Regarding horse ownership - at that point, you nailed it. The elk fell 3 miles up the trail, then another 2 miles from and 2000 feet above the trail. I cannot imagine what it would have been like to shoot a big one.
anywho, that is deepest darkest idaho, with the nearest town being Challis. OTC bull tags for the unlucky Washingtonians.
If I remember right, we left NW Washington after work on a Wednesday, got to the trailhead at daybreak Thurs. morning, hiked 4 miles in, and camped at some neat beaver ponds. I was bummed somewhat after seeing wolf tracks on the dirt trail. After a nap, I climbed the nearest hill. Lots of OLD sign, and no sign of life.
Friday morning, I hiked up the sagebrush hillside you can see in one of my photos. Near the top, as dawn broke, I was busted by a herd of 40 or so while putting on my dry clothes. I slinked to the top of the ridgeline and saw two raghorns and a decent 5x5, but had no rest for the 200+ yard shot. They spooked towards my dad, so I left them alone. Saw several other elk and six sheep that day.
Saturday morning, we were socked in. 4 inches of snow fell in camp that night, and more fell through the day. Couldn't see more than 100 yards the whole day.
Sunday morning, I hiked back up the sagebrush hillside. Found a small band higher, bedded on one of the fingers. I got close enough to put the hairs on them, but couldn't make a bull out. Later, I saw what may have been the same elk, but there was a raghorn with them. Too far away. While up there, I spotted two elk on the hill across the drainage, perhaps 2-3 miles away. Couldn't see horns (no spotting scope), but I figured I'd head that way the next morning.
Monday morning, I awoke to clear skies, 0 degrees, and rock-hard boots. I figured my boots would thaw, so I saddled up and started my hike. Right out of camp, where I have to ford the creek, I slipped off a submerged rock and let some water in my left boot. Brrr. I proceeded down the trail - thinking a brisk hike would warm that foot up. Paused for an emergency turd. Crossed the creek again one mile down the trail, and headed up the ridge. After the first 1000 foot climb, I realized that foot was still useless, so I built a fire and thawed/dried out. 9:30 am and I am still not hunting. I continue on with dry, warm feet, and find several cows to spook. I sit down shortly thereafter, and this raghorn wanders down the finger 1/4 mile up from me. He beds behind a log on a somewhat open hillside, so I make a stalk. I get within 100 yards before being busted by an unseen cow. He stood and I shot him!
What next? He's ~2000 feet above the trail, so to save my knees, I gut him and drag him downhill a ways, instead of boning him on the spot and carrying him off (much cleaner and quicker). I lose ~500' elevation, peel the skin back to let him cool, and carry off a boned-out back quarter. Unfortunately, instead of hiking out on the clear ridgeline, I am forced by his downhill drag path to carry this out through a rocky, brushy, snowy, nasty creek bottom. Genius.
Tuesday, my 66-year old father ferries meat 3-miles to the truck on the trail, and I carry meat off the hill to the trail. Dad's a hammer!
Wednesday, we sack camp, hike out, and arrive in Bellingham ~10:30 pm.
I will return, but not this year. Hopefully, that unit stays over the counter, because in spite of the rugged country, it was a pretty easy hunt, and I saw legal elk every day that the weather cooperated. The reason I say it's easy, is that the 4-mile hike in is only a net gain of ~500' elevation, which is a cakewalk for packing meat. I never saw elk less than 1500 vertical feet above camp, even after the snow (8-12" on the ridgetops). So, the morning blast up the hill is the only hard part. If I would have shot the 5-pt bull the first morning, he might well have rolled down to the trail. Once you get out of the creek bottom, it was very steep, as a rule, except for some flatter areas on the ridgetops, like where my elk dropped.
