- Joined
- Jan 28, 2003
- Messages
- 13,334
Before continuing it is required that you read the below disclaimer.
Disclaimer,
Ok let me make this PERFECTLY CLEAR...I AM NOT TRASHING ON WEATHERBY RIFLES with this post. If you give me any crap what so ever about me being a Weatherby thrasher I'm am going to hunt you down and give you an E-Wedgie via this web site. Unless you are shooting a Japanese Mark V in 7MM Rem with a Tasco scope and see through rings then I might be trashing you just a little bit.
End of Disclaimer you may proceed.
Ok so I just got done with 4th season in which I was armed with an either sex elk tag, a wall tent a diff locked chained up jeep and well worn pair of Schnee's winter boots.
It was a tough hunt in that it was too warm the first two days and then snowed over three feet of snow the last two. So anyway there I was walking at least six to eight hours a day busting my but. I'd had several missed shot opportunities due to my own carelessness, crunchy snow and general bad luck.
The last morning of the hunt I threw the jeep into four low chained up all four tires locked in both axles and proceeded to head to some new and mostly unobtainable ground. As the sun rose I found myself narrowly clinging onto a narrow treacherous jeep trail heading into some seriously steep and unforgiving country and doing so while pushing through a good two to three feet of fresh powder. We had gone about five miles when my hunting buddy Tim spotted a herd of elk up on the opposite side of the canyon. I found a pull out and had a look. There were twelve elk ten cows and two bulls, one of which was a shooter. My buddy had a cow tag this was perfect he'd take a cow and I'd try for the bull. My range finder told me that the closest cow was 639 yards away and cross canyon. After a quick gathering of minds a battle plan was put into place and we strapped on our packs grabbed our rifles and started for a clump of pine trees on the opposite side of the canyon which would put us in shooting range. We figured it would take us 30 to 40 minutes to reach as we'd have to drop several hundred feet in elevation just get to where we were climbing and closing distance on the herd. The terrain was steep as in 35 to 50 degrees of slope down and then up. this was going to be a hand and foot operation in dangerously slippery conditions. All this just to close three hundred yards of distance, hunting in the mountains is not a game for weak or mild mannered sometimes.
It was all going to be so sweet they were as good as in the bag when down the trail we hear a gunning engine and whining tires. Somebody was taking advantage of our tracks and heading up the trail. Suddenly appearing around the corner is a brand new white GMC Denali equipped with street tires chrome rims and two well heeled looking gentlemen driving it or romping it I should say up the trail at full throttle, snows flying and the wildly fish tailing SUV looks like an out of control supertanker running full speed up a narrow river. The thing is totally out of place for the setting.
As the two errant vehicle operators/"hunters" crest the rise and start heading for us at high speed the driver and I make eye contact the driver sees that my tracks end and further guns the engine building up speed for his now virgin track into yonder wood. He flys by me and makes it about 15 feet before he buries his multi ton SUV in the snow and starts to frantically gun his engine up and down digging himself deeper and deeper. I walk around the front of his rig and motion him to shut it down. He seems pleased that I am there rolling down his window he starts in a loud voice to greet me.
I put my finger to my lips and pleadingly gesture for him to quiet down. I then walk over and gently explain that we were just going to stalk some elk could he please keep it down for just a minute until we get into position. With which the driver jumps out of the vehicle and in a loud, full voice proclaims ELK WHERE? I DON'T SEE THEM! I point up to the hill where the once tranquil herd of elk are starting to get very nervous. When the driver finally sees the herd he shouts to his buddy JERRY, JESUS CHRIST, THE WHOLE HILLSIDE IS FULL OF ELK GET YOUR GUN!
Jerry in a panic starts throwing piled gear off his gun case and then starts desperately trying to unzip the case. I look at the driver and with no attempt to hide my disgust tell him "the nearest cow is 639 yards away the bull is standing at over 700 that's a bit far don't you think?" The driver looks at me in wonder and asks if I was a professional hunter. I reply that I've done some guiding why? He says "I've never seen somebody who can estimate range that accurately or that quickly before!" I start to explain that I have a laser range finder but think better of it and just let the comment pass. And then he said it...
DON'T WORRY ABOUT THE RANGE, HE'S SHOOTING A WEATHERBY!
