Elk Hunt

Back from our glorious hike of the John Muir Trail, we spent some time both in Reno and Quincy relaxing and regrouping. The late September weather was warm and very comfortable. Our wish was for an extended Indian summer, especially since our planned elk hunt in Northeastern Nevada was less than a week away. Unfortunately, the forecast for the latter half of the week called for snow, exactly when we were to start the hunt in the remote and incredibly scenic Jarbidge Mountains.

With the prospect of snow, Kristen’s dad John kindly agreed to loan us his truck. After going over some final details with Kevin, who also had an elk tag for the same area, we departed Reno early in the morning and drove east on I-80, partly through snow and rain, eventually turning north at Wells on I-93 heading towards Idaho. Several newly-constructed wildlife overpasses caught our attention in this area, evidence of the large herds of migrating deer. Turning west south of the Idaho border, the ominous clouds of the passing storm still obscured our view of the higher peaks in the Jarbidge Wilderness. After about 9 hours of driving, including about 60 miles of rough dirt road, we finally pitched camp among the beautiful aspen of Canyon Creek as occasional snow flurries lightly fell.

We awoke early in the morning to light snow, but the road up to Pole Creek Guard Station was passable with a foot of coverage, at most, in some sections. Although we love Goldi dearly, we were very glad to have borrowed John’s truck. Since we planned to meet that afternoon with John and Bill, Kevin’s dad, we spent the morning hiking up the upper portion of Slide Creek. It was pretty miserable, with snow and a low-hanging, freezing fog that was so thick you could slice it with a knife. So much for visibility and the possibility of spotting elk! We spent the rest of the day scouting from the windshield, and without much luck. When Kevin and his friend Jason didn’t show up that night at camp as we had planned, we were hoping that he had had better luck on his way up from Reno that day.

The patchy cell service proved to be invaluable the next morning, when we got the message that Kevin had shot a cow elk in the Draw Creek area and needed our help packing out meat. The weather had improved markedly, and the brilliant blue sky made for a fitting backdrop to the freshly snow-covered mountains. The bright sun also helped to accentuate the golden and orange hues of the quaking aspen leaves. After driving on dirt roads for about 40 miles, the final 3 miles proved to be very rough, and Kristen did a great job of navigating the technical sections in 4x4 low gear. We were happy to see Kevin and Jason, and after hiking in a mile, helped him pack out the quarters and other meat sections of the animal. It looked to have been a decent size cow, and we hauled out about 70 pounds of meat each. Although we were in great shape from the JMT, this gave me a newfound respect for elk hunters who pack out meat on their backs for any distance. Back at our newly established camp, we celebrated that night, albeit not too hard since l still had some work to do. 

Upper Draw Creek

Packing the quarters into coolers

A front quarter weghing about 40 pounds

Kevin's elk head and hide

 

The following morning we headed for the upper Mary’s River Basin. We had spotted some elk in the area from high up on the ridge, but it looked as though they might be headed over into the next drainage. Hiking through a brilliant stand of golden aspens, we spooked two cow elk that were bedded down. Unfortunately, the aspens were so thick that I could not get a clean shot. Moving up the drainage, Jason and I broke off after seeing a bull elk bugling repeatedly. The bugling calls echoed through the upper Mary’s River Basin as we moved up a ridgeline to get into position. We could see a herd of about 30 elk, with bulls, cows, and yearlings, but the wind had shifted somewhat so that we were upwind, and the elk were visibly nervous and began moving away. We were within ~350 yards at one point, but I felt this too far for me to comfortably shoot and be assured of a clean, ethical kill. 

As the elk moved further away, we repositioned ourselves by traversing an opposite ridge. Once again, the wind was working against us and the elk were clustered among thick aspen, moving nervously but not too quickly. Not being able to secure a clean shot, I passed on it again, this time at about 300 yards. Gusts of wind made the aspen quake and brought our scent to the elk… they spooked and ran. Frustrated at this point, Jason and I were about four miles from the truck and decided that we should start heading back, contouring back down the valley. One last look at an upper meadow that we were headed for revealed several elk. We stalked in cautiously under the cover of aspen on the meadow margin, this time with the wind in our favor.

To position myself on the meadow edge, I belly-crawled about 60 feet through the last aspen stand, finally reaching a fallen log that served both as concealment and as a great platform for a prone shot. I surveyed the elk grazing below: a cow with her yearling, a large bull elk thrashing vegetation with his rack and bugling occasionally, and two cows calmly grazing on the opposite end of the meadow. I sighted in each one and practiced controlled breathing, finally settling on one of the two cows about 290 yards distant. I felt as though I were in a trance as the shot rang out. The elk scattered, and the one I shot ran about twenty feet before falling. She tried to get up on her front legs, so I shot her again (this time in the neck) in an effort to end any suffering. I was ecstatic. Jason and I ran over to make sure the elk was dead and I quietly thanked the elk for giving her life. Kristen joined us from up the slope as we celebrated in the late afternoon light and took a few photos. Mary’s River Peak glistened with fresh snow on the horizon as we began the field dressing process. 

Jason and I celebrate

My shooting position from the aspen visible in the distance

 

Starting the field dressing process

 

Realizing that evening was quickly approaching, we skinned and gutted the animal as quickly as we could. Both shots were perfect- the first was placed right behind the shoulder and had pierced the lungs while the second had gone right through the upper neck. After quartering, we packed the front quarters and heart/liver, hanging the rest in an aspen before hiking out. The surface hoar frost glistened diamond-like under a near full moon, making the three mile walk out beautifully quick.

The following day we hiked in with everyone, including John and Bill, and finished getting the rest of the meat off of the carcass and packing up the meat and hide. The dark gray clouds that accompanied us on our hike in had coalesced into a more serious storm, and we were buffeted by strong winds as snow began to fall lightly. Laden with about 80 pounds each, including the meat and hide, we headed back up the ridge that was now obscured by clouds and snow. Cold and tired, we reached the trucks and drove out under falling snow.

Hiking through snow to pack out the rest of the elk

Bill and John in a beautiful aspen grove

Packing up as snow falls

A group shot before heading back to the trucks

Kristen and I took the meat to a butcher in Reno the following day. After letting it hang for several days in a cooler, we joined the butcher to get a lesson in butchering and to help in the process. We watched as he de-boned the quarters, separated the larger muscle groups, and sliced the meat into steaks, roasts, and stew meat. We ground the rest into sausage and hamburger. In total, we ended up with about 220 pounds of meat. Although I’m nearly 40 years old, finally I had done something our ancestors have done for thousands of years. As we grilled up some delicious burgers with friends that night in Reno, I felt incredibly satisfied to have seen and been involved in the process from meadow to table. My first successful elk hunt was an experience I will never forget.