The summer of 1983, Harry, Bud, and I decided to make a substantial change in our hunting area. We wanted to try the Salmon River country one more time but did not draw on any permits in Section 14, so we had to find an open Section nearby. Bulls only would be open in a section near Grangeville Idaho. The plan was for just the three of us to take two trucks, the trailer house, our three motorcycles, and any equipment needed and go to the main ridge above Whitebird Idaho to an area called the Adams Work Camp. It was so called because it was used as a training camp for young Forest Service trainees. There were still most of the old buildings standing with a care keeper living there most of the year. To get there would be a long day’s drive, but we would try it one more time. The last two years we have been on one elk each year and we had hope of getting something this year if all went well. We planned on at least ten days, if needed for the trip. We prepared all summer for the coming trip, but it was too far away to do any scouting of the area, all we had to go by was the maps. We can always find a wide place to Park the trailer house and the lean-to. Anywhere that is flat will do us nicely.
October finally came around and we were ready to go. We left town early in the morning, a couple of days before the season was to open. Bud pulled the trailer house with his motorcycle on a rack on the front of his truck. Harry had the two bikes in the back of his truck along with extra gas cans, the generator, and plenty of water cans filled to the top. We assumed the water was bad, as it is in most of the areas anymore. All the groceries were in the trailer house in ice boxes to be out of the weather. Bud’s truck was loaded with all the extra stuff we took along to give him more weight to help in pulling the trailer if we ran into snow on the way in. The route we had planned took us through Riggins, down the Salmon River to Whitebird Idaho to the Free Use Road at Hoot’s Café. The Free Use Road leaves the main road and goes up hill for several miles through farmland before reaching the ridge top and the timber. This road, the main access road to all the back country and the Gospel Hump Primitive Area. There are lots of roads back there, but not very many ways to get to them. The Free Use Road is wide enough for logging trucks to pass on most of the way to the summit. There were logging trucks on it going both ways all day long. We felt like we were on top of the world when we finally made the top of the summit. The first thing to do was to find a suitable campsite for a week’s stay. We did not want to camp right on the ridge top because of the wind. Down past the old Adams Work Camp, we found where other hunters had camped in the past. A large creek was running past the camp and the campsite was big enough for the trailer house and all the other things we had along. The trucks were Parked close by. The lean-to was tied up between the trees and we were ready for whatever would come up. There were not any other campers in the immediate area, so we were alone. We could hunt anywhere we wanted and not run into hunters. There was a small group of hunters up on the main ridge about a mile away. The weather was nice when we first got there, clear. We had all the hopes of a fun trip. The camp was made comfortable and plenty of firewood gathered up, the day was about gone. We used this time for resting, fixing supper, and playing Pinochle. It was a hard drive to get there, and we would enjoy it every bit after breakfast the next morning, we scouted the hills and drove the roads to get to the lay of the land. Some landmarks were picked out, so we could always find our way back to camp, if necessary. This area was a lot different than where we hunted the last two years. Here we found long valleys and steep tree covered hills. Some of the hills near camp had been completely clear cut, there was not a tree anywhere for about a square mile section in several places. We felt good about the hunting prospects. Most of the day was spent just looking around to see where to hunt. Darkness was starting to set in by the time we were back to camp. We had a generator along for lights, so it did not matter much. I have cooked supper many times using the generator. I fixed a good supper of steak and potatoes with a can of peaches for dessert. When everything was cleaned up and put away, we played our usual games of Pinochle and discussed where to go the next day.
In talking with other hunters in the area, they told us there were elk in the area, but were hard to find. We decided to go down Mill Creek to the end of the road. There were elk around, but we could not find them. We walked a couple of miles down the creek checking for tracks. The elk had been there, but the weather was so warm they were holed up somewhere in the thick trees. We spent the biggest part of the day working in that area then headed back to camp. On the way back we found a road going down a ridge above the Clearwater River. We thought it really may have been the South Fork of the Clearwater, because it was small. This looked like a good place to go the next morning as soon as breakfast was over.
The next morning, we set out to see what we could find in that direction. We started out before daylight to be on the ridge at first light. We were going slowly down the ridge, when a small herd of elk ran across the road ahead of us. They disappeared into some trees like a puff of smoke. We looked for them for a while, but they were gone. We went on down the ridge checking any places that might hide some elk. After those first elk, the only thing we found was an old Angus bull, all by himself. Nothing bothered him even when we stopped near him. We had been out all day about time to head back to camp. After supper and some cards, we decided to walk over the mountain behind camp to see what was at the head of the creek we were camped by.
