Bugles, Bulls, and Tag Soup

Six Days of Adventure in Utah's Manti Mountains

October 2–7, 2026 | Manti-La Sal National Forest, Utah

There's an old saying that the worst day hunting is better than the best day working. After spending six days chasing elk through Utah's beautiful Manti Mountains, I'm convinced there's some truth to that.

Although, by Wednesday evening, when I was dragging my exhausted body up a mountainside in the dark, I might have entertained a spirited debate on the subject. LOL.

This year's elk hunt was an adventure I won't soon forget. My nearly 16-year-old son, Jarom, and I spent months preparing, scouting, hiking, buying gear, studying maps, and dreaming about filling our tags. We were joined during the hunt by two of my closest cousins, Ryan and Cam, which made the experience even better.

We saw dozens of elk, watched magnificent mature bulls gather their harems, listened to more bugles than I could possibly count, encountered some remarkable mule deer, and enjoyed some of the most beautiful fall scenery I've ever experienced.

We also hiked nearly 28 miles, climbed thousands of feet, and discovered that being surrounded by elk doesn't necessarily mean you're going to bring one home.

In fact, after six days of hunting, Jarom and I had exactly the same number of elk in our freezers as when we started.

Zero.

That's right. We came home with a generous helping of tag soup.

But what an incredible adventure it was!

The Challenge: Spike-Only Elk

Before getting into the story, a little background is probably helpful.

Jarom and I both had Utah spike-only bull elk tags for the Manti hunting unit. That meant we could legally harvest a bull with unbranched spike antlers, but not a mature bull with a magnificent rack, nor any cow or otherwise antlerless elk.

It sounds simple enough, right?

Find elk. Find a spike. Harvest said spike.

As it turns out, that middle step is considerably more difficult than I anticipated.

We would spend the next six days seeing beautiful 5x5 and 6x6 bulls, large herds of cows, calves, and just about every kind of elk imaginable. The one animal we actually had permission to harvest would prove frustratingly elusive.

I never imagined I would spend so much time looking through my rifle scope at beautiful elk I wasn't allowed to shoot!

Friday, October 2: Into the Wilderness

Our adventure began Friday morning when Jarom and I headed into the mountains west of Scofield Reservoir.

We had spent considerable time scouting different areas of the Manti Unit over the preceding months. We'd hiked around Duncan Mountain, explored the Upper Fish Creek country, studied terrain maps, and tried to figure out where the elk might be hanging out once the rifle hunt began.

We ultimately settled on an area near Johnson's Ridge.

Our plan was to park my truck and camper near the trailhead, load our backpacks with everything we'd need for a few nights, and hike into the backcountry to establish our spike camp.

The idea was simple: get away from the roads and motorized access, put ourselves closer to the elk, and hopefully be in a prime location when shooting light arrived Saturday morning.

At least, that was the theory.

We loaded up our backpacks with the tent, sleeping gear, food, water, rifles, ammunition, optics, and all the other necessities of backcountry hunting.

I have no idea what those packs actually weighed because we never put them on a scale.

But I can tell you with absolute certainty that they weighed approximately one million pounds apiece.

Or at least that's what they felt like.

Making matters worse, Jarom had come down with a pretty nasty cold. He wasn't feeling well at all, and hiking through the mountains with a heavy backpack was about the last thing his body needed.

I tried to carry as much of the weight as I reasonably could to make things easier for him.

Our initial hike into spike camp was approximately 2.6 miles, with about 600 feet of elevation loss. The surrounding country was spectacular. The aspens had turned brilliant shades of yellow, orange, and gold, contrasting beautifully with the dark green pines and firs.

Utah in early October is something else.

Eventually, we found a beautiful spot nestled among the aspens and evergreens and set up our backpacking tent.

We had arrived.

Our little backcountry hunting camp was officially established, and we couldn't have been more excited.

Little did we know our first real adventure was about to begin.

The 5x5 Bull and the World's Most Unnecessary Water Expedition

After getting camp situated, we decided to do a little scouting and glassing while replenishing our water supplies.

