Sitka Gear
A Bowsite Story, the Rewrite
Elk
Contributors to this thread:
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
sticksender 29-Mar-22
t-roy 29-Mar-22
Treeline 29-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 29-Mar-22
Rgiesey 29-Mar-22
T Mac 29-Mar-22
drycreek 29-Mar-22
goelk 29-Mar-22
MA-PAdeerslayer 29-Mar-22
Scoot 29-Mar-22
KHNC 29-Mar-22
Rockbass 29-Mar-22
TommyJoe 29-Mar-22
SBH 29-Mar-22
APauls 29-Mar-22
iceman 29-Mar-22
WV Mountaineer 29-Mar-22
BULELK1 30-Mar-22
Knifeman 30-Mar-22
hdaman 30-Mar-22
Oryx35 30-Mar-22
BoggsBowhunts 30-Mar-22
Inshart 30-Mar-22
JohnMC 30-Mar-22
Whocares 30-Mar-22
TREESTANDWOLF 30-Mar-22
Grey Ghost 30-Mar-22
Ironbow 30-Mar-22
Oryx35 30-Mar-22
Southern draw 01-Apr-22
butcherboy 02-Apr-22
JRABQ 02-Apr-22
Banjo 02-Apr-22
JLeMieux 12-Apr-22
eBike John 13-Apr-22
29-Mar-22
In 2018, I posted a write up of my first elk hunt. I was 19 at the time, and made plenty of rookie mistakes both in the elk woods and in the write up. As I'm now setting my sights on more western adventures for the first time since that trip, I decided to take some time and rewrite the original story in better detail, and clean up some errors. Although I was proud of the first write up, it was rushed and lacked the detail I wanted.

This is a rewrite of my 2018 thread, "A Bowsite Story". If you remember the thread, I hope you enjoy this reflection, and if you don't remember the thread, then enjoy the bowsite story of a kid's first elk hunt.

29-Mar-22

BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
This 2018 elk hunt actually began in the summer of 2016. I was a 17 year old kid and adventure bowhunting was a mere dream. That dream was fueled by browsing bowsite religiously and reading stories of people killing everything from the 29th animal of their Super Slam, to their first elk, to 200” high country mulies, from Desert Sheep in Mexico to Stone Sheep in Canada, and everything in between. Thanks to these men, a 17 year old kid was beyond “hooked” on lands and animals he had never even seen before. Nevertheless, I was a Missourian, and knew I had to focus on the opportunities within reach, and luckily those opportunities included all the whitetail hunting a kid could dream of. Every day after school I would make the 15 minute drive to the treestand and daydream of bugling bulls, high country mulies, and full curl rams. I was blessed to arrow a 150” whitetail at 15 years old, which sank the bowhunting hook even deeper, and I was searching for unique (to me) ways to challenge myself and have fun chasing the smaller and more numerous deer that were ever so present in SW Missouri. When I saw a bowsite post by a guy with the handle “Chasin Bugles” I jumped all over it. A guy from Montana was giving away a recurve to someone. At the time, that’s all I knew. I submitted my “application” via comment and PM and before I knew it, a recurve was being sent to Missouri!

It turns out the post was made by Eric Bachofner, a guy from Montana that, little to my knowledge, was quite the adventure bowhunter himself. My dad got a call to make sure it was alright if I was sent the bow, and before long the conversation changed to discussing Mountain Goats. My dad had previously made me a deal that if I managed to get a scholarship that covered all my college expenses, I could go on whatever adventure hunt I wanted. One lucky ACT Test later and I was booking my first “adventure trip” to British Columbia to chase goats with Dustin Roe. As it turns out, Eric had quite the history with goats, killing the #2 archery goat in Montana a couple of years prior. The recurve giveaway soon turned into a connection, and after swinging by Kalispell to show off my (unfortunately, rifle killed) goat the following fall, the connection turned into a friendship. Eric and I continued to stay in touch through my senior year of high school, swapping trophy pics and hunting stories as we would accumulate them. The spring of 2018, after we had discussed last season’s trips and were discussing plans for the 2018 season, I got a text that changed that year’s plans altogether.

“You mentioned that you were gonna try and line up an elk or muley hunt this fall, is that still in the cards? If you can get a general elk tag in MT and get up here for a hunt I’d be happy to take you.” After years of sitting in a treestand daydreaming of screaming bulls, that message was all the arm-twisting I needed. A week later and I was in the drawing for a MT elk tag.

That summer’s tag lottery soon shrunk the window for my elk hunt. Eric ended up drawing the best Muley tag in the state, and both his dad and his brother drew the best Elk tag in the state. The hunting window for my general tag was beginning to shrink, for all the best reasons. We planned a small window between his muley hunt and his dad’s elk hunt and the countdown began. Let’s just say this summer crept by pretty slowly after I got a package from Montana FWP in the mail that was physical proof that I would be chasing elk that fall. Countless hours were spent hiking the steepest hills I could find in MO, and countless arrows were flung into targets, I was feeling confident and the anticipation was building.

29-Mar-22

BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
After a summer full of shooting and hiking, the wait was over. September 1st rolled around and I was on the road to Montana. The plan was as follows: I get to Montana on the 3rd and tag along on Eric’s muley hunt before heading to the elk woods a couple of days later. After 12 hours behind the wheel through Missouri, Iowa, and Nebraska, I hit the Wyoming border and made my way into Casper. I get to the pre-booked hotel room and show them my ID when the first hiccup in the trip hits. I would find that Casper has a city ordinance that requires a person to be 21 or older to book a hotel room. As I began to realize that I’ll be sleeping in a reclined seat behind a steering wheel, the lady behind the desk gave me a glimmer of hope. “I know a place that might bend the rules a little. I’ll give them a call and let them know you’re heading their way.” A hop across town landed me a bed to sleep in for the night. First hiccup in the trip and with a little local help I overcame it. Sleep came faster than I expected as I anticipated the beautiful drive up to Bozeman the next day, a welcomed view after 12 hours of midwestern crop fields out both windows.

