The 2024 elk archery season was more than a hunt—it was a transformative experience filled with lessons, growth, and moments that tested my limits. From the quiet mornings in the backcountry to the adrenaline of tracking elusive bulls, every step of the journey taught me something new about myself, the outdoors, and the art of perseverance. Hunting is never just about the harvest; it’s about embracing the process, learning from the challenges, and finding gratitude in the wild. This season was a testament to the power of resilience and the beauty of pursuing something with your whole heart.
Annually, I eagerly anticipate my "Elk Camp," and this year was no exception. Each season, I gain significant growth and knowledge, yet I always wish for a few more days. In 2023, I spent considerable time in the mountains, leaving me feeling closer than ever to filling my tag. So, when camp returned in 2024, I was more excited than ever.
Every long hike, missed opportunity, and tough decsision tested my resilience and patience, forcing me to dig deeper and embrace the lessons the wilderness has to offer. There were definite moments of frustration and doubt, but they were balanced by a newfound appreciation for the process, the beauty of persistence, and the strength gained through each setback.
This summer, I spent a considerable amount of time moving and observing cameras. The results were promising, with the bulls captured on my cameras being some of the largest I've ever seen. Since my area isn't well-suited for glassing, I need to know the best paths for the herds in the region. I pinpointed three high-traffic spots where I intended to concentrate most of my efforts as the season neared.
Each year, one of my greatest challenges is the pressure in the area, resulting in very quiet elk. I set up camp near my trailhead to avoid wasting time hiking. On my opening night, as I set out, hunters walked right through my camp. This indicated that despite having my spots chosen, it was very likely I would need to adjust my plans, and I was ready for that.
There was so much activity last year, that it was easy for me set the same expectations going into this year but it was not the case. The weather was warmer then you would like, the pressure was incredibly heavy and the elk were quiet. I remember the first morning as I hiked in I heard the bugles and there is truly nothing sweeter. It is the best start to a hunt, it gets your blood pumping and truly sets the stage for what is to come.
One of my favorite things is actualy the dark hike in and out during the season. The sound of bugles often fill the deathly silence of the mountains. There's a unique clarity and peace that only the mountains give me. Standing beneath the towering trees, the noise of daily life fades away, replaced by the quiet rhythm of nature. Well, it could be just the squirrels. The crisp air when the sun is down and endless views always remind me how small my worries really are. Not only that, but the beauty of the world is something that will continue to take my breath away.
In the mountains, my mind feels sharper, my heart lighter, and my purpose clearer. They challenge me to slow down, breathe deeply, and find solace in the stillness. It's in these moments of quiet that I find not only peace but also a renewed sense of self.
On the Saturday of opening weekend, I had an intense encounter with a young bull. The day was marked by stillness and an unusual silence, which isn't ideal when you're pursuing bugles. I hiked for a while and, as I moved from one location to another, I entered a clearing. As I walked into the open space, I treaded carefully, the dry leaves crackling beneath my feet. Looking up, I spotted him, oblivious to my presence as he fed. I understood that the distance was too great and needed to be reduced.
As soon as I relocated to use the sagebrush as cover, he noticed me. He began moving toward me, and I anticipated he would get startled and halt. I hid behind the sagebrush, and within a minute, he was there, 40 yards away, staring directly at me. I couldn't move; he eventually barked and ran off. He paused at another spot about 60 yards away, and I started to prepare my draw. Just as I got on my knees at full draw, he turned and ran. Naturally, my call was in my pack, yards away from me.
As much as I loved being out, it was great to come back to camp. Besides snacks I don't take a ton of meals when I am out for the day so every night when I came back I would make a Jet Boil meal, head up to the tent to do my devotional, spend time in prayer and time studying the maps and strategizing for the next day.
Under a blanket of stars, camping in the wild becomes more than just a place to rest. It was my time to reflect, regroup, and prepare for what lies ahead. The crackle of the fire and the vast expanse of the night sky created the perfect setting each night to slow down and reconnefct with the purpose of the journey. Each night I would analyze the choices and challenges from the day, celebrate the win's, and get myself mentally ready for the pursuit of the next day.
I closed out those first few days out with a crazy moose encounter. Every year I see a handful of moose, and this year there was qutie a few bulls. In the blur of sundown I could not make out exactly what he was but I could hear him grunting and jogging towards me. He came into 40 yards and we just stared at each other. Those moments. Those are the ones I live for.
One of my favorite outings involved an exhilarating stalk. I had an evening available for hunting. At home, I had been reviewing my maps and devised a plan to sit at a spot I frequently pass, knowing it would provide ample viewing opportunities if anything was in the treelines. As I hiked in and descended into a ravine, I caught sight of movement in the treeline out of the corner of my eye. I froze and took cover behind the sagebrush. I ended up crawling through the sagebrush on my back and belly for about 60 yards but couldn't rise to take a shot without being seen. It was one of the best stalking lessons I've experienced.
My favorite moment was the day my sister joined me on an outing. This will always be a cherished memory and one of my best elk experiences. As we hiked into one of my heavily trafficked spots, we heard bugles. I can now gauge their proximity in that area, and I knew we were entering a perfect situation. We found ourselves surrounded by at least eight bulls and a mix of cows within a 150-yard radius. The bulls moved between trees, bugling and feeding. Although it was an ideal situation, stalking with so many eyes on you is challenging. I approached three different bulls and drew my bow, but couldn't get the shot I envisioned. One encounter still haunts me. He was behind a tree in front of a large open space; I couldn't range him, and by the time he stepped out to 30 yards, my draw wasn't fast enough. It taught me a lot about my shooting opportunities in those scenarios.
Facing pressure and limited movement recently, I resorted to my usual approach of overthinking when it comes to hunting. So, I relocated to a new area within my zone, miles away from my previous spot. I typically visit this area only during rifle season for cow elk, as they tend to move there at that time, but I wanted to explore it. There wasn't much movement nearby, but I did hear a bugle. With the wind against me, I attempted to call him in. By the time I got close, he was on private land, and I had to concede defeat for my elk season.
The older I get the more torn I become. Torn to get time to slow down and all the while balancing it with the next adventure. This season and every season isn't just about the hunt; it was about becoming more adaptable, focused, and connected to the wild spaces that inspire me to grow. The growth is not limited to the mountains, but what they teach me transpire into every other aspect of my life.
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