Wapiti in the Washakie

Story & Photos by Bill Shellenbarger

I was beginning to find it impossible to hold my Hoyt Aspen steady. My sight pins were jumping, my draw length seemed to be shortening, and the muscles in my upper body were beginning to convulse as the control cams ached to roll over. The increasing tension on the first three fingers of my right hand had reached the point of plain discomfort. As audibly as I could with my index finger crammed in the corner of my mouth, I whispered to Jeff, "I don't think I can hold it any longer!"

CATWALK  The lengthy horseback ride into Bliss Creek's base camp is filled with spectacular vistas.

I had been at full draw on a Washakie Wilderness 6 x 6 bull elk for what seemed like an eternity, although it was probably closer to 60 seconds.

This was my fifth day of hunting elk with Tim Doud's Bliss Creek Outfitters. Tim and his partner, Doris Roesch, provide hunters with the opportunity to pursue wapiti in some of the most pristine and breathtaking hunting grounds imaginable.

Their hunts have been the subject of numerous articles. As I recall, the first was when M. R. James, Bowhunter Founder/Editor Emeritus, spotlighted their outfit in his Bowhunting Hot Spot back in 1991. M. R. also wrote a feature called "Wilderness Bull",  in which he harvested a Pope & Young 6 x 6 with Tim as his guide. After reading M. R. s articles and checking references, I booked my first hunt with Bliss Creek for September 1, 1993. That trip from my Ohio home to Cody, Wyoming, was the first time I had ever traveled west of Iowa.

In my numerous contacts with Tim Doud preceding that first hunt, I asked a lot of questions about everything from equipment to clothing. Tim's biggest concerns are a hunter's proficiency with his bow, and his physical conditioning. Living at about 700 feet above sea level, I can assure you it is difficult to prepare for hunting at elevations exceeding 12,000 feet. But I also know that the better shape you're in, the faster you will regain your wind. Conditioning will also improve your attitude. When fatigue sets in, you lose your desire to hunt.

Weather is very unpredictable in September in the Rockies. You may wake up to below-freezing temperatures only to find yourself hunting in a T-shirt by noon. The next day you may get a foot of snow. Dressing in layers is best. You can't put on clothes you don't have. And high-quality boots, broken in well before the trip, are essential.

The Bliss Creek Base Camp is located about 24 miles from a trailhead south of Cody. If you have never spent 10 hours on a horse, do yourself a favor and make time to ride some before you mount up at the trailhead. The scenery on the ride to camp is breathtaking. Some of the mountainous rock catwalks the horses and mules negotiate flawlessly will have you holding your breath. Stopping at the now abandoned Mickey's Cabin for lunch is always a welcome break.

Tim Doud and Doris Roesch (below) form a great outfitting team.

Base camp consists of top-quality canvas wall tents for sleeping, all of which have their own cushioned, log-frame bunks and stoves for heat. In the large mess tent, Doris will totally amaze you with her wilderness culinary expertise. The heated shower tent is a most welcome feature after you have chased bugling bulls all day and ridden one of Bliss Creek's seeing-eye horses 2 hours back to camp in total darkness. A corral with an elevated bearproof platform for feed storage sits at the edge of camp. About 200 yards from camp another platform keeps meat out of bear reach.

You might wonder whether all this bear prevention is necessary, and I can assure you it is. Tim and Doris take all the precautions essential to hunting and sleeping in grizzly country. Tim does not carry a firearm. Rather he schools everyone to be on constant alert, he teaches evasive action, and he requires everyone in camp to have bear spray on them at ALL times. He provides the spray.

Most of Tim's guides are graduates of his guide school. Tim usually guides repeat clients himself, but during my second trip, a year ago, Tim was committed to guide a moose hunter. Thus, he assigned Jeff Lucas as my guide for this hunt. Jeff, 34 years old at the time, is a native of northern Michigan. A lumberman most of the year, Jeff loves to hunt and guide when his business allows, and he is no stranger to elk hunting. At the ripe old age of 14, he started accompanying his father on Colorado elk expeditions. Believe me, Jeff knows how to call and hunt elk!

The fifth morning started out pretty much the same as the previous four. As he had every morning, Todd, the camp wrangler, came into our tent around 4 a.m., fired up our heat stove, lit the propane lantern, and announced that Doris would have breakfast on the table in 30 minutes.

We made it to the mess tent right on time and, as on all previous mornings, Doris had a great breakfast waiting. As we ate, the guide told the four hunters where we would be hunting. Jeff and I were heading to the Pockets.

As we rode out of camp, I couldn't help but look up to the heavens, taking in the awesome beauty of the stars. Until a person sees the celestial light show visible only in a place as remote as this, without the slightest hint of the artificial haze of city lights, can he begin to realize how many stars are really up there. Every morning as we rode in the dark, I would silently give thanks to the Creator for the opportunity to experience a hunt in a place overflowing with such awe-inspiring creations.

After an hour's ride, Jeff and I had no sooner tied the horses when we heard a half-hearted attempt at a bugle. We hurriedly unsaddled the horses and got our gear in order.

"Can you see your sight pins yet?"  Jeff asked.

