was going to make me take a second breath, something I had to look through the binoculars a second time at to make sure it was real.
Once Mike and I reconvened, he said he had seen a big group of bulls in the sage. We glassed the group for quite some time, hoping to identify a unicorn. We saw a few 6x6s and one 7x6 but nothing that excited me. I am sure my 15-year-old self would have crapped himself as there were some amazing animals.
Day two of the hunt started much the same, barely alive after the ride in and right in the mix of the herd we were around the day before. We pressed in a bit further to get some fresh blood. After pushing in, we came across a ridge that dropped off into a river canyon . We saw a group of cows with some small bulls on the breaks in the ridge and some bigger bulls bedded down. One of those bulls looked good, so we decided to pursue him. By the time we got there a few hours later, they had moved on. Luckily, we stumbled upon another group of bulls that had some contenders in it. However, with the quality of this hunt, it was hard to settle on contenders, especially since the landscape kept the animals in check with two river canyons funneling the animals within the same area. With all that considered, we decided to pass on this group and keep looking for the “trip maker.”
On the way back to the ATVs, we continued discussing where we thought the big boys might be residing. About the time the topic was breached, Mike said, “Probably in that group.” Sure enough, 20 bulls were hanging out about 400 yards below our ATVs. Out came the glass again, and while there were some very impressive bulls, there was one that stood out above the rest. He was obviously older with a solid body and a thick rack. We pegged him around 340" at first glance. He was the one. After seeing dozens of bulls over the first two days, he was the needle in the proverbial haystack. The problem was that it was too late in the day and we couldn’t make a move.
On day three, we got back to where we needed to be, although it wasn’t easy. It was colder than the previous days and required several stops along the way to warm our hands on the exhaust pipes of the ATVs. In addition to that, it was fogged over. The bulls we could see were at the bottom the canyon. I made the executive decision to pass on these animals as I didn’t want to die of a heart attack while trying to pack a bull out of a three-mile ravine. Luckily, my decision paid off. Twenty minutes later, we located the same group of 20 that we had seen the day before. The unicorn revealed itself again!
The problem was that we had to catch them. They were easy enough to track with the snow on the ground. Patience was key. Every time they dropped over the ridge, we would beat cheeks to catch up. After about two miles, we could finally make a play on them. They had stopped in a bowl to bed and feed. We could see the granddad bedded down in the middle of the group, and we moved into position about 415 yards away. In that terrain, it was difficult to find a steady rest for the rifle, but we improvised and used the spotting scope’s tripod for a rest. I got into position and held for what seemed like forever. Finally, the unicorn got up and turned broadside. I cracked off a round from my Sav .300 WSM. He flinched, and Mike said I had hit him hard. However, he didn’t drop, but he wasn’t making a play to run. I fired another shot and dropped him. That is the dream!
Here is the nightmare. It was mid-afternoon in December in Idaho and we had hundreds of pounds of animal to manage and pack out. Panic. By the time we got back to the ATVs, caped him out, quartered him, and loaded him on the ATVs, it was completely dark. It was pitch black, single digits in temperature, 35 miles from life, and so foggy we couldn’t see 10 yards. While I like to think I am a pretty tough guy, the “pucker” level was at an all-time high. If it wasn’t for Mike’s onXmaps on his GPS that he got that weekend, we would probably still be in the Idaho countryside.
As luck would have it, we made it. The folks at the Red Dog Saloon in Jarbidge were a bit concerned, but they were happy to see us roll back in for a pint. The bull ended up scoring 336"+, and I couldn’t be more excited. Thank you to Mike Calvert and Huntin’ Fool for the assistance!
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