The next morning I woke up and departed for Bozeman. 20 minutes after I left the hotel, on only the second day of mule deer season, I got a picture message. Eric had filled his muley tag on the first day of season and it was a giant. Well, the trip took a turn as I unfortunately wouldn’t be tagging along on a muley hunt, but it widened the window for me to have a bow in my hand chasing elk. After a beautiful trip across Wyoming, I had officially hit the mountains and rolled into Bozeman, Montana. I had a few free hours before dark and managed to stop at a few stores and enjoy the town of Bozeman, a great town to stretch the legs in after over 20 hours of driving.

The next day I made the drive of a lifetime north out of Bozeman, taking the slow way up to Kalispell and enjoying the landscape of rural Montana. I spent the third night in Kalispell and woke up ready to meet Eric and discuss the adventure that lay ahead. I sat down to some Biscuits and Bison Gravy at the coolest hotel I’ve ever seen whenever I got a text that read “Better eat a good breakfast, crossfit at noon.” Well, that’s certainly one way to get acclimated! We met at the local crossfit gym, and after storming full speed through the first leg of the workout, the altitude hit me. I was smoked, but I only took one puke break, so I think that’s something to be proud of?

We went back to Eric’s house to get settled in and I quickly realized that he had the physical proof of his wide knowledge of bowhunting. A quick glance around his living room and I’m staring at a Bighorn Sheep, Mountain Goat, Moose, Elk, and soon to be a Muley all killed in Montana, and all well into Pope and Young territory, and this guy is only in his 30s. More excited than ever, I go to sleep that night ready to wake up in the morning to chase elk.

29-Mar-22
We decided to make a quick run behind his dad’s house to see if we could get on the elk his dad had seen a couple weeks before while hiking. Fifteen yards up the trail and I realized I wasn’t in Missouri anymore. Not only was I still smoked from the previous day's workout, I was smoked because this stuff was straight up and down (or was to me at the time, my perception of straight up and down would unfortunately change). Eric and his dad were acting like we were taking a sunday stroll down the sidewalk! Definitely a wake up call, and there was no chance I was asking to stop for a break, so I struggled along up the trail behind them.

After an hour or so of going straight up the mountain we came to a clearing, where I was welcomed by him and his dad pointing to a peak that looked like it was a lifetime worth of walking away from us. “Yeah we are gonna head up there and see if we can see any sign or run into elk.” That was certainly a wakeup call to me, as there wasn’t a place in Missouri that you could even see that far, let alone just nonchalantly mention running up there for a morning hunt. We covered ground quicker than I thought and made the summit just as the sun was cresting the mountains. A Montana sunrise over a mountain lake?! That set in stone that I was officially not in Missouri anymore. We put on a few miles that morning and I was met with the reality of early season elk hunting in general units. No bugles, but beautiful views. Even though I ran often in Missouri and believed myself to be physically fit, I was smoked after a slow 3.2 miles and 1200 feet of elevation after that morning hunt. That would have to change, and change fast, whether it meant acclimating or just flat out forgetting about how much my legs and lungs burnt. I couldn’t live with myself if the reason I left Montana empty handed was because of physical or mental weakness.

We planned to spend the next day at Eric’s butchering his mule deer, and I wasn’t complaining about a day of rest after the physical gut check the first day in the mountains. We spent the morning running errands around town and getting to know each other, and butchered the muley buck that evening. Since the extent of my butchering experience was quartering out hanging deer and driving them to the local processing plant, it was definitely a learning experience for me to be a part of the process from quartering the deer to breaking it down into the various cuts of roasts and steaks.

29-Mar-22

BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
We wake up the following morning ready to be back in the elk woods. Eric had been running around these mountains his whole life, so we were met with some good problems when it came to possibilities. Do we spend a day backpacking to a spot and set a spike camp, or run and gun a few miles down as many easy access trails as possible? It’s impossible to know the “right” answer, but we decided our best chance to find elk was to hammer as many different spots as possible. After all, this was a learning trip, and the goal was to let me experience elk hunting, not necessarily to kill one, although I certainly wouldn’t complain if the trip ended with the dropping of a bowstring. We take a lead from his buddy who had drawn a moose tag and consistently seen elk on his trail camera off of a trail that happened to be fairly close to another favorite trail of Eric’s.

The second summit of the trip was just as awe-inspiring to a Missouri boy as the first, and it was just beginning to set in that I was actually chasing bugles in the Montana elk woods. We made it to the top without getting a response to our bugles and decided that the best play was to head to the other trail of Eric’s that evening to try and locate some bulls for the next morning’s hunt. “Well, do ya wanna go straight back to the truck, or take the trail?” Fully trusting Eric’s truly countless miles of experience traversing these mountains, we decide to head straight down the mountain in hopes of reconnecting with the trail right at the trailhead, my first experience with trying to take a Montana shortcut. We headed straight down the mountain for what seemed like a long way through some thick, steep, lodgepole timber. I’m beginning to doubt Eric’s navigational ability, thinking to myself that we should’ve hit the trail by now. After what seems like way too long of a distance, Eric turns around with a nervous look on his face. “Hey man, I think we’re gonna have to go back up to the trail… This isn’t looking right.” He had me hook, line, and sinker. I got a sort of uneasiness in my gut and realized we would have to spend the remainder of the day climbing straight up the mountain through what we had just spent an hour maneuvering down whenever he cracks a smile and takes one more step… right out to the trail a half mile from the truck… I’ve never been so relieved to have been on the receiving end of a prank.

29-Mar-22

BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
Later that evening, just before dark, we arrived at another trailhead to attempt to locate some bulls for the next morning. This time I would be hiking with no bow and no pack, so I was determined to not let my flatlander lungs and legs fail me, I would stick right with him the entire trek up. After darkness fell over the mountain, I was soon provided with some extra motivation. Every rustling leaf or cracked branch off the trail soon became, in my mind, a pack of wolves, a mountain lion, or a grizzly. This, accompanied by Eric’s stories of him and his friend’s bear encounters allowed me to set physical pain aside and manage to keep him within “trip him and run” distance the entire hike. We made it to the top and again, no bugles. Whether I was starting to acclimate nicely or it was just the motivation-through-fear, I was happy with my performance physically. 7.2 miles between the two hikes that evening and I still felt fresh. After the first hunt Wednesday I had seriously doubted if I was going to be able to keep up and not be a liability, but my confidence was beginning to build.

