SurfnTurf
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- Feb 24, 2007
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I'm back home after returning from an exciting hunt in a wilderness region of Wyoming called the Thorofare, located about ten miles outside the Southeast corner of Yellowstone. Five other hunters and I packed-in with horses and mules on a trek that took us eight hours to get to our base camp in the Thorofare Valley at an altitude ofabout 8500 feet. The area is true wilderness and is filled with grizzly bears and wolves. The first evening, a pack of wolves visited us at camp and howled up a storm. Their presence, along with unseasonably high daytime temperatures in the seventies, forced me to reconsider my hunting game plan. I considered that the wolves presence and the high temps would probably keep the elk in dark timber most of the day. I was now less apt to pass on a decent bull in hopes for a chance to shoot the proverbial monster that might not appear.
In the dark early morning hours of the first hunting day, my guide and I departed camp on horseback winding our way through the timber as we climbed in elevation to an expansive vista called Woody Ridge. At our 10,000 foot vantage point we had an eagles-eye view of the surrounding hillsides and meadow breaks below us. We commenced glassing in the greylight just before sunrise scanning our domain for about an hour. We were just about to relocate to another ridge when I spotted two cow elk step out of the timber into a small meadow about a thousand yards below us and two ridges over. I whispered to my guide, “Elk, coming out of the timber” and I pointed to their location. He redirected his binoculars to the location and we both watched ten more cows step out of the timber followed by the herd bull. He tapped me on the back and said “let’s go!” so we hustled down the mountainside to close the distance.
We quickly dropped about five hundred feet in elevation and stopped on a ridgeline where we could see them making their way to the top of the meadow towards the timber again. They were not browsing but seemed to be on a transitory mission. My shooting window would be less than forty five seconds before they would once again become enveloped in the safety of the woods. My guide said “he looks good” and I agreed, so I ranged the still walking bull at 286 yards with a down slope ballistic range of 275 yards. I dropped to the ground, placing my hat on a small rock to use as a steady rest. If ixed my crosshairs on the bull and then noticed that there was a rise in front of me that would obstruct my bullets path of travel. I immediately got up and moved twenty feet forward into an area that was strewn with small jagged rocks and gravel.
Without a stable rest available and unable to go prone, I dropped to one knee and tried to steady my rifle on the still moving bull. I attempted to control my breathing as best I could but my heart was racing due to the altitude and my exertion. Cows were already back in the timber and within twenty yards or so my opportunity at the bull would be lost. It was now or never. The bull was quartering towards me so I leveled the crosshair on his chest and squeezed the trigger. POW!! My. 300 Weatherby shattered the early morning silence and the remaining cows scattered into the timber. I immediately racked a second round into the chamber as my guide said, “you missed, shoot again”. The bull didn’t run but took a step forward and turned broadside to me. I aimed just behind his shoulder and fired again. POW!! I saw the dirt kick up behind and under him and I thought I missed again but the bull raised up on his front legs and fell backwards on the spot. He was dead. My guide and I high fived then walked down the hill to check him out. When we reached him we could see that my hand loaded 180gn Barnes TTSX hit him right behind the shoulder and exited on the other side.
We took the obligatory photos then my guide headed back up the mountain a quarter mile to retrieve our horses. I stood guard over the elk until he returned and then we proceeded to butcher him. We caped the hide to the base of the head and that’s when we noticed that my first shot was not a miss but had hit him low in the chest close to the left shoulder. After our harvest was complete, we carried the game bagged meat along with the caped head one hundred yards downhill to the shade of some trees away from the carcass. We then mounted our horses and headed back to camp to retrieve a couple of pack mules.
After a quick lunch at camp we returned with the pack mules arriving about four hours after leaving the kill site. Everything looked in order but it wasn’t until we started to load the game bags onto the mules that I noticed a front shoulder was missing and there was a trail of disturbed grass leading to the timber. Mr. Grizzly had helped himself to my kill.
