Growing up in Maine, I did not see an elk herd until I went to Richmond, VA on a business trip. The herd was started by a farmer and when he sold the property, with the herd included, to the federal government in 1941 he stipulated that the herd must be maintained and it is now known as the Bellwood elk herd. This is sad because at the time of the Jamestown settlement, elk were found throughout the United States. Giovanna da Verrazano (discoverer of Staten Island in New York) first recorded the discovery of elk in 1542 and up until the mid-1800s elk could be found in the forests of New York. However, for most Easterners it is only a dream to hunt the magnificent elk.

Fortunately for my 40th birthday, my wife let me satisfy a dream of mine by giving me a kitchen pass for an elk hunt. I started investigating outfitters almost two years prior to the hunt. Before calling outfitters I developed a list of criteria and read several elk hunting books so that I could ask intelligent questions. For instance, I wanted to hunt with a rifle and I wanted to hunt during the rut so that I could experience elk bugling. It was important that the hunt was free range and I did not want to rely on modern transportation to obtain my trophy. Since I was going by myself, I wanted to be guided one on one and I wanted a small camp feel. Since it was for my 40th birthday, I needed a guaranteed license and I wanted to hunt in the mountains.

As an avid fisherman and a history buff, there were several additional constraints. If possible, I wanted to fly fish and I hoped that the experience would provide a historical perspective that is unattainable on the standard tourist path. Little did I know that I would step back in time to 1847 and walk on the sacred ground traveled by the western legends of the Donner Party, the Pony Express and the Mormon Trail.

After talking with several outfitters I selected Big Mountain Outfitters, which is located an hour east of Salt Lake City. It is run by Mike Macfarlane, who is a descendant of the early settlers who established the Macfarlane ranch and the property is located on the path taken by the Donner Party during their ill-fated journey to California. It is also on the road initially created by Brigham Young and his cohort when they saw the Great Salt Lake for the first time and is now known as the Mormon Trail. Many historians say that if the Donner Party had made it through the stretch on which the ranch is located in four instead of six days we would not know their name since they would have made it to California before the snow storm occurred that stopped them in what became known as Donner Pass. Leading up to the hunt I read books on both the Donner Party and the making of the Mormon trail and I was reminded of an excerpt from one of the books that talked about the terrain and the mountain for which the outfit is named.

"After the eight miles they left the main creek bottom and began working up a side-canyon westwards. Here the ground rose steadily; the timber was larger; ahead was a discouragingly big mountain, a higher ridge than anything they had had to cross before. Putting through the road … took six days. And what a road it was that they hacked out!" Ordeal by Hunger: The Story of the Donner Party by George R. Stewart


On September 16th, 2004 I was on a plane at 36,000 feet above Utah heading west towards Salt Lake City. Leading up to the hunt I spent hours looking at maps and studying the terrain and as I looked down I couldn't help but get excited at seeing the terrain I would be hunting. Upon arriving at the airport, Mike was there to greet me as I came down the escalator to the luggage area. Within 15 minutes I was in his truck heading east and I started recognizing signs for places made memorable in the 2002 Olympics. As I took in the scenery, we turned off the highway onto a two lane road and within minutes Mike pointed out Big Mountain. The vista was incredible as we crossed the ridge and we stopped so I could take pictures. The hunt was the third week in September and the foliage was just starting to reach its potential. Because the outfitter is in the Utah Cooperative Wildlife Management Units (CWMUs), I was able to hunt during September with a rifle. The CWMU program is an effort to recognize the contribution made by private landowners in providing big game habitat on their private range lands. In return, a number of public hunters are allowed to hunt on these lands.

Leading up to the hunt I talked to Mike about what I should bring, the coordinates, and what conditions to expect. However, this was the first time I had met him and as we drove towards the camp I felt like I was talking to an old friend from high school. Mike is the kind of person you seek as a hunting partner. He is about six foot tall and with the build of a wrestler. He is soft spoken with a day's growth of beard and you can tell he lives for climbing up the side of a 9,000 foot mountain in search of bugling elk. Mike told me that the elk were in rut and although the weather was a little warm we should have no problem finding elk. These are the words that I had waited over two years to hear. As we turned off the highway and onto the Mormon trail we arrived at his family's ranch. The first thing you notice is the trout stream that runs through the property. It is the kind of stream that Easterners love to fish. Clear, fast, and cold. The next landmark is a cabin that has been restored to its 1862 structure when it served as the Bauchmann Pony Express station. It now served a similar purpose as the dining room for the hunters.

Since the hunt did not start until the next day I spent the afternoon catching 12-15 inch rainbow and brown trout on a fly rod in the spring fed pond near the Pony Express cabin and in the stream that extends through three miles of the property. As the sun set, I met the other hunters and guides in the camp and as darkness enveloped the mountains and meadows we were serenaded by elk bugling in the distance. The two hunters I shared my cabin with were in their 60s and were longtime friends and elk hunters from Ogden, Utah. Both were repeat customers who had harvested bulls the previous year and were back for another opportunity. They were the classic westerners that are humble and polite with a sense of humor and for which the world would be a better place if it had twice as many. As we went to sleep that night we were surrounded by the sounds of elk challenging each other and us to find them in the morning.