We hadn't carried enough water to last through the following day. Water is heavy, and with everything else already loaded into our packs, we'd planned to filter water from a nearby spring.

That seemed like a reasonable plan.

Until we encountered the landlord.

As we approached the spring, we were stopped in our tracks by a magnificent 5x5 bull elk standing roughly 30 yards away.

Thirty yards!

He was absolutely beautiful.

The big bull was feeding and bugling, apparently having quite the conversation with another bull somewhere nearby. Every time our bull let out a bugle, the unseen bull answered.

Jarom and I stood there watching in amazement.

We were supposed to be getting drinking water, but instead we were practically sitting in the middle of an elk documentary.

It was one of those moments you dream about as a hunter. A huge, beautiful animal, completely unaware of, or at least unconcerned by, our presence, going about his business in the wild.

We watched him for several minutes and even managed to take a little video (which unfortunately doesn't do the event justice).

Then came our first questionable decision of the hunt.

We knew other hunters might have limited-entry tags allowing them to harvest a mature bull. What if somebody had been scouting this particular animal all summer? We didn't want to push him out of the area just so we could walk through and fill our water containers.

So we decided to leave him alone and find another water source.

Noble, right?

Well, sometimes being noble is downright exhausting.

Our alternate water source required another 2.4 miles of hiking, with approximately 735 feet of elevation gain and 614 feet of elevation loss.

Remember, this was after we'd already backpacked 2.6 miles into camp.

And remember that Jarom was sick.

And remember that I'm not exactly a mountain goat.

By the time we reached the water, filtered it, treated another eight liters with chlorine tablets, and hauled ourselves back to camp, it was after 10 p.m.

We were absolutely exhausted.

All because we didn't want to bother a bull elk who probably couldn't have cared less about us.

Looking back, I can confidently say we should have just walked past the darn bull and gotten our water!

Hindsight is 20/20.

At least the water tasted fantastic.

Friday Night: Sleeping on "The X"

If Friday's water adventure was exhausting, Friday night was something altogether different.

As darkness settled over our little tent camp, the mountains came alive.

Bull elk were bugling everywhere.

And I mean EVERYWHERE.

There were bulls above us, below us, across the drainage, and apparently wandering around practically on top of our tent.

We could literally hear elk walking just outside.

Every few minutes another bull would let loose with a powerful bugle, only to have another answer somewhere nearby.

It was unbelievable.

We had somehow managed to pitch our tent right in the middle of the action.

As hunters like to say, we were on "the X."

I couldn't believe our luck.

Of course, being so close to those enormous animals in the middle of the night was also a little unsettling. I kept imagining one of them deciding that the most convenient route through the forest happened to be directly through our tent.

I could just picture a thousand-pound elk stepping on me while I was zipped into my sleeping bag.

Needless to say, I did not sleep a single minute.

Between the excitement of opening morning, the constant bugling, and the sounds of elk moving through the darkness, sleep was simply not happening.

Jarom, on the other hand, had absolutely no such difficulty.

That kid was exhausted.

He snored away for most of the night, occasionally waking up between snoring sessions to acknowledge another bugling bull.

Then he'd go right back to sleep.

Meanwhile, I was lying there wide awake, grinning like a little kid on Christmas Eve and wondering whether an elk was about to climb into bed with us.

It was one of the most memorable nights I've ever spent in the mountains.

And the hunt hadn't even officially started.

Saturday, October 3: Opening Morning Chaos

When morning finally arrived, I was ready.

Jarom and I got dressed as quietly as possible, gathered our equipment, and stepped outside into the cool mountain air.

The bulls were still bugling all around us.

We could hear so many that we genuinely didn't know which direction to go first.

Imagine that problem!

We were in elk heaven.

Unfortunately, we were also about to receive our first serious lesson in elk hunting.

We decided to pursue the closest bugle.

That meant crossing a meadow and cresting a small rise.

As we came over the hump, everything happened at once.

A group of elk consisting of cows, spikes, and a mature bull spotted us before we spotted them.

