Mt St Helens Roosevelt

Tags: Kids Corner, Elk, Roosevelt Elk, Tropy Elk, Mt St Helens, Bull Elk | Posted: Dec 07, 2011 | Article By: Tim Underwood

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   The opening day of western Washington's rifle deer season began the same as the previous year.  My 17 yr old son, Chris, and I were elk hunting!  Chris had beat the odds (and me) and drawn a black powder Mt. Whittier any bull tag.  This special permit allows only one hunter to harvest a bull. Unbelievably, Chris had drawn a cow tag for the same unit in 2010.

   A three square-mile unit located entirely within the Mt. St. Helens Monument, Mt. Whittier is mostly comprised of small alders, willows and noble firs, along with the occasional salmon berry.  There is very little cover, except in the creek bottoms and on the steep slopes of Mt. Whittier, Mt. Margaret, and Coldwater Peak.  This small canyon bore a large brunt of the eruption in May 1980. Thousands of decaying fir and cedar lay just as they did on May 19^th. As this unit is within the Monument boundaries, there are very strict rules regarding its use. There are no horses or bicycles allowed, no fires can be built, camping is allowed only in designated spots, and the hunter can have only three support buddies.

  Joined by my best pal, Phil, I had taken several opportunities to scout the area. We were seeing on average twenty branched-bulls per trip, in addition to a few nice bucks and several Mountain goats. On one scouting trip we had seen a monster 6x7 which we judged to score nearly 300”. The only question was would he be in my son's unit when the season began?

  October 15^th was fast approaching, and a constant eye was kept on the weather. We were hoping to catch some sun along with a little cloud cover. We did not want rain, as this would require additional gear to be packed. A promising forecast only added to the anticipation. The day arrived and we could finally let out a sigh of relief. All the preparation had been completed and it was now time!

  Along with Phil, I had also recruited my 14 yr old son, Nick to help us with the hunt.  We packed in eight miles and made one four mile jaunt to recover additional stashed gear for camp.  After camp had been set up, we had just enough time to sneak up the trail and look into the canyon in hopes of seeing a large bull.

  We glassed for about two hours, turning up about 25 cows and 20 branched-bulls. An enormous bull was spotted on the upper reaches of Coldwater Peak. My spotting scope revealed a broken main beam on his left.  What a bummer! We continued to glass and listened to bugle after bugle. Soon, a very large 5x5 began to distinguish himself as the king of the valley. We watched him push around several smaller bulls all the while bugling like crazy. What a sight! 

  Back at camp, we began to discuss our plans for the next day, and the rest of the week.  Phil had to be back to work on Wednesday and my sons were going to be missing school. It was decided that Chris would make an attempt on the 5x5. That night turned out to be a cold one, each of us wishing to be in a warm bed instead of a mummy bag. We also knew that the next morning would be clear.

  5:00 a.m. Sunday came early and cold, but from the sound of all the bugling, we knew it would be productive. The four of us walked up the trail into the valley, stopping occasionally to glass. We watched several cows and a few smaller bulls in the lower valley. Figuring the majority of the elk would be further up the valley, I suggested we gain some altitude. We hiked another half hour or so to get the best vantage point to glass some more. We spotted a herd of about 35, and decided that the large bull had to be in amongst them. The wind was to our advantage, so we kept our altitude and began to side hill up the canyon. A good 4x6 bull presented an opportunity at 150 yards, but Chris passed. At several hundred yards from the end of the valley we split up.  It was decided that Phil and Nick would hang back and use the spotting scope to thoroughly look over the unit. Meanwhile Chris and I would use the wind and what little cover we had, to creep up the valley.

  Phil soon began to radio reports of seeing a large bull chasing off several smaller bulls. The bull was in constant contact with about six cows. Chris and I continued slowly inching up the valley.  Soon we were within view of the herd. The large bull would bed down in the middle of his cows, facing the smaller bulls. Anytime a smaller bull came within his comfort zone, he would give chase. The bugles were flying like crazy. Smaller bulls were fighting among themselves. What a sight Chris and I were pumped up!

