The drive to elk camp later in Sept.
Looking at one of the areas we hike into.
One of the ridges we hike up and down. The scrub aspen are turning.
The view after a long hike. A few hundred yards from where I took this picture I was having a conversation with a bull late one morning. For some reason I took a quick look behind me and a nearly white wolf was sitting across a small draw looking at me. Thrill of the day.
This is an elk trail through the alders, but it's a lot steeper than it looks. Last year I had a running skirmish along this trail with a nice bull, but 200 yards from where I took this picture another bull joined in and he made a small tactical mistake and the season was over.
Every few years I visit this spot on a finger ridge not far from the Montana border. The quakie is dead now, but back in 1993 it was very much alive.
Along about 1993 I decided to switch to a longbow after about 12 years with a recurve. One morning I got onto a bull with some cows, but he was a runner. In those days, not many people interfered in day to day elk hunting, so I just tagged along behind him. At seven that evening he came over to see who was pestering him all day, and I shot him. The arrow was a doug fir with a wolverine. Hit him in front of the shoulder as he walked and he dropped in his hoof prints, with his one and a half antlers around this tree. I left the arrow against the tree, but couldn't find it five years later. First big game with a longbow.