And just like that, they were gone.

Elk exploded through the trees, stampeding away from us and toward another part of the drainage.

A rookie mistake.

We had walked right into their line of sight instead of taking a more careful approach.

What happened next was almost comical.

Within moments, rifle shots started echoing through the drainage.

Then more shots.

And more.

It sounded like a war zone!

Apparently, our little elk-driving operation had sent the herd directly toward a bunch of other hunters.

You're welcome, fellas!

I have no idea how many elk were actually harvested that morning, but judging by the shooting, I suspect our mistake made several other hunters very happy.

Jarom and I just looked at each other and realized we'd learned a valuable lesson.

Finding the elk is only part of the equation. Approaching them without being detected is another matter entirely.

That particular lesson came courtesy of a large herd of elk and approximately half the hunters in central Utah.

Where Did All These People Come From?

One thing that absolutely amazed us opening morning was the number of hunters.

I had expected some competition, of course. This was a general-season spike hunt on public land.

But I wasn't prepared for the sheer number of people.

There had to be at least 100 hunters in our drainage, possibly more.

There were other backpack hunters with tents, people hiking in during the wee hours of the morning, hunters on horseback, and blaze-orange clothing seemingly everywhere we looked.

The solitude we'd enjoyed Friday afternoon had disappeared overnight.

We quickly realized that if we wanted to get away from the pressure, we probably needed to hike farther into the backcountry.

Still, the morning was incredible.

We saw numerous elk throughout the day. My rough count was at least 20, including bulls, cows, and calves.

Unfortunately, we never managed to get another legal spike into a position where we could take a shot.

We did, however, have some amazing wildlife encounters.

The Mule Deer Were Putting on a Show

Although elk were obviously our primary target, the mule deer provided some of the most memorable moments of the hunt.

We saw several impressive mature bucks.

At one point, a beautiful buck that I believe was a large 4-point took off running when he spotted me.

Another enormous four-point buck, sporting an exceptionally wide rack, walked to within approximately ten yards of me.

Ten yards!

I stood absolutely motionless, trying not to do anything that might spook him.

Naturally, I wanted a picture.

So I slowly began reaching for my phone.

Unfortunately, my brilliant photography plan wasn't quite fast enough. Before I could get the camera ready, the buck decided he'd had enough of our little encounter and took off.

No photograph.

Just a memory.

But what a memory!

We also witnessed two mature mule deer bucks battling with their antlers locked together.

That was one of Jarom's favorite experiences of the entire trip.

Watching two powerful bucks fighting in their natural environment was something neither of us will soon forget.

It's funny how hunting works. Sometimes the most remarkable things you see have absolutely nothing to do with the animal you're pursuing.

And those moments can be just as rewarding as filling a tag.

Sunday, October 4: A Day of Rest, Family, and Civilization

Sunday was our planned day away from hunting.

After the excitement and exhaustion of Friday and Saturday, a little recovery sounded pretty good.

Jarom and I hiked approximately 3.2 miles back out from our spike camp, climbing about 600 feet in the process.

We then made our way over to visit my cousins, Ryan and Cam, who had arrived late Friday.

Ryan and Cam had established their camp a couple of miles from our base camp and were using ATVs to access different areas for glassing and hunting.

Unlike Jarom and me, who had apparently decided to reenact a wilderness survival documentary, these two had brought a trailer and enough comforts to make the experience downright luxurious.

And Ryan?

That man knows how to camp!

We spent Sunday enjoying each other's company, talking about what we'd seen, sharing stories, and simply appreciating being together in such a beautiful place.

We also spent some time glassing the surrounding hillsides and watching elk.

At one point, Jarom and I watched another hunter successfully harvest an elk not far from our spike camp.

There were still bugles echoing through the mountains, and the excitement of the hunt was never very far away.

But Sunday wasn't really about filling tags.

It was about family.

And after some of the punishment we'd inflicted on ourselves during the previous two days, I have to admit that sitting around visiting with my cousins sounded pretty darn wonderful.

