I woke at 4 AM feeling refreshed after a great night’s sleep in Gardiner, Montana and met my guide for breakfast. Rock was already eating when I joined him. Cold cereal, several pieces of toast, bacon, fruit cocktail and some black coffee would fuel me for what I hoped would be a successful morning of elk hunting. The French hunter that was supposed to hunt with Rock and I didn’t show up for breakfast by the time that Rock and I were done eating.
Today’s plan was for the three of us to leave about 6 AM and go a short distance down the road from the lodge and hunt for a few hours from a blind in an elevated position. We would return for an early lunch and take the horses up the mountain for an afternoon hunt if the morning hunting adventure was unsuccessful. It sounded like a good plan to me if our French companion would just get out of bed.
All four of us from our Pennsylvania hunting group referred to the Frenchman who hunted with Rock and I un-affectionately and with much disdain as “Pierre”. His real name was Jacques, but we called him Pierre because he was such a crass and loathsome jasper. In addition to his poor behavior and miserable attitude, he made no secret of his contempt of Americans. The poor manners of Pierre and the rest of his French comrades only made things worse. One of their disgusting habits included them going to the large buffet smorgasbord that the host put out for us and picking up and handling all of the food with their dirty, bare hands and putting down what they weren’t going to eat.
We complained to our outfitter about the Frenchmen’s table manners and their other bad habits, but he did nothing about it, so we had to tell them ourselves. The outfitter also didn’t help us when we said we wanted to hunt with our own group as that was what we had paid a considerable sum of money for. We went as a group of four and we were to be hunting as two pairs of hunters each with one guide. The outfitter decided to split us up and put each of us with a French hunter because the Frenchmen didn’t speak English and the outfitter thought it would be easier for his guides. That wasn’t our problem.
All of the guides at the ranch did a great job despite what their boss threw at them. The outfitter overbooked this week’s hunt. There were four of us, another hunter from Pennsylvania and 10 to 15 hunters from France. That was too many hunters for this ranch and the guides couldn’t do their job effectively because of the language barrier. The outfitter bit off more than he could chew because of the dollar signs in his eyes and ruined several people’s hunts with a sub-par vacation. His poor decisions would cost him much repeat business. We learned a tough lesson.
Always check several references before booking a hunt like this. An outfitter and his guides will do everything for you on a hunt and take care of you. It’s customary to not do anything on your own without talking to them about it first. Men and women who are professional guides and outfitters take pride in their work and would be offended if you did some of their work for them or otherwise insinuated that they couldn’t handle part of their job. That’s why we told our guides about our problems we encountered with the others hunters in camp instead of talking to them ourselves as you will see in the rest of this story.
Rock and I knocked on “Pierre’s” door at 5:45 to wake him up and tell him we were leaving in 15 minutes. I couldn’t believe he was still in bed! Rock went back again at 6 and gave him five extra minutes. We left without him at 6:05. Riding down the road in an early 70’s Suburban was quite interesting as I watched the road below me through a dinner plate sized hole in the floor. We arrived at our hunting location a few minutes later.
Rock and I walked a horse trail through a meadow sparsely lined with aspens about a quarter of a mile and came to a peculiar hill that just seemed to jut up out of the earth in front of us. It was about 100 feet long and 50 feet tall. We climbed the path to the top past an interesting tree growing on a rock and came to a blind that was set up on the other side. I could see about 200 hundred yards in front of me to a patch of woods. There was a fence about 50 yards to my left. Rock said the elk normally jump the fence and meander through the meadow below us. I couldn’t shoot past the fence as Rock informed me that the land on the other side of the fence was private property. Wow, I felt like I was back in Pennsylvania and not able to shoot in certain directions because of houses.
Thousands of acres to hunt from and I was sitting on the edge of private property where I couldn’t shoot. I relayed my discontent to Rock, but he assured me this was a great hunting spot. I sure hoped so. I brought a Winchester Model 70 with me that was chambered in .300 Winchester Magnum and capable of a several hundred yard shot. I didn’t want to be handicapped by a private property border.
We sat for several hours and saw several dozen cow elk and a few dozen horses over on the private property where we couldn’t shoot. It was nearly time to call it quits for the morning hunt, so we packed up our gear and headed back to the truck. I wondered what was going on with Pierre as we drove back to the ranch for an early lunch. We arrived at the ranch to find out that Pierre was mad at us for leaving without him and had spent the entire morning drinking while he was waiting for Rock and I to return. Rock told him what time we were going to go back out and then we went inside and had lunch.
The three of us drove over to the barn after lunch and saddled up a few horses and packed our gear on board. I loaded my rifle and bolted a round into the chamber, then slid it down in the scabbard on my horse. I saw the Frenchman pulling his rifle out of the case and I went over and had a word about it with Rock. I told him that since Pierre had been drinking all morning he shouldn’t be loading his rifle on his horse and if Rock was going to allow it, I wouldn’t be going along. I didn’t want to be in the company of a drunk with a loaded rifle. Rock agreed with me and went over and told him not to load his rifle. I could see the Frenchman pointing at me unhappily about my loaded rifle and arguing with Rock.
