We slowly moved down the slide until suddenly we saw cows down the slope in the trees on the edge of the bald saddle. They were just downhill from the saddle and feeding in that direction. We identified several different shooting lanes with distances of 400-500 yards from potential targets. The shooters got into steady positions and waited. We saw more and more cows move out into the open as they were getting ready to feed over the saddle and into the next basin.
We saw several smaller bulls move in and out of cover but not the bigger bull. Suddenly the bigger bull stepped out into a small opening tight to the tree line. I told the boys, "there he is, shoot him". They could not see him and soon enough he stepped behind another group of trees and was getting ready to go into the next basin. The bull stepped out again and I told them "you better shoot that bull he is about to go over that saddle." The other shooter said, "I don't see him". As soon as those words left his mouth I heard my son's rifle thunder. Since I was looking over his shoulder with binos I could see the bullet impact right behind the left front shoulder. Perfect hit right in the vitals at 373 yards from the trusty old Winchester Model 70 chambered in 7mm Rem Mag.
The elk stood there and looked around trying to figure why he was experiencing a sudden drop in blood pressure. My son's second shot was a miss and the third shot was a double lung. He quickly reloaded. The bull was still standing there. His 4th and 5th shots were misses and then the 6th shot dropped him in his tracks. Turns out this last shot hit him just above the left knee and also in the opposite front leg below the knee. He expired shortly after. The rest of the herd were milling around and starting to head over the saddle. The other shooter had a chance at several of the smaller bulls and I asked him if he was going to shoot. He looked at me and said that he wasn't interested in hauling out anything smaller than a 6x6 this high up and this far out from the truck. Smart kid.
We got to work butchering out the elk and it was past sundown as we started down the mountain. The other shooters dad and their friend brought vehicles to the edge of the wilderness boundary 3.5 miles and 3,000' below us. They hiked up almost two miles to just below the rocks where we had originally glassed the elk from the first morning. I carried a rear quarter and my son carried the other rear quarter plus his rifle. At 16 years old I am impressed at the weight he carried out. Those rear quarters were so heavy. My buddy carried a front quarter and loose meat. The other young man carried backstraps, tenderloins and loose meat. We left one front quarter and the head behind. It was steep and nasty. We had a rock slide on our right and thick mahogany in front of us. We were behind the other two guys and it was getting dark by the time we got into the thick stuff. They found a clearer path to the left by checking OnX and made pretty good time. They were quite away ahead of us, I was starting to fatigue quickly and my feet were getting pretty blistered. My Initial Ascent pack performed flawlessly but my physical conditioning was not up to par. Lesson learned. My son's cheapo frame pack was a flying piece of *!&% and he really struggled to keep it from sliding down no matter how tight we cinched it.
By the time we made it to the guys waiting for us below we were a pretty sad sight. I was absolutely exhausted and my son was pretty wrecked. We handed off our packs to the other two guys and these legends carried them the rest of the way to the truck. I can't even begin to describe how much easier it is to walk without an additional 60-70lbs on your back. The other young man's father is roughly the same size and strength as a bull moose and he effortlessly shouldered that pack like it was nothing. We rested the next day and tried to assist the other young man in finding a bull. He passed on a couple of smaller bulls and planned to come back up after Thanksgiving. My feet were blistered and wrecked so I elected to be radio support at basecamp while my son and my buddy went back up the following morning. My buddy is part mule and can carry just about anything down a mountain. They left the truck at 7am and headed up the 3.5 miles and 3,000 feet to retrieve the head and front quarter. They returned triumphantly at around 4pm with big smiles plastered across their faces. What a wonderful experience for my son and I am grateful for all the folks who helped him accomplish his goal of harvesting a mature bull.