Monday, October 5: The Ritz-Carlton of Elk Camps

Monday morning's hunt was relatively uneventful.

After spending time hunting with Ryan and Cam, Jarom and I still had one significant chore remaining.

We needed to retrieve our spike camp.

That meant hiking back into the wilderness, taking down our tent, packing up everything we'd hauled in on Friday, and carrying it all back out to my camper.

Our hiking activity for the day included a 1.2-mile outing with 544 feet of elevation loss, followed by another 7.5 miles of hiking associated with retrieving our backcountry camp.

That longer effort included approximately 1,328 feet of climbing and 947 feet of descending.

All told, Monday involved roughly 8.7 miles on foot.

By the time we finished, I was seriously questioning whether backpack hunting was an activity best left to people considerably younger and fitter than me.

Remember those million-pound backpacks?

Well, they hadn't gotten any lighter.

The one redeeming feature of the day was knowing that we would soon be enjoying the company of Ryan and Cam again.

And, more importantly, Ryan's cooking!

The contrast between our original spike camp and my cousins' camp was almost laughable.

At spike camp, we'd been filtering water, eating backpacking food, and lying awake listening to elk outside our tent.

At Ryan's camp, we were treated to meals that would have made a five-star hunting lodge jealous.

Breakfast hash.

Eggs.

Sausage.

Oatmeal.

Hot cocoa.

Chili dogs for dinner.

Cinnamon rolls for dessert.

And on another evening, the man somehow produced ice cream cookie sandwiches!

ICE CREAM COOKIE SANDWICHES!

In elk camp!

Here we'd been congratulating ourselves for surviving our backcountry adventure, while Ryan was practically running a wilderness resort.

Suffice it to say, I developed a renewed appreciation for my camper, a comfortable chair, good food, and family who know how to camp in style.

The Bull That Might Have Been

Monday evening brought one of the most exciting and frustrating moments of the entire hunt.

Cam and I were meticulously glassing a distant hillside, searching for elk.

We decided to drop a couple hundred feet in elevation to improve our viewing angle and get a better look at the terrain.

That's when Cam spotted a group of elk.

We started examining them closely.

Then suddenly Cam called out that one of them was a spike!

My heart practically jumped out of my chest.

Finally!

After all the hiking, scouting, and watching mature bulls we couldn't shoot, we might actually have a legal elk in front of us.

There was just one problem.

My rifle was back up the hill near Cam's ATV.

So I took off running.

And when I say running, I mean running with every ounce of excitement and energy I could muster.

Unfortunately, my cardiovascular system had other ideas.

About halfway uphill, I completely ran out of breath.

I was gasping for air, exhausted and excited at the same time.

For a brief moment, I wasn't sure whether I was going to make it to the ATV or simply collapse into a heap on the mountainside.

But adrenaline is a wonderful thing.

I finally reached the ATV, grabbed my rifle, and hurried back down the hill.

I got the rifle positioned, found the elk through my scope, and settled my crosshairs directly on the animal's vitals.

The range was approximately 615 yards.

I was confident in my rifle and my ability to make the shot under those conditions.

Everything seemed to be coming together.

Except for one very important detail.

We couldn't positively identify the bull as a legal spike.

Cam and I studied the animal through our binoculars and rifle scopes for what felt like an eternity.

Was that a single unbranched antler?

Was there another point?

Was it actually a young branched bull?

We couldn't tell.

And no matter how badly I wanted to fill my tag, I wasn't about to take a shot at an animal I couldn't positively identify.

So I didn't shoot.

Aaargh!

I cannot adequately describe how frustrating that was.

We had spent so much time and effort trying to put ourselves in exactly that situation, and when the opportunity finally appeared, we couldn't confirm whether it was legal.

But that's hunting.

Sometimes the right decision is not pulling the trigger.

And as disappointed as I was, I knew we'd made the correct choice.

At least we had a plan for Tuesday morning.

We would return to the same area, find that herd again, and hopefully identify a spike at a better angle or closer distance.