We rode a good distance up the mountain and tied up our horses. We proceeded to climb up a steep mountainside covered with loose rocks. It took us about 30 minutes.
Rock pointed to a big Douglas Fir tree where he said I could sit until dark. It was in a small clearing in a grove of Fir trees on a flat section at the top of a mountain. There were some signs of elk here so it looked like a good spot to sit and watch. The temperature had been dropping all afternoon and it was starting to get cold now. Rock took Pierre several hundred yards or more over the top of the mountain and down over the other side somewhere so I wasn’t in his line of fire as I had asked. I didn’t want to be shot accidentally by Pierre.
I kicked all of the little twigs and debris away from the base of the tree where I was going to sit so it wouldn’t make any noise and I sat down and got comfortable. I wish I had taken my coat off on the hike up the mountain. I got sweaty and now with the temperature dropping, I was starting to get cold.
I sat thinking about the events of the day and dreaming about a monster elk as I watched the area in front of me for game. I saw a few mule deer does feed through between the trees without noticing me. There was no sign of a buck in the lot. Snow was falling and laying on the ground as the temperature continued to drop and the last few minutes of daylight were burning away. I was really cold now and couldn’t wait for darkness to come so we could call it a day. The temperature must have dropped 30 degrees and my stomach was growling for a meal as I checked my watch. Ten minutes until the end of legal shooting time and now there was about an inch of snow on the ground. I was shivering like crazy as I waited out the last few minutes and for Rock to come back so we could go back to the ranch for dinner. I looked at my watch one more time as it was almost dark and saw that it was the last minute of legal shooting time – finally!
Bang! I heard a shot ring out over the top of the mountain. Pierre must have shot a deer or an elk! I couldn’t believe it. Now I’d have to wait for them to dress out the animal and make their way back to me so we could head back to the ranch.
I knew it was going to take them a while to get back to me. I needed to get a fire going and get warm fast. I looked around for dry wood, but everything was covered with an inch of wet snow. What was I going to do? I felt like I was going to freeze if I couldn’t get a fire started. I looked above me in the branches of the large Douglas Fir tree I was sitting under and saw a lot of dead branches. I broke off a small pile of twigs and a handful of small one to two inch diameter branches and made a pile to burn. I grabbed the lighter from my pack and a roll of toilet paper. Several sheets of toilet paper tucked in among the twigs was just what I needed to start a nice fire. Within a few minutes, I had a small fire going and tossed in some more branches. I was so glad to have that toilet paper with me! Thank God for toilet paper!
A few minutes of warming my hands and face in the fire made me feel like a new man, but it didn’t help with my hunger. An attempt to bite my chocolate chip granola bar found it to be frozen. I thawed it out over the fire and sat back to relax and enjoy it as I pondered how lucky I was to have this fire and a granola bar.
A little while later, Rock showed up with a caped out deer head on his pack with Pierre following behind. It was one of the ugliest deer I’ve ever seen. Rock was happy to warm his hands in the fire. I was shown the Frenchman’s deer head and listened to the story of how he shot the deer. Rock said that when he and Pierre walked up to the deer, the Frenchman made a face at it and told Rock to just leave it there. He didn’t want to tag it because it was just a 4-pointer. Rock said, “No Way! You shot it, you tag it!”.
Finding out that Pierre wanted to leave the deer lay there after he shot it combined with one of his buddies wanting to do the same the day before and the fact that Pierre was drinking all morning before going hunting really didn’t sit well with me. On top of that, I had to listen to Pierre say on the first day of the hunt that most Americans were slob hunters. The day after he called Americans slob hunters, he wanted to leave all of his trash from lunch on the ground up on the mountain! That takes the cake!
We put out the fire and headed down the mountain toward our horses. The steep mountain was covered with loose gravel and rocks. I always thought walking downhill was a lot easier than going uphill, but I found out that a fast pace downhill in the dark was really hard on my feet after about a half hour. I kept looking at Pierre’s feet as we made our way down the steep mountainside and thinking about how much I wanted to trip him and see him fall on his face. I fought hard and managed to resist the temptation.
We reached our horses and rode a few miles back to the barn through the dark, then finally got back to the ranch for dinner. It must have been after nine. I was starving, and I could barely stay awake while eating my dinner. I sure slept like a log this night! I didn’t even set my alarm for the next day’s hunt before I fell asleep. It’s a good think Rock woke me up the next morning.
The most important thing I learned on this hunt was to check references very carefully before booking a hunt and to check more than one or two. It pays off. Remember, outfitters are probably only going to provide you with their best references. They’re not going to give you bad references, so check as many as you can and ask questions. It’s also a good idea to ask for some references from hunters that didn’t fill their tags. They will give you a different point of view than that of the hunters that tagged out.
Despite our outfitter’s poorly run operation, my guide, Rock did an amazing job. He shared with me a few wilderness tidbits I didn’t know about like finding a dry place to sit in wet weather and how to cape out a deer head. I had some great adventures on this beautiful Montana ranch and saw some amazing sights. We still had a few more days to hunt, so there were more adventures to follow.