Re: Follow up on the \'Once-in-a-lifetime\' Trophy Deer Hunt
Part 5:
Rather than tracking the buck straight over the hill, We decided to be clever and carefully circle around the hill from a somewhat downwind direction (as much as possible). As we came around the hill, we carefully glassed, then took a step or two, glassed some more, looking at the shadows under each and every cedar tree and looking for antlers above each piece of tall sagebrush. We came around the hill very slowly and carefully, but did not see the buck anywhere. After giving it some time, incase he materialized somewhere, We went over and cut his tracks in the snow and began following them. He went over the hill, down the other side, across a short flat, up a small ridge, and behind a red-rock formation (about the size of a semi trailer) just below the ridgeline. The red-rock formation was unique in that it had a hole (window) through it that was about 16" in diameter and was located about four feet off the ground. There were numerous holes in the rock formation that were just hollowed out and did not penetrate through the formation, but were indistinguishable from the window-like hole. You guessed it; I tracked the buck behind the rock formation, where he stood, watching his backtrack through the hole, busting us. He slipped over the ridge, unseen. After tracking him over the ridge a few hundred yards, his trail completely ended. That really stumped me. I carefully checked to see if he had backtracked, but he didn't. The ground was nearly completely covered with snow. I began extending the search outward, looking for tracks. I couldn't find any. Finally, I figured it out; he had jumped onto a small boulder that was not covered with snow, then he jumped from rock to rock for about 100 yards (about 12" to 24" rocks without snow), not leaving a single track. Then he jumped about 15 feet into/onto a large sagebrush. From there he jumped into a deep, muddy wash. I watched the wash for a while, to see if I could catch him sneaking out of it. No luck. I went in after him. I tracked him up the wash about a quarter mile, until it went into some thick cedars, where he jumped out of the wash and into the cover of the cedars. I almost didn't make it out of the wash, as the walls were muddy and slick, nearly vertical, and about 15 high. On my first attempt, the bush at the top of the wash that I was using to pull myself out with was uprooted, dropping me back to the bottom and covering me in mud. From there, he angled up and across Potter Mountain, keeping the wind at his back and staying in the cedars. He never once slowed his pace or stopped.
At one point we stopped to rest and watched Wiley with a rabbit in his mouth walk about 20 yards below us. When he saw us, he dropped the rabbit, ran about a hundred yards, then sat down and watched us as if he were waiting for us to leave so he could go get his rabbit. I would have enjoyed sharing some lead and copper with him, but didn't want to hurt my chances of finding my buck. A few ridges later, a very nice 6-point bull elk crossed about 80-yards below us. When he saw us, he just stood there for nearly a minute, and then casually strolled off. We continued tracking the buck. He back tracked a few times and pulled a few other tricks, but he never slowed down. Eventually, he crossed over the top of Potter Mountain. We continued following him. After about 5 tough miles, his tracks dropped into what I will refer to as no-man's-land (a steep, thick, rugged, red-rock and cedar infested hole, without a road or trail anywhere around). We were thirsty and running out of daylight, so we called it and headed back to the truck, discouraged, defeated, outsmarted, and outfoxed. The walk back was miserable. The snow had begun to melt, thawing the mud underneath it. We slipped and slid the whole way back. This time, Wiley was nowhere to be seen. I would have enjoyed sharing some of my frustration with him. We saw a few smaller bucks (two and three points) on the way back. They were not spooked at all.
In retrospect, I feel privileged to have even seen this magestic buck. He was way to clever for a hunter like me to take, short of lucking out. I am convinced that he will die of old age.
Once we arrived at the truck, the fun really began. The snow had melted enough to really make the roads sloppy and the mud in this area is truly amazing. The fresh road grading made things worse since there were not ruts in the road, thus when the road sloped even a little you would begin to slide sideways off of the road. Once off the road, the mud got really deep. The next couple hours were filled with white-knuckle mud digging and a few near misses (sliding into deep ditches, off hillsides, not making it up hills, etc). We were really wondering if we would even make it out of there. We passed several abandoned vehicles that had not made it out, some even had chains on. We decided to forego this hunting area the next day, hoping that the mud would dry out before the season ended.
