Thursday morning started out like every other morning where I wake up at 3 AM to go hunting; tired, weary and wondering why I put myself through the riggers of the hunt. By 5:30AM Mary's son Caton and I are at at Ken's home loading up his pickup camper with our gear. The wind is calm and the stars shine brightly on this very cool autumn morning. I am starting to feel a bit better as we start down the dark country road heading for the Crazy Mountains, Yep, the Crazy Mountains. This is where we will hunt our elk.

Twenty minutes into the trip Ken remembers we left the propane tanks, our only source of fuel for the heater, back at his place. Back we go to pick up the tanks and I am not feeling well as I have developed this thing about traveling in the dark and my stomach is upset. As we pull into Kens lane the truck develops a flat tire which we now have to change as well as get the propane tanks loaded. One hour later and It is starting to get light as we leave Ken's house and head down those old windy roads, my stomach is starting to settle down as the bright orange sun peaks its brilliant head over the Eastern horizon.

Three hours later we arrive at the foot hills of the Crazy mountains outside of Martinsdale Montana, a sleepy little town with a few stores and houses scattered about. We are heading up to the bottom of some mountain Ken knows to setup base camp and then do a quick hunt before we loose the sunlight.

Up we go on the bumpy gravel road and I am thinking the road is very nice for a Forest Service road when we pass the sign that says "Entering Forest Service Area" or something like that. Now I know why the road was so nice, it wasn't forest service land yet.

The Forest Service roads are carved out of the side of the mountain and made for one lane traffic, or less. Now I don't know about you but traveling on a one lane, poorly maintained, rocky, worn out cattle trail of a road makes me very nervous. If we slip over the edge, it is sure death as some of the drops are almost 500-1000 feet straight down.

We stopped at a place in the road where there used to be an old bridge that went over a stream but the Forest Service took out the bridge and bulldozed a large pile of dirt in the middle of the road. Note that there is a strong effort by idiots in our government to keep us all out of our mountains as they continue to close off access to mountainous areas.

 

This is the trail that we went up each day to hunt.		Mountain stream near the camp.

"Time to put her in four wheel drive" Ken says. The hubs are locked in and I am wondering, where the hell are we going when all of a sudden Ken goes around the berm, down the 10 foot dirt bank and into the stream. Were stuck for sure, I am thinking but the trusty pickup will not be beaten as we bang our way down the rocky
stream and up the other 10 foot dirt bank. I Am amazed at what we just did and start think about buying myself a 4 wheel drive vehicle.

Now we are on to some serious 4-wheelin as the truck climbs higher up this narrow, icy ledge, called a road. 20 minutes later and we reach base camp at last. I thank GOD for letting me live through the trip so far and promise to be a good boy if we get down safe.

We are at the base of two mountains, in a valley where the sun seldom shines with a cool breeze blowing. Hooking up the heater and preparing for our quick afternoon hunt was completed in good time which meant we had a good 5 hour of sunlight left.
 

The hunting area.	Forest fire damage from a few years ago.	Up on top, where even the trees have a hard time growing.

With me I carried my Winchester 270 short magnum rifle, a compass that I don't know how to use, a bottle of water, lighter, extra gloves, face mask, neck warmer, mini candy bars for quick energy and other assorted odds and ends. I wore my hiking boots, pants, insulated bib overalls, a heavy flannel shirt, Jacket, orange hunting vest and a very warm hat with fold down ear muffs. All of this gear added an extra 50 lbs for me to carry around but I figured I would need all of this if I got stranded or lost.

"We will head up the path then climb the switchbacks till we get to the top of the mountain. Then we will walk across the rim to the other mountain and down the other side back to camp" said Ken. At first the path is not to steep but I find I am getting very hot with all the clothes I have on so I decide to leave the jacket on a tree limb and pick it up on the way back down. One jacket lighter and 5 minutes later I find I cannot breathe very well at these heights. Am I getting older or is there a substantial lack of oxygen up here.

We are not even at the switchbacks yet and I have to stop every 20-30 feet to catch up on my oxygen. I am now sweating heavily and have noticed the 4 inches of snow we had at camp is now at the 6"-8" level. I can't take off any other items and only have one bottle of water so I decide to sip the water and open every button and zipper to cool down.

How will I ever make it up the 2000 foot mountain if I can't hardly walk up the path, maybe I'm to out of shape for this, and 100 other reasons ran through my mind as I thought about calling it quits and heading back to camp.

Can't let the youngun's see the old guy quit so off I go to either make it up the mountain or die trying.

Looks like it won't take more than an hour or so to get to the top I thought, BIG mistake. The higher we go the more snow we encounter. The sun is cooking me in my outfit and I can hardly make 10 steps before I have to stop for oxygen and too cool down. The hat came off earlier and now I carry it most of the time. The 50 extra pounds of gear feels like 150.

"Look, on that slope across the valley where we just came from, a moose", I said. Yep a moose, not the elk that we are hunting for. We watch the moose for awhile then continued our weary trek towards the top. I notice that the other two men with me do not appear to be worn out or want to puke their guts out every 5 minutes or so. Ah! to be young again.

ALAS, the top, and what a splendid view we have of the mountain range. I don't know how high we were but there was precious little oxygen and lots of snow. The shady side of the mountains has the most snow and calm winds while the sunny side had less snow but winds that quickly cooled the body and turned that sweat into a freezing substance that made me want to have my jacket back on. Most of the time it was either way to hot or way to cold, NO just right.