Surely our luck was about to change.

Right?

Tuesday, October 6: Magnificent Bulls and Farewell to the Crew

Tuesday morning, we returned to the area where we'd spotted the mysterious elk the previous evening.

We were excited and hopeful.

Unfortunately, the herd had apparently decided to relocate overnight.

The only elk we found in the same area were a cow and her calf.

So much for that plan.

But in an adjacent drainage, we spotted another herd.

This one consisted of 13 elk, including a magnificent 6x6 bull.

What an incredible animal!

We spent at least an hour watching him and the rest of the herd through our optics.

The bull was absolutely beautiful, with a massive set of antlers and the unmistakable presence of a mature herd bull.

I could have watched him all morning.

Eventually, the herd moved out of sight, and our morning hunt came to an end.

Later that day, Jarom, Ryan, and Cam packed up and headed home.

Jarom had missed several days of school, and Anna understandably wanted him back home before he fell too far behind.

He was also still dealing with his cold.

But I have to say how proud I was of that kid.

Despite feeling miserable at times and struggling through some physically demanding hikes, he never complained.

Not once.

He maintained a positive attitude, enjoyed the adventure, and kept pushing forward.

As his dad, that meant a lot to me.

When he eventually got home, he told his mom that he wished he were still out hunting with me.

I don't know that there was anything he could have said that would have made me happier.

What a great kid.

And what an incredible experience to share with him.

Going Solo

With the rest of the crew headed home, I decided to stay another night and continue hunting.

I still had an unfilled tag, and I wasn't quite ready to call it quits.

That evening, I headed into another area to see what I could find.

And what an evening it turned out to be!

I spotted a magnificent mature 6x6 bull working a group of six cows.

He was actively moving them around, keeping the herd together and behaving exactly as you'd expect a dominant bull to behave during the rut.

I carefully worked my way closer.

Eventually, I was approximately 280 yards from the group.

There they were.

A beautiful mature bull and six cows.

All within easy rifle range.

I could have harvested any one of them had I possessed the appropriate tag.

But I didn't.

Once again, I found myself watching an incredible group of elk through my optics without a legal animal to pursue.

I had to laugh.

This was becoming a recurring theme.

Apparently, I had become exceptionally talented at finding elk I wasn't allowed to shoot!

Nevertheless, watching that big bull and his cows was an unforgettable experience.

I made mental notes about the location and decided to return the following morning.

Wednesday, October 7: One Last Day in Elk Paradise

Wednesday would turn out to be my final day of hunting.

I didn't know that for certain when I started, but I was determined to make the most of it.

I headed back into the same country where I'd watched the 6x6 bull the previous evening.

My morning hike was approximately 1.4 miles, with nearly 400 feet of elevation loss.

As the first light of dawn began illuminating the mountains, I found myself witnessing one of the most remarkable scenes of the entire trip.

There, roughly 200 yards away, was a magnificent mature 6x6 bull.

And he was bugling.

Loudly.

I could hear every powerful call as he worked to gather his cows.

It was incredible.

As the sun began coming up, the big bull was actively calling and pushing his herd toward the safety of the timber.

I sat there watching, absolutely captivated.

Seeing a mature bull elk in the wild is one thing.

Watching one at close range during the rut, hearing his bugles echo across the drainage, and observing him communicate with and manage his herd is something altogether different.

It was absolutely fascinating.

And it got even better.

About 500 yards farther west, I spotted another large bull doing essentially the same thing with a group of approximately nine cows and calves.

Two magnificent herd bulls, each working to gather their animals as the morning unfolded.

I felt like I had a front-row seat to one of nature's greatest performances.

At another point that morning, four lone cows crossed a stream within roughly 200 yards of my position during legal shooting hours.

Again, I had elk practically everywhere I looked.

And again, none of them was a legal spike.

But as I sat there watching those magnificent animals, I couldn't help feeling grateful.

How many people get to experience something like that?

How many people get to sit on a mountainside at sunrise, surrounded by golden aspens, listening to a huge bull elk bugle from only 200 yards away?

