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Beating the odds
Two ladies take on the challenge of an Idaho Wilderness Elk
Hunt!
Judy and Janice
I once read that the odds of success on a wilderness elk hunt are 30%, Fortunately it is better than that hunting with York Outfitters.
This Adventure goes back years in its wishing and planning. Judy and I realized that time was slipping away and that we wouldn’t be spry enough for the mountains forever, so in 2005 we decided it was time ready or not. We did some research and found a wide variety of hunts. We chose a wilderness experience. We attended Frank Sargents outdoor show in hopes of meeting some outfitters. This is where we met John Law owner of York Outfitters. John explained that Idaho was a place where we could gun hunt the bugle and we had heard that it was like spring turkey hunting on steroids. Being avid turkey hunters it was
irresistible. John didn’t over state the odds or the quality of the bulls.
Patience is a virtue and this proved to be true because John is booked out for 3yrs in advance for the first week of the season. We waited....the 3yrs passed and it was time for the Florida flatlanders to get in shape. Judy broke her ankle deer hunting the fall before and by July it still was not fully healed. This hampered her exercise regime She was determined even if she had to wear a brace she was going. September finally arrived!
 We were inexperienced in packing for such a trip so needless to say we packed like women.. we paid for over weight bags. Arriving in Lewiston and stepping into the cool fresh September air brought on a new level of excitement. The next morning we dropped by the outdoor
store (they had a “Women In The Outdoors” poster up for an event. We are every where!) We received some great advice for riding and camping and hiking, Get some baby wipes. By noon the Outfitter was there to pick us up and we headed over to Grangeville picked up some feed for the horses and headed into the canyon. The views were great. We were lucky to see one of the resident mountain goats. It was up over the mountain 8000 feet on winding forestry roads. It was dark when we arrived and dinner was on the stove. We met our guide, who I now consider superman. It was time to hit the rack so we could head off to spike camp early in the morning.
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Running Creek |
Base Camp |
The mules were packed with all our provisions and gear as the sun light lit the ridges around us.
Did I mention we hadn’t ridden a horse in 20 or more years. Well getting on was
quite a site but our guide made it easy for us and we headed off on some very good horses. Taking in all the tall timber, babbling creek and great vistas made the trip up to spike camp go by in a
heart beat. We arrived un- packed and bid fair well to our packer, the horses and mules. Now it was us and the mountain. Tomorrow would be the opening of elk season.
 At 4:00 am the alarm went off. Then the snooze but by 4:30 we had toast and eggs on the Colman, dressed and gear ready to go, It was still dark..... Finally the sun crept through the trees and
our guide gave that first call. We were Elk hunting! Being our first day
he cut us a break and we did some ridge running. After a couple hours of hunting we stopped on a rocky opening where on a clear day you could see to Montana. It was a welcome break to sit and rest a bit. Being ever vigilant
the guide gave a bugle and we listened. “Did you hear that” he asked, “He’s Chuckling” As we listened so carefully we then heard a faint bugle and more chuckling, then nothing. The bull was probably on the next ridge. Time passed, it may have only been 10 or 15 minutes but it was long enough that
we were about to move on and try to find some thing closer when there was a thrashing in the trees 50 yards down
in front of us. He’s coming! Get ready and don’t move - we were
admonished. It had previously been determined that Judy would get the first opportunity. At 40 yards the bull passed too quickly through the first opening for Judy to judge the rack and shoot. He slipped back into the timber line.
Some cow calling and the bull emerged from the trees facing us straight on at 20 yards. Judy was waiting for him to quarter slightly.
Our guide had leaned back so Judy could shoot over him. He was wondering what we were waiting for and he looked up to see a bull standing 15 yards from his feet. Shoot! The bull quartered slightly and Judy let the lead fly, he was still
coming when he got up and the bull turned at 10 yards and slipped back to the trees where he lay down for his final rest. We found him at 40 yards, Two hour and forty five minutes B.B.D.
yeah buddy, Judy had her first wall hanger bull.
As Judy felt the thick fur coat under her fingers she said “now he’s gone” She felt bad for that, but was thankful for this is the cycle of life. He would have a place of honor in her house. As uncle Ted would say “the beast is dead... long live the beast”. My grandfather, a tough lumber jack and farmer, stated it another way. If you could take an animals life and not feel bad there was something wrong with you.
Now the work had just begun. Our guide showed his great skills at quartering and
caping the bull. We hung the meat and covered it with boughs to keep the critters off. Then called and set up a time for
the packer to bring the mules back up to pick up Judy’s fine 5x5 bull. That night we dined on fresh tenderloin.
I woke to hear hoof beats in camp and I thought how really fast bringing the mules up but then I looked at my watch to see
it was just 3 AM. We had visitors alright but it was of the elk or moose
type. I slipped back off to sleep. We slept in that morning it was 5AM and by 6AM we were hunting again starting at camp working down the ridge and then dropping off into the elevation where the dead falls are like pick up sticks. The elk sign was every where we looked.
