Hunting Trip of a Life Time…Never!

Ever time I have the good fortune to plan for and take a hunting trip out of town, out of state or out of the country it is just one more experience I intend to add to my treasure chest of hunting memories.

I remember the first time this phrase was used on me. I was just about to leave on my first trip to British Columbia to hunt Elk. As my wife dropped me off at the airport she said enjoy this “Trip of A Lifetime”. I looked at her funny and said this is the first of many. I was certain she had a hidden agenda when she said that to me. She was hoping it would be the only one I would ever take, because of the cost!

The trip of course was great. I went bow hunting in early September in the southern part of British Columbia near Cranbrook. We rode horse back for 8 hours to get to our hunting area. I was alone with a guide for 5 days. The elk were not bugling and this made finding a good bull a challenge to say the least. It was the first time I slept under that stars in the wilderness. We were in grizzly bear country and come to think of it I am not sure I slept at all that night. Every time the horses would move or make a sound I imaged a grizzly bear was sizing them up for a snack. It was a good thing we only spent one night without some kind of roof over our heads.

After days of calling and riding our frustration level was getting pretty high. On the last day we woke up to rain. As we left our trappers cabin and headed up toward the pass my guide voiced his usual sense of optimism. I looked at the back of his horse, as we rode down the trail and voiced my sense of desperation with the final hours ticking by.

The rain pattered our rain suits making conversation difficult, but as we rode down the trail there was a faint but unmistakable squeal from the mountain side above. Did you hear that I asked and my guide nodded? We rode up to a giant lodge pole pine with a wide skirt, dismounted and took shelter from the drone of rain hitting our suits. After just a few moments there it was again, that unmistakable deep throated moan and squeal of a bull elk.

We started cow calling back and he would respond almost instantly. This went on for nearly half and hour and while the bull responded, it was clear he was not moving. If something was going to happen, we were going to have to make it happen.

With the rain beating down hard the entire time it was hard to know exactly how far away this bull was. We decide it would be best if my guide stayed put and I started to approach the elk in hopes that I would get close enough for a shot.

Its at this point that I should back up and tell you that after that 8 hour ride on the first day we took a rather length fast paced hike up and down a large bolder field to get a little hunting in before sun down on the first day. On the way back to our horses that evening I managed to hurt my knee. This injury, whatever it was made it almost impossible for me to walk down hill. Up hill was doable, but down hill was out of the question. Fortunately, I brought a healthy stock pile of Ibuprofen and the rest of the hunt was manageable.

I shed my pack crawled out from the sheltered confines of the Lodge Pole and headed up the hill after the bull elk. As the chirps of my guide began to fade I entered the dark timber. The coniferous forest was an endless sea of deadfalls. I could not walk 5 steps without having to cross a fallen tree and the pain in my knee grew with each step. But the pain went away with each bugle and the bull was not letting up.

After about 45 minutes of up hill climbing I came to a trail and it was one big trail. This was nothing like a deer trail this trail was at least 3 feet wide and pounded down by elk tracks. By now I was so close to where I thought the elk was the hair on the back of my neck would raise each time that old boy let out a beller and then it stopped.

My heart sunk and a cold shiver went down my back. I blew it, I thought to myself. I pushed it too far and he either saw me or heard me. I stepped across the trail and sat down facing down the hill. My dejection was short lived. A bugle rang out up the trail and it was definitely closer than the others. He was coming down the trail.

I stepped a few more paces off the trail and found a spot above and behind a small pine.
I readied myself and tried to catch my breath to make a smooth controlled shot. Out of the corner of my eye he appeared and he looked like a grey freight train barreling down the trail. At this rate he would be on me on just a few seconds. I used the cover of the pine to draw my bow. I came to a full draw and that’s when it happened. He slowed way down almost to a stop. The pine was still between he and I, but if he didn’t move I couldn’t make a shot. I left off my draw fearing I would not be able to hold it long enough for him to clear the tree. At that moment, he accelerated and was right in front of me in two seconds. I could have jumped off the hill on to his back and rode him down the trail, but I couldn’t draw my bow in time to make a shot without him seeing me.

He was grey not brown like most. He had six points on each side and his antlers were more white than anything. This big animal moving so deliberately down the trail turned 180 degree and headed off at an angle down the hill as I desperately drew my bow for a shot.

I left British Columbia without an elk, but I did have a chance and that is what I paid for a chance. That is why I am an Avid hunter and that is why to me there is no such thing as the hunt of a lifetime. Who wouldn’t want a lifetime of experiences like that.

Dan Amundson - Avid Hunter, Avid Writer