That Saturday morning we went on our furthest hike, and even though I was beginning to acclimate nicely, it was still a grind. 6 miles total that morning, but I got some extra motivation near the top. Laying 5 steps off the trail, was a moose shed, barely touched by the squirrels with great color on the bottom. This was probably the coolest thing we could’ve come across aside from a bull that was willing to cooperate, and I happily added some weight to my pack in order to bring it back to MO with me. Unfortunately, like a skipping record, no bulls. I did get my first scare from a grouse, with 3 of them blowing up about 3 yards from us, but being early in the morning I didn’t want to have the distraction of worrying about messing with a grouse all day, so they would live to scare another hunter.

29-Mar-22
After making the hike back to the truck we stopped at a roadside burger joint that afternoon for some lunch and decided to fill up with gas before heading to another trailhead. We drive across the street to get gas and notice yellow bags covering all the nozzles… Out of Order. Eric went in to find out what the deal was and came back out smiling. “Well, the station got struck by lightning and the computers were down, but I got a guy to help us out.” Turns out, Eric helped a local on a sheep hunt a couple of years before and the guy ended up killing a 184” ram, that same local just so happened to be in the gas station and was more than willing to repay the favor with a few gallons of gas he had back at his house. I feel like there’s a VERY select number of places in the world where you can casually run into someone who you had helped kill a giant bighorn sheep a few years before. If I hadn’t realized it before, this set in stone that NW MT is a very special place.

That evening we went to another one of his friend’s leads, this one a mountainside that had burnt over the summer. He had noticed elk using this mountainside burn to get down to the lake, which they were using as a water source. This evening my definition of steep would once again change. It was 1.5 miles to the top and we gained 1600 feet. “Steep” is a vast understatement and my flatlander calves were absolutely screaming not too far after we started up the mountain. We made it to the top and let out a bugle down the backside of the basin and something unusual happened. There it was. My first bugle! Now, it sounded like it was weakly muttered by an elk the size of a muley, and he was definitely not interested in coming up the mountain to challenge us. He never bugled again and no other elk answered the two of us. We started down the mountain through some lodgepole timber on top of the burn and I grabbed a pinecone, the biggest pinecone I had ever seen, as I thought this would be a cool keepsake along with the moose shed from the day before. I didn’t fight my way straight up 1600 feet to come back empty handed! This was short lived, because the second we started down that straight-down burn I ditched the pinecone. I needed every ounce of focus I could muster to prevent falling head over heels straight down the mountain.

29-Mar-22

BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
That night we went up to a sure-thing spot for Eric and I managed to snap a couple long exposure shots on my camera once we got settled in for the night. A first for me, and some of my favorite photos I’ve taken to date. We headed out the next morning and I was excited. This morning just had a different feel to it. After only a mile and a half Eric stops and bugles down into the basin. There it was. My second ever bugle! This one sounded growly, and I felt like this bull might have been carrying some weight above his brain. We tried to get him to respond, but much like the bull from the day before, this was his only bugle. We decided to back out and give this bull a chance to get fired up, since this was one of the few bulls we had found we didn’t want to rush it and blow him out. We backed out to the truck to take the rest day off and rest up while watching some football. We decided we would go back in on him Tuesday evening, before leaving Wednesday to head to his dad’s unit on his hunt.

Halfway back to the truck and we both freeze, grouse, right in the middle of the road. After being scared to death by them Saturday morning, I was out for vengeance, as well as a meal! I pull back and remember Eric mentioning head-shooting them. I estimated them at 20 yards and let the arrow fly. A 20 yard shot should have been a sure meal, but the grouse were very, very safe that day. Turns out Grouse heads are harder to hit than I thought. I go retrieve my arrow and all of a sudden another grouse appears! This time in the brush no more than 3 yards away! No way I can miss this one, right? All I’m saying is don’t use your 20 yard pin for a 3 yard shot…. You will be embarrassed… trust me… We head back to the truck and roll into Kalispell empty handed. I shot a text to a friend of mine from college who had recently moved to Missoula and told him I have a couple of extra days in the schedule. He was just back from a Colorado hunt and had a couple of free days as well, so I decided to make the trip down to Missoula the next day to see him.

I leave early the next morning and decide to roadtrip up through Libby and down Highway 200 to try and see some Bighorn Sheep or Mountain Goat along the highway. I swing by Libby Sports Center to pick up some souvenirs for the family and go on look-out mode, stopping at every “Wildlife Viewing Area” I could find. On my second stop I notice something a lighter shade of off-white than anything else, and waaaaay up on top. After 10 minutes of staring through bino’s, finally it decided to reveal itself by hopping up onto the next rock. It was super cool to see some alpine species and made the detour through the NW corner well worth the time and fuel.

29-Mar-22
I get to Missoula at around 4:30 and meet my buddy, Garrett. Me and Garrett met in the spring of 2018 at Missouri State University. I heard of a “Backcountry Hunters and Anglers” club being started at MSU, so I decided to drop by a meeting in hopes of finding some like-minded outdoorsmen. Knowing it took a certain kind of crazy to have an itch for backcountry hunting, I went in with high hopes. It turns out Garrett was the one who started the Missouri State branch of BHA, and wow was it scary how similar we were when it came to outdoor ambitions. We instantly became great friends and after he graduated in May he moved to Missoula to pursue his passion for the outdoors. Turning down a 6 figure financial job to move to Montana is a bold move, but one he gladly did with no regrets. This guy flatout loves the outdoors.

He decided to give me the full Montana experience, so after a quick “how have you been” convo we headed to the National Bison Range. I absolutely cannot recommend this stop enough. Screaming bulls in every bottom, not to mention big muleys, pronghorn, and countless bison. Previously, I had just come down to catch up, relax, and maybe do some trout fishing, but after seeing all those giant bulls in the park, our bugle-chasing itch needed to be scratched. “Hey man, you think there’s any general units around Missoula?” We get back to his apartment and start sifting through GoHunt. We found a trail in a general unit he’s been on that looked elky and decided to go for it the next morning. Garrett also pointed out a unit that he thought would be an absolute honeyhole closer to the middle of the state. “Dang I want to chase elk in there, that basin has GOTTA be loaded.” Not thinking any more of it, I agree and move on to browsing draw odds for pipedream tags that we probably won’t draw for 30 years.

