Building Traditions | Utah Rocky Mountain Elk Hunting

Story By: Blain Jones

As I creep down the ridge into the canyon below, the sun is just washing the skyline with dawn’s light. Very close, I hear an elk bugle . . . very close. I pause to further observe my surroundings and gauge where he just lit up the morning with that epic cry. I catch a group of turkeys sparring to my right at thirty-five yards, but my senses are focused just ahead on the other side of a patch of trees. He must be just over there . . .

This didn’t begin that morning with the pre-dawn hike in the dark. It didn’t begin when I went to sleep in my truck at 12:30 a.m. the night before. It didn’t even begin months prior while training in the gym or going on walks, pushing my son in his stroller with a pack full of rocks on my back. I guess I would be what they call a late-onset hunter. It started for me a few years earlier. Hunting, specifically elk hunting, has been a goal of mine for a while now—or an obsession, if you ask my wife.

The first time I decided to go elk hunting, I bought an over-the-counter private-land cow tag. I watched a few videos online and bought some Primos elk calls. They came with a DVD, my playbook for successful elk hunting. The DVD displayed scenes of a guy making high-pitched noises echoing through the trees and this lumbering beast of an animal majestically sauntering right up to him. I thought to myself, “This is going to be a piece of cake.” You just use these calls, and they come right to you!

Skip ahead. No elk ever came. After a few freezing-cold days in December, I was absolutely certain I had no idea what I was doing. That trip ended with me getting my side-by-side stuck in the mountains. I had to hike out eight miles in the dark to get to cell service so I could call some very helpful local deputies. They picked me up and took me back to camp that evening. The next morning, we went up the trail, and they got me unstuck. They were the local search and rescue, too.

Some people may have given up; I decided to learn from it. I learned Primos might be exaggerating a bit and that elk hunting is not that easy.

My next attempt at elk hunting ended up with a completely unrelated trip to the hospital after the first day. I had a critical incident with food poisoning that knocked me on my ass and sent me to the local ER and, eventually, the ICU back home. I recovered, but it was definitely a hair-raising experience for not just me but my family.

One would think I would come out of that experience and say, “Ok, I’m done. Maybe this elk hunting thing isn’t for me.”

Well, not so much. While in the recovery ward after leaving the ICU, I decided life is short—too short to get stuck on shouldas and wouldas. I shouldn’t hold back from experiencing life.

It was a couple of years before I attempted elk hunting again. My son was born, and I had to convince my wife that I would be okay if I tried this elk hunting thing again.

Earlier last year, I really dedicated myself to the goal of putting elk in my freezer. I had previously had some success harvesting a few deer, but I’d heard elk meat was far superior, and I had caught the bug. My thoughts would wander during the day to high mountain overlooks, misty meadows in the morning, and those vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows breaking through the trees to fill the sky at day’s end. I would dream of having fall adventures, seeing what was over the next ridge, and successfully outsmarting the mountain locals.

Not having any friends or family that hunt, I turned to resources online. I spent countless hours listening to podcasts, watching videos, and trying to understand everything I could. I e-scouted and picked spots I thought looked good. I trained every day for months to get in shape. I had the desire; I did what I could to be ready once the time came.

How would I find elk? Where should I look? What sign would tell me I was on the right track?

Finally, autumn came, and I had a Utah over-the-counter any-bull tag in my pocket. The time came for me to go back into the mountains to achieve my goal.

I packed up my truck; I had everything I needed. I left home with a six-hour drive to the spot I’d picked on the map. After a few hours, it started to rain. With a little over an hour left on the drive, a tire blew out on my trailer. The explosion busted up the fender and wrapped a rubber ribbon around my axle. I did what I needed to do and changed the tire. I had the tools and was prepared with a spare.

Fifteen minutes later, the spare blew.

I only had the one spare. I took the flat tire off and, luckily, still had one bar of cell service. After 8 p.m. on Saturday night, would there be any tire shops still open? All were closed and would also be closed on Sunday. There had to be a shop open . . . I found one, over an hour away and closing in less than an hour. I called and asked if they had the tire in stock and what time they closed. Larry from the tire shop said they had plenty of those tires, and he would stay past closing if I was on my way. I hung up and rushed there.

I got back to my trailer, mounted the tire, drove up into the mountains in the rain, and parked at the spot I’d marked on the map. I slept a few hours in the passenger seat of my truck and was up before the sun to get where I wanted to be.

Now, back to that morning. That bull was just on the other side of the trees. Long story short, I was able to line up on him, and one shot dropped him in a few steps. I did it on the first morning. All the work paid off. The research and studying helped me arrive at that spot. The training helped me with the packout. The mishaps of years before honed my grit to persevere.

Now, I have elk in my freezer, and I can say I strongly prefer elk meat to deer. I have memories I won’t soon forget. More importantly, my luck changed, and I have success to build on. I still have the bug, and I plan to build this into a tradition. The mountains call me, adventure awaits me, and I love bringing home the best-quality organic meat to my family.

May the wind be in your face, the sun be at your back, wings be on your heels, and meat be in your freezer.