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They say that anticipation is half the fun when waiting for something. Well that is what I have been going thru for the last 2 years. It all started on our first hunting trip with Big Mountain Outfitters 2 years earlier. It was my first guided elk hunt. I finally got to see what my Dad had been talking about for so long. That is something that I will never forget, I got to see first hand elk bugling and singing in the mountains. That hunt ended, bagging a nice 5X5 and the anticipation of coming back in 2 years. It seemed that whenever my Dad and I were talking about something we would always end talking about our elk hunt. My Dad's love for the mountains had rubbed off on me. The last couple of months before our trip it seemed my Dad would call Mike once a week. I am glad Mike shares his enthusiasm or he would think my Dad was a pest. The first morning of our hunt was a continuation of our last trip. We got right in on them. We had 5 bulls all with-in 100 yards of us. Mike called a nice 6X5 twenty yards from us!! Wow, I was just shaking. Mike put his hand on my shoulder telling me to relax; we will get a bigger one. The afternoon we spent on top of the mountain glassing and listening to elk. We ended up on one side of a canyon watching a group of 18 cows and a big bull. We never got a chance at the big guy it got too dark. We would have to wait for the next morning. Oh the anticipation. It took us over an hour and quite a ride to get to the top of the mountain that morning. Only on our way down could we see the unbelievable sites we had missed on our way up. On top it was a beautiful morning, I will not forget Mike telling us to look at the sunrise and see the beauty. We sat and listened for a little way deciding which bull we would go after, that was short lived when Mike said with a smile, which one we are going after. Off we went going up and down hills I never thought a human could travel. We got on one side of a huge canyon and were working the big bull with some cow calls and some bugling. On the bottom a couple hundred yards away was a nice 5X5 working a tree. Mike just looked at me and said we were getting closer. My Dad was the first to spot him coming over the ridge thru some heavy timber. He was making a move along the side of the canyon to our left. Mike just grabbed me and said we have to get down there. We took off running done the canyon stopping every now and then to cow call. We got down to the bottom before he did, army crawling the last couple of yards before stopping at a wallow. I used a downed aspen for a rifle rest and cover. We did not have to wait long, there he was just a bugling like all get out. Mike said shoot Scott shoot, it was to thick I had to pick my spot. 40 yards was all that was between us when he turned and gave me a broadside shot. The 300-weatherby magnum did its job, the big bull went only another 30 yards before expiring. The celebration would soon begin. He was a nice big 7X6. My Dad and Bob came running down the hill. Big smiles were on everybody’s faces. Picture taking, high fives, and hugs, these are the times you would never forget. I asked Mike where we were and he said, " We are at Scott's Wallow." Mike and my dad both green scored the bull. My dad has never given me a real answer to how high it really scores. He has always said it’s not the size of the animal that makes the hunt, but the hunt itself and who you are with. I guess I scored big on both accounts.
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