Oregononeshot
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2024 Idaho Muzzleloader Elk!
Long post you’ve been warned!
A few years ago my friend Roy sent me a YouTube video of a guy hunting late season bull elk with a traditional muzzleloader in Idaho. I watched the video, and the thought of doing a similar hunt was planted. After a few years of saving and waiting for the right time I applied, and to my amazement drew the tag I wanted in Idaho’s second chance drawing! I have never killed an elk with my muzzleloader and was excited for another opportunity!
Talking to the biologist and game warden of the area gave me a little bit of concern as they basically told me opposite information. The biologist said the elk would be closer to 8000-9500 feet elevation since they hadn’t gotten much snow. This is considered a migration hunt, so I was hoping for snow! The game warden told me the majority of hunters would be in two areas, which were 6500-8000 feet elevation.
A friend put me in touch with a guy who had hunted this tag a few times in the prior years. He was super helpful and willing to give waypoints and locations of where they had killed or seen bulls, as well as how they hunted the unit. I was very thanyfor the insider help. I gladly took his information but knew every year is different from the previous.
Time and distance only allowed for one trip over to the area prior to the time I would be hunting, and my father in law and kids made the 6.5 hour drive over with me to scout the weekend before I left. We drove the unit, saw some elk, and I felt a little better about the hunt.
Day 1: arrived the 12th and got camp setup. Due to the possibility of single digit and negative digit temperatures, I decided to use my father in laws wall tent for this hunt. Our trailer would freeze solid in those temperatures, despite the heater running all night. Neither of us had used the tent before but I felt good about how I set it up (foreshadowing).
Day 2: I got woken up at 4 by high winds. The fly (portion covering the tent) was catching wind and lifting causing the poles to fall out of the grommets and flap like crazy. A little duct tape and I thought I had it fixed. I spent the day gathering as much wood as I could for the stove because there was concern I would freeze to death. Didn’t see any elk that day but found a bunch of wood, drove some more of the unit, and did see my first Idaho moose, a little bull. Got back to camp to a horrific scene. My tent fly was blowing around like a sail on a pirate ship! I failed to take a picture but you get the idea. The wind was blowing so hard I couldn’t get it back on so I was forced to take it off. Portions of the fly had holes from rubbing on the tent poles, it wasn’t completely ruined but it definitely needed replaced. The stove pipe had been blown completely out of the stove, my lantern had blown over, my eggs knocked off the table, and my meat/cheese/cracker tray was scattered everywhere. Talk about a morale killer! I called Blake upset about what had happened, and her positive words got me back on track. Thanks baby! I figured I should be good to go the fly was just extra protection and the tent should be waterproof. . . .
Day 3: Got woken up at 3 am by a drip drip. It was snowing and it turns out the tent was leaking in a spot above my table. From 3-5 I put the fly back on in the cold and dumping snow. Got creative with some bungees and ratchet straps and fixed the fly problem for good. It still flapped but wasn’t going anywhere. I did see some elk that morning a herd with cows and spikes. In the afternoon I spotted another herd after hiking up a “small mountain” that ended up being a mile long walk straight up with 1500 feet elevation gain. It seriously didn’t look that big. From what I could tell there was again only cows and spikes.
Day 4: hiked into an area suggested by game warden and the friend of a friend. Very open terrain with limited timber. Hadn’t seen any sign until around 1130 I found 3 elk tracks heading towards the timber. I had no idea of how these tracks were but decided to follow them. Ended up finding them bedded in the timber and got within 100 yards before I saw them. A nice 6, a nice 5, and what looked like a 5xspike. The smallest was bedded facing my way so I put a tree between us and tried to get to the tree to take a shot. I was almost to the tree when the 5 point heard me in the snow. I was 80 yards away and looking back I should have already had my gun ready and used my pack for a rest. He gave me a perfect broadside shot but my gun was on my shoulder (good place for it I know) and then rebedded facing me. I did make it to the tree with my gun off my shoulder, but they must of seen me or smelled me because a few minutes later they were gone. Turned around and saw a small herd of cows and a spike also. Since I was there I decided to hike this tall peak called Anderson Peak, elevation 9370 feet. It was cool but wouldn’t do it again. Started snowing hard and visibility reduced to less than 100 yards so I headed back. 8.05 miles in sometimes knee deep snow is killer! Visibility almost zero so I split wood in camp for remaining day.
Day 5: drove around looking for fresh tracks. Followed a pair and jumped them by never saw what they were. Saw a BIG bull moose but couldn’t get a picture before he went in the trees. In the afternoon saw some elk in the flatter ground near camp and a herd close to 100 working there way down.
