Fraink
12-24-2009, 04:16 PM
Posting this on my dad's user name, still waiting for mine to be activated.
In the weeks leading up to this hunt my dad and I had some pretty key parts of the plan fall through on us. Originaly we had planned to stay on verns ranch but then it began to sound as if there wouldn't be a cabin for us due to the workers he had staying at the ranch so we were forced to change to the pink mountain motor inn (which turned out to be an excellent choice). Then the week before we left the sleds we were borrowing showed up. Only one ran and it didn't have enought power to climb a small hill with me and my dad doubling, so it clearly was not going to be draging a bison out of the sticks. So we ended up buying a polaris RMK 700 ( which was a little over-kill but it ran good and the price was right) and borrowing a skandic 500. Despite these setbacks we departed on the 13 as planned but the trip was definatly starting to feel like one of those trips where whatever can break will break and whatever can go wrong will do so in a spectacular fashion. Fortunately it turned out to be exactly the opposite.
We arrived at the motor inn on the 14 and were met with a very friendly reception and immediatly started to feel at home. Jayme the owner and an avid hunter was full of stories advice and information and did whatever he could to make sure all the hunters who walked through his doors had a good hunt.
Opening day saw the departure of the bitter cold hunters had been contending with for the last few weeks. It was around 15-20 below as opposed to the 40-50 below people had been hunting in, with clear blue skies. An incredible way to start an incredible hunt. After a morning on the sleds we felt it was high time to stop making noise and do some hiking.
In the weeks previous to our departure we had done a fair bit of research reading the stories here on HBC and looking at pictures on google earth. We'd heard stories and seen pics of lone bulls way above the treeline and we decided that the best way to drop a real monster was to get well above the valley floor. So around noon we left the sleds and started climbing. Well three hours and a few thousand laboured breaths later we were rewarded with a beautiful herd of 30 to 40 elk, but despite lots of sign, no bison. Which was all the same to us because at that point we had no interest in trying to get an animal off that mountain, let alone the behemoth we were hoping to find up there. The reality of the situation had finnally hit us, trying to pack anywhere between 500 and a thousand lbs of meat off that mountain with just two guys was just a little bit to crazy for even us to think it was a good idea. We needed a new game plan and we were running out of daylight so after a half hour or so of intentionally and unintentionally sliding on our rumps we hopped back on the sleds and headed back to the inn.
Over dinner and beers that night we discussed where we wanted to be the next morning. Jayme was adamant that the farther into the valley we pushed the better off we'd be. It made sense to us; the more remote things got the less trafic there would be and the more at ease the bison would be. The only problem with that idea was that we'd heard talk of an impassible river crossing and not being sled heads by any stretch of the imagination we we had no intention of trying to cross open water on our sleds. In our minds that river crossing was the end of the trail.
The next day found both my dad and I surly and anxious. Nothing felt right, we'd get to a promising meadow or find some sign, get off the sleds for a walk and 5 minutes later we'd be back on the sleds convinced that we needed to be somewhere else. The morning dragged on much the same with anxiety building with each stop and moment of indecision, until finnally we found ourselves at the river crossing we'd heard so much about. We walked out onto the ice to have a look and found the water to only be about a foot or two deep and about fifteen across. I looked across the water and saw that no snow machine had been to the other side since the last snowfall 4 days previous. I looked at my dad and knew we were both thinking the same thing. "We crossing that?" I asked him. "yup" came the determined reply and that was that. A few moments later it was like a switch had been flipped. Things just felt right. We were on the other side of the river making fresh tracks with our machines for the first time that trip and we knew, this is it, this is where we need to be.
From there the trail climbed up into the timber and away from the valley bottom until about 10 km later it decended into a simply vast meadow (we found it on google earth later it was about 1800 acres.)
http://www.flickr.com/photos/45868819@N05/4211324197/
follow this link to see the meadow as we first saw it.
