Day 9 - Pain
Clem slept in…again, so the wake-up call came 15 minutes late at 3:45. Missing her alarm this time was self-induced, and we laughed when we realized what happened.
The night before, when we got back from packing my bull off the mountain, Heath came up to me and whispered "you can't leave whiskey out in the cook tent". I looked at him quizzically, and said I had given the bottle to Sam as a thank you. He just looked at me again and said "you can't leave it out". I still didn't get his meaning, so I walked past him into the cook tent where that bottle of bourbon was left on the table. It was still there, but another third of it was gone. I smiled as I put two and two together...Clem liked whiskey.
Everyone was a little groggy, working on less than four hours of sleep, as we had our 4:15 breakfast. I was riding lighter today, along for the experience, looking to soak in one last full day on the mountain, and hopefully witness another bull kill. We rode out of camp right about 5:00, headed north. Our destination, Two Ocean mountain.
The morning before Heath and Shawn had hunted in this area and Heath was finally able to pull another bull into range for Shawn. Unfortunately, Shawn pulled his 30-yard shot hard left and buried his arrow into the bull's shoulder. They watched him run up and over a ridge with nearly the entire shaft sticking out. They spent the rest of the day searching, after only finding light blood for 100 yards or so up the trail. The mood back in camp had been pretty mellow during the prior afternoon, until I went and changed our situation.
Shawn's hunt was done, as Heath and he, along with Cody and Mark, would ride back to spend the day searching for his bull. However, they had seen a lot of fresh sign in the area, along with a good 6 pt. bull after Shawn had hit his, so we headed out an hour or two ahead of them to hunt the country before they started their search. It ended up being a fruitless endeavor for the search crew, which they knew was the likely outcome given the hit…but they had no choice except to search.
Our action for the day started early, as a bull fired off a bugle to our left less than 30 minutes out of camp. We stopped and waited, and a few minutes later he fired off again. He had moved quite a way since his first scream, and was obviously quickly working in downwind of us. We still had over an hour until shooting light, and a long way to ride, so we left this bull for another crew on another day.
As we started to climb up out of the bottom into a fairly open valley, the first light of day allowed us to spot a group of shapes up and to our left. A look through the binos revealed a group of 5 bulls, 3 rag horns and two spikes. We kept riding up and to our right to get the horses behind a clump of pines for cover. Just as we neared our hiding spot, another bull crested the ridge directly in front of us. He was a small 5x5, but plenty big enough for Derek. It was only 6:30, and we had 6 bulls strung out on the mountain within a few hundred yards of us. I started to think it was going to be a short morning.
Derek jumped off his horse first and attempted to move out and up on the single bull to the right, which was also the closest. Sam started to hit a few bugles on the tube and I watched our six as I could still see two spikes from the original group up and to our left. The action petered out rather quickly as none of the bulls bugled, and all of them kind of just faded away into the closest timber. We were pretty sure all of them had made us out well enough before we got behind the trees, which kept them from making any stupid mistakes.
There were some big flat meadows up on top of this mountain and we wanted to be up there at first light, which was now, so we jumped back on the horses and continued our ride. Sam let out a couple bugles as we started to top out and just over the first rise we rode up on two other bow-hunters. I felt bad for the guys as we waved and rode on past. They had to have hiked 4-5 miles from the nearest road to get up on top of the mountain that early, then they heard a bugle approaching, only to be followed by three hunter topped horses. Oh well, that's public ground.
Not a quarter mile past our only human encounter of the week, we rode around a point of timber into a large meadow where two 5 pt. bulls were sparring not 150 yards away. Sam jerked his horse to the right, out of sight, and we did the same. We jumped down, Derek grabbed his bow, and we moved off to the right into the trees for some cover. Sam let out a series of bugles, but again, we got no response. We soon realized one or both of the bulls must have seen Sam before he was able to duck into cover. We got back on the trail and headed across an immense high mountain meadow. We had already seen 8 bulls, and the sun was just breaking the horizon.
We hit the timber on the far side a short while later and started to call into what looked like prime elk habitat. We stopped and glassed for a bit as we had a wide view back behind us, down to the right. We soon spotted movement and watched three more small bulls in the distance heading up a meadow into some dark timber. That made 11 bulls. We rode forward and had one of the sparring pair (who had obviously busted across the big meadow in front of us) sneak in behind us after a few more bugles, just as we entered a small opening. We were once again caught with no options as he quickly turned and headed back to safety.
Shortly after our last elk encounter, as we were riding across a meadow, I decided to take my puffy coat off as the sun was starting to warm the air. I pulled my right arm out, and just as I went to remove the left, a breeze caught it, causing it to flap in the air. Now, I had taken a jacket off while riding a number of times during the week with no issue. But for some reason, on this morning, my flapping coat put the fear of God in Cassidy, the giant black horse I was riding…and she bolted.
Cassidy peeled out of line to the right of Sam and took a beeline towards the edge of the meadow. We were hauling ass as I held on for dear life with my right hand, my coat flapping in the wind off my left arm, yelling "whoa, whoa!" at an animal that had no intention of stopping until the terror on her back was gone. As we approached the timberline Cassidy made a hard-right turn to circle back towards the others. I went left. It was an uncontrolled ejection. I landed on my ride side, shoulder and hip mostly, but also shoved my rangefinder, which was strapped alongside my bino harness, into my ribs. I bounced and hit the second time on my rear and head, coming to a rest with one final half-roll onto my stomach. I had the wind knocked out of me (which I'd had plenty of experience with playing high school sports) but otherwise initially felt like everything was responding correctly. I rolled onto my back and gave Derek and Sam a thumbs up while I waited for my ability to take a deep breath to return. Once Derek saw the thumbs up, or maybe a moment before, he started to laugh his ass off. Hey, what are friends for?