We had to sit for awhile and take in all that was around us before we moved on. The cold, windy solitude in such an isolated spot makes the spirit soar and also makes one feel very small and in awe of the wondrous nature around them. We walked the sunny mountain rims until we encountered dense forest that we wanted to hunt. I have not been a proponent of forest logging but quickly changed my mind we we climbed over masses of fallen pine trees. I find I can hardly walk in here but the animals move easily about as shown by the tracks we are now seeing.

Our trail takes us on a horizontal path through the thicket and downwards some times. I hate going down because that means we have to go back up and that almost kills me now as I have long lost any stamina I ever had. No elk is to be found although we are seeing tracks and expect that any time now, one will jump up right in front of us. We are in a dark, dense part of the mountain forest, climbing back up and the snow is up to my knees. Remember those hiking boots? They prove their worth as snow has a hard time getting in so my feet stay dry and warm.

Our path has us climbing over the log jams in 2 feet of snow, almost straight up at times with a stiff wind howling down our backs. "Please shoot me" I beg as we stop for a rest, No takers. OK then, I'll just shoot myself so I don't have to go any further. I really thought I might have a heart attack or just drop from lack of oxygen but I just put one foot in front of the other and kept going. What else is an old fart supposed to do.

Like a very bright light, It now dawns on me , what if we do shoot an elk, how the Hell are we going to get it down the mountain, through all these downed trees. Please GOD, "Hide all the elk so I don't have to shoot one up here and drag it out" is my prayer for the hour.

Hours of hunting and miles of torturous snow covered areas hunted, we are ready to head back to camp. It is 2PM and it will be dark in 3 hours. Down the hill we go towards a creek that Ken says will take us back to our camp. Looks like 1/2 hour trip to me but distance is very, very, very deceiving in the mountains and it takes 2 hours to make it down to the creek. Oh, did I say "distance is very, very, very deceiving".

The 15 minute walk along the creek back to base camp took over an hour because of all the fallen timber that blocked our path. It was nearing nightfall when the 3 weary hunters got into the camper and out of the wind. Lets see, 3AM to 5PM is 14 hours already. No wonder I am tired, so tired in fact that I can hardly eat any food and I am severely dehydrated. My back is killing me and now I'm getting a migraine headache. What fun!

It's 8PM, our supper of antelope stew is finished and we are all to tired to talk. Lights out in the camper as we all drift off to sleep dreaming about the MONSTER elk we will see tomorrow.

Friday Morning 5AM and Ken is up making coffee. I am so sick from exhaustion I want to vomit at the smell of food cooking an cannot eat a bite of eggs and sausage that Ken prepared. We are to cover the same ground as yesterday and a bit further according to Ken. I have aged 10 years over night and know I will surely die on this day of the trip. I start to make out a will but they both want to get going so I put down my pencil and head out the door.

The Friday hunt went much the same as the the day before but we covered many more miles. I never realized how much one could suffer and still call it fun. We moved camp Friday night to a spot higher in the mountains to improve our chances of seeing that elusive elk. The wind picked up on that cold, frosty night and shook the camper most of the time as we tried to get some sleep.

Saturday 5AM, Ken is up making coffee again. This man is almost as old as I am but never shows any sign of fatigue. I can hardly move as my back is finally giving out. I tell the other 2 hunters that I will not be heading out with them so early and I will go out later and hunt on my own. No one eats breakfast as Caton is not feeling well so off they go in the dark.

I know I am severely dehydrated again so I drink lots of water that morning and make myself another pot of coffee. I also ate some venison sausage and Ritz crackers for breakfast. This is the most I could keep down without having it come back up. At 10 AM I am feeling better and decide to make one last effort to get my prize. The steep, snowy trail takes me up the mountain and I walk slowly now to conserve energy and listen for animal sounds. Up in front of me I see a squirrel run across the path and I remember the moose I had seen previously, a picture of ROCKY and BULLWINKLE enter my mind and I have to chuckle.

A couple of miles up the steep path and it ends. NOW I have to turn back or climb another mountain to get up where the elk might be. The sun was blazing as I headed up the mountain making only a few feet at a time before I had to stop to cool down. Half way up I decide it is to far, it is too hot and I am too old to torture myself in the name of the hunt. I headed towards the tree line and found a horizontal path that followed the lower one that brought me up this far, I decided to hunt it on the way back. Two hours later I decided to head down the hill and back to camp which meant I had to cut through the forest and all those downed trees, again.

I had just made my way down to the lower trail when I spotted Ken and Caton returning from their earlier hunt. "Were heading home one day early, I don't feel good" Caton says. You won't get any complaints out of me I thought to myself.

The trip out of the mountains was tense as the snow on the roads melted and turned back into ice at spots. At times I could feel the back end of the pickup slide towards the edge and certain death, but we made it out in good time.

I learned a few good lessons on my first, and probably last, elk hunt.

1. I cannot keep up.
2. I am out of shape.
3. I would only do this on horse back next time.
4. I'll buy an elk and say I shot it.
5. There are no Holiday Inn motels in the mountains.
6. Did I mention NO toilets.

But ... There is something to be said about being on top of a cold, snowy, wind swept mountain.

At times, I felt as though I became one with the mountain and part of nature ( When I fell and got buried in snow). There was a time a few years ago I wondered if I could survive a winter in the rockies, now I know. It would be hard, it would be lonely, it would be cold...but I think I could.....Nah!, I'd probably die.

Kurt