It was one of those moments when filling a tag almost seemed secondary.

Almost.

I still would have been pretty happy to find a spike, though!

The Million-Dollar View and a Well-Earned Nap

By Wednesday afternoon, the cumulative effects of the hunt were definitely catching up with me.

I'd spent days hiking, climbing, descending, bushwhacking, carrying gear, glassing, and chasing elk.

My legs were tired.

My body was tired.

Even my tired was tired.

I had established a comfortable little hunting position beneath my tarp, overlooking a beautiful drainage filled with golden aspens, dark evergreens, and open meadows.

The view was spectacular.

Honestly, it looked like something straight out of a painting.

And with the elk activity slowing during the middle of the day, I decided it was time to take advantage of one of the finer luxuries of backcountry hunting.

An afternoon nap.

I stretched out beneath the tarp, used my gear to get comfortable, pulled my blaze-orange hat down over my eyes, and enjoyed a little rest.

There I was, miles into the Utah mountains, surrounded by some of the most beautiful country imaginable, sound asleep beneath a tarp.

Not exactly the heroic elk-hunting image I'd envisioned when I started planning this adventure.

But I'll tell you what.

It was wonderful.

Sometimes the best thing a hunter can do is stop hunting for a little while and enjoy where he is.

Besides, after nearly six days of hiking, I figured I'd earned it.

Wednesday Evening: The Hike That Almost Killed Me

For the evening hunt, I decided to relocate my setup and try another area.

That involved an additional hike of approximately nine-tenths of a mile, with another 300 feet of elevation loss.

I was hoping to catch a spike moving through the drainage as the day came to an end.

Unfortunately, the elk weren't particularly cooperative.

I heard a few distant bugles and spotted a cow off in the distance, but never located a legal spike.

The highlight of the evening was watching a mature mule deer buck feeding in front of me for more than an hour.

What a beautiful animal!

I sat there enjoying the encounter and soaking in the last light of another gorgeous autumn day.

Eventually, shooting light faded, and it was time to head back to camp.

And that's when the real punishment began.

My hike back to the camper was approximately 1.8 miles, with about 700 feet of elevation gain.

Nearly half of the route involved bushwhacking through thick forest.

In the dark.

After six days of mountain hunting.

On legs that had already submitted their formal resignation.

To say I was exhausted would be a tremendous understatement.

I was physically and mentally spent.

Every uphill stretch seemed longer than the last.

Every patch of timber seemed thicker.

And every time I thought I was getting close to camp, the mountain apparently decided I needed just a little more character building exercise.

I finally made it back to my camper completely worn out.

And then a rather disturbing thought occurred to me.

What if I'd actually harvested an elk that evening?

Think about it.

I would have had to field dress the animal, quarter it, and then start hauling meat back to camp.

Given the distance, terrain, and weight involved, I figured I might have needed four additional trips to pack everything out.

Four more trips!

Up that same miserable mountainside!

Through that same thick forest!

With heavy elk quarters on my back!

I honestly don't know if I could have physically managed it.

I might have dropped dead somewhere along that trail.

Which brings me to an interesting possibility.

I know Anna had been praying for my safety throughout the hunt.

And as I sat there exhausted in my camper, I couldn't help wondering whether those prayers had been answered in a way I hadn't anticipated.

Perhaps the Lord knew something I didn't.

Perhaps He knew that my confidence in my ability to pack an elk out of that drainage was considerably greater than my actual physical capabilities!

Maybe not finding a spike that evening was divine intervention.

The Lord protecting me from my own overly ambitious self.

LOL.

Whatever the reason, for the first time during the entire hunt, I found myself genuinely grateful that I hadn't filled my tag.

At least not from that particular drainage or day!

Thursday, October 8: Time to Go Home

My original plan had been to hunt again Thursday morning.

After all, I still had a tag, and there were clearly plenty of elk in the mountains.

But when Thursday morning arrived, I made a different decision.

I slept in until 7 a.m.

And after the week I'd just experienced, that felt like sleeping until noon!