29-Mar-22

BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
That next morning was another straight up and down day. 5.5 miles and 1700 feet of elevation gain. Well, I couldn’t beat Eric up a mountain, but that’s understandable, he’s a Montana native after all. Garrett grew up just north of Kansas City, so I have no excuse to not be ahead of him up this trail! Unbeknownst to me, Garrett was a highschool football star on both sides of the ball including special teams, and had played a year of college ball at a private university before turning down his scholarship in order to be in the woods every fall. Again, I got smoked up the trail. We had a great time, and took this more of a catching up opportunity than an elk hunting one, chatting the entire way down with smiles on our faces. No elk, but memories were made. I had to hurry to get to Eric’s that evening to chase that bull that we had located Sunday morning, so I said my goodbyes and told him I hoped to see him soon. He leaves me with a “see ya soon” and plans for me to come back to do some upland hunting with him as soon as I was able to make it back to Montana.

29-Mar-22
I made it back to Kalispell and Eric and I headed for the mountains. I was determined to get into some elk action, and with us leaving the following morning for Eric’s dad’s unit, this was my last opportunity to be behind the bow. We make our way back to where the bull bugled and keep going, planning to get to the top and then hunt our way back down to him after we locate him. About halfway up the trail there was a deadfall across the trail, which we began to make our way over as quietly as we could. I began down the backside of the deadfall when all of a sudden my world got rocked. A bugle, a CLOSE bugle. He must have heard us making our way over the deadfall and thought we were elk. Eric hops back over the log and tells me to get set up, this is it, and it is happening right now, whether we want it to or not.

I get set up peering down one of the very few openings in the area and Eric begins a calling sequence. No answer. Crap, we gave him 2 days of rest, and I had hoped that had been enough to get him fired up. I was anxious and was getting annoyed that this bull wouldn’t cooperate. We hear him bugle again, this time 100 yards beyond his initial bugle. We decided to close the distance, so we began up the trail when we heard branches break. Eric looks up above the trail, and I look down. Sound bouncing off of every tree on the mountain made it hard to pinpoint where the sound came from, but we agreed and were pretty sure it was below the trail, so we turned our attention down hill. “There he is!” Eric says. “I’m pretty sure I can see him” I say as I try to focus through the alders surrounding the trail. “Alright, I’m gonna go back and try to make him follow me, get set up here.” Knowing I couldn’t shoot through the barrier of alders, I decided to inch my way forward through the wall of brush in hopes of having an ample supply of clear shooting lanes down the mountain.

29-Mar-22
A bold move, that was way too antsy. I crossed the line of “aggressive hunting” and ventured into “hunting like an idiot” territory. I saw a wall of tan hide running away, catching a glimpse of a huge rack running through the trees on top of it. There was my chance, and I blew it. A big bull at less than 50 yards, and I had made a rookie mistake. Although I was a rookie (an excusable demographic for rookie mistakes) it still hurt to know that my poor judgment had potentially cost us an elk. Eric had put in a lot of work for me, and had coached me plenty on elk hunting, and I felt like I had screwed him out of the reward of seeing a young mentee succeed. Not gonna lie, that hurt, but there was still a lot of daylight left and I tried to keep spirits high.

We made our way to the top of the mountain and thought we heard a bugle back towards the truck. We began to creep through the timber but the bugle was a lone one, and we didn't hear any elk from then on out. About halfway back to the truck and I hear all sorts of commotion right in front of us. Elk! Not 40 yards away! They must have been bedded and heard us coming down the trail. We got set up and tried to call them back in, but it wasn’t productive, apparently the elk knew we weren’t one of them and had no intention of making the quartered out ride to Kalispell. Getting dark in Grizzly country, we figured the best bet was to quit the pursuit, get back to the truck, get some rest, and hit the road early for his dad’s hunt the next few days.

29-Mar-22
I hate failure. The encounter with that bull left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. Yes, I had gotten into elk, but they had beaten me after I made a silly mistake that I shouldn’t have made. I couldn’t settle knowing I had blown it, and overthinking the entire trip on the drive back to Kalispell led to a wild hair of an idea. What if there’s a general unit between Eric’s dad's tag and my way home? Then it hit me… Garretts unit! The one he insisted held elk! It wasn’t too far out of the way and seemed to have some fairly accessible trail systems through it. The next morning I shared the idea with Eric.

I don’t think he was thrilled with the idea of me running around on my own in Montana, but loved the fact that I was going to do everything in my power to kill an elk. I show him the unit and he says “Hmm, I’m pretty sure my dad’s friend worked for the Forest Service in that unit… Let me give him a call.” Bingo. I was going to get my boots on the ground in Garrett’s unit and I was going to get intel from someone who has spent countless hours there beforehand? This seemed too good to be true! I called Garrett and informed him of my plans, we briefly brainstormed some trails that looked good and I downloaded some OnX maps of the area I was planning to focus on. It just so happened that the trails we decided on were almost directly where the Forest Service buddy of Eric’s dad told him would be a good spot. Okay, so I might not be done chasing elk after all…

29-Mar-22

BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
I put that idea on the backburner as we made the drive that afternoon to squeeze in an evening hunt on his buddies ranch trying to locate a bull for his dad. Let's just say we weren’t in Kalispell anymore… Bulls bugling everywhere. Everywhere. We saw probably 60-70 elk that evening and a couple of absolute giant bulls… We get back to the lodge and Eric asks me the question I had been battling all day long… “Are you sure you wanna leave this to go chase elk on your own?” To be honest, I wasn’t sure. Deep down I knew I had to. I couldn’t go home feeling satisfied with my hunt unless I knew I did absolutely everything I could to put a bull on the ground, even if it meant leaving screaming 300” bulls on a private ranch to go on a wild goose chase in an unknown general unit.