Part 5:
Rather than tracking the buck straight over the hill, We decided to be clever and carefully circle around the hill from a somewhat downwind direction (as much as possible). As we came around the hill, we carefully glassed, then took a step or two, glassed some more, looking at the shadows under each and every cedar tree and looking for antlers above each piece of tall sagebrush. We came around the hill very slowly and carefully, but did not see the buck anywhere. After giving it some time, incase he materialized somewhere, We went over and cut his tracks in the snow and began following them. He went over the hill, down the other side, across a short flat, up a small ridge, and behind a red-rock formation (about the size of a semi trailer) just below the ridgeline. The red-rock formation was unique in that it had a hole (window) through it that was about 16" in diameter and was located about four feet off the ground. There were numerous holes in the rock formation that were just hollowed out and did not penetrate through the formation, but were indistinguishable from the window-like hole. You guessed it; I tracked the buck behind the rock formation, where he stood, watching his backtrack through the hole, busting us. He slipped over the ridge, unseen. After tracking him over the ridge a few hundred yards, his trail completely ended. That really stumped me. I carefully checked to see if he had backtracked, but he didn't. The ground was nearly completely covered with snow. I began extending the search outward, looking for tracks. I couldn't find any. Finally, I figured it out; he had jumped onto a small boulder that was not covered with snow, then he jumped from rock to rock for about 100 yards (about 12" to 24" rocks without snow), not leaving a single track. Then he jumped about 15 feet into/onto a large sagebrush. From there he jumped into a deep, muddy wash. I watched the wash for a while, to see if I could catch him sneaking out of it. No luck. I went in after him. I tracked him up the wash about a quarter mile, until it went into some thick cedars, where he jumped out of the wash and into the cover of the cedars. I almost didn't make it out of the wash, as the walls were muddy and slick, nearly vertical, and about 15 high. On my first attempt, the bush at the top of the wash that I was using to pull myself out with was uprooted, dropping me back to the bottom and covering me in mud. From there, he angled up and across Potter Mountain, keeping the wind at his back and staying in the cedars. He never once slowed his pace or stopped.
At one point we stopped to rest and watched Wiley with a rabbit in his mouth walk about 20 yards below us. When he saw us, he dropped the rabbit, ran about a hundred yards, then sat down and watched us as if he were waiting for us to leave so he could go get his rabbit. I would have enjoyed sharing some lead and copper with him, but didn't want to hurt my chances of finding my buck. A few ridges later, a very nice 6-point bull elk crossed about 80-yards below us. When he saw us, he just stood there for nearly a minute, and then casually strolled off. We continued tracking the buck. He back tracked a few times and pulled a few other tricks, but he never slowed down. Eventually, he crossed over the top of Potter Mountain. We continued following him. After about 5 tough miles, his tracks dropped into what I will refer to as no-man's-land (a steep, thick, rugged, red-rock and cedar infested hole, without a road or trail anywhere around). We were thirsty and running out of daylight, so we called it and headed back to the truck, discouraged, defeated, outsmarted, and outfoxed. The walk back was miserable. The snow had begun to melt, thawing the mud underneath it. We slipped and slid the whole way back. This time, Wiley was nowhere to be seen. I would have enjoyed sharing some of my frustration with him. We saw a few smaller bucks (two and three points) on the way back. They were not spooked at all.
In retrospect, I feel privileged to have even seen this magestic buck. He was way to clever for a hunter like me to take, short of lucking out. I am convinced that he will die of old age.
Once we arrived at the truck, the fun really began. The snow had melted enough to really make the roads sloppy and the mud in this area is truly amazing. The fresh road grading made things worse since there were not ruts in the road, thus when the road sloped even a little you would begin to slide sideways off of the road. Once off the road, the mud got really deep. The next couple hours were filled with white-knuckle mud digging and a few near misses (sliding into deep ditches, off hillsides, not making it up hills, etc). We were really wondering if we would even make it out of there. We passed several abandoned vehicles that had not made it out, some even had chains on. We decided to forego this hunting area the next day, hoping that the mud would dry out before the season ended.
