WOW.
What a ride.
It started with my son drawing a great youth tag for a New Mexico muzzleloader elk hunt.
I've hunted most all western states but I had never been to New Mexico before.
Little was I to know what events were about to unfold.
After hunting our local blacktail deer steadily since early July through the end of September our eyes and legs were finley tuned for the fall hunts ahead.
We drove for about sixteen hours from our home in northern California and arrived a couple of days early to acclimate to the area.
We had a list of about five areas that we had high hopes for and a couple of priorities for Saturday's opener.
On thursday morning I was organizing gear in the back of the pickup when Thomas had the bug to get up the mountain and do some glassing in hopes of finding a good bull.
I told him to go ahead and I'd meet him on the knob in a while.
Well, about 45 minutes go by and I hear rocks rolling in my direction as Thomas comes scrambling down the hill with a panicked look on his face.
"Grab your binoculars and get up here RIGHT NOW!", he says to me.
I knew something BIG was going on due to his tone of voice.
"You're not going to believe this", he says to me...
I get into position behind a cedar, crouch down and take my first look through the spotting scope.
Up on the opposite face there he is.
A bull of several lifetimes.
A super massive 8x6 with inlines, points as long as my arms and incredible whale tails.
I am blown away and we both are nearly trembling with excitement.
Here is a look through the spotter....
We continued looking at the giant and his harem of cows for several hours before sneaking back out.
We would be hot on this bull opening morning.
Simply unbelievable.
We had a day and a half to wait till opening day and the wait was killing us, time drug on so slowly we couldn't stand it.
Friday evening we snuck back to the lookout and found the giant again, bugling, rutting and controlling the smaller satellite bulls, he was the King of the mountain.
Opening morning we rose early with a nervous pit in our stomach's knowing what lay ahead.
I brewed a quick pot of coffee, we slurped it down , donned our packs and off we went.
We raced up the ridge to "our" lookout.
Thomas gets there first, looks back at me as I approach and our hearts just sink.
A guide is sitting on the very rock that Thomas first glassed the bull from.
He has his binoculars in one hand and a radio in the other.
The local guide team have the bull pegged and have spotters and blockers on every vantage point.
We were completely outgunned.
Heartsick, we tell the guide that we will skirt the outside perimeter in case the bull buggers and squirts over the saddle.
Inside I knew we were simply screwed.
We scrambled down the wash and up over the mountain to the saddle.
I thought I heard a muffled shot, but continued on.
We reach the saddle to see cows and several smaller bulls leaving the area.
As we crest the ridge a quick look through my glasses told the story.
I saw a guide and a young hunter standing over the giant bull about six hundred yards away.
UGGGGGGGGgg.
Well, we realized that we were lucky to be here at all, so we congratulated the young hunter and guide.
We shook their hands and left to find another bull with the wind out of our sails.
We found a 310 6x6 in a draw with a herd of cows.
Thomas looked him over, but after looking at the giant this bull seemed really insignificant.
As he tried to get closer for a better look, I watched from across the canyon.
Just as he got to the rocky knob overlooking the bull, the wind shifted and the elk poured over the top of the mountain.
We hiked out of the draw, up over the mountain and took a minute to glass the gut pile of the giant, both still in shock as to "what if?" and the usual coulda, shoulda & woulda's.
We got back to the truck exhausted.
We regrouped, loaded up and left the area.
We talked over another strategy.
We decided to hunt the other side of the mountain range, working on a tip of another big bull.
We lost some time as we had to refuel the truck, and grab a bite to eat.
We headed off and I filled my role as navigator.
We lost that evening's hunt and awoke in the new area early the next day.
I got the coffee on and we struck out for the new canyon with new promise and renewed hope.
At about 7am, I park the truck, we get out and start the new day's hunt.
We don't get twenty yards away from the truck and Thomas yells out....."DAD!"
He's holding up something with a real concern in his voice.
I walk over and in disbelief look at his find.
Wow!
That don't happen every day!
We agreed to take the handgun to the local Sheriff on the way out as it was the right thing to do.