You never forget your first! ... Over 9,000 feet, snow-capped peaks all around. Here's a paragraph from the book about this hunt and many, many more:
"By 9 a.m. I had hit all of the small springs in that draw and found myself setting against a large pine tree admiring the vast basin and impressive mountain peaks that lie before me. This raw feeling welled up inside of me. Here I was, feeling like the only man on the mountain with a bit of gear, two sticks and a string, seeking the king of the Rockies. It was a bit early in the season, but this moment overtook me and I felt the need to rip off a nasty big-bull bugle. So it did…and did again. Suddenly I heard the distinct “thud, thud” of a heavy-hoofed animal just up the ridge. I turned to see a rag horn bull coming toward me on a string. A flash and he was 9 yards away. I put the cedar shaft precisely in the crease behind his shoulder, mid-way from chest to spine. The bull spooked, confused, and crashed 30 yards away. I had been blessed with another clean, double-lung kill and hundreds of pounds of meat. My only regret was that none of my brothers or Dad were there to share in that moment. Especially when I began cleaning and packing out that huge animal!"
I hear ya LPM. Hunting with family, especially you Dad, has no equal.
-MV