2007 Grand Slam Hunt at York Outfitters

Idaho Grand Slam

I’ve always heard that ‘the third time is the charm’, and after my September 2007 elk hunt with York Oufiftters I am a believer. I discovered York’s through a very reliable source, my father Sonny Gunthorpe, whom had hunted with the family that founded the outfit back in the 70’s and 80’s. On three separate hunts, what the York’s referred to as their trophy 1 on 1 hunt, Dad scored three bulls, the largest a very respectable 6 x 6. Dad had been on other outfitted hunts with dismal results and discouraging opinions of how many outfits are run. He has always said that York’s is as good as it gets. Make no mistake, this is a difficult hunt, the Bitterroot-Selway region of Idaho is as rugged a terrain as this Florida flatlander can imagine, but the York Outfitter staff do all they can to accommodate their clients and help them have the hunt of a lifetime.

Dad and I hunted with York Outfitters during the third week of 2005 on 2 x 1 guided hunt, and had several bulls bugling but were unable to get a shot at any. The following year, 2006, Dad and I came back for a drop camp hunt out of the same spike camp we had been in the previous year, but unfortunately we couldn’t find any elk. Regrettably, after the 2006 hunt my Dad decided he was going to go back to the hunting retirement he had been enjoying for years prior to our first York elk hunt. However, I was determined to come back and try my luck again. I made arrangements with John Law, the outfitter, to come back first week the following year for a 1 x 1 hunt in the same outpost spike camp that Dad had scored at on two hunts nearly 30 years before.

With much anticipation, but also some anxiety, I came back in 2007 for what only can be called the hunt of a lifetime. I was anxious about the hunt since I was still recovering from a medical condition, that not for the miracle of modern medicine, I would most certainly have suffered a severe stroke. Although my Docs were confident I would be fine, my conditioning was sub par, and I knew the hunt would be tough. John, having known of my recent condition paired me up with a young, strong, tough guide, Josh, who had been a packer the year before for York’s.

Josh, a very likable guy, always smiling, as strong as a pack mule, as agile as a goat, as tough as nails and, most importantly, an awesome hunter, was the perfect guide for my hunt. He and another guide, Justin, packed me into the spike camp the day before opening morning of the rifle elk season. On the way in, just before cresting the saddle that drops down into our camp we heard a bull bugle down in the canyon, and we all talked about how good this hunt was going to be. We unpacked the mules and quietly arranged our belongings in the tent with just a few hours of light left in the day. This is elk country so we whispered that afternoon and refrained from having a campfire. Sure enough right before dark that evening, we had a bull elk bugle several times just outside of camp. We both knew that the following day would be exciting and our confidence was high that we would find a bull.

Opening morning Josh and I headed out of camp down the creek where we found plentiful fresh sign, but couldn’t get any elk to answer Josh’s calls. We glassed the hill sides, but didn’t see anything. After a few hours we decided to hike to the other side of the saddle where we had heard the bull bugle the day before. We set up near the ridge and Josh cow called. Nothing. A few minutes later Josh bugled, and down in the canyon came the return bugle of a mature bull, deep and loud and followed by a series of chuckles. I looked at Josh, and said “that’s the one I want”. We returned calls with this bull for a bit, and although it was evident that he was upset about another bull being in his territory, he wasn’t going to come to us. We began to traverse the canyon slowly and calling intermittently on the way toward the bull. Soon we realized that there were actually two different bulls below us answering our calls. At one point we set up on a knob to do some calling, and for me to catch my breath, and we heard a small bull bugle from the next knob over but we couldn’t see him. Through the thick timber I saw an elk bedded down, and at first glance thought it was a cow, but upon more careful inspection discovered it was young spike. We suspected he was the second bull that had been answering us, because the mature bull was still a couple hundred yards down in the canyon.

We held up there watching the spike, enjoyed our sack lunch, and continued to call to the big bull for about an hour. We decided that we would need to cut the distance between us and the bull pretty quickly so that if we spooked the spike he wouldn’t take the big bull with him. As we hurried down the mountain we kicked up the spike that had also been bedded down with a couple of cows. Fortunately we got between them and the larger bull, as he was just below us stomping around, but still out of sight. Josh motioned for me to get set up, and to let him know when I was ready. I sat down, braced my rifle on my knees, got my breathing under control and motioned for Josh to call. That big bull answered immediately and I could hear him coming. Soon I could see his massive rack coming through the trees and I knew he was the one. The image of that monster bull coming in on string plays in my memory like video on demand. Then the easy part of the entire hunt, squeezing the trigger, and although I followed up the first with a second shot, the first was lethal. With the help of York Outfitters, John Law and my guide Josh I bagged my first elk, a real trophy 6 x 7 bull scoring 330, and I am most appreciative.

The following day I spent in camp while Josh walked back into the base camp to get mules for packing my elk out. That’s a long hike back to base camp so it was near dark when Josh got back, so we decide to pack the mules the next morning. Josh suggested I walk ahead of him down to kill site to see if a bear might be in the area. Just over the saddle, and still more dark than day, I caught the glimpse of a deer running below me 60 yards away. I quickly sat down on the trail and watched as one deer ran to the top of knob 100 yards away, stopped and turned broadside as another deer ran off another direction. I glassed them both through the darkness with my rifle scope. The one on the knob was a nice mule deer buck, and the other a much smaller buck. I steadied my rifle on the larger buck’s chest, as the sun was just beginning to rise behind him. I studied his rack for a moment unsure whether to take him; pretty good height, not bad width but couldn’t make out the points with him looking at me. He turned his head to look at the other buck and I could make out at least 4 points on each side. Bang, the easy part was over, and thankfully he dropped in his tracks for it was a long ways down the back side of that knob. Unfortunately for Josh this just complicated his day even more, now he had the difficult task of packing both my deer and elk at the same time. In his usual good spirits he got to the task and did what it took to get that accomplished.

The following day I was packed back into the base camp since I had filled my elk and deer tags, and only had bear tags, which I could hunt for from base camp. Toward the end of my week hunt while sitting on a bear bait site, a young bear came in, and well, bang, the easy part was over. The young boar wasn’t a trophy, but did complete the final leg of a Grand Slam hunt, all of which were the first of their species for me, and I am immensely proud of all.

This is hunting the wilderness elk country much like Lewis and Clark did on their journey west, with the exception of modern firearms and optics, camouflage and game calls. These mountains are just as tough as they are beautiful. This is definitely not a high fence ranch hunt where you sleep each night in a cozy lodge, but the accommodations are more than adequate and comfortable, and the food plentiful and tasty. What more could you ask for in a fair chase elk hunt?