Where the roads are paved in gold...

Pulling into the higher elevations, the two-tracks were lined with gold, could this be heaven? I've spent countless days throughout the Rocky Mountains and I've never seen such a vibrant display of aspen stands as what is found in the plateaus of south-central Utah. Just experiencing the millions shades of gold, salmon, and crimsons can make you feel like the richest person in the world.   

I have been ready for this hunt with my mom for a long time. It has been years since we've hunted together. She is a wonderful hunting partner that really appreciates the beauty of nature around every bend, plus she never wears out mentally, its not in her DNA. 

The location for this hunt was the Fishlake Mountains. I would be there with my mom and dad hunting for up to a week.  My mom had two muzzleloader tags, one for elk and one for deer. Funny thing is my mom has never hunted elk...nor deer...nor had she even held a muzzleloader before this year. But for those of you that don't know my mom, nothing can stop her. Not only did she learn to shoot the muzzleloader, but in one afternoon she learned all the parts of the rifle and was quickly loading the powder and ramming the bullet down the barrel on her own. 

My dad made reservations at a primitive cabin lakeside which made for a perfect retreat and place to call home temporarily! The muzzleloader season is typically right in the middle of the elk rut, but after only hearing one bugle on opening morning and knowing we were in several groups of elk, we knew the hunt might be a bit tougher than we hoped. My dad had to attend to business back home off and on so he worked in the day and met up with us in the evening. For the actual hunt, it was just me and my mom. My mom wasn't really phased by the fact that the elk weren't bugling as she snapped pictures of every leaf on the mountain. Quite honestly, I didn't really care that  the elk weren't real active either.

It was such a treat to spend hours hiking, driving, and talking with my mom during the day. I realized how blessed I was to get this time with my mom. How many men my age have the chance to have something in common and hang out with their mom for multiple days in a row? We got to talk about family, nature, work, and everything that we love. It was the first time I realized how much I have in common I have with my mom. The sun began hanging lower and lower on the western horizon. 

We were a bit surprised that we hadn't seen one elk all day. We felt  a bit of pressure to find some elk now that it was evening so we drove into a new drainage and began glassing the distant ridges. I spotted a blonde body of a young raghorn a long ways away. Then we spotted a lone cow. We called to her imitating another cow and she ran half a mile right to us as if on a string. I felt bad I made her run from so far away just to spook her back from where she came but was pleased to know my call had fooled her. 

We drove a bit further and parked on a saddle, and for the umpteenth time as the light was fading, I bugled. Our eyes lit up when a half mile away a bull responded with a bugle followed by a chuckle!

We gathered the muzzleloader and the call and took off as fast as we could racing light. My 64 year old mom is energetic, but as I turned around and saw her 20 paces behind. I felt bad motioning for her to hurry faster, "We need to pick it up if we're going to catch up to this bull!"  I knew she was giving it all she had. We were cutting the distance through a grove of aspen when I saw the edge of a clearing ahead. I just questioned whether we were getting close when the bull bugled from 100 yards away, most likely responding to the sound of our footsteps. We looked at each other and smiled.

We sat down in the opening. I'll admit to getting excited and a little buck fever, but I think I found somebody who gets it worse than I do! I was crouching on my knees and getting ready to give a cow call when mom patted my shoulder, "Mike, look right there!". I turned my head and at the edge of the aspen grove 80 yards away, a bull was feeding towards us. This was not the same bull we heard bugle in the trees, but by the way my mom was breathing and putting the rifle to her shoulder I could tell it was big enough for her!

That's when it happened. Like slapping a post-it note on a wet trout...my mom was useless. She fell apart right before my eyes. Buck fever had struck so hard she put the rifle on the wrong shoulder, then she was trying to look through the wrong eye. Then, she had a bad charlie horse in her leg, then the other leg which put her on her back momentarily................

The bull put it's head up and looked our direction probably wondering "What the...?". I grabbed mom by the shoulders "You aren't going to kill this bull like this, GET IT TOGETHER!!!!" My mom shouldered the rifle, found the bull. I noticed her thumb found it's way between the rifle hammer and the percussion cap so I removed it from harms way. "I can get it!" she barked back. She had that look, kinda like before she was going to give me a spankin' as a kid. The ignition of the muzzleloader sent sparks into the evening light. A cloud of smoke loomed like a veil between us and the bull. As it finally lifted, it was obvious that the bull was struck hard. it stumbled a few yards and bedded. 

The darkness had won...for now. We quietly grabbed our belongings and with heavy heart and a new shot of adrenaline, we decided to walk off the mountain without her bull. The plan was to go back to the cabin, discuss the events, tell dad the whole story, and try hard to not get sick of anxiety. We would wait 3 hours at the cabin and then head back up to the bull optimistically with meat bags, plenty of flashlights, and with plans to quarter the carcass and hang it for the night.

Waiting to head back on the mountain

The 3 hour wait was was a roller coaster...

10:30 we left the cabin and headed back to where she had shot the bull. I was excited to have both my mom and dad with me. I just hoped the outcome would be a positive experience for my mom. I told my parents to hold back for a moment and I'd take the strong light to where I'd last seen the bull. I never saw an eye shine reflecting back which meant it was either gone or dead...I approached closer and saw a tip of an antler above the sage brush. The bull had died 3 hours prior and suffered little. 