We were up early the next morning to have breakfast, fix some sandwiches and head out hunting. There was an old road going part way up the mountain, which would save us a couple of miles of walking. We parked the truck at the end of the good part and started out on foot. The three of us would stay close together because this was a new country to us. We did not want someone to get lost. We found a good trail over the mountain and down to the creek bottom below. It took us about an hour to make the trip. This area was full of thick fir and pine thickets with groves of aspen trees, with their leaves starting to turn yellow. There was not much brush around, just mostly trees. We were near the creek when Harry blew on his elk bugle. He received an answer right back, but we knew it was another hunter because he was trying to be too perfect. About a half an hour went by with them blowing back and forth when three hunters appeared out of hiding. They were sure we were real elk but when Harry played Yankee Doodle, it may have given us away. They were a bit peeved but stopped long enough to chat a while. They had not seen a thing in all their walking. There were some thick timber pockets on some far hills, so we decided to climb up to them and check them out. There were tracks that seemed to be fresh like elk were all around us.
As we were coming back downhill, we heard a real bull elk grunting and whistling, below us near the creek. We ran down the hill as fast as we could but could not catch them. The bull had several cows with him, and they all disappeared into the thick timber and never made another sound. The time was late afternoon we had better find the trail back over the mountain to the truck. We suddenly realized we did not know which way the truck was from there. Harry had bought a survival knife with a compass in the handle. We checked the compass point and sure enough we were thinking of going in the wrong direction. We adjusted our line of travel and dropped over the mountain right to the truck. This was the first time a compass ever saved us a lot of extra walking. We were back at camp, with some afternoon still left.
The weather was nice, so I wanted to take a walk through a clear-cut area and sit on the hill until dark. I hoped an elk would come out to feed in the clearing. I had been leaning up against a tree for quite a while when over on the next hillside I heard what sounded like a dog howling. Well knowing there were not any other camps in our area anywhere close, l guessed it was a wolf. I did not think much of being out on a hillside after dark with some wolves around close, so I hotfooted it back to camp as fast as I could. I do not believe the stories about wolves never attacking people. The next day we were going up the hill in the vicinity of where the howling came from and sure enough, we found fresh tracks in the mud that looked like they were made by a wolf. We can handle wolves in the daytime, but not at night when we cannot see them.
One day we produced the wise idea of taking the motorcycles for a ride to see the Gospel Hump Primitive Area. We must have rode about fifteen miles or more. The area did not look much different than where we were camped, but we wanted to have a look anyway. We hunted some on the outside of the primitive area, but nothing could be found. We had to stay out of the area with the motorcycles.
On our way back to camp, we met some other hunters on ATVs. They were camped about a mile from us on the main ridge. One guy had a small boy with him on the back of the machine. The temperature was dropping fast with thick clouds moving in. The boy was really getting cold because they had not dressed warmly enough for the change in temperature. Bud had an extra coat tied to his bike, so we wrapped him up in that for their trip back to camp. Later that evening they came to our camp to return the coat and thank us for the use of it. The little guy kept warm with it. The way the clouds were building up we may be in for some rain or maybe some snow. We did not take the oncoming storm lightly. We made sure everything was packed in where we could find it should we have to move out in a hurry.
We were right about a snowstorm coming in, but a foot during the night was a little much. The next morning turned out to be clear and cold, but everything was covered with the new snow. We went out hunting for a little while, but the elk were gone. We were watching the weather and the clouds were coming in again that afternoon, looking like more snow would fall. We decided we had better move camp to the top of the ridge, where we could get to the main road and have a chance of getting out, if more snow fell, overnight. We found a flat place to put the trailer house and tied up the tarp for the cooking area. We only unpacked enough stuff to get by for the night. I warmed up some stew for supper then we went to bed.
By the time we woke up the next morning we were really buried with snow. Another ten inches fell on top of the foot already on the ground. Breakfast was cooked under the tarp we had put up in a hurry, the night before. Dirty dishes, stoves, and anything loose was tossed into the trailer so we could make a quick trip off the hill. There was too much snow for us now and another storm would give us problems. We got out on the main road with two four-wheel drive trucks to do the arduous work. The road was downhill with a good gravel base. We ran out of snow part way down the hill. The road was bare the rest of the way to the river.
We had our fishing gear with us, and steelhead season was in full swing. We were surprised at how nice the weather was on the river. Not a cloud anywhere but on the top of the mountain we had just left. We did not have time nor the energy to go back up that long road to hunt anymore. We fished for a couple of days without getting a fish, but we had an enjoyable time anyway. We can adapt to any situation and still enjoy it. The allotted time of nine days finally ran out, time to head for home. The trip home would be a long one but by taking rest breaks now and then we would make it in fine shape。 The camping gear was cleaned up and put away until next year. We would not go back to the Salmon River country to hunt anymore. We would find a place closer to home.