  Chris and I decided that we would use the contours of the small feeder creeks to put on a stalk.  When we got 400 yards or so out, we dropped our packs and snuck along, using dead cedars, small nobles, and what other minimal cover we could use to close the distance. Luckily the wind was still in our favor. In the meantime, most of the elk had bedded down. We closed to about 200 yards, only to have 10 or so sets of eyes bust us. Fortunately, the elk only moved higher up the opposite side of the valley. Chris and I continued to use the wind and contours to work away from them. We figured we could get to within 150-175 yards of the bunch by using a small creek bed further up the valley. We closed the gap, only to get busted again! A half-dozen or so elk ran off, leaving 8-10 bulls and an equal number cows nervously watching. The wind then swirled and sent them all off. Phil radioed that the big bull was still close. The 5x5 was beginning to clear some nobles. I bugled and cow-called while Chris found a good rest to shoot from.  Finally, the bull stopped broadside at about 175 yards. I knew this was a difficult shot with a simple peep sight, but we had taken elk from this distance before with his Knight muzzleloader. I gave Chris the go-ahead to shoot and aim for the top of his back. He missed high!

  I could see the despair in Chris' face. He was upset beyond measure.  I told him to relax and explained to him, that if you hunt long enough you're going to have plenty of misses, especially with primitive weapons. We decided to let the herd run and not give chase. Phil and Nick radioed that the elk had only moved down the valley about a mile or so and began to feed again.

  Chris and I put together a new game plan. He would work his way down valley using the wind and creek bottom as cover, and then cross the creek and put on a new stalk. I would retrieve the packs and follow along behind several hundred yards. I gave him the radio, cow call, and binoculars to help his stalk. Phil would radio from his vantage point what the elk were doing.  My biggest concern was running out of daylight.  Chris had missed at 1:30 p.m.

   As I retrieved the packs, I could see the elk far off in the distance milling about and occasionally fighting. There was no mistaking the bugles I continued to hear. These elk were hardly spooked! It must be the very little hunting pressure they receive.

   Meanwhile, I could see Chris in his hunter-orange sneak along the alders. He continued for another half-hour or so, until he disappeared. I called him on the radio to ask his whereabouts, silence. I called a second time. Again, silence. I figured he was in full stealth mode, so I snuck along behind. Another half-hour had passed, so I called again only to be answered by Phil.  It seems Phil had lost visual of him as well. Now I was beginning to get worried. Chris may have fallen or hurt himself.  I soon began to look for boot prints in the ash and sand. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I spied a print and followed. Chris had gotten even with where I had last seen the elk feeding, and crossed the creek to close the gap on them. I too crossed the creek and began to sneak along the alders and willows in the dense vegetation of the valley bottom. I had just crested a small rise, when I heard the unmistakable boom of his muzzleloader!  Then I saw the cloud of smoke. My fears were laid to rest and I picked up the pace closing the distance to Chris. Another shot and another cloud of smoke. Only then did I call out to him, “Is he down?”  “Yes”, Chris replied. “I lost your radio and I hope this bull makes up for it”.  Boy did it!! Lying at Chris' feet was the big 5x5 we had seen the day prior and missed earlier that day.

  After hugs and congratulations, I called Phil and Nick to come help us; they were already on their way. Then I asked Chris to give me the whole story. It seems Chris had lost the radio not soon after splitting from me (of course) and his gloves too. He spent a long time trying to navigate around a beaver pond. He continued to close the gap on the elk; all the while hearing them feed, bugle, and fight. At one point, he was within 20 feet of a feeding cow. And, just as the wind began to give him away, spooking the elk once again, he took a 75 yard shot at the king of the valley.

  As soon as Phil and Nick arrived, we once again shared hugs and fist-bumps. Then we began to dress the elk. We had very little time before dark, so we split open the bull to cool overnight and packed the head out as far as we could. Arriving at camp well after dark, we decided we would sleep in a little Monday morning for some extra rest, and spend all day boning and packing.

  Monday ended with us arriving back at camp just before dark. Chris had insisted on packing the head out, so we let him. It was extremely heavy! We split the deboned meat into our packs as best we could and soaked it overnight in a nearby stream. Exhaustion was beginning to set in, but we knew we still had to pack all of our gear plus the bull out seven miles to the trailhead the next day. We were in bed plenty early, only to be kept awake all night by 40-50 mph wind gusts.

  Tuesday morning arrived too early for our exhausted bodies. We still had a long pack ahead of us, but we knew it was mostly downhill. We started early and made it to the trailhead at 5:00 p.m.  A bit of quick math told us we had walked nearly 35 miles in four days.

  The local taxidermist suggested the bull would make the Washington muzzleloader book and said it makes a great trophy. I agreed, but to myself I said it makes an even better memory.  Yeah, I was hungry (I ate for two days straight!), exhausted and blistered. But what is most important is the experience I got to share with my two sons, Chris and Nick, and my best friend, Phil.

 

Tim Underwood

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