Day 6: was going to hunt a road close to camp but there was a vehicle there so I went back to where I saw the 3 bulls. Went on a similar hike and saw zero animals or fresh sign. Snow deeper and harder to hike. Very windy in the afternoon so I stayed in camp making sure camp was good until 4. Drove 3 miles from camp and there was a herd of over 100 in the sage flats. They were spooked so no chance of getting ahead of em. Talked to a few guys who had shot a spike and a nice 5 out of the herd moments before! Lesson learned don’t be sitting in camp when you could be hunting lol.
Day 7: hunted closer to town and saw a herd with 2 nice bulls in it being pursued by a side by side who shot at the herd with rifles (there was a rifle cow tag going on at the same time). Drove a road towards camp back and found some elk to go after in the evening. Made a good stalk but the wind switched and busted the herd.
By this time I had talked to a few tag holders who said this was a tough year, and they weren’t seeing much for bulls bigger than a spike. I came into this hunt hoping for a decent bull, but my standards were changing due to weather, terrain, lack of bigger bulls, and my mental toughness. I can’t describe how hard this hunt was mentally. Easily the toughest hunt I’ve been on. Being alone didn’t help! Even though I had planned to stay until the 27th if necessary, I had decided I wasn’t going to pass up a shot on a cow if given one.
Day 8: left early to try to get above the herd near town that had the 2 bulls. A few miles from camp some elk crossed ahead of me and I decided I think I knew where they were going and to try to get ahead of them. I set out and ended up being a few minutes later. It ended up being the big herd from a few nights ago and we made it to the draw at the same time. They skirted away and I never got a shot. Got back to the pickup and realized part of my rear peep sight was gone! I tore the pickup apart looking for it but it’s somewhere on the Idaho countryside. I took a shot at 96 yards and was a few inches low. It was harder to aim through the larger screw in portion where the sight used to be, but I felt confident. Left camp and found some elk a few miles above camp. It was a smaller group of elk, easier to sneak on. I watched them and made a plan based on what I thought they would do. Hiked up a “small hill” which again was almost a mile, and got into position. Eventually the elk fed out across the opening towards me. There was 8-10 from what I could see. The elk got closer and went behind a contour in the land and I couldn’t see them. I quickly moved up and got close to a rock outcropping covered in snow. I peeked over and they were less than 100 yards away feeding right to me. I laid out on the side of this snow covered rock and got ready. I laid for 15 minutes in the snow for them to get as close as possible for a shot. There were no bulls, and all the cows were similar in size, so when the closest one gave me a broadside shot at 75 yards, I took it. The shot felt good and the herd turned and ran back, but the one I shot could only walk slowly. I couldn’t see the side I shot her on so I couldn’t look for blood. She walked around 150-200 yards before stopping next to a tree and stayed there for 30 minutes. She tried to walk a few times but stopped. She eventually moved about 30 yards and it got to dark to see her. I gathered my stuff and headed down the mountain, not knowing what the outcome would be. Obviously I didn’t hit lungs or heart or she would have died quickly. Back at camp I called a few people and the consensus was she was hurt bad and hopefully dead on the mountain. Very bad feeling not knowing.
Day 9: loaded the quad in the pickup and headed up. Drove the quad up a road and was able to get above the spot where I shot. Walked to the spot she was standing and the wind had filled in every single track from the whole herd the evening before. I knew what tree she was by so I started walking to it and found blood on the snow halfway there. It was a steady drip. There was a small puddle where she stood for so long. She mingled in with the other elk tracks that weren’t covered in the timber, but the blood was more prominent now and easy to follow. She laid down a half dozen times, before finally expiring! She hadn’t gone 50 yards from the last place I saw here the night before. It was such a relief to see her lying next to that log on that Idaho hillside! I quickly called Blake and the kids to let them know! Then a few more people who wanted to know the outcome! It was single digit temperatures with the windchill so I built a fire and started the work.
I have never processed an elk by myself, let alone one in the snow, but it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I couldn’t physically move her more than few inches away from that log, so trying to get to the opposite side quarters and meat was backbreaking exhausting work. My hands cramped in the position I was holding the knife multiple times. My arms cramped. My water in the pack froze so I couldn’t drink it. Tried setting it by the fire but melted one of the bottles. I finally got all the meat I could off and bagged around 1. The pack up to the quad was .42 miles, but you guessed it, uphill. In sometimes knee deep snow. It was backbreaking work, and I got the last load to the quad at 445. It made me appreciate the help I’ve had packing out elk on previous hunts.
Was this the bull I came to Idaho for, no. Did I get to experience a new hunt that challenged me more mentally and physically than ever before? Absolutely.
Even though I was able to call and FaceTime the family every day, it was very taxing being away and alone, in new country. Every decision I made I questioned on whether it was the right one. At times it seemed like the deck was stacked against me. I knew that if I left Idaho empty, I would regret not taking the shot that was presented to me that night. Thanks to my wife for holding down the fort while I was gone and always having words of encouragement when I needed them!
