Chasing Ghosts

by Ellis Parrott

To begin with, I would like to give a little bit of the backstory of Clay and I. Clay and I met in college about 8 years ago and immediately kicked it off with each other. We both love to hunt, which is what brought us together. Once we got to know each other, we realized we had a lot more in common than we thought. We are willing to do whatever it takes to achieve our goals; whether it is trying to beat someone in a foot race or kill a bull elk in an unknown mountain. We are both “extremists”, as some would describe us, and will not stop until our goal is achieved. We realized a unique drive within each other and that is why we are such close friends.

This was Clay’s first western hunt, so in the early days, I was teaching and guiding him through the preparation and planning (e-scouting, gear list, learning access, logistics, etc.). Strangely, this made it feel like it was my first western hunt again, which I found so much enjoyment in. We spent hundreds of hours prepping gear and learning the lay of the land through onX and GOHUNT maps. After determining the mountain range that we wanted to tackle, we picked a smaller area and started dissecting it with these tools. We seemed to do that between sets; the amount of physical prep that we put into this hunt would make most gym teachers proud. We did not skip leg day, nor any other day of working out and preparing for the Montana mountains. The last thing we wanted was to succumb to the hill, to meet our fate in the mountains, and fill our tag at the bar.

Clay was flying from Louisiana, and I was flying from Texas. Once arriving in Bozeman, we got the rental truck, ran a couple errands in town, and headed to the mountains. We confirmed access at trailheads and wanted to get a feel for it in the couple hours of remaining daylight. On our way up, about ¾ of the way to the top, we stopped at an overlook at this beautiful drainage to admire the sunset. It was roughly 6:30 pm and I told clay “Lets rip a bugle just for the hell of it”. I squelched off and as the rut would have it, a bull fired back about 500yds down the drainage. We were so excited. We had a bull to chase in the morning. As we sat and watched the sun fade, the bull continued to bugle on his own, and soon after we realized the bull was closing in on us.

Stealthily, we backed out to the truck, got our gear, frantically threw our boots and packs on. Clay grabbed his bow, I got my calls, and we advanced on the bull. The thermals were pushing the scent down, so we tried to backtrack and make a big loop down to come up from the bottom. As we were running down the mountain, the bull cut us off. We ended up 15 yards from the bull in some thick brush. He busted but didn’t go far as he did not know what we were. A few cow calls and we had him back to 30 yards. The brush was too thick for a clear shot. Eventually, the bull stepped out to 63 yards. With good range, Clay drew back and let one fly. The arrow looked great until it deflected off a branch and soared right over the bull’s back. He was out of there. Gone. As bummed as we were to miss this bull, we had so much confidence and anticipation to see what would ensue over the next 8 days.

Morning one - On our way up the mountain we saw a giant 350s bull in the headlights at the bottom on private land. At this point we knew we were in good elk country and we were optimistic. We tried to locate the bull from the previous evening and continued to hunt the rest of that general area while hearing everything but elk; simply dirt bike riders and calling in another hunter. Boy, were we wrong. We misjudged what the week had in store for us. We were ghosted.

Day two - We hunted a different area and followed a distant bugle way off in the distance. We were almost certain it was on private land, but the sweet song of a siren lured us in. We decided to make a play on it anyway and see if we could return the allure and bring him onto public. With the bull not budging and only letting out one more bugle, we hiked, and hiked.

Day three - We were in desperate need for water. Every creek that we were expecting to find water was dry. We ended up meeting a few locals at a cabin and received permission to use their water faucet in their yard for the week. With everything full of water and a dependable water source, we were revived and returned to the top of the world. We went into another area with recent burns and sought sign. The area looked great; we saw a ton of signs, though it seemed that we were a day behind. Again, another silent day. Are they real, or are they ghosts?

Day Four – With no activity in the burn area, we moved to another spot and spotted a bull with three cows going up the far hillside. Again, they were teasing the public/private border but we weren’t going to let them walk off. I went in solo and Clay stayed at the bottom to spot. Well. They. Just. Walked. Off. and disappeared. They went onto private, disappeared to a nice bed, and never made a sound. We kept moving - onto our next spot with a stubborn rag horn comfortably feeding on private.

