WY Elk story - finally

EDIT: This episode is now live on our YouTube channel. Link here ---> https://youtu.be/ukNn-A904lA





Original story:

Sorry for the delays in this one, but with being gone a lot lately, I have had a few domestic and employment chores to tend to.

Looks like I was not the only person contending with the blizzard that hit MT and WY last week. Thought I would share a couple pics and the story involved.

The first morning after leaving the high country.
View attachment 6807



After leaving NM from my pronghorn hunt, Uncle Larry and I had three days to get to WY, get camp set-up, and scout.

Things were going great, other than when we turned on the satellite radio to find out the stock market was having its worst week in history. Twice I had to use the child safety locks, as Larry threatened to jump out of the truck while we traveled down the interstate at 80mph.

Hell, we were going elk hunting. Who cares about trivial things like the stock market, when such a joyous occasion is within site? Well, I guess Larry does.

Wow, what a story, he was pretty upset, eh?

A little background:

A little background about Larry. He is the second oldest of my mom's six brothers. When my parents got divorced, he and a couple of his brothers took me hunting and fishing every place they could, wanting to make sure I didn't find the dark side, which was always about two steps away. Though this story is about Larry, I am blessed with many other great people who this story could be about.

Larry later moved to Arizona to start more businesses. I would go out and work for him during my high school summer breaks. I then spent two years going to college at ASU (well technically, you must attend the class to be considered "going to college." Let's just say I was enrolled at ASU.).

Years passed, and Larry's businesses grew, I moved to MT, and we still stayed in touch, enjoying some hunts together as our busy schedules allowed.

In 2000, Larry was diagnosed with a mild form of lymphoma (if there is such a thing as mild lymphoma). He assured everyone he would be fine, and the doctors recommended no treatment, until his symptoms flared.

(Our first hunt after his diagnosis. Alaska - September, 2001)
View attachment 6808


Roll forward five years to October 2005. Larry's symptoms flared dramatically.

(Our last hunt before the return of his symptoms. Wyoming - September, 2005)
View attachment 6809


The doctors recommended some passive treatments that Larry was not comfortable with, so he sought a second opinion. His first opinion was from the Mayo Clinic, so he was somewhat hesitant to question them, but did so.

The second opinion was that he had been dealing with the most aggressive form of lymphoma, Mantle Cell Lymphoma, since the beginning, and that he only had a short time to live. Gulp! WTF! and all the other comments that you can imagine would go through one's head with such news. That he was still alive was a miracle, as the doctors knew of no one who made more than a few years when Mantle Cell went untreated.

He told the Mayo that another specialist claims they had misdiagnosed him. They checked and re-checked their tests and results, and confirmed that they had indeed misdiagnosed Larry. The question became "Now what to do?"

The Mayo recommended a chemo treatment that could extend his life for a period of time, but not cure his disease. They gave him eighteen months, at most, even with their recommended treatment.

Fortunately for Larry, his son-in-law was doing his residency at the MD Anderson Cancer Clinic in Houston. His SIL spent days working with the other doctors to find out exactly what Larry's condition was, and what experimental treatment MD Anderson was working on for that type of cancer.

When all was settled, Larry opted to enroll in an experimental chemo program at MD Anderson. It would take at least ten months for the full regimen. At the time he enrolled, only 100 patients had been in the program, with mixed success. The treatment required a series of eight long treatments, with two-three weeks of treatment, followed by two-three weeks of resting, trying to get his blood and cell counts back to a level where his body could withstand the next treatment.

Besides dealing with this health issue, he was in the middle of building his dream house, operating his businesses and rental properties, and trying to conduct life. A wonderful family of his wife, Mary, and two daughters, Leah and Megan, would follow through on the projects and try to keep the ships afloat while Larry and Mary moved to Houston for most of that year.

I talked to Larry often during this process. He never once complained and always said he was doing great. Hard to believe that he could have that kind of attitude, when the treatments were almost killing him. They were going to stop after the fifth treatment, as he almost died, but after a long week of fighting, he came through.

The doctors gave Larry the option to quit after that session, or rest longer and try another treatment session. After resting, he went through sessions six and seven. The doctors refused to give him the final treatment, convinced his body could not handle it. Two patients who tried treatment eight had died in treatment, so they warned Larry against such, given how much the chemo had destroyed his body and immune system.