We crossed the river again, this time over ice instead of open water and began to work our way up the side of the meadow stopping often to glass. I was in front and at one point and looked back to see my dad had stopped out of sight somewhere. Assuming that he had just stopped to glass I stopped and began to do the same a few minutes later I looked back to see him waving me back. I left my machine and walked back to him at which point he pointed out to bulls about 400 yrds away. The wind was in our favour and the snow was soft so we started stalking them. I don't know if our boots were making to much noise in the buck brush or if they just didn't like the way we looked but neither of those bulls wanted anything to do with us. We never got 300 yards from them.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/45868819@N05/4212088346/
There was a herd farther up the valley so we decided to try moving in on them. We didn't need to go far so we decided to leave the noisy 700 behind and double on the 500. As we neared the herd the trail took a very fortunate turn up into the timber away from the meadow and brought us to an excelent vantage point about 500 yards above them. We turned off the machine and slowly made our way down through a stand of poplars until we were between 250 and 300 yards away. From there we could see a small knoll right at the edge of the meadow with a small depresion between us and it. We crept through the depresion and inched to the top of the knoll. I couldn't have asked for a better set up. We were about 200 yards away from the bison who continued to graze completely unaware of our presence. I had a perfect tree-stump rest, my breathing had returned to normal and I had picked out my bull. The wind had stopped and the air was very still and quite. One of us must have shifted or somehow made some small noise because suddenly the herd grew uneasy. A few started to run and the bull I had picked got muddled up with a cow. I moved my crosshairs to another good sized bull I had looked at moments before and I had clear shot but just as I rested the crosshairs behind his shoulder he turned 180 degrees as if to bolt like the other bison, but then he paused. My heart began to pound and my hands grew unsteady. My crosshairs jumped sideways and skated around his head and shoulders. I knew I was running out of time and for a moment I thought I was going to miss my oppurtunity. but I took a deep breath, the crosshairs floated up to the top of his back i let it out and they drifted down to the boiler room and I squeezed off my shot. He ran about a hundred yards and then dropped. We drove the machine right to him and went to work.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/45868819@N05/4211329653/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/45868819@N05/4211330359/
This hunt was one of the best experiances of my life, we met some awsome people and saw some of the most beautiful country on earth. The halfway river valley is one of the most astounding places I've ever been and I can't wait to make a return visit.
-sasquatch91
In the weeks leading up to this hunt my dad and I had some pretty key parts of the plan fall through on us. Originaly we had planned to stay on verns ranch but then it began to sound as if there wouldn't be a cabin for us due to the workers he had staying at the ranch so we were forced to change to the pink mountain motor inn (which turned out to be an excellent choice). Then the week before we left the sleds we were borrowing showed up. Only one ran and it didn't have enought power to climb a small hill with me and my dad doubling, so it clearly was not going to be draging a bison out of the sticks. So we ended up buying a polaris RMK 700 ( which was a little over-kill but it ran good and the price was right) and borrowing a skandic 500. Despite these setbacks we departed on the 13 as planned but the trip was definatly starting to feel like one of those trips where whatever can break will break and whatever can go wrong will do so in a spectacular fashion. Fortunately it turned out to be exactly the opposite.
We arrived at the motor inn on the 14 and were met with a very friendly reception and immediatly started to feel at home. Jayme the owner and an avid hunter was full of stories advice and information and did whatever he could to make sure all the hunters who walked through his doors had a good hunt.
Opening day saw the departure of the bitter cold hunters had been contending with for the last few weeks. It was around 15-20 below as opposed to the 40-50 below people had been hunting in, with clear blue skies. An incredible way to start an incredible hunt. After a morning on the sleds we felt it was high time to stop making noise and do some hiking.
In the weeks previous to our departure we had done a fair bit of research reading the stories here on HBC and looking at pictures on google earth. We'd heard stories and seen pics of lone bulls way above the treeline and we decided that the best way to drop a real monster was to get well above the valley floor. So around noon we left the sleds and started climbing. Well three hours and a few thousand laboured breaths later we were rewarded with a beautiful herd of 30 to 40 elk, but despite lots of sign, no bison. Which was all the same to us because at that point we had no interest in trying to get an animal off that mountain, let alone the behemoth we were hoping to find up there. The reality of the situation had finnally hit us, trying to pack anywhere between 500 and a thousand lbs of meat off that mountain with just two guys was just a little bit to crazy for even us to think it was a good idea. We needed a new game plan and we were running out of daylight so after a half hour or so of intentionally and unintentionally sliding on our rumps we hopped back on the sleds and headed back to the inn.