Day Five – With water being scarce, we hunted an area where elk had been visiting a developed spring. As with the security, apparently, the water troughs on private land were more appealing. We finished the day pursuing signs and searching for elk. On the way out we met up with a couple of local ranch hands who were also hunting. Kyle introduced us to Montana hospitality with an offering of beer from a bar at the bottom of the mountain. We drank a beer and ate what seemed to be the best pizza in the world (especially after a week of freeze-dried meals). We shared stories, tips, and Kyle pointed us in a good direction. Kyle was kind enough to offer us a place to sleep on his couch, so of course we accepted this offer and had a good night of much needed sleep. A random guy, first time meeting him, and he let us sleep at his house.

Day Six - We followed the tips and got into a brand-new area; roughly 8 miles deep into a hell hole (at this point we have put in over 65 miles on foot in the 5 previous days of hunting). We started to find signs, fresh signs, not like the day-old signs we had been finding. Letting out a couple cow calls, we hear something coming through the brush, hearts pounding, and out pops an angus. We just looked at each other and laughed. At this point, you guessed it, we were on the border of private and we slowly hunted our way back toward the freshest sign. When we got there, there was a new sign, as if a ghost had been there dropping pellets and raking trees. “This is where we need to be” I thought. Finally, we caught up with the elk. I fired off and immediately got a response from an old growler. We set up and continued to work the calls. We played the thermals and were in the perfect position. Out pops a spike bull, then we hear the big one sound off again. The spike felt uncomfortable and began to bark. I wanted to get up the mountain to the big one and cut him off before he got on top of us. As I turn, Clay says, “Ellis, Ellis, Ellis, there’s a big bull coming down the trail right there”. I nocked an arrow and readied. The big one is coming downhill for the spike that is barking at us from below. Clay and I were between them. Big One slowly works towards us with branches stuck in his antlers – was he was the bull that had just raked the tree? Slowly he moved towards us, Clay is ranging for me, “65, 60, 55, 50, 43” and he stops. I settled my pin for a 43-yard shot and let it fly. The arrow sailed and passed through the lungs. When he took off, I let out a cow call and he turned around and stared at us. He had only run 37 yards from the spot that I shot him from. By the time I nocked my second arrow he had already tipped over right in front of us. The emotions that came from Clay and I are something that I had never felt. We had put in so much work for this moment that I cannot put the emotions to words. It was one of the purest moments of my life. We celebrated and honored this big herd bull, then began to break down the animal. At this point we were over 7 miles back into this hell hole. So, we deboned the bull for a one-trip pack out. We began this pack out in the daylight, but as soon as the sun went down, a surprise and terrible storm hit us and made things ten times worse. The face of the mountain turned into a slip-n-slide. Mustering all out efforts, we got back to the truck about 8 hours after the kill.

Day seven - We spent half of this day cleaning/ cutting meat and getting it to the processor. Then we regrouped for Clay’s tag and headed right back into the mountains. This time to a new area we had been wanting to get to in the daylight.

Day eight – In the new spot we immediately get on a bull at, you guessed it, the border of public and private. The bull was initially on public but as we put our move on him, he retreated to private and tried and get down wind of us. We get within 30yards of this bull but he does not want to cross the fence back onto public so we watch him walk away. With confidence in this new area, we head deeper into public. Soon after the first encounter, we got a surprise encounter from a good 330 bull at 15 yards. We had been walking up the mountain throwing out a couple cow calls periodically. This bull quietly moved in on us and we never realized it.

When we saw him, it was too late and he busted out, never to be seen again. At this point with all our trials and tribulations, Clay was super frustrated. I tried to keep him within himself and reminded him that the only way we will achieve this is to keep pushing forward. And we did. We pushed. We continued to hunt all day and did not hear or see an elk until a cow/calf pair at last light.

Day nine - We continued to hunt, putting our boots to the ground, calling, glassing, and searching to no avail.

We put in 90 miles on foot over 8 days of hunting. It was physically challenging, mentally demanding, and required immense persistence. I had one of my best buds there with me and there weren’t many, if any others, people I trusted enough to endure the things we went through together. Things seem to become easier whenever you know the person next to you will not quit under any circumstances. We pushed ourselves through trials to achieve success. This whole week it just seemed as if we were a step behind these elk, chasing dreams. It seemed like we were chasing something that we could never see. Like we were chasing ghosts.

All in all, our success came from the amount of time we spent preparing for this hunt away from the mountains. The endless hours we spent shooting our bows, learning our gear, learning the maps, making plans, and the physical training that we put into it. Out of all of these, being familiar with the area and having multiple plans were the top successes that go without mentioning being in great physical shape for us to cover this amount of ground.