50 – SWAMP CREEK HUNT ♯1 – 1977
The year of 1977, we planned to take our week trip for elk during archery season. We had scouted out a place called Swamp Creek, which is almost to Stanley Idaho. There was a trail beginning at the campground that goes up to Martin Lake. A group of us rode motorcycles up to the lake on a fishing trip during the summer. We caught lots of fish on flies but most of them were very small. The hunting trip would be by Harry, Bud, Montie Davis, and myself. We took along the trailer house and our four motorcycles. The leant-to was put up for the cooking area and we would all be able to sleep in the trailer, there Was Plenty of room for four to be comfortable. The time of year was September, not much danger of snow. The weather was really nice the whole time, but the temperature went down to the low thirties at night. Even though the sun was out bright all day, a coat felt good most of the time. This area is on the back side of the Saw Tooth Mountains. These mountains are so high they have a visible timber line running as far as the eye can see. Some years, snow caps the top of them making a beautiful scenic picture. The timber on the mountain sides has a purplish hue. The tamarack trees have not started to turn yellow, as of yet. The day was about gone by the time we had camp set up, not enough time to go out hunting far from camp. Nothing else to do but sit around the campfire trying to figure out the game plan for the next day. There was a large basin up towards the Sawtooth Mountains, which should have a herd of elk in it somewhere. This is where we should try first. There is a road from camp weaving up around Copper Mountain for a couple of miles. We rode the motorcycles to the end of the road, then hunted on foot from there. The bikes saved a lot of uphill walking to get into the back of the basin. We fanned out through the basins to look for elk signs or the elk themselves.
Back in one of the basins, I was standing on a hillside looking around. I hadn’t seen anything all morning. All at Once, about fifty yards away, a Calf elk came running around the hill below me and just as suddenly as he had appeared, he disappeared back into the trees. He was too far away to even think of shooting at him, I just stood there watching. Then just as he appeared the first-time, here he came back again in the opposite direction running like the wind. He was on the same trail and still too far away to shoot at.