The next morning I followed him and his dad around for the last time. Again, we see a couple of giant bulls, but none in a good enough spot to make an immediate play on. We made it back to the lodge and the time had come to make a decision, but really the decision was already made. I knew I had to go. The 20 hour drive home would’ve felt like an eternity if I was asking myself “what if I tried it” the entire time. A 19 year old Missouri kid going out on his own to the elk woods of Montana, and did I mention the kid didn’t own a bugle tube until the day before? I had 3 hours to practice my bugle before I would be at the trailhead me, Garrett, and Eric decided on. The idea was almost laughable. I put myself in the mentality of “C’mon Chase, you know you won’t kill anything, but you might at least glass up some elk and at least you will know you will have done everything in your power to get it done” Off to the general unit I went, leaving Eric and the countless screaming 300 inch bulls I had seen the previous two outings…

29-Mar-22
I pull off the highway a few hours later and have 30 minutes of backroads to traverse before I get to the trailhead. I take my time to get a feel for the place and window-gaze for some wildlife. Not 5 minutes after pulling off the road, I catch a glimpse of a Bald Eagle perched at the top of a tree. I get a little boost to my confidence by fabricating the idea that the bald eagle is some sort of omen, but still, I’m doubtful. I arrived at the previously agreed-upon trailhead and the fabricated confidence plummets… Campers and horse trailers are everywhere. It’s drizzling rain, so I sat in my truck to brainstorm. “Well, this place is probably pressured like crazy, should I make the hour run south and hit the other spot we thought looked good? Or should I just forget about the other hunters and hunt this place anyway?” Another truck pulls in with a four wheeler in tow and I figure that's the sign I needed. Head south. Well, not so fast. There’s another trail that runs on the other side of this basin, and the trailhead is right around the corner from this one… the only difference is that the original trail I was going to hunt stayed at around 5800 feet of elevation, whereas this one ran up an additional 1600 feet to 7400 feet of elevation on top of the ridge of mountains encircling the basin.

I pull into the new trailhead and there are no trucks… A much needed boost of confidence after seeing the other trailhead teeming with people, now it's time to take a more serious look at this thing… Looking at the satellite map I notice a meadow up at the very top of the trail overlooking the whole basin. Perfect, I’ll just make the 4.5 mile run up to that meadow, glass for a bit and get a feel for the layout of the basin, and then come back to the truck for a dinner of Clif Bars and Huckleberry flavored water before making one last effort tomorrow morning. Seems simple enough. I slowly make my way up the trail, after all, I figure being at the top by 6:30 will give me plenty of time to glass and be back to the truck just after dark, leaving a 3 hour window to cover the 4.5 miles to the top of the draw.

29-Mar-22

BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
About halfway up the trail I ran into some mule deer does and fawns that were less than 30 yards from me. They acted like I was the first human they had ever seen and offered a unique experience for someone who had previously never seen a mule deer up close and in person. I arrived at the top meadow after a few photography breaks and decided to sit down and glass the meadows that were scattered around the bottom. Right off the first trail I contemplated going down were two elk, and I could just make out some antlers on top of their heads. Dang… If I would have taken the trail I originally planned to follow I would have been within 200 yards of them! What an idiot, why would I deviate from the original plans? I made a game time decision, and now I was sure I had made the wrong one. No excuses, gotta roll with it and now I knew where some elk were for tomorrow.

I figured I would chalk this trip up as experience and move to the other trail the next morning when all of a sudden I hear a bull scream right below me. I peered off the edge of the meadow into the bottom. My definition of steep had once again changed, as this was by far the steepest terrain I have had to go down yet…. The topo said it was over 1000 feet down to the creek and he was at the very bottom. I shoot a text out to Garrett. “This place is awesome. Glassed two elk and heard one bugling right below me. Gonna try to make a play.” “Heck Yeah Bro! Go for it!” Looking back down at the canyon I remember how steep it was… I also sent a text to my best friend from Missouri. “Hey man, I’m being serious here. Don’t worry or anything, but this stuff is getting steep and I have a bull bugling. Going down to the bottom so I won’t have any service but if some freak deal happens then it’s been fun! Love ya bro.” Down the cliff I went at 6:40pm.

29-Mar-22
I am not sure how fast I covered the 1000 feet down to the bottom, but I do know the next time I checked my watch it was 7:05. Once down in the creek bottom I gave myself a talk to clear my head. “Okay. Here’s the deal, Chase. You’re within 150 yards of this bull. You’re a 19 year old kid with basically no elk hunting experience besides what you’ve learned the past week. Even though Eric taught me a TON about elk hunting, THERES A 99% CHANCE THIS DOESNT WORK! But that leaves a 1% chance that it does... And that’s enough for me.”

A creek ran through the middle of the draw where I heard the bugle. On one side there was gently sloping lodgepole timber and the other side was the steep open hillside I had just traversed, with conifers spread out incrementally. The bull has got to be on the lodgepole side, everything I knew at the time pointed to him being in the cool temperatures and cover of the lodgepole timber. I let out a bugle, my first ever bugle outside of my truck… somehow I didn’t completely mess it up. He answered immediately. “Holy crap. This is happening. Ummm… Ummm… Okay… I guess I’ll bugle again?” I let another one go and again, he answers right back… “Crap, don’t forget the fundamentals. Check your freakin wind!” One puff of my windicator shows that my wind is blowing right to him.. Okay, so the only play I have is to somehow try to get deeper in the lodgepole timber and leapfrog him, hoping he hasn’t already winded me, then call him back down whenever I get the wind in my favor…. I start heading farther into the lodgepole timber down around him when I catch a glimpse of tan hide out of the corner of my eye…

29-Mar-22
There’s a bull. HOLY CRAP THATS A BULL ELK RIGHT THERE. I see him walking on the other side of the creek, about 80 yards away, heading towards where I had originally bugled. I had to make something happen, and I had to make it happen fast. I watch him move behind a small stand of conifers and I run right towards him, covering as much ground as I can, as quickly as I can. I made it almost to the creek bank before running out of real estate. I can’t move any closer without falling straight into the creek.

I get settled behind some brushy cover as soon as he steps out from behind the conifers. I range him, but I’m confident that he’s gotta be no farther than 25 yards. I’m glad I did, because it turns out that elk look a lot closer than they actually are, especially if your only range estimation history has been whitetail deer… The rangefinder reads 42 yards, and he gives me the luxury of dialing my sight to exactly 42 yards. Despite the grouse incident from earlier this trip, I knew I had a summer of great training behind me and was more than confident out to 60 yards on calm elk, so this was well within my wheelhouse. He is 100% broadside and turns to browse on some shrubs on the other side of him. Holy crap is this really happening right now?