I start to protest but the elk are now beginning to move off so our plan to get within range is down the toilet. I once again strongly caution the the shooter that these elk are out of range. He has a frantic panicked look in his eyes and it's as if he didn't even know I was there. I step back and plug my ears as the long barreled .300 Weatherby with a muzzle break settles over the hood of his truck. The first pull of the trigger is a sharp click as Jerry has forgotten to load his rifle. He fumbles in his pocket and slams a round into the breech. KABOOOM As the hyper sonic Roy rifle rips a 180 gr bullet into the snow a full 3 feet below the bull and shatters the morning silence the elk freeze for moment and simply stand there in shock. I say in a loud voice you missed KABOOOM another sighter either high or low but a clean missKABOOOM another miss I mention that to the shooter that he's pissin in the wind to just just give it upKABOOOM He's frantically spraying bullets at the herd when amazingly on the eighth shot he connects with the bull. For a hopeful second I pray that the bull is going to go down but he doesn't he slumps and then recovers with a savage kicking of the hind foot at the gut.
I yell at Jerry "YOU GUT SHOT HIM you'd better get it done before he gets to the timber." Now from the other side of the car the driver joins into the volley with his Weatherby and Jerry is reloading as the bull is limping off into the timber. Jerry the shooter reloads yanks his rifle into position and jerks the trigger on a dead chamber. With that he demonstrates one of the worst flinches in the history of rifle shooting. He shuts both eyes and yanked the rifle off the hood and damn near jerked the thing into the snow. I look right at him and say "It's pretty tough to hit anything with a flinch like that." Jerry reloads and sends a few more hail marry rounds into the Rocky mountains. As the elk disappear into the Forrest on the opposite side of the Canyon I look over at the two shooters and calmly say "Well boys you just got your days work cut out for you."
The two look down at the steep slide they are going to have to get down and across and then the insanely steep open face they are going to have to climb. And the driver starts to argue that he didn't think Jerry hit that bull and that he can't see any blood in the snow. I simply pull out a pen and start writing their license plate number on the back of my glove. The driver grabs his pack out of the car and in a huff starts down the hill. I mention to Jerry that he'd better get this car out of the way or I will and he'd like it better if I didn't. Jerry couldn't budge the SUV. I crawled around him and continued up the canyon knowing full well that the days hunt was over.
About two hours later we returned to the spot, the Denali was gone with the evidence of a mighty struggle and the men's tracks went about half way up to where the the blood trail would have started then you could clearly see where one of them had slipped and tumbled all the way down to the bottom. Apparently that was to much and they gave up on the wounded bull.
I reported them to the DOW. I haven't heard back.
Disclaimer,
Ok let me make this PERFECTLY CLEAR...I AM NOT TRASHING ON WEATHERBY RIFLES with this post. If you give me any crap what so ever about me being a Weatherby thrasher I'm am going to hunt you down and give you an E-Wedgie via this web site. Unless you are shooting a Japanese Mark V in 7MM Rem with a Tasco scope and see through rings then I might be trashing you just a little bit.
End of Disclaimer you may proceed.
Ok so I just got done with 4th season in which I was armed with an either sex elk tag, a wall tent a diff locked chained up jeep and well worn pair of Schnee's winter boots.
It was a tough hunt in that it was too warm the first two days and then snowed over three feet of snow the last two. So anyway there I was walking at least six to eight hours a day busting my but. I'd had several missed shot opportunities due to my own carelessness, crunchy snow and general bad luck.
The last morning of the hunt I threw the jeep into four low chained up all four tires locked in both axles and proceeded to head to some new and mostly unobtainable ground. As the sun rose I found myself narrowly clinging onto a narrow treacherous jeep trail heading into some seriously steep and unforgiving country and doing so while pushing through a good two to three feet of fresh powder. We had gone about five miles when my hunting buddy Tim spotted a herd of elk up on the opposite side of the canyon. I found a pull out and had a look. There were twelve elk ten cows and two bulls, one of which was a shooter. My buddy had a cow tag this was perfect he'd take a cow and I'd try for the bull. My range finder told me that the closest cow was 639 yards away and cross canyon. After a quick gathering of minds a battle plan was put into place and we strapped on our packs grabbed our rifles and started for a clump of pine trees on the opposite side of the canyon which would put us in shooting range. We figured it would take us 30 to 40 minutes to reach as we'd have to drop several hundred feet in elevation just get to where we were climbing and closing distance on the herd. The terrain was steep as in 35 to 50 degrees of slope down and then up. this was going to be a hand and foot operation in dangerously slippery conditions. All this just to close three hundred yards of distance, hunting in the mountains is not a game for weak or mild mannered sometimes.
