We set out early in the morning, walking at a slow, steady pace as a cold breeze swept through our hair. As we crested a hillside, Dad—who was leading the group—suddenly stopped. His face paled as he slowly turned his head to the left. In a hushed voice, he whispered the words we had been waiting to hear.
My father and my brother, Dallen, joined me on this year’s bull elk hunt. The weather was ideal—clear and sunny. After a three-hour drive, we arrived at our hunting location. Our strategy this year emphasized staying active and covering more ground, rotating through a variety of spots until we located more elk activity. We planned to combine driving with day hikes to maximize our opportunities.
The first area we revisited was one we had concentrated on heavily the previous year. Dad and Dallen had come close to harvesting a bull elk there, but unfortunate timing worked against them. After they left their position in a meadow, other hunters inadvertently pushed several elk into the very spot they had been watching. It was also the location of a lighter moment from last season, when Dad and Dallen amusingly spotted several cow elk immediately after parking the Jeep—while they were still sitting inside.
We arrived at the site the night before, set up our tent, and began hunting at first light. After spending the entire morning in the area without seeing any signs of elk, we decided to move on.
(Dad and Dallen are glassing.)
Our next destination was an area approximately thirty minutes away—one my father and I had intended to explore the previous year after bumping elk in that direction. The location appeared promising, especially since another hunter was already parked there in a blue Jeep. As we prepared our packs, we spoke with the Jeep’s owner, who had just returned from a day hike. We had an engaging conversation, and he mentioned that he had seen a few cow elk in the area.
We hunted there for several hours, observing multiple signs of elk activity as we crossed open meadows, occasionally stopping to rest and glass the landscape. By nightfall, when we returned to our Jeep, we noticed that both the hunter and the blue Jeep were gone. An ATV was parked nearby. After some discussion, we decided it would be wise to continue with our plan of staying mobile and exploring additional locations.
Our next intended hunting area included several lakes where we could fish along the way. That evening, we played a card game—Rummy—before turning in for the night. The following morning, we brought both our fly-fishing and spinning rods, stopping to fish at a couple of lakes as we hiked. Although elk sign was limited, we did notice some tracks around the lakeshores.
(Dad tying on a fly.)
The first lake we stopped at contained a few small brook trout near the shoreline; however, we suspected the fish population was minimal. We fished for approximately an hour without a single bite before deciding to move on. Our route back to the Jeep led us through a challenging stretch of dense deadfall, but we eventually navigated our way through it. Despite having OnX maps for guidance, we still veered slightly off course and missed one additional lake we had intended to fish.
We then relocated to a new area where we could hunt for several hours before dark. This spot showed the freshest sign we had encountered during the entire trip. Before nightfall, we positioned ourselves to overlook a large meadow and quickly agreed that we wanted to focus heavily on this area over the next couple of days. The terrain featured numerous openings interspersed with quaking aspens—ideal travel corridors for elk and excellent vantage points for spotting them.
The following morning, shortly after we began hiking and rounded a bend in the trail, Dad abruptly stopped and did a double-take. “There’s an elk,” he whispered. Sure enough, a cow elk stood downhill to our left. As we watched her, we scanned the hillside to see whether she was accompanied by others. Unfortunately, a large tree obstructed much of our view. I quietly moved to the right to improve my angle and spotted two additional cows, both bedded down on the slope.
(Dallen and I are traveling through deadfall.)
Unfortunately, shortly after I spotted the other cows, they—and the rest of the herd—rose about thirty yards away and began running directly away from us. There were approximately ten elk in total, most of them cows, though the last animal appeared to be a small spike. We were not comfortable taking a shot, as they were moving straight away from us.
We had not anticipated finding that many elk bedded on the hillside directly in front of us. Remarkably, they were only about two hundred yards from where we had set up our tent the previous night. Upon reflecting on the encounter, we realized we needed to react more quickly and should have crested the hill with our muzzleloaders ready.
(Us hunting)
For the remainder of the hunt, we stayed within the same general area. During that time, Dallen found a shed antler paddle from a bull moose, though we did not encounter any additional elk. We observed numerous grouse and rabbits; however, it was one of the first occasions we had not seen a moose in the Uintas.
This trip reinforced a valuable lesson: always carefully glass the hillsides for bedded elk. Despite their size, elk are remarkably skilled at blending into their surroundings and can hide in plain sight.
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