Most of his vitals are blocked by the tree, but I had been studying elk vitals on bowsite and knew that the “V” that their front shoulder bone makes can deceive you. I knew his heart had to be exposed as he stood, but as calm as he was at the moment I wasn’t wanting to rush anything whenever he was one step away from exposing a perfect broadside double lung shot. Textbook, I would draw, wait for him to take another step to open up a whole, picture perfect target, and then let the arrow fly. Perfect! How was this happening? I don’t know, but it was!

29-Mar-22
I slowly bring my bow back to full draw as the bull spins his head in my direction, he must have caught me drawing as he is now focusing intently in my direction… The “sure thing” suddenly turned fragile. I had two options, and a split second decision to make… Either hope he somehow didn’t bust me, calmed back down, and took another step forward; or trust my instinct that the hole in the conifers exposed enough of his vitals, and let an arrow fly right in the corner of the “V” at his heart. I decided that there was no way I could hold full draw steadily until he calmed back down, and even if I did, the chances of him taking another step forward were slim after being alerted. He was looking right at me, and I was certain he would bolt as soon as I inevitably had to let down. This left really only one option. Well, here it goes. My one shot… Man I really hope his front shoulder bone isn’t deceiving me… Put the pin right in the middle of that “V” on the anatomy chart I had seen oh-so-many times on bowsite. Squeeeeeeze… There goes my arrow, and I couldn’t have walked up and placed it in a better spot.

29-Mar-22
Holy crap, I just shot at a freaking bull elk!!!! Now, he wasn’t a giant, in fact, the only thing I was looking for was a legal “branch antlered bull”, so as soon as I saw that he wasn’t a spike I stopped looking, but oh my gosh! I just shot an elk! I mean… I think I shot an elk… The arrow made no sound at all when it arrived on location, but it looked like it hit perfectly? Doubt flooded my head. All of a sudden, not 15 seconds after the shot, I heard what I thought to be a crash… Was that him? Did I just kill a bull elk on my first solo hunt as a 19 year old? There’s no way this Missouri boy just got it done whenever he just bought his first bugle tube the day before and only bugled at elk twice in his life… It was starting to drizzle, so I knew I had to find him fast. Man, I hope that was him crashing… I start up the other side and start looking for blood… I can’t see any, and this vegetation was nothing like the crisp, bright oak leaves I am used to searching for splatters on… How can there be no blood? I didn't find my arrow, and a combination of no blood and no noise on the shot led me to believe that my arrow had buried itself in the mud beyond the elk without cutting a hair, the fading light must have been playing tricks on my eyes whenever I saw the arrow disappear in the sweet spot right above the elk’s leg.

29-Mar-22

BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
I decided to sidehill across the ridge in the direction the elk had fled in case that really was him crashing. No more than 30 yards from where he was at the time of the shot I turned the corner... THERE'S MY BULL. Holy crap… That thing is huge… That whole scene played out in about 5 minutes, but it’s still getting late, after all this hunt started as no more than a hike in hopes of glassing some far-off elk… Now I have an elk on the ground 4.5 miles from the truck, literally up and over a mountain… “Crap” is an understatement. I snap a quick picture and start working on quartering out the front shoulder. This is gonna be a long night… I got the front shoulder off and a backstrap fileted off just as darkness set in. I load up my pack and start planning a route back to the truck. Well shoot, there's a mountain between me and the truck… I know that climbing straight up the 1000 foot cliff I just descended would be absolute hell, so I check OnX and look at the topo… Okay, so I’m at about 6300 feet right here, That means I can side hill all the way around this thing and there’s no way I won’t run into the trail just 500 feet above my truck. Perfect!

False. Big no no. What looked like gradual hills on my topo map were actually big brushy flats with 15 ft. cliffs on each side. Each flat was full of alders and laydowns. I was eventually blocked and forced to the bottom, where the creek I shot my bull over ran through. What I was expecting to be open lodgepole timber leading down to a creek was the farthest thing from reality. The lodgepole timber soon turned into a mess of laydowns, and the mess of laydowns was soon complimented by the same alders I was running into up above the creek.

Those 4 hours and 6ish miles back to the truck were probably the longest 6 miles I’ve covered in my life. My boots got wet almost instantly as I was forced to cross the creek multiple times, which led to discomfort that stretched into the next day. I kept thinking back to the text I sent my buddy from Missouri. Surely he was smart enough to not do something stupid like call search and rescue? I didn’t have any cell service down in the bottom, so all I could do is hope. Every plane that flew over made me cringe. “Well, if it is SAR, maybe they can help me pack this thing off this godforsaken mountain!” My phone battery was fading fast, and the only map I had of the area was on my phone. I knew following the creek would eventually lead to my truck, but that was slow going and uncomfortable is an understatement. I eventually break free from the creek bed and laydowns and end up in the meadow that I had glassed the bulls in earlier that evening… I heard cows blow and “mew” within a mile of my truck and realized how silly it had been to blindly run in and shoot the bull where I did, but I wasn’t complaining. I soon realized that sidehilling my way around above my truck was an impossible feat, as it was a pure cliff and laydowns. I linked up with the original trail I had planned to come in and hunt off of and satisfyingly strutted past all the campers and horse trailers with a pack full of elk meat.

29-Mar-22
I got back to the truck just after midnight, exhausted and my back screaming from not spending the time to load the pack correctly. I know that all I had to do is make the 30 minute drive to the highway for cell service to let my friend know I’m good, and let Eric know I have a bull down. I remember Eric didn’t have any phone service in the lodge, but he had wifi, which means he could get iMessages. I shot him a text and informed him of the situation and told him that he should feel free to hunt the next morning with his dad, and that I would be getting some long awaited rest to be fresh for the pack out the following day. I then gave a call to my friend from MO who, luckily, didn’t freak out over the last text I sent him. My last call was to my buddy from Missoula, Garrett. Miraculously, at 2:30 in the morning, he answered. “Bro, you’re not gonna believe this, but I just freakin shot a bull!” “No way, buddy! That’s freakin awesome! I'm pumped for ya!” “I’m gonna pass out since I’ve been bushwacking for the past 4 hours. I don’t think I’ll need you to help pack, since Eric should be able to come down tomorrow morning, but if I need ya I’ll call ya!”