As I lay there thinking about the previous six days, I realized something.

I was ready to go home.

Not because the hunt had been disappointing.

Quite the opposite.

It had been one of the most incredible outdoor adventures of my life.

But I missed my wife and kids.

I missed being home.

And after spending so much wonderful time with Jarom and my cousins, I felt like my cup was already overflowing.

So I packed up base camp, loaded the camper, and headed down the mountain.

My elk tag was still unfilled.

My legs were sore.

My body was exhausted.

But I couldn't stop smiling.

By the Numbers

Looking back, I still can't believe how much ground we covered.

Over the course of six days, our recorded and estimated hiking distances totaled approximately 27.7 miles.

Our documented elevation changes included roughly 3,816 feet of climbing and 3,819 feet of descending—more than 7,600 feet of combined elevation change.

And because we didn't track every hike, those numbers are probably a little conservative.

We encountered dozens of elk, including multiple magnificent mature 5x5 and 6x6 bulls, numerous cows and calves, and a few tantalizing possibilities that never materialized into a legal shot.

We heard countless bugles, saw some spectacular mule deer bucks, and spent time in some of the most beautiful country Utah has to offer.

We also learned a few important lessons.

First, just because you know where elk are doesn't mean you know how to approach them.

Second, spike-only hunting is considerably more challenging than I anticipated.

Third, good optics are invaluable, especially when you need to identify an animal's antlers at longer distances.

Fourth, before pursuing an elk several miles into a remote drainage, it might be wise to think seriously about how you're going to get several hundred pounds of meat back out.

And finally, when a beautiful 5x5 bull is standing between you and a convenient water source, perhaps it's worth reconsidering whether a completely unnecessary mountain expedition is really the best alternative.

Especially when you're already exhausted.

And your son is sick.

And it's getting dark.

I'm just saying.

More Than an Elk Hunt

As I look back on this adventure, I keep coming back to one thing.

I am incredibly blessed.

Blessed to live in a place as beautiful as Utah.

Blessed to have access to these magnificent mountains and the incredible wildlife that inhabits them.

Blessed to have wonderful cousins like Ryan and Cam, who share my love of the outdoors and make spending time together such a joy.

And especially blessed to have a son like Jarom.

Watching him push through his illness, carry that heavy backpack, endure difficult hikes, and maintain such a positive attitude throughout the adventure made me proud beyond words.

He never complained.

He simply kept going.

And he loved every minute of it.

The fact that he came home wishing he were still hunting with me means more than any set of antlers ever could.

I hope that years from now, when Jarom is grown and has a family of his own, he'll look back on this hunt and remember the same things I do.

The magnificent 5x5 bull standing between us and our drinking water.

The exhausting hike that followed.

The sound of elk bugling practically outside our tent.

The excitement of opening morning.

The stampede of elk we accidentally sent toward half the hunters in the drainage.

The beautiful mule deer bucks battling in the forest.

The camaraderie of hunting with Ryan and Cam.

Ryan's incredible camp cooking.

And the spectacular beauty of the mountains dressed in their finest autumn colors.

I hope he'll remember those things long after he's forgotten whether we filled our tags.

Because that's what makes experiences like this so special.

There is something about being in the mountains that gives me a profound appreciation for God's creations.

Standing among golden aspens, watching a sunrise illuminate the mountains, or listening to a magnificent bull elk bugle across a quiet drainage reminds me just how marvelous this world really is.

It's hard to experience those things and not feel grateful.

I know I certainly did.

As for next year, we'll see what happens.

We may draw buck deer tags. And if we don't, perhaps Jarom and I will try our luck in an any-bull elk unit.

After spending six days surrounded by giant bulls we weren't allowed to harvest, I have to admit that the idea is awfully appealing!

But regardless of where we hunt or what tags we draw, I hope there are many more adventures like this one in our future.

Because in the end, this hunt gave us exactly what I didn't fully realize we were looking for.

Time together.

Adventure.

Laughter.

Challenges.

Wonderful memories.