At O' dark thirty the next morning the camp was alive with five hunters and guides raring to go. Little did we know how stupendous the day would be for the camp. As Mike and I headed up the mountain we saw at least ten grouse explode out of their night time rest and as the first rays of dawn rose over the mountain we listened to several herds of elk bugling from different directions. Mike owns and leases 20,000 acres of adjacent land and since there were only five hunters in camp that week, it was a lot of acreage available to each hunter. The first herd we spotted was 700 yards away, but after seeing a 4X4 and a 5X5 we decided to look elsewhere. As we continued to glass for elk, Mike pointed out a Shiras moose cow and bull. I took notice when Mike said that it was a big bull since he guided a hunter in 2003 to the #4 ranked Utah Shiras moose. As we watched the moose transverse the ridge I was again reminded of another excerpt written by people in a different time describing the terrain I was glassing.

"Along the creek bottom it twisted and ducked and writhed; it was full of hairpin turns and crossed the creek almost twice to the mile. Two bad swamps gave variety. In the branch canyon the creek must be crossed several times more; the wagons had to be taken around side-hills and jolted over boulders and big stumps. It was horribly rough country." Ordeal by Hunger: The Story of the Donner Party by George R. Stewart

Since Mike has hunted on the ranch since he was a boy he knows a few honey holes and around nine he suggested that we should try one of his favorite spots. As we rode through the rough country mentioned above, I tried to keep track of which direction we were heading, but it was difficult due to the many canyons, ravines, and hills we traveled. However, thirty minutes later we stopped and Mike started to whisper. We walked to the crest of the hill and over the other side. It was then that I first experienced the true art of bugling. Most people use one of the many manufactured elk calls. Some create their own. Mike is one of the chosen few who have the experience and skill to use what God gave them to bugle. To my astonishment he started bugling without a call and to my even greater surprise a bull responded back. As the bull started tearing up the aspens on his way towards us I felt a moment of panic that it might be a grizzly or Sasquatch. Mike put his hand on my shoulder and said get ready. A minute later a 6X6 appeared out of thin air forty yards from me. As he filled my scope Mike whispered "too small". As my heart slowed down, we waited for the bull to vanish into the trees again. After I calmed down, Mike suggested we go back to camp for lunch. His primary concern was that since the temperature had risen into the 60's that the elk would be bedded down and it would be better to let them rest than to push them.

A short time later we arrived back in camp to find that one of my cabin mates had scored on a fine 6X6. As we shook hands and listened to the story we learned that they had spotted several bigger bulls in the same herd and that the herd was not spooked by the harvesting of one of its leaders. In fact, the elk continued to bugle around them as they field dressed the bull. With a glint in his eye, Mike said that he knew where we were going that afternoon. Since I had a few hours to kill, I grabbed my fly rod and headed for the stream. Three trout later I was ready to head back up the mountain.

Later that afternoon we located the herd. As we tested the wind, we went down the mountain to get down wind of the animals. The terrain was your classic aspen high mountain terrain; steep, white barked trees, cool wind, and beautiful. As we spent the next hour and a half moving in on the animals, Mike pointed out the tree from which he shot his first elk with a bow. This is what I had dreamed about. A stalk on a mature elk on a picture perfect day in a mountain setting that anybody would call majestic. As Mike kept placing locating calls to the herd, we gradually worked our way to a point where Mike estimated we were within 250 yards of the most vocal bull.

Leading up to the hunt we had discussed my experience hunting deer in the East and my lack of western hunting. After talking it over, I felt that my hunting experience would allow me to pick a shooting lane when the bull approached. Mike asked if I was comfortable being left alone while he went behind me and called the bull in. My primary concern was that since this was my first experience hunting elk, I might shoot a small bull since every bull looked big to me. He told me that unless I was positive, do not shoot.

I picked a spot next to a tree with a bush hiding me in the direction of the bull and set up with my shooting sticks. Mike moved behind me and started bugling. He would frequently change locations and often the type of call. The bull kept on bugling and became louder as he approached. As my adrenaline maxed out I spotted the bull as he crossed a little hill about 80 yards to my right. It was hard to see him through the thick brush, but as he came closer I was able to see one antler and I counted seven points. As my heart pounded and I debated what to do, he kept on coming closer. At thirty yards he was broadside to me in a shooting lane and I could see the other antler and tell that it was at least 5 points. As he made his last bugle I pulled the trigger. I was shocked to see him slide to the ground in slow motion. I never chambered the second round. As I stood up in awe, Mike started slapping me on the back saying "I was hoping you would shoot, that is a NICE bull, I was hoping you would shoot, that is a NICE bull". As we walked up to the bull, we realized that it was a 7X7 and my dream was fulfilled.

As we field dressed the 900 pound bull and worked our way towards camp, I was finally reminded of another quote from the stories about this area from an earlier era.

"The trail of July20th up the side of Big Mountain impressed Levi Jackman … as profoundly gloomy, "as thoug we were Shut up in a gulph," and it was so laborious that the company behind them temporarily abandoned there the cannon they had hauled 1,000 miles. Going down the other side was little if any easier, and the next day's hot switchback climb out of Mountain Dell and over Little Mountain into what Pratt called Last Creek (Emigration) Canyon, was as bad as anything yet." The Story of the Mormon Trail by Wallace Stegner

The rest of the trip was anticlimactic. I continued to fish and spent a great deal of time jogging on the Mormon trail and reading the historic markers. Several of the markers are on the ranch including one where Brigham Young slept the night before he saw the Great Salt Lake for the first time. In addition, there is an historic marker for the Donner party along the road although it is difficult to find. Finally, there are entrenchments across the road from the entrance where the Mormon Army established an outpost to fight the United States Army during the crisis of 1857-58 that led to Utah statehood. As I boarded my flight on the way home my only disappointment was that I did not get to hunt for a longer time and see more of the country. It was also difficult to prepare myself for 8 hour meetings and 21st century problems upon my return. However, that will give me a reason to come back….maybe for my 50th birthday.

The End

Barry and Mike

BACK