The chip, for someone to put full dedication and heart into something there needs to be a chip so deep and so impactful that not only do you ever want to end on the same note of failure but continue to pursue the challenge until that wait is lifted from your shoulder. The chip that has cut away at me for nearly two years is archery elk. I still feel the pain and despair in my knees, back and mind from over 100 miles hiked through unforgiving, unbroke, and relentless terrain to come to full draw and being one step short of getting a shot at an unjustifiable first bull. This 6×6 stood tall at the edge of the meadow where I failed to come into a great shooting position by one step. This memory has driven me over the last two years to wait to draw another elk tag to make some changes. Changes I have made consist of mental and physical changes. I have spent thousands of hours getting my legs and body in shape to go to battle with the mountain the insure I wouldn’t fall one step short. I have also spent time working on perseverance. It has been an eye-opener to me how far you can push yourself after your mind is telling you to quit. The never give up and fight to the last second mindset, continues to produce success.

Success on this trip wasn’t going to be defined by the break of my release and an arrow finding its way home, but to continue to get up and give it my all until the last second of the trip. This trip was no slouch I hiked 108.3 miles, spent a night sleeping on pine boughs 8 miles back in the forest, and pushed up some of the steepest sections of mountains Montana has to offer. Along the way, we meet some great people in the woods some of whom will become lifelong friends Beau, Steven, and Dave. I got the opportunity to help back out a moose, a moose that Steve had to wait 22 years to draw the tag. These animals have mammoth size heads and the heaviest meat I have ever lifted. I also got the opportunity to help pack out Dave’s first archery bull after 37 years of trying to fill a tag. These three helped provide knowledge of years of experience and where I could hopefully find elk.

During the last few days of the trip, we started to get into elk heavily. They were backed up in the mountains where they were receiving the least amount of hunting pressure. I went on several stalks with no elk to prove for it on the second to last day. On the final day, all I wanted to do was sleep in and pack up in peace and get on the road early. The back of my mind said you’ve come too far and pushed too hard to give up now. I had to tell myself to keep fighting until the last second and push on. I pushed through the mental block and pushed my way up the mountain alone the last morning. I got to the top out of breath and with lungs burning like they were never in good shape. My feet were killed as I had worn many blisters on my feet after getting my boots soaked in the prior day’s rainstorm. I found what looked to be a comfortable rock to lean up against as I spent the next hour glassing and looking through the morning fog for elk. Just to my luck, the only elk I was able to spot was over 4 miles away by how the crow flies, but for me, it consisted of over 1500 feet in elevation loss to climb back up 2000 feet on the other side. I decided today is the day I am never going to give up not until the last second marked by sunset. I spent the next few hours hiking to where I last saw the elk in hopes they would still be in that area. To my surprise, I found 3 bulls two of which were sporting nice 6×6 racks. I snuck my way into 132 yards as I watched them fight and push each other around. This clashing of antlers from this close range was an amazing show to watch. I continued to push in for a shot but was never able to close the distance to a comfortable shooting range. Disappointed in the efforts to get over to these elk with no shot I had to tell myself again never to give up. I decided to start glassing and found elk on the back side of the mountain. With another 1500-foot descent away from the direction I started in I was back into a herd of elk.

This herd consisted of over 20 legal bulls and 100 cow elk. I knew there was a good chance of getting close. I watched the elk fight, breed, call, scream, chase, and push to show mating dominance. There was a group of 27 elk pushing up the valley to my position where I hunkered behind the branches of an old tall white pine. The bull pushed the herd up to 77 yards and I figured this was my time to shine. The bull I was hoping for stood broadside, as I have practiced having complete confidence in shooting 77 yards, I drew my bow to shoot my first archery elk. Hoping for the chip to be lifted off my shoulder I released the shot. As I tracked the shot approaching the elk it struck the hill high above him. I was in disbelief. I hurried to get another arrow in my bow. Once again, I range him at 83 yards. I drew my bow in confidence that this was going to be the shot. I once again released the arrow, tracking it with my eyes as it hit just low into the hillside. I was in disbelief that my one opportunity was gone and my hopes of killing a bull were over. I collected my arrows from the hillside to confirm I didn’t hit the bull and sat down in disbelief. I was down to one last arrow and had a valley full of elk. I told myself once again never to give up. I started my way down to the valley full of elk.

As I descended the rest of the mountain down to the valley, I hopped into a small stream to hide my approach. It was perfect to conceal me and my sound as I snuck into the group of elk. I approached the meadow with elk on all sides of me, calling and fighting and racking trees. I spotted a group of elk pushing through the far side of the opening. It was 91.4 yards to bull racking the tree in anger to mark his territory and show his dominance over his smaller group of elk. I have practiced out to 110 yards on the regular and decided that this was the right opportunity. I set my pin for 92 yards before drawing and anchoring my bow. I took a deep breath and said let’s make this one count and took my time. I settled the pin and let the arrow go. As the arrow struck home, I immediately saw blood coming out. It looked like a good shot just higher in the lungs. I waited forty-five minutes before going to look for my arrow. With a storm cloud building behind me and confidence in where I saw the hit, I decided to follow the blood trail before the rain washed it away. I made it on good blood the 15 yards through the aspen patch to look up and see my bull dead in the next meadow over. He didn’t go more than 70 yards. I was truly in awe and still don’t quite believe the events that transpired that day on the mountainside. The dream I had worked so hard for was finally over. Filled with emotions the job was not done yet. I still had to quarter and cut all the tender meat away from the bone so I could haul it the 7 miles back to the truck. Being alone this was a challenge pushing and struggling to turn and move the 700 lb. animal around. I felt for the first time like I knew what it felt like to be a mountain man thousands of years ago connected to the harvest and the mountain and I threw the heavy quarters of meat over my shoulder to carry away. I stashed the meat 500 yards away, so the bears and wolves didn’t decide to make a snack out of it. I then proceeded on the first of three trips to the truck. Carrying over 70 lbs. in the first back 7 miles back to the truck was a grueling task and decided to recruit some help for the next two. Thanks to Jacob we got the next two loads out without a hitch and started on our way home. 12 nights spent sleeping in the truck and contentless miles hiked to get a bull like this on the last day truly means a lot. I know I probably had a little luck from the guy upstairs, but I will take luck over skill any day.