Back at camp, the meat contained within game bags was hoisted fifteen feet into the air to hang from the game pole. That evening, another grizzly paid a visit and beat the ropes to slide the meat over where he could reach it. He chewed on it at almost twelve feet off the ground!! The bears visited our camp each evening and even brushed up along the sides of one of our tents while huffing and snorting. I kept my bear spray and .44 magnum close by my side in my sleeping bag. Lighting up the inside of the white wall tents with a flashlight was the best option to get them moving again.
It was a wonderful experience and adventure and I have some great photos and a lifetime of memories. Now it's time to start planning my next hunting adventure.
In the dark early morning hours of the first hunting day, my guide and I departed camp on horseback winding our way through the timber as we climbed in elevation to an expansive vista called Woody Ridge. At our 10,000 foot vantage point we had an eagles-eye view of the surrounding hillsides and meadow breaks below us. We commenced glassing in the greylight just before sunrise scanning our domain for about an hour. We were just about to relocate to another ridge when I spotted two cow elk step out of the timber into a small meadow about a thousand yards below us and two ridges over. I whispered to my guide, “Elk, coming out of the timber” and I pointed to their location. He redirected his binoculars to the location and we both watched ten more cows step out of the timber followed by the herd bull. He tapped me on the back and said “let’s go!” so we hustled down the mountainside to close the distance.
We quickly dropped about five hundred feet in elevation and stopped on a ridgeline where we could see them making their way to the top of the meadow towards the timber again. They were not browsing but seemed to be on a transitory mission. My shooting window would be less than forty five seconds before they would once again become enveloped in the safety of the woods. My guide said “he looks good” and I agreed, so I ranged the still walking bull at 286 yards with a down slope ballistic range of 275 yards. I dropped to the ground, placing my hat on a small rock to use as a steady rest. If ixed my crosshairs on the bull and then noticed that there was a rise in front of me that would obstruct my bullets path of travel. I immediately got up and moved twenty feet forward into an area that was strewn with small jagged rocks and gravel.
Without a stable rest available and unable to go prone, I dropped to one knee and tried to steady my rifle on the still moving bull. I attempted to control my breathing as best I could but my heart was racing due to the altitude and my exertion. Cows were already back in the timber and within twenty yards or so my opportunity at the bull would be lost. It was now or never. The bull was quartering towards me so I leveled the crosshair on his chest and squeezed the trigger. POW!! My. 300 Weatherby shattered the early morning silence and the remaining cows scattered into the timber. I immediately racked a second round into the chamber as my guide said, “you missed, shoot again”. The bull didn’t run but took a step forward and turned broadside to me. I aimed just behind his shoulder and fired again. POW!! I saw the dirt kick up behind and under him and I thought I missed again but the bull raised up on his front legs and fell backwards on the spot. He was dead. My guide and I high fived then walked down the hill to check him out. When we reached him we could see that my hand loaded 180gn Barnes TTSX hit him right behind the shoulder and exited on the other side.
We took the obligatory photos then my guide headed back up the mountain a quarter mile to retrieve our horses. I stood guard over the elk until he returned and then we proceeded to butcher him. We caped the hide to the base of the head and that’s when we noticed that my first shot was not a miss but had hit him low in the chest close to the left shoulder. After our harvest was complete, we carried the game bagged meat along with the caped head one hundred yards downhill to the shade of some trees away from the carcass. We then mounted our horses and headed back to camp to retrieve a couple of pack mules.
After a quick lunch at camp we returned with the pack mules arriving about four hours after leaving the kill site. Everything looked in order but it wasn’t until we started to load the game bags onto the mules that I noticed a front shoulder was missing and there was a trail of disturbed grass leading to the timber. Mr. Grizzly had helped himself to my kill.
Back at camp, the meat contained within game bags was hoisted fifteen feet into the air to hang from the game pole. That evening, another grizzly paid a visit and beat the ropes to slide the meat over where he could reach it. He chewed on it at almost twelve feet off the ground!! The bears visited our camp each evening and even brushed up along the sides of one of our tents while huffing and snorting. I kept my bear spray and .44 magnum close by my side in my sleeping bag. Lighting up the inside of the white wall tents with a flashlight was the best option to get them moving again.
It was a wonderful experience and adventure and I have some great photos and a lifetime of memories. Now it's time to start planning my next hunting adventure.
