I had been waiting for this day for a long time....a long time. And when I got the letter in the mail in July of this year saying I drew out on a bull elk, I freaked out! It was a long couple of months until the hunt was underway with my Dad. We left on Halloween night because the hunt opened up on November 1st. This was so exciting for me. Ever since I was 13, I waited for the fall. I waited for the time I got to spend with my Dad. Just me and him. It was our adventure. Our story to make. And every year, although every year we weren't always successful, we ALWAYS had a story. And the stories are awesome. They hold such a special spot in my heart. It is because of my Dad that I love the fall. I love the way the colors change.Its because of My Dad that I love to hunt. I love to not only seek out the animal I love and appreciate the animals. I love waking up at 5:00 to climb into the truck with my Dad and waiting for the sunrise. Waiting to get out of the car and go up the mountain on foot or on 4 wheeler. My Dad is an amazing man. He has taught me so much about the simple things in life. How to appreciate what God has given us.
And just like every hunt, this hunt has a story to be told. My Dad did not feel good. He had the flu. He had the worst sore throat and was just miserable. I had doubts about going on the hunt. I asked him several time before leaving, if he really thought we should be going. He knew that this hunt was once in a lifetime and he was going to take me no matter what. On the way to the destination, we realized a few hours in that Dad had forgotten a few things, critical things like his antibiotics and pain meds. He and I knew immediately what a crucial mistake this was. The first day was miserable for him. The pain was unbearable. After a morning hunt, we rested the rest of the day in the trailer. The following day was pretty much the same. It had snowed, it was foggy and we couldn't see in front of us., let alone to go hunting in. That night my Dad tried to put on his boots and he threw his back out. I begged my Dad that we needed to go home and rest. Even if I shot an Elk the next day there would be no way that we would be able to do anything with its 700 pound body with him unable to move. My Dad said no. We were going to hunt the next morning.
As we started out hunt the next morning very slowly and carefully we saw a herd of Bulls about 450 yards away. Needless to say, my shots at the Elk were not my best, it was a far shot. I did hit a bull and it laid down for quite some time. I felt lucky, for it was easy to get to on my Dads 4-wheeler. The Elk got spooked by some other hunters and took off. Needless to say, we hiked up the mountain to see that I did indeed hit the elk and decided to follow the trail of blood. My Dad did not make it down the mountain, so I followed the trail for a hour until I knew I had to go back and get my Dad at the truck. We decided to drive around the mountain and go searching for the bull. After a few hours of driving we did not see the shot Bull. We drove back to the spot where I had shot the elk, and we ran into the hunters that had earlier spooked the herd. They knew where the injured elk was. One of the hunters decided to take me down the mountain, to where they saw the wounded Elk lay down. After a short hike, we came up empty. No elk. Just a blood trail. I did not want to let a injured Bull, one that was bleeding so much , alone on a mountain. My Dad was unable to follow the blood trail with me. The hunter that was with me at the time, Kenny, a hunter from California, offered to go with me. He was eager to follow the trail. So, Kenny, my new friend, and I set off on the elks track.
Needless to say the blood trail led us on a 3 mile, 2 hour adventure, until we met up with my Dad to see the trail leading into a valley of Oaks. Kenny and I decided to go into the thick trees. I led, Kenny and My Dad told me to get ready to shoot. AS we headed into the trees, I was amazed to see such a thick covering. I could not imagine such a beast of an animal to be able to maneuver itself through. I saw so many elk beds and elk scratchings in the trees. And after a few nervous minutes, sure enough up jumps the injured elk, 25 yards from me. I fired my gun and the bull ran through the trees. He landed about 15 yards from my Dads truck and in front of Kenny's friends. Needless to say, the men could see the condition my Dad was, and within a hour the Elk was gutted, quartered and put in my Dads truck.
This was an amazing story. One because mine and my Dads prayers were answered. Not only was the hunt was successful, we had such a humbling experience. Others saw the need of mine and mine Dads, and they were so generous and so giving. My Dad through this hunt got emotional many times, but he was truly grateful. as was I, that these kind men helped us out so much. Without them, we would have not gotten our Bull.