No regrets!
Long post you’ve been warned!
A few years ago my friend Roy sent me a YouTube video of a guy hunting late season bull elk with a traditional muzzleloader in Idaho. I watched the video, and the thought of doing a similar hunt was planted. After a few years of saving and waiting for the right time I applied, and to my amazement drew the tag I wanted in Idaho’s second chance drawing! I have never killed an elk with my muzzleloader and was excited for another opportunity!
Talking to the biologist and game warden of the area gave me a little bit of concern as they basically told me opposite information. The biologist said the elk would be closer to 8000-9500 feet elevation since they hadn’t gotten much snow. This is considered a migration hunt, so I was hoping for snow! The game warden told me the majority of hunters would be in two areas, which were 6500-8000 feet elevation.
A friend put me in touch with a guy who had hunted this tag a few times in the prior years. He was super helpful and willing to give waypoints and locations of where they had killed or seen bulls, as well as how they hunted the unit. I was very thanyfor the insider help. I gladly took his information but knew every year is different from the previous.
Time and distance only allowed for one trip over to the area prior to the time I would be hunting, and my father in law and kids made the 6.5 hour drive over with me to scout the weekend before I left. We drove the unit, saw some elk, and I felt a little better about the hunt.
Day 1: arrived the 12th and got camp setup. Due to the possibility of single digit and negative digit temperatures, I decided to use my father in laws wall tent for this hunt. Our trailer would freeze solid in those temperatures, despite the heater running all night. Neither of us had used the tent before but I felt good about how I set it up (foreshadowing).
Day 2: I got woken up at 4 by high winds. The fly (portion covering the tent) was catching wind and lifting causing the poles to fall out of the grommets and flap like crazy. A little duct tape and I thought I had it fixed. I spent the day gathering as much wood as I could for the stove because there was concern I would freeze to death. Didn’t see any elk that day but found a bunch of wood, drove some more of the unit, and did see my first Idaho moose, a little bull. Got back to camp to a horrific scene. My tent fly was blowing around like a sail on a pirate ship! I failed to take a picture but you get the idea. The wind was blowing so hard I couldn’t get it back on so I was forced to take it off. Portions of the fly had holes from rubbing on the tent poles, it wasn’t completely ruined but it definitely needed replaced. The stove pipe had been blown completely out of the stove, my lantern had blown over, my eggs knocked off the table, and my meat/cheese/cracker tray was scattered everywhere. Talk about a morale killer! I called Blake upset about what had happened, and her positive words got me back on track. Thanks baby! I figured I should be good to go the fly was just extra protection and the tent should be waterproof. . . .
Day 3: Got woken up at 3 am by a drip drip. It was snowing and it turns out the tent was leaking in a spot above my table. From 3-5 I put the fly back on in the cold and dumping snow. Got creative with some bungees and ratchet straps and fixed the fly problem for good. It still flapped but wasn’t going anywhere. I did see some elk that morning a herd with cows and spikes. In the afternoon I spotted another herd after hiking up a “small mountain” that ended up being a mile long walk straight up with 1500 feet elevation gain. It seriously didn’t look that big. From what I could tell there was again only cows and spikes.
Day 4: hiked into an area suggested by game warden and the friend of a friend. Very open terrain with limited timber. Hadn’t seen any sign until around 1130 I found 3 elk tracks heading towards the timber. I had no idea of how these tracks were but decided to follow them. Ended up finding them bedded in the timber and got within 100 yards before I saw them. A nice 6, a nice 5, and what looked like a 5xspike. The smallest was bedded facing my way so I put a tree between us and tried to get to the tree to take a shot. I was almost to the tree when the 5 point heard me in the snow. I was 80 yards away and looking back I should have already had my gun ready and used my pack for a rest. He gave me a perfect broadside shot but my gun was on my shoulder (good place for it I know) and then rebedded facing me. I did make it to the tree with my gun off my shoulder, but they must of seen me or smelled me because a few minutes later they were gone. Turned around and saw a small herd of cows and a spike also. Since I was there I decided to hike this tall peak called Anderson Peak, elevation 9370 feet. It was cool but wouldn’t do it again. Started snowing hard and visibility reduced to less than 100 yards so I headed back. 8.05 miles in sometimes knee deep snow is killer! Visibility almost zero so I split wood in camp for remaining day.
Day 5: drove around looking for fresh tracks. Followed a pair and jumped them by never saw what they were. Saw a BIG bull moose but couldn’t get a picture before he went in the trees. In the afternoon saw some elk in the flatter ground near camp and a herd close to 100 working there way down.