The next morning I woke up to a text from Eric, saying to call him on the lodge phone as soon as I woke up. Bittersweet news, his dad shot a giant bull, but they were gonna give it some time before taking up the trail. Once again, I was making a call to Missoula. Garrett must’ve been anticipating the call because he picked up on the first ring. “Hey man, I really hate to ask this of you, but Eric’s dad shot a bull and I’m gonna need your help with mine…” “Dude, don’t worry about it at all, I’m stoked. I’ll be there in 3.5 hours.” Now THAT, is a solid friend, gentlemen!

29-Mar-22

BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
We agreed on a meeting place and I headed to town to get some fresh ice for the meat and something to eat. The past 24 hours had consisted of Clif Bars, Clif Bars, and more Clif Bars. The only thing Garrett asked for was a can of Copenhagen Mint. I would’ve bought him 100 cans of that stufft, he was single handedly saving my trip. He shows up and we start the 45 minute drive to the trailhead. As sore as I was the night before, I was starting to feel fresh and my body was used to putting on 7-8 miles a day at this point. We get to the trailhead and start the hike up to the top meadow. What took me 2 hours the night of the hunt only took us an hour that afternoon, we were amped up and ready to get started on this pack out.

We make it to the top meadow and I warn him. “Hey man, now I told you that this was down a steep canyon, but this thing is down a STEEP canyon.” We get to the edge and he peers over the edge, “ummm, yeah, yeah that’s a steep canyon!” What took me a matter of minutes to drop down the night before was going to be a little more planned out today. We look at OnX and see a bit of a secondary draw leading down the basin just to our right, heading straight to the bull, and decide that’s the smartest way to get down to him. About halfway down I realized just how stupid it was to run down this thing the day before, but it paid off. Garrett, a little fresher than me, beat me to the bull. I didn’t realize how big bodied elk were until the day before, but seeing them in the mid-day light made it look even bigger. We snapped a few pictures, since I wasn’t able to get many the night before, and went to work quartering and deboning the rest of the bull.

For a couple of flatlanders who had never quartered anything in the field before, we made good time. We got to the bull around 3:30pm and I was optimistic that we could be loaded up and headed back up to the meadow by 6:30, that would give us 2 hours to make it up the mountain and still be in daylight once we got to the meadow, then it was a smooth sailing 4.5 miles back down to the truck. This went almost exactly on schedule. We wanted to get about 30 minutes of rest before heading up the canyon, but by the time I got the skull cleaned up for a future euro mount, we didn’t have a minute to spare. Garrett sat there laughing as I messed with removing the jaw and as much of the extra meat as I could. “You get that freakin jaw off and I’m throwing it over the mountain, that thing is burning up our rest time!” He did, too. Now, Garrett had been talking confidently about his packing ability on the way up there, which made the hike go way smoother. He had been loading game bags while I worked on the skull. Turns out he only put a deboned hindquarter in my pack, along with the skull and other meat we could pull off the carcass, whereas he was loaded down with a hindquarter, as well as the other backstrap and other front shoulder that I had packed out the night before. This guy was gonna earn his elk meat!

29-Mar-22

BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
I had learned my lesson from last night’s creek bottom adventure. This time we were gonna go right up the way we came down. About 200 feet up the canyon we realized our bodies weren’t as confident as we had been talking up the trail. Our legs were screaming, but we were bound and determined to get up there by sunset. “Alright man, we’re not stopping until we make it to that bush.” Garrett would say. Although I was packing the lighter of the two loads, I was still ready for every bit of rest that Garrett would allow. Step by step, literally, we made it up the mountain.

We got to the top meadow in 2 very hard fought hours, and managed to get enough phone service to make some calls out as we watched the sunset over the basin. Garrett called his dad and let him know what a freakin smokeshow we just went through, and I called Eric. “Hey man, how are you doing?” I say lightheartedly. Luckily, he informed me that they had found his dad’s bull 200 yards from where the shot was. Perfect. He was stoked that my elk’s meat was still in good shape after being left overnight and that we got it all in one trip. I told him to tell his dad congrats and me and Garrett headed on down the mountain. After all, we still had 4.5 miles to cover before we could get too comfortable.

About a mile down the mountain and we take another break. I look at Garrett and his legs are visibly shaking from fatigue. We are both almost delusional at this point, and seeing that made us both erupt with laughter realizing how crazy this was. We HAD to be insane for doing this. “Dude, there isn’t a college football workout in the world that has pushed me close to what this has.” Nobody said backcountry elk hunting was easy, but no forum post or youtube video had led me to expect this! “Guess who has Cody Jinks’ newest album downloaded on his phone?” I ask Garrett, not to be outdone he responds with a smile and “Guess who has ALL of Cody Jinks’ albums on his phone?” We played some music and grinded out the remaining 3.5 miles to the truck.

Six months after that hike I would find myself at Marine Corps boot camp, and after that, Infantry Training Battalion. In that time, I hiked a lot of miles with a lot of weight on my back, but reflecting on this hunt it is not even close, not a single hike in the Marine Corps compared to how hard that pack out was. A combination of over 50 miles and 12,400 feet in total elevation gained in the past five days, coupled with the previous night’s dogfight through creeks and laydowns, my body was truly at its limit.

29-Mar-22

BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
After we made it to the trucks and dropped packs we just laid on the ground for 10 minutes straight. Garrett had brought all the ingredients to make PB and J’s, but we were nearly too tired to make them. After something like that, there was no way we were eating Clif Bars and sleeping in our trucks. We loaded up our packs, threw meat in the coolers, drove to the nearest town, and got a hotel room, and luckily made it back in time to get some pizzas and beverages. We had more than earned it!