Over dinner and beers that night we discussed where we wanted to be the next morning. Jayme was adamant that the farther into the valley we pushed the better off we'd be. It made sense to us; the more remote things got the less trafic there would be and the more at ease the bison would be. The only problem with that idea was that we'd heard talk of an impassible river crossing and not being sled heads by any stretch of the imagination we we had no intention of trying to cross open water on our sleds. In our minds that river crossing was the end of the trail.
The next day found both my dad and I surly and anxious. Nothing felt right, we'd get to a promising meadow or find some sign, get off the sleds for a walk and 5 minutes later we'd be back on the sleds convinced that we needed to be somewhere else. The morning dragged on much the same with anxiety building with each stop and moment of indecision, until finnally we found ourselves at the river crossing we'd heard so much about. We walked out onto the ice to have a look and found the water to only be about a foot or two deep and about fifteen across. I looked across the water and saw that no snow machine had been to the other side since the last snowfall 4 days previous. I looked at my dad and knew we were both thinking the same thing. "We crossing that?" I asked him. "yup" came the determined reply and that was that. A few moments later it was like a switch had been flipped. Things just felt right. We were on the other side of the river making fresh tracks with our machines for the first time that trip and we knew, this is it, this is where we need to be.
From there the trail climbed up into the timber and away from the valley bottom until about 10 km later it decended into a simply vast meadow (we found it on google earth later it was about 1800 acres.)
http://www.flickr.com/photos/45868819@N05/4211324197/
follow this link to see the meadow as we first saw it.
We crossed the river again, this time over ice instead of open water and began to work our way up the side of the meadow stopping often to glass. I was in front and at one point and looked back to see my dad had stopped out of sight somewhere. Assuming that he had just stopped to glass I stopped and began to do the same a few minutes later I looked back to see him waving me back. I left my machine and walked back to him at which point he pointed out to bulls about 400 yrds away. The wind was in our favour and the snow was soft so we started stalking them. I don't know if our boots were making to much noise in the buck brush or if they just didn't like the way we looked but neither of those bulls wanted anything to do with us. We never got 300 yards from them.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/45868819@N05/4212088346/
There was a herd farther up the valley so we decided to try moving in on them. We didn't need to go far so we decided to leave the noisy 700 behind and double on the 500. As we neared the herd the trail took a very fortunate turn up into the timber away from the meadow and brought us to an excelent vantage point about 500 yards above them. We turned off the machine and slowly made our way down through a stand of poplars until we were between 250 and 300 yards away. From there we could see a small knoll right at the edge of the meadow with a small depresion between us and it. We crept through the depresion and inched to the top of the knoll. I couldn't have asked for a better set up. We were about 200 yards away from the bison who continued to graze completely unaware of our presence. I had a perfect tree-stump rest, my breathing had returned to normal and I had picked out my bull. The wind had stopped and the air was very still and quite. One of us must have shifted or somehow made some small noise because suddenly the herd grew uneasy. A few started to run and the bull I had picked got muddled up with a cow. I moved my crosshairs to another good sized bull I had looked at moments before and I had clear shot but just as I rested the crosshairs behind his shoulder he turned 180 degrees as if to bolt like the other bison, but then he paused. My heart began to pound and my hands grew unsteady. My crosshairs jumped sideways and skated around his head and shoulders. I knew I was running out of time and for a moment I thought I was going to miss my oppurtunity. but I took a deep breath, the crosshairs floated up to the top of his back i let it out and they drifted down to the boiler room and I squeezed off my shot. He ran about a hundred yards and then dropped. We drove the machine right to him and went to work.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/45868819@N05/4211329653/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/45868819@N05/4211330359/
This hunt was one of the best experiances of my life, we met some awsome people and saw some of the most beautiful country on earth. The halfway river valley is one of the most astounding places I've ever been and I can't wait to make a return visit.
-sasquatch91