What an experience to be able to sit alongside the bull with both my mom and my dad. For me, it was a surreal moment where somehow I had connected my lifelong hunting passion that I've talked about since a child with the two people that had raised me and helped shape me into the man I am today. For some reason, I never thought I would stand alongside a bull with both my parents there.. 

Mom was ecstatic, relieved, and in awe that it really happened! On the first day! 

The elk were bugling all over now that it was dark. We disassembled the carcass one quarter at a time and hung them in a nearby tree. We finally rolled back to the cabin at 2:00 AM tired, bloody, and ready for some shut-eye. The next morning I hauled a quarter at a time off the mountain. Mom would've packed the front shoulders if I would've let her, but we compromised and she packed one of the back straps and helped take lower legs off of the quarters while I packed.

The morning temperatures were perfectly cool. It was a great ending to one of my favorite elk hunts of my lifetime.

My dad hauled the elk quarters down to the processor that morning while mom and I spent the rest of the day looking for bucks, as deer season opened the next morning. We also spent hours...and hours taking photos of  leaves. My mom would say "Okay, I think I have enough leaf pictures", then we'd go around the next bend. "Stop! Oh my gosh, look how pretty! the colors!" She'd take another 20 pictures or so, and we'd move on to the next patch of colors.

As the day turned into evening, we started finding a few bucks that needed to be a bit more cautious come morning. After another enjoyable evening with dad at the cabin, morning arrived and the deer muzzleloader hunters were at it in full force. Everywhere we had seen bucks prior to the opener, there was a vehicle parked...except for one spot. Two days earlier we spotted a beautiful 25" 4x4 on a far-off ridge while elk hunting. The area was tough to reach, but there the buck was again, along with a younger buck, in the same spot.

We decided to make the 2 mile uphill hike to get above it. We knew the buck would certainly be bedded up by the time we got there but we hoped we might peek over the ridge and find him in his bed unaware of our presence. It was a bit of a hike with steep, steep rock face and creek crossings. Mom is a trooper and when I would mention maybe this hike might be too much work for the small chance we have to be successful, she brushed off the idea of turning around and wanted to keep going.

We climbed and climbed until we were above where we had last seen the buck. Once we began our final sneak, the wind began to shift and hit our necks. What a letdown to come so far and then have the wind betray us so suddenly. I snapped my fingers in haste, signaling to my mom that we need to just step up and see if we can get a quick shot before the bucks' noses warn them of our presence. We approached quick, but it was too late, we watched as the younger buck stotted quickly straight off the right side of the mountain with a noseful of our scent.

I cocked my head back in disappointment looking at my mom to share in my "poor us" attitude. She wore a smile and said "That was a wonderful hike"...I was a bit taken back, again, by her positive demeanor. It made the 2 mile hike to the vehicle enjoyable as we stopped to look at elk rubs and trout swimming in the beaver ponds. It really was a wonderful hike. My mom wanted to hold out for a buck bigger than a yearling, but by the time she got back to the car, I think any buck was in trouble.

The evening before while we were scouting, we had stumbled upon a small herd of bucks. We decided for the evening we'd head their direction and see if we couldn't find them and make an ambush on one of them.

Mom's buck the evening prior

We were driving to get where we were going to park and make a quick hike when I noticed three bucks that had just fed out of the thick cover for the evening. We pulled over quickly and tried to come up with a game plan where we could close the distance and make a good shot. We knew it was a matter of time before another hunter would drive this road and possibly see the same bucks and attempt a stalk. Just then, another pick up came around the corner and slowed down.

"It's now or never, lets go Mom!" We loaded a primer in the muzzleloader and crept another 70 yards towards the bucks. The largest of the bucks had already made it back into the trees. We plopped on the ground and I ranged the last buck at 150 yards. "Aim just a little high!". Mom locked the butt of the rifle to her shoulder and quickly took aim like an army sniper. "I can get em" she whispered. The buck was motionless in alert posture quartering our direction.

The shot echoed on the canyon wall and the buck tore around the tree showing signs of being already dead on it's feet. "Did I miss?" she questioned breathing heavy. I was speechless realizing that my mom just killed a nice buck on opening day after taking her first bull on the opener. "You hit him perfect Mom".

We approached the dead buck and mom was so emotional. It was the culmination of the last three days. The scenery, being able to spend quality time together, the emotions that come with taking an animal's life, and the adrenaline made for one of my favorite moments in my lifetime.

The bullet entered into the front shoulder and came out behind the opposing shoulder. It was a perfect shot. The evening sun reflected off of the golden medallions clinging to the aspen limbs, and the weather was perfect. We sat next to the buck and recounted the last three days on the Fish Lake Mountains. I don't know how it could've ended any better. We made it back to the cabin and my mom was so proud to share each story with dad. Dad was pretty impressed for sure.

What I enjoyed most from this hunt was to be able to watch and learn from one of my biggest mentors and strongest people in my life. My mom, through example, once again reminded me that hard work, strength, and pure love can be exhibited no matter your age or size. My mom's knees and fingers were once stronger than they are now, but you would never know it nor would you ever hear her complain. When she sets her mind to something, it gets done. In my mind, she can do anything.

Thanks mom and dad for teaching life's greatest lessons to me again and again.