Before we fell asleep, which didn’t take long, I decided to add up all the miles I had put under my feet since I had been in Montana. I plugged the day's totals into the calculator and looked at the number, 51.3. FIFTY ONE POINT THREE MILES IN FIVE DAYS OF HUNTING?! It didn’t seem possible, but it was. I added up the elevation gained and saw a number just over 12,400. I was smoked after 30 steps of the first hunt, and if someone would’ve told me how much farther and higher I would’ve gone that trip I would’ve called them a liar. Anything is possible with a whole lot of “want to”.

29-Mar-22

BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
We woke up after a much needed night of rest and headed to a cafe the next morning for a last meal before we each hit the road going in opposite directions. Garrett laughs and says “Hey man, I know I said I would ‘see you soon’, but I didn’t really mean that you had to call me 3 days later needing me to pack an elk out!” To be honest, I would’ve never guessed that I would need him to pack elk. I still didn’t know how I pulled it off… I thanked him again and gave him a share of elk meat and we headed our separate ways. Volunteering for a 7 hour round trip to go through hell to help pack elk. What a guy.

I hit the road and it finally sets in. I did it. I didn’t kill a monster, but I killed an archery bull elk on a DIY hunt. I knew I probably won’t be able to go back for a few years at least, and even then I might go 10 years without getting an arrow in another bull, but at least this year everything worked out. I can’t thank Eric enough for the opportunity to come out and the crazy amount of knowledge I gained from our short time hunting together, and I can’t thank Garrett enough for being crazy enough to volunteer for that grind of a packout. With guys like this running around the woods, I have no doubt that the hunting community is in good hands.

29-Mar-22
Aaaaaand that's a wrap! Hope you all enjoyed the rewrite, it is crazy to me that without this forum this hunt would have never happened. The ability for bowhunters across the country to communicate and build relationships is unreal, and I'm sure this is just one of countless trips made possible by bowsite. Thanks Pat, for creating this gem of a site, Eric, for inviting me, teaching me more about elk hunting than I could've ever imagined, and being incredibly hospitable, and Garrett, for just flat out being insane! Unfortunately some of the pictures from the original thread have been lost over the years from switching phones, but I managed to salvage quite a few of them. Thanks for reading!

From: sticksender
29-Mar-22
Well done!

From: t-roy
29-Mar-22
Excellent write up, Chase! Congrats on a definitely well earned trophy, as well!

From: Treeline
29-Mar-22
Spectacular! I certainly enjoyed both the first and second editions! Congratulations!

29-Mar-22

BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
BoggsBowhunts's embedded Photo
Thanks guys, my little “rocky mountain” corner in the house is making progress!

From: Rgiesey
29-Mar-22
Glad to read this story again. Hope things are going well.

From: T Mac
29-Mar-22
Awesome recap and a big congrats on your diy bull elk!

From: drycreek
29-Mar-22
Great adventure, great recap ! I predict that you will be the next Paul Navarre (but just remember that original is not even close to done). Congrats !

From: goelk
29-Mar-22
good job and great story and many more to come.

29-Mar-22
Great write up chase! Awesome job. You were determined and got it done!

From: Scoot
29-Mar-22
Loved it (again)!

From: KHNC
29-Mar-22
Great story and great job. Especially to kill a bull in NW MT. Barely any elk on public in that entire region!

From: Rockbass
29-Mar-22
Congrats Chase. Excellent adventure and very good story. Thanks for sharing.

From: TommyJoe
29-Mar-22
I remember your first write up which was really good. I agree this one is better detailed! I have hunted that Libby/Noxin area of MT and remember the steep terrain. Again, thanks for the story and congrats!

From: SBH
29-Mar-22
Enjoyed that. Well done!

From: APauls
29-Mar-22
Congrats. You can enjoy that memory for the rest of time. Shucks, with stories like this it is almost sounding like Bowsite of old :)

From: iceman
29-Mar-22
Nice work!

29-Mar-22
It was a good write up the first time!!!! It showed your grit perfectly. It also reminded everyone of what blind determination results in.

The second write up was awesome too!

From: BULELK1
30-Mar-22
Memory Lane!

Congrats x 2,

Robb

From: Knifeman
30-Mar-22

Knifeman's embedded Photo
Knifeman's embedded Photo

From: hdaman
30-Mar-22
Really well done, thanks!

From: Oryx35
30-Mar-22
I remember the first time you posted this story. I thoroughly enjoyed it both times. So, what's next on the western adventure list?

30-Mar-22
Thanks Knifeman, the Edit tool wasn't being my friend yesterday.

Oryx, going to be going on a 92 mile float trip in Alaska with a buddy of mine from Fairbanks in early June, will have a black bear tag in pocket and a bow in hand, but really it's just going to be more of a catching-up trip between two friends than it will be a focused hunt. Hopefully I'll be drawing a Pronghorn tag and chasing those in mid-August. Have a lot to catching up to do in the hunting world that's for sure.

Thanks for all the feedback, guys!

From: Inshart
30-Mar-22
Great write-up (again) for sure. "Ya done good" young man. If you have more pics, I, for one, would like to see them.

From: JohnMC
30-Mar-22
Congrats! Fun read.

From: Whocares
30-Mar-22
Fun write-up Chase. Enjoyed it. And congrats on your determination to become a successful elk hunter!

30-Mar-22
Chase... perfect write up and man...congrats on holding it together and laying him down buddy!

From: Grey Ghost
30-Mar-22
Chase, I'd say your writing skills are only exceeded by your hunting skills. Strong work on both fronts. I look forward to your next write-up.

Matt

From: Ironbow
30-Mar-22
Excellent! You are a good writer and good bow hunter!

From: Oryx35
30-Mar-22
The float trip sounds pretty epic! Hunting Alaska is on my bucket list. Good luck out there and in the upcoming draws!

01-Apr-22
Congrats enjoyed reading.

From: butcherboy
02-Apr-22
Great story! Love the dipped elk euro by the way.

From: JRABQ
02-Apr-22
Very good story, and congrats on getting it done!

From: Banjo
02-Apr-22
Awesome! Thanks for sharing!

From: JLeMieux
12-Apr-22
Awesome Chase! Definitely enjoyed reading this again! Also, thank you for your service.

From: eBike John
13-Apr-22
Great story Chase, thanks for taking the time and sharing!

  • Sitka Gear