Thursday, September 21. It dumped rain that night, Forks style. When it was still dumping the next morning, we decided we'd get some extra rest until the rain stopped, then get back up the mountain to pack out Mark's quarters. It was nice and cool at 9000 feet where we hung Mark's elk, but we were concerned about bears, wolves and coyotes getting into his quarters. But when we got to the top of the mountain, everything was as we left it. Apparently the rain also kept the predators holed up. All three of us went to the top, but with four full quarters, it was still one serious job to get everything back off the mountain. I had my bow, a 20-lb daypack, a framepack, and a hind quarter with bone-in (we wanted to keep the bones so we could hang the quarters for the remainder of the hunt) - I'm guessing total weight was over 100 pounds. Mark is a bigger guy and took both front quarters on his pack - he must have had 120 pounds plus. Needless to say, we were pretty well spent by the time we got off the mountain. Maybe due to the rain, the bulls didn't really bugle that day...probably a good thing since we didn't have the energy to chase them that evening.

Friday, September 22. Since we didn't hear much in the way of bugles the day before, we thought the bulls we hunted on Wednesday may have moved down off the mountain. So we tried a few different spots, but due to a heavy wind we didn't hear much in the way of bugles all day.

Here's a couple pics I took while we were out on the road that day. Some killer country.






I don't think we saw a single elk that day. Pretty disappointing after Wednesday, and since we basically spent all day Thursday getting Mark's elk off the mountain. Sitting around camp that afternoon, and still a bit rattled by missing those shots on Wednesday, I got out my bow and practiced every shot I could think of, without relying on my range finder. Between trees, around branches, on my knees, long shots, short shots, standing on a cooler in the back of the truck, etc. It really helped to get my confidence back. In camp that night, we really didn't know what to do on Saturday, our last day.

Saturday, September 23. Last day to hunt. We knew we wouldn't have time to get one off the top of the mountain again, so we decided we'd go back to our glassing spot and hope to catch some bulls at a lower elevation. I went out in the dark to close the distance to the base of the hill, and Mark stayed at the glassing spot with his Swaro's to see if he could lead me into a bull. As soon as the sun came up, the bulls started going nuts again just like they did on Wednesday. Here we go! I quickly moved up to a saddle about halfway up the hill, at approximately the same elevation as two bugling bulls. One sounded like a real bruiser, around the side of the hill from me. I probably had 8-10 other bulls bugling in the same bowl we were in on Wednesday, but most of them were above me. Knowing we couldn't afford a long pack out from the top of the mountain, I decided to stay put and see if that bruiser would move my way. We hadn't had any luck getting bulls to answer our calls that week, but I gave it one more shot that day. Sure enough, that big boy starting moving straight towards my call, now within probably 100 yards. Realizing I was at about the same elevation as the bull, and possibly on the same trail, I dropped my pack and moved about 10 yards uphill of the trail and about 20 yards towards the bull. I looked up and there he was, right on the trail I was just on, about 30 yards away! A great bull, a 7x7 with a tall rack and good width. Holy cow! He was still moving down the trail towards where I had called from. I got set, waited for him to move to a broadside position right below me on the trail. I drew, and let one fly. At 10 yards.

Here's a pic from where I shot. The circle in the middle is around the flagging tape I put on a tree...the bull walked in front of that tree.




My shot buried into his cavity, about 8-10 inches back from his shoulder. A good shot. The fletchings stuck out about 6 inches, so no pass through - disappointing at 10 yards with brand new broadheads and a setup that should get me about 260 feet per second. But it was right in the boiler room and should do the trick. The bull took a few quick steps away from me, and I started wailing on my cow call to get him to slow up. Just like in the videos, he slowed up with my call, looked back at about 50 yards, and looked like he was going down. I thought about slinging another arrow, but since he was already wobbling and was pointed away from me, I held off. He kept wobbling on his feet for probably a minute, then slowly moved off into the brush and out of view. HOLY COW! I couldn't believe I had just pulled this off on my last day to hunt, only 75 days after I bought my first bow!

Here's the self portrait of a hunter in disbelief, about 4 minutes after shooting the bull.




I shot the bull at 10am. I gave him an hour, and went to find him at 11. I went to the spot I had last seen him, figuring he would be humped up dead under a tree. But he wasn't there. I looked around for blood, but didn't find any. Thinking back on my shot, as he walked away I remember a very thin trickle running down his side, but definitely not much. But my shot should have gotten him in the lungs, and he had already been wobbling. How far could he have gone? I looked around the immediate vicinity for him, to no avail. So I figured I better go back and do this the old fashioned way - I got on my knees and started looking for any fresh tracks or a speck of blood. By 11:30, I was starting to get worried and called in Mark and Bob to help. They hightailed it from their locations, arriving around 12:30. We scoured that hillside and the two hillsides on either side for the rest of the day.

After 7 hours of looking for my bull, it got dark. We had exactly two pin drops of blood to show for our efforts, and no bull. We had to be back in Phoenix the next day, so that was it...I had to leave my dead bull on the mountain.

I had many highs on this hunt, and overall, it was the best hunting experience I've had. But that day was one of the lowest days of my life. At some point in the afternoon, the emotions of the whole ordeal caught up to me and I literally collapsed on the mountain. All the time and hard work getting up to speed on archery and elk hunting. The time and effort getting down to New Mexico. The sweat poured out climbing up and down that mountain. The ultimate high of putting a good shot on a great bull at 10 yards. The bitter disappointment of leaving an incredible creature dead on the mountain. I can't stop thinking about that bull, and it's been a month now.

Hindsight is 20/20. Looking back on it, I was shooting downhill on that bull, and my shot was midway top to bottom in his chest cavity angled down. If the arrow doesn't poke a hole out the other side, all the blood pools in the bottom of the cavity and has no way to bleed out. In hindsight, I should have shot him again when he was wobbling at 50 yards - even if it's not a vital 2nd shot, at least it's one more wound to bleed. In hindsight, at 10 yards, I shouldn't have aimed at his lungs, but should have drilled him through the heart. In hindsight, I should have cranked up my bow from the 66 lbs. I was shooting to its full 70 lb. capacity, just that little bit extra that might have given me one extra inch of penetration to poke out the other side. All lessons learned...unfortunately, I learned them first hand.

Well, that's the story. I know it was long, took a long time to get written, and didn't end on a good note. But I hope you enjoyed it. I'm hooked on archery. Being in the middle of elk like that, especially big bulls that are screaming their heads off...there's nothing like it. Next September can't come soon enough. I need to get back on the horse.