It was truly elk country. It is amazing that the elk run through this thick mess of down timber. We had to get back up to Judy’s bull so it could be packed out. Once that was done we went off the other side down to a game trail and hunted around that side. No takers that day but another great day on the ridge.
Day three a light rain greeted us and our guide wasn’t cutting us
any slack so we dropped off the ridge down through the pickup sticks onto a game trail.
We came across a water hole that the bulls were using for a wallow. We moved on into the dark timber
and I saw a mule deer doe then out guide picked out a buck. Judy tried to get into position but the muley slipped into the thick timber before she could make it happen. We pressed on
with more elk calling. It wasn’t much farther when we came across an elk but we couldn’t put antlers on it. It was turning into a great morning. We moved on after the cow disappeared into the shadows of the trees. Working back up a trail
we were stopped, our guide heard an elk break out of the area he was certain it was a bull because of the rank odor in the area. Once you smell it you will always know it. As we looked around the area we could see where the bull had been
lying in his bed on this drizzly morning. Pushing on took us to a special place on the side of the ridge, it opened up into a grassy meadow scattered with big trees. The droppings and rubs were all over the place.
This would be a beautiful place to harvest a bull but once again there were no takers so we opted to have lunch. And a small Indian fire was made on a big rock area to dry off. Much care was taken to deaden every ember and a dose of water for insurance. We climbed up out of there once again through pick up sticks
back to the top of the ridge and headed back toward camp calling and hunting our way back. It was still early so we rested
and grabbed a bite and discussed our options for the evening hunt.
Considering the sign by the water hole we thought it might be a good place to possibly get a shot at that mule deer again.
Settling in on a log over looking the water hole I was getting relaxed as we were hoping for Judy to fill her deer tag.
Giving a few cow calls while we waited. Well it wasn’t a long wait.
Our guide whispered There’s a bull. I saw him. The bull caught our scent on the trail and turned back
but we couldn’t see him. He reassured me that he would shoot it. It would be a good first wilderness bull but it was my choice. I couldn’t get the shot because the trees were in the way. Talk about some frustration.
He’s telling me to go ahead and shoot but I had no shot. The bull took a couple steps and finally presented an awkward shot I put the cross hair on him but missed.
I shot again but this time I hit the mark. They are tough and we were up and after him as he eased off
when the bull presented another shot opportunity and just as I squeezed it off a tree jumped out in front of me. Now all we had was a Texas heart shot “don’t shoot”
he told me, so I waited. The bull took another step and quartered away. The bullet hit the mark and the bull was down! Judy and I had one happy guide on our hands, three days and two bulls! Later when the good hearted ribbing was going around I was reminded of the pile of brass I left on the mountain.
Pictures were taken and once again the work began. As we moved the bull it became apparent that he had landed in a yellow jackets nest, that added a little excitement. Dressed and the meat hung we got back to camp and
our guide had to hike back down the mountain. A three hour hike in the dark to pick up the horses and mules to pack out the bull. The next morning he arrived back at camp early. I do believe he may be the toughest guy I’ve ever met.
The mules are amazing animals. They were able to get down the steep slope through the dead falls to pick up the bull. After we loaded
the mules it was decided it would be best if I led one so if it stumbled the other one wouldn’t fall. I still hadn’t reached mountain woman status and stopping to rest was much needed. Upon our third break I reached
the guide and his mule just in time to notice we were all standing in another yellow jackets nest.
We took off “run we’ve got to get them out of here”! .So old breathless started after him it wasn’t far before my lungs felt like they were burning out of my chest. I paused “I can’t catch my breath” “you gotta keep going and get her out of them” I tossed the lead over her back and sent her up to
the guide. A couple of breaths later I followed. his next statement
which will stick with me. “There’s no I can’t out here” We both caught our breath and he shot me a grin. It was a defining moment when you realize what your made of. This was
an adventure as well as good tough fun.
I was glad we both had our elk but also disappointed we were done at spike camp. Base camp would be fun too. When we arrived at base camp the stove in the shower cabin had it like a sauna. the shower was a high tech five gallon bucket hung over a bath tub. I t was the best shower I ever had. We hunted deer out of base camp the following day the elevation was higher and the view was spectacular and the horseback ride was great, we saw deer but no bucks. The rest of our days were relaxing with a little deer hunting around camp, sight seeing in the surrounding mountains and a trip to Elk City.
Then it was back to Florida. The dream had been accomplished, two ladies, two bulls....we beat the odds with the help of
our great guide and hunter. To John and Koleen Law - thanks for taking on two women hunters at York Outfitters.
We have been changed, I have a hunger and longing for the western mountains that must be satisfied. We will not wait so long again.
by Janice Gaudern
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