He finished treatment in October 2006 (the month he turned 60); with his fingers crossed that all he had went through would benefit him. He goes back for regular evaluations, and to this point, remains cancer free. He still maintains his "every day is a good day" attitude and is adamant that his attitude is what got him through the process. If ever you want your day brightened and put into proper perspective, Larry is the guy to talk to.

Many folks often tell him that he should sue the Mayo Clinic. Like most Americans, Larry has little use for attorneys, knows that mistakes are made, and refuses to sue anyone, knowing that doing so is just wasted time and energy, and he wants to use his energy for important things like his family, friends, hunting, fishing, etc.

Anyhow, with that background, I hope you know why this elk hunt was so special to me.

The Hunt

When we got to Wyoming, a friend, Toby Pierson, had given us some directions of where to camp and start from. We set up camp at around 9,000' and started scouting.

The night before season, we saw 14 bulls, and had yet to see another hunter. We were pretty excited. Toby, and a local friend who also had a tag, stopped by our camp for dinner and a few drinks. They were after some other bulls to our west, and headed off for their camp about two drinks too late.

(A case of the late night munchies)
View attachment 6811


Opening morning, we were preparing coffee, eating instant oatmeal, and readying our packs for the hour hike in the dark. Surprise to us, but four trucks came racing by with a total of twelve hunters.

We drove to the spot we had picked to hike from. One vehicle was parked where we planned to be. I walked and asked which way they were going. The five guys in the truck said, "Everywhere."

I told them we would head down the steep slope and hunt a certain saddle and try not to get in their way. They warned us that they had seven buddies hunting to the north and east, precisely where we had seen four of the biggest bulls the previous evening.

We went on our way, disappointed that what we thought was a sure thing was now a typical circus. We hiked down the canyon settled into the trees on the edge of the saddle, waiting for daylight.

Right at first light, we hear someone walking toward us. It is one of the five guys in the truck. What the heck?

He decides to stand there and talk to us, not at all hidden. I look to my right, and here comes a bull about eighty yards away. I tell everyone to get down and get ready.

Larry has first shot. The other hunter continues to stand at attention, telling us how his family has hunted here for thirty years, blah, blah, blah. The bull hears/sees the chaos, and is gone as quickly as he came. We watch as he runs through the scattered trees on the other side of the saddle.

Larry is a little pissed at this point. The other hunter realizes the problem at hand, and he decides to move off. Duh!

We sat there for three hours, occasionally seeing cows and calves, and one other bull, but they were far off and moving from the pressure of other hunters.

We agreed to give it until 10:30 am, and then go look for a less crowded evening spot. We sit, with a very cold Northeast wind blowing in our faces; it is hard to stay warm.

I watch as three other hunters come around the crest of the facing ridge. Two look like glow in the dark dolls, wearing blaze orange from head to toe. I comment to Larry that those guys must be from our childhood state of Minnesota, where blaze orange is worn from top to bottom, front to back. They are walking toward the hunter who decided to visit with us earlier in the morning.

As they near each other, I am watching through my binos, trying to get a fix on what they are up to. As the two glow in the dark guys cut through the top of a strip of dark timber, a bull erupts and charges across the open park, heading straight for the saddle we are sitting on.

I tell Larry to get ready. He looks at me like I am jerking his chain. He quickly sees the reason for my excitement. Larry is not sure if he is going to shoot this bull. Larry thinks he wants to hold out for something bigger.

I instruct him to get out of the way, as the camera is rolling, and this bull will look really good on film. He hesitates and then says he will shoot this bull.

I start cow calling, trying to stop the bull. He is running so fast and the wind blowing so hard, I doubt he heard anything. He crosses the park angling toward us from the Two O’clock position, heading toward Eight O’clock.

I don’t want him to get over the saddle, as we will probably not get a shot, and if we do, I will pray that Larry misses. I don’t want to try pack an elk out of that hell hole.

The bull is now at 300 yards and coming fast. Now 250. I am giving Larry the distances. At 160 yards, the bull stops to look at the grazing fence, trying to find the best place to jump it. All we can see is his head and antlers behind the crest of the saddle. Looks like this opportunity has slipped through our hands.

I give a quick cow call and the bull looks our way. We hold completely still. I call again, and he drops his head and runs toward us about thirty yards. He then turns as though he will cross the fence at that point.

I call again, and he starts walking toward us with that, “I can’t see you, but I am coming to look for you” language to his body. He is now at ninety-five yards, and quartering slightly toward us.

Larry has the bipod extended and says he is going to shoot. Before I can say, “OK”, the rