The last day in elk country is always the hardest. I hit the trail just after good light. I immediately find a cow and calf track. It’s not the significance of seeing the track but that I am reminded I am still walking where the elk do. I keep on the trail, calling and looking. As I walk, I reminisce about the week I’ve experienced. I think of all the encounters I’ve had with this majestic animal. I have chills just remembering the sound of their bugles and how they grace this harsh terrain with their long legs. It’s like they move ten feet with one stride and never make a sound. I continue up the trail, scanning the hillside along the way. I see elk 150 yards uphill. I see 2 cows and 2 calves. I bugle in hopes a bull is with them and maybe out of view. The cows were not the least bit interested in my attempt and I’m guessing they were alone. I ease on. 

After working about halfway up the drainage, I stop for what would be my last bugle of the morning. I send one out to immediately get an answer back. It was right on top of me. I knock an arrow and stand still. A few seconds later I hear it again. At this point I knew it was plastic. I secured my arrow as I eased back down the trail 40 yards to see a guy standing just up the hill, with his arrow knocked, looking in the direction I just left. I cow call to get his attention as I waved. We were all disappointed. 

We chatted a while and I learned they came from the top headed down to the road. None of us had heard a bugle and the winds were gusting strong at this point. So I offered them a ride back to the top. Not long after we got on the highway, we witnessed a black bear cross the road right in front of us. He was at full throttle. He did not care to slow down to pose for a picture. We turned on this unpaved mountain road that would lead to their truck. As we were winding down the switchbacks on the rocky road, we saw a cow elk walking in the woods. I dig for a rangefinder as one guy grabbed his bow and the other had a call. Here we go trying to run down this elk like we were going to catch her. Surprisingly, most of the chase, she was only 60-70 yards ahead. We eventually lost her. We met their partners and decided to get a burger at the local grill. We hung out and exchanged hunting stories before we shook hands to go our separate ways. 

I felt completely defeated knowing I would have to return home empty-handed. It’s like making it to the championship game and losing by one run. Practice, train, mentally prepare, pay your dues, to only have the opponent come out on top. You have to hit the ball to score. 

It’s time to roll up camp and pack the truck. I do have one evening left to make one last attempt. I decide to go back to where this journey began. I drive around the mountain to the very drainage I hunted the first day. I gear up and take a very old, dim logging road up this creek. I walk and bugle as one last ditch effort. The winds are calming and the temps drop. As the sun fades over the hill, I find a place to sit to write most of this. I have never documented any of the hunting adventures I’ve taken, other than a few words and pictures along the way. As the very first was to Colorado in 2003, and it is now a blur. This has been something that I’ve always wanted to do for myself, rather than for others. After a while, I tend to forget things about a hunt and would love to go back to relive them at times. This is my first solo hunt, and I knew this would make for a great opportunity to do so. I typically have a buddy or two with me to talk with that will help me remember things about the hunt. I had no intentions of making these public but decided, what the heck. Some of you may find my documentary interesting, and I’m sure some of you could care less. If you have followed along to this point, you probably think I’m an idiot or find this intriguing. Either way, I’m good. The haters give me almost as much inspiration as the lovers. 

I’ll leave you with this. I am sorry this story didn’t end with one of those “grip and grin” photographs; however, I’ve had one of the most thrilling weeks in the elk woods that I’ve ever had. Putting it to the written word has been the best way I’ve ever captured a hunt to make it memorable. Maybe even going at it solo has something to do with it. The fun is in playing the game, and I played hard. I love the game of chasing elk in mountains, but I love my wife and kids more. One last bugle, then time to go home. Until next September!