Day 6: was going to hunt a road close to camp but there was a vehicle there so I went back to where I saw the 3 bulls. Went on a similar hike and saw zero animals or fresh sign. Snow deeper and harder to hike. Very windy in the afternoon so I stayed in camp making sure camp was good until 4. Drove 3 miles from camp and there was a herd of over 100 in the sage flats. They were spooked so no chance of getting ahead of em. Talked to a few guys who had shot a spike and a nice 5 out of the herd moments before! Lesson learned don’t be sitting in camp when you could be hunting lol.
Day 7: hunted closer to town and saw a herd with 2 nice bulls in it being pursued by a side by side who shot at the herd with rifles (there was a rifle cow tag going on at the same time). Drove a road towards camp back and found some elk to go after in the evening. Made a good stalk but the wind switched and busted the herd.
By this time I had talked to a few tag holders who said this was a tough year, and they weren’t seeing much for bulls bigger than a spike. I came into this hunt hoping for a decent bull, but my standards were changing due to weather, terrain, lack of bigger bulls, and my mental toughness. I can’t describe how hard this hunt was mentally. Easily the toughest hunt I’ve been on. Being alone didn’t help! Even though I had planned to stay until the 27th if necessary, I had decided I wasn’t going to pass up a shot on a cow if given one.
Day 8: left early to try to get above the herd near town that had the 2 bulls. A few miles from camp some elk crossed ahead of me and I decided I think I knew where they were going and to try to get ahead of them. I set out and ended up being a few minutes later. It ended up being the big herd from a few nights ago and we made it to the draw at the same time. They skirted away and I never got a shot. Got back to the pickup and realized part of my rear peep sight was gone! I tore the pickup apart looking for it but it’s somewhere on the Idaho countryside. I took a shot at 96 yards and was a few inches low. It was harder to aim through the larger screw in portion where the sight used to be, but I felt confident. Left camp and found some elk a few miles above camp. It was a smaller group of elk, easier to sneak on. I watched them and made a plan based on what I thought they would do. Hiked up a “small hill” which again was almost a mile, and got into position. Eventually the elk fed out across the opening towards me. There was 8-10 from what I could see. The elk got closer and went behind a contour in the land and I couldn’t see them. I quickly moved up and got close to a rock outcropping covered in snow. I peeked over and they were less than 100 yards away feeding right to me. I laid out on the side of this snow covered rock and got ready. I laid for 15 minutes in the snow for them to get as close as possible for a shot. There were no bulls, and all the cows were similar in size, so when the closest one gave me a broadside shot at 75 yards, I took it. The shot felt good and the herd turned and ran back, but the one I shot could only walk slowly. I couldn’t see the side I shot her on so I couldn’t look for blood. She walked around 150-200 yards before stopping next to a tree and stayed there for 30 minutes. She tried to walk a few times but stopped. She eventually moved about 30 yards and it got to dark to see her. I gathered my stuff and headed down the mountain, not knowing what the outcome would be. Obviously I didn’t hit lungs or heart or she would have died quickly. Back at camp I called a few people and the consensus was she was hurt bad and hopefully dead on the mountain. Very bad feeling not knowing.
Day 9: loaded the quad in the pickup and headed up. Drove the quad up a road and was able to get above the spot where I shot. Walked to the spot she was standing and the wind had filled in every single track from the whole herd the evening before. I knew what tree she was by so I started walking to it and found blood on the snow halfway there. It was a steady drip. There was a small puddle where she stood for so long. She mingled in with the other elk tracks that weren’t covered in the timber, but the blood was more prominent now and easy to follow. She laid down a half dozen times, before finally expiring! She hadn’t gone 50 yards from the last place I saw here the night before. It was such a relief to see her lying next to that log on that Idaho hillside! I quickly called Blake and the kids to let them know! Then a few more people who wanted to know the outcome! It was single digit temperatures with the windchill so I built a fire and started the work.
I have never processed an elk by myself, let alone one in the snow, but it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I couldn’t physically move her more than few inches away from that log, so trying to get to the opposite side quarters and meat was backbreaking exhausting work. My hands cramped in the position I was holding the knife multiple times. My arms cramped. My water in the pack froze so I couldn’t drink it. Tried setting it by the fire but melted one of the bottles. I finally got all the meat I could off and bagged around 1. The pack up to the quad was .42 miles, but you guessed it, uphill. In sometimes knee deep snow. It was backbreaking work, and I got the last load to the quad at 445. It made me appreciate the help I’ve had packing out elk on previous hunts.
Was this the bull I came to Idaho for, no. Did I get to experience a new hunt that challenged me more mentally and physically than ever before? Absolutely.
Even though I was able to call and FaceTime the family every day, it was very taxing being away and alone, in new country. Every decision I made I questioned on whether it was the right one. At times it seemed like the deck was stacked against me. I knew that if I left Idaho empty, I would regret not taking the shot that was presented to me that night. Thanks to my wife for holding down the fort while I was gone and always having words of encouragement when I needed them!
No regrets!