I got up and walked back to Cassidy who was just standing with the other two horses, giving me a look of "don't ever do that again". She jumped as I picked my coat up and stuffed it in the pack hanging off the left side of the saddle horn. I climbed back up, seemingly no worse for the wear.
We continued to ride and covered some real beautiful country, at maybe the highest elevation we'd been all week.
Though we rode through the area Heath directed us to, and saw some sign, we never saw another elk or heard a bugle on the morning. The only animal encounter was another big bull moose, which we were surprised to learn spent time this high up. In that same general vicinity, we also found a large broken off moose horn, which had to have been split in one heck of a fight. We tried to put the horn in my empty bow-scabbard, but Cassidy had been acting jumpy as hell since our rodeo moment and twice started to trot/jump after we strapped it in. I told Sam to "get that damn thing out of there" and we rode down the mountain without incident as Sam carried the horn. I was now starting to tighten up.
As we turned back towards camp, we crossed over the bottom and up to a saddle bordering a prior burn where Shawn had killed a bull two years prior. There was water there, so Sam called a few times and we settled in for lunch and our mid-day rest. I was tired, but was afraid of what I'd feel like after falling asleep. I crashed anyway. Here Sam and I are both sleeping, with my camo for the day doing its job.
After a couple hours with no action, we decided to saddle up and head back towards camp. I stretched out as best I could (my ribs were starting to get sore with deep breaths or certain movements) and got back on the horse. Sam told Derek we'd do another evening hunt, and could either go up Tripod on the way back or get to camp and hit the logging road again in the evening. We had some time to decide, so hit the trail in the afternoon heat.
Cassidy continued to be extremely jumpy, so I had taken my pack off the saddle horn and wore it for the afternoon ride. I figured the less she had bouncing around on her the better. I was wrong. It didn’t matter. Shortly into our afternoon ride, while moving across a small sagebrush flat, a large fly or bee of some kind buzzed around my head. I dared not wave my arm, but it didn't matter. I watched in horror as the bug made a bee-line for Cassidy's ears. In an instant, we were off again. Sam reached out and nearly caught her lead rope as we sailed by on his left side. This time I had both hands free and put everything I had into pulling back on the reigns. After 50 yards or so, she started to ease up, which caused my weight to shift back forward in the saddle. This apparently loosened the reigns just enough to encourage her to continue on. As she accelerated a second time I began to lose my balance (which is shitty to begin with) and looked for a spot to make a controlled landing. Thankfully my ass hit an open spot in the sage, only scraping my left elbow/forearm on the way down.
This time I was pissed. After Sam got back with Cassidy (she kept going this time instead of circling back) I told him there wasn't a chance in hell I'd get back on that fucking horse and that I'd walk back. He told me it was 8 miles. I dropped my head. To his credit, Sam was also pissed. The first time was partially or mostly my fault, the second was Cassidy just being a bitch. Sam thought for a minute then asked me to hold his horse while he jumped on Cassidy and proceeded to demonstrate his cowboy bona fides. The best description I can give is that for the next five minutes he gave her an ass kicking. He intentionally spooked her by slapping his hat or waving his arm, she'd spook and jump or go to run, he’d lay into the reigns and spur her in the shoulder, she'd stop...rinse and repeat. Sam was swearing and sweating and Cassidy was giving it right back for a couple minutes...then she wore down. Finally, he was able to slap his hat without her moving. Her current anxiety was broken. Sam said he'd tie Cassidy's lead rope to his saddle so she couldn't go further than 6 feet the rest of the way back. I reluctantly climbed back in the saddle.
I was now really sore, and we still had a 2-hour ride ahead of us. At this point I told Derek and Sam I was done, after getting back to camp I'd work on packing and dinner* as they went out for the evening. Nobody tried to persuade me otherwise. Thankfully, the ride back was uneventful and I could feel a very different demeanor in Cassidy after Sam had his way with her. However, I was still more tense than when we'd run into the bear and was never so happy to see camp as I was when we pulled back in that afternoon.
*That morning before heading out I told Clem I would donate the two tenderloins from my elk to the camp for dinner that evening, under one condition...she couldn't put them anywhere near a frying pan. She immediately and nonchalantly responded "then you can cook them". While this was in no way my intent, I do all of the cooking in my house, and was more than happy to tackle elk tenderloin over an open fire.
My mood had mellowed on the ride back, thankful that I wasn't seriously injured as I chalked it up to being just another part of the adventure. I could tell every time Derek re-imagined one of the two ejections, because he’d start to giggle behind me. Back in camp, everyone got a good laugh out of my misfortune. However, I could sense Sam and Heath giving each other a look of relief that there were no serious injuries.
We had a couple hours to kill before Derek and Sam went back out, so we sat around for a few beers and listened to the other crew's story of an uneventful search. I finally started to relax.
I also took my bull out and got a few pictures with the head in the daylight.