I nodded. So Jeff pulled out his assortment of Quaker Boy diaphragm calls, selected one, brought the grunt tube to his mouth, and produced a single-note bugle. A bull responded immediately, but he seemed to be moving away. The light was getting better but as we made an attempt to move on the bull, two cows came out on an elevated rock outcropping on the edge of the meadow, and we couldn't move. Finally they started up the mountain after the bull, and we were hot on their heels.

After 400 yards of uphill highstepping, Jeff stopped and bugled again. Again we got an immediate response, but the bull was still too far away to call in. The early morning breeze was still being cooperative, blowing down the mountain into our faces.

This time Jeff gave an all out four-note bugle with a series of chuckles. At the top of the meadow, just inside a scattered clump of pines, came a full-blown response. The bull sounded little more than 100 yards away. No sooner had the bull finished responding than another bull, slightly higher on the mountain, also bugled. By now my thoughts were on overload. Jeff quickly brought me back to reality.

"Get ready. The closest bull is coming in!"

I still can't get over the feeling of being stuck out in the open when setting up to call in an elk. A whitetail hunter from Ohio wants to hide behind a tree and shoot through a little hole in the cover. But in elk hunting, you put the cover to your back to break up your outline. I felt like there was a neon sign over my head flashing "hunter",  with an arrow pointed towards me.

With my backside nestled against a small group of spruce trees, I stared in the direction of the screaming bulls. After about 5 minutes of vocal dueling between Jeff and the bulls, I could see ivory tips weaving through the spruce at the top of the meadow. The last available cover between us was a lone spruce tree, barely big enough to hide an elk, and this tree was 60 yards out in the meadow. Drawing my bow was going to be tough.

Amazingly the bull did go behind the spruce, giving me the opportunity to start my draw, but at about 28 inches of my 31 1/2-inch draw length, the bull came around the spruce tree and caught me going into my anchor. The bull froze as I tried to remain motionless, but pretty soon I was beginning to shake.

"I don't think I can hold it any longer!"  I whispered to Jeff. Finally, I had to let down, and the bull whirled in a cloud of dust and spruce boughs, heading back up the mountain.

Without a word, Jeff motioned for me to follow. When we were halfway up the meadow, the second bull started bugling again. Jeff motioned for me to get into position for a possible shot. At the northwest corner of the meadow, within yards of where the first bull had disappeared into the timber, I again tried to find the proper backdrop and nocked an arrow.

As Jeff began a bugling and chuckling match with the second bull, I surveyed my setup. I didn't care for the small spruce trees in front of me and decided to move. As I repositioned myself, Jeff picked up a big spruce limb, let out a hair-raising, three-note bugle, and started slamming the limb on a large boulder 10 yards behind me. At this, the bull let loose with such a deafening bugle I could have sworn he was mere feet in front of me. Seconds later, the bull's dark chocolate mane and tawny hide appeared through breaks in the cover. At 40 yards the bull broke into the open meadow. I started to draw, but quickly remembered what had taken place just moments earlier and waited for just the right moment.

Jeff fell silent. The 6 x 6 continued walking to my left, starting downhill to search for his tree-thumping challenger. At 30 yards he passed behind a small group of spruce trees. When he emerged from behind them, I was already at full draw, centering my top pin on his chest. Jeff gave a soft cow mew, stopping the bull just shy of broadside.

The Easton Evolution carbon arrow hit tight behind the bull's shoulder. The bull spun and headed back toward the top of the meadow. Jeff and I retreated to where we had left our packs and gave the bull about an hour before we started to track him.

I was a little dismayed at the lack of blood for what was obviously a double-lung shot. I failed to take into account the size of this animal's chest cavity in comparison to a whitetail's.

At about 100 yards, the game trail the bull was following split. Crawling on our hands and knees looking for blood, Jeff took the lower trail, I the higher.

As I concentrated on looking for blood with my nose mere inches from the ground, out of the corner of my eye I noticed an elk hoof sticking up out of a ravine along the trail. I found two-thirds of my arrow 15 yards farther up the nearly vertical trail. He must have gone down at the top of the incline and rolled down into the ravine.

After a whole lot of backslapping and thanking the Lord for His bounty, the real work began. We started dressing, skinning, caping and quartering by 9 a.m. We finished hanging the final cheese-clothed quarters in a tree some 150 yards from the carcass around 3 p.m., all the while looking over our shoulders for grizzly bears.

Bill Shellenbarger is a dedicated bowhunter from Arlington, Ohio.

Author's Notes I was shooting a Hoyt Aspen set at 79 pounds, Easton Evolution carbon arrows, and Rocky Mountain T-100 Razorlite broadheads. Tim and Doris run a first-class outfit. You will be treated to the absolute best wilderness elk hunt you can find anywhere. They also offer summer pack trips, and Tim operates a guide school that teaches students everything they need to know to pass the Wyoming Outfitters Board test. Doris also offers a wilderness cooking school. For more information, contact:  Bliss creek Outfitters, 326 Diamond Basin Road, Cody, WY 82414; (307) 527-6103; bliss@wave.park.wy.us.