This is my second installment in a short series of stories about elk hunting in Wyoming’s Gros Ventre Range with my friend, Tom. While it can be read as a stand-alone story, I think you’ll find it more enjoyable if you read this one first.
Tom and I had started our hunting trip with a very memorable morning, to say the least. We learned some valuable lessons about preparation for a 3-day hunt in this beautiful location. Though we’d got off to a late start, we’d set out with a positive attitude and were looking forward to a great day. The migration was underway, the fresh snow should make for great tracking, and the crisp air told us it wasn’t likely to melt, which would make the driving more challenging.
In case you’re wondering why the focus was on driving, rather than hunting on foot like real men, the answer is simple. Our campground at Crystal Creek was just off the highway, and it was far from walking distance to the prime cover for the elk as they migrated to their winter range on the National Refuge.
At this stage of our collective experience, Tom and I weren’t well-versed in hunting during the migration. Our strategy at the time was to find a spot with a reasonable view, then use our binoculars to scope out the trees and meadows we could see from that point. It’s actually very close to the best plan, as we’d learn later in that hunt. I’ll cover that in another “episode”.
My Cherokee Chief, aka my pride and joy, was well-equipped with Quadra-trac(r), new off-road tires and, as it happens, a band-new battery. My confidence in it was high, and I wasn’t disappointed with the way it performed in the snow.
It’s important to note here that were weren’t within the Wilderness boundary. That’s something you get to know and observe well in this area, if you respect the wildlife and value your hunting privileges. Driving off the trail roads is discouraged, and we had no intention of tearing up the landscape. Reading the roads was fairly easy, since the sage and other growth in the area is fairly tall.
It wasn’t long before we spotted an ideal vantage point, flat and level, about 2/3 of the way up a nice hill, with a trail road leading up to it. I stopped while we both looked it over, and when we agreed it looked good, I shifted down into 4L and up we went. I’d spent enough time driving the Red Desert Basin, where we lived and worked, to know the way to do it and that our ride was up to the challenge.
Slowly and steadily, we climbed. I loved the feel of the diagonally-oriented, limited-slip drive train as it “walked” up the road and out onto the vantage point.
I was just about to comment on what a great ride it had been when the “ground” gave way. The drop was substantial, but not enough to cause immediate panic. I opened my door to take a look and saw water lapping at the edges of the running boards. Yeah, you guessed it. Our vantage point turned out to be a large pond, and we’d broken through the surface ice.
It didn’t take long to figure out that neither the drive train nor the new tires were created with this kind of off-road adventure in mind. I tried forward, reverse, 4L and 4H, all to no avail. There was simply nothing underneath us to provide any traction. Fortunately, we didn’t seem to be sinking any deeper, at least not for the moment. Unfortunately, it looked like I’d be getting very wet before hiking down to find help. As the owner of the vehicle, that responsibility fell on me.
Sometimes the gods smile on fools. This was the second time on this trip that I felt the light of that smile on me. I’d been pondering the best way to slip out into that icy water when we heard a horn honking close by. A quick look over my shoulder revealed our salvation, in the form of a white, 4WD one-ton pickup, casually climbing the road we’d come up, with two young men waving and laughing. On the doors of the truck was a familiar logo and the name, “Goose Wing Ranch”.
The popular guest ranch borders the National Forest and sells high-end lodging and guided hunts for those who can afford it. Fortunately for us, the ownership and staff have that Wyoming spirit that I’ve known for so many years, and didn’t think twice about lending a hand to a less-fortunate hunter who’d managed to get himself in a serious bind. They had the tow strap attached and hauled us out of the water in no time, assuring us all the while that we weren’t the first. They’d had eyes on us as soon as they saw us heading for the base of the hill.
They also had the good will to assure us that the elk were still coming through, and point us in the direction of a likely spot to find them, before giving us both a hearty handshake and wishing us well. Then, they were off, on their way back to take care of their guests. I’m sure we were featured in the campfire stories that night.
Day 2 would continue with no success, however we could read the massive trails we found well enough to know that we weren’t far behind the herd. We made it back to camp safely and prepped for the upcoming final day. Surely our luck would take a turn for the better!
The adventure was far from over. Stay tuned for Part 3 of the saga, coming soon!