It was all going to be so sweet they were as good as in the bag when down the trail we hear a gunning engine and whining tires. Somebody was taking advantage of our tracks and heading up the trail. Suddenly appearing around the corner is a brand new white GMC Denali equipped with street tires chrome rims and two well heeled looking gentlemen driving it or romping it I should say up the trail at full throttle, snows flying and the wildly fish tailing SUV looks like an out of control supertanker running full speed up a narrow river. The thing is totally out of place for the setting.
As the two errant vehicle operators/"hunters" crest the rise and start heading for us at high speed the driver and I make eye contact the driver sees that my tracks end and further guns the engine building up speed for his now virgin track into yonder wood. He flys by me and makes it about 15 feet before he buries his multi ton SUV in the snow and starts to frantically gun his engine up and down digging himself deeper and deeper. I walk around the front of his rig and motion him to shut it down. He seems pleased that I am there rolling down his window he starts in a loud voice to greet me.
I put my finger to my lips and pleadingly gesture for him to quiet down. I then walk over and gently explain that we were just going to stalk some elk could he please keep it down for just a minute until we get into position. With which the driver jumps out of the vehicle and in a loud, full voice proclaims ELK WHERE? I DON'T SEE THEM! I point up to the hill where the once tranquil herd of elk are starting to get very nervous. When the driver finally sees the herd he shouts to his buddy JERRY, JESUS CHRIST, THE WHOLE HILLSIDE IS FULL OF ELK GET YOUR GUN!
Jerry in a panic starts throwing piled gear off his gun case and then starts desperately trying to unzip the case. I look at the driver and with no attempt to hide my disgust tell him "the nearest cow is 639 yards away the bull is standing at over 700 that's a bit far don't you think?" The driver looks at me in wonder and asks if I was a professional hunter. I reply that I've done some guiding why? He says "I've never seen somebody who can estimate range that accurately or that quickly before!" I start to explain that I have a laser range finder but think better of it and just let the comment pass. And then he said it...
DON'T WORRY ABOUT THE RANGE, HE'S SHOOTING A WEATHERBY!
I start to protest but the elk are now beginning to move off so our plan to get within range is down the toilet. I once again strongly caution the the shooter that these elk are out of range. He has a frantic panicked look in his eyes and it's as if he didn't even know I was there. I step back and plug my ears as the long barreled .300 Weatherby with a muzzle break settles over the hood of his truck. The first pull of the trigger is a sharp click as Jerry has forgotten to load his rifle. He fumbles in his pocket and slams a round into the breech. KABOOOM As the hyper sonic Roy rifle rips a 180 gr bullet into the snow a full 3 feet below the bull and shatters the morning silence the elk freeze for moment and simply stand there in shock. I say in a loud voice you missed KABOOOM another sighter either high or low but a clean missKABOOOM another miss I mention that to the shooter that he's pissin in the wind to just just give it upKABOOOM He's frantically spraying bullets at the herd when amazingly on the eighth shot he connects with the bull. For a hopeful second I pray that the bull is going to go down but he doesn't he slumps and then recovers with a savage kicking of the hind foot at the gut.
I yell at Jerry "YOU GUT SHOT HIM you'd better get it done before he gets to the timber." Now from the other side of the car the driver joins into the volley with his Weatherby and Jerry is reloading as the bull is limping off into the timber. Jerry the shooter reloads yanks his rifle into position and jerks the trigger on a dead chamber. With that he demonstrates one of the worst flinches in the history of rifle shooting. He shuts both eyes and yanked the rifle off the hood and damn near jerked the thing into the snow. I look right at him and say "It's pretty tough to hit anything with a flinch like that." Jerry reloads and sends a few more hail marry rounds into the Rocky mountains. As the elk disappear into the Forrest on the opposite side of the Canyon I look over at the two shooters and calmly say "Well boys you just got your days work cut out for you."
The two look down at the steep slide they are going to have to get down and across and then the insanely steep open face they are going to have to climb. And the driver starts to argue that he didn't think Jerry hit that bull and that he can't see any blood in the snow. I simply pull out a pen and start writing their license plate number on the back of my glove. The driver grabs his pack out of the car and in a huff starts down the hill. I mention to Jerry that he'd better get this car out of the way or I will and he'd like it better if I didn't. Jerry couldn't budge the SUV. I crawled around him and continued up the canyon knowing full well that the days hunt was over.
About two hours later we returned to the spot, the Denali was gone with the evidence of a mighty struggle and the men's tracks went about half way up to where the the blood trail would have started then you could clearly see where one of them had slipped and tumbled all the way down to the bottom. Apparently that was to much and they gave up on the wounded bull.
I reported them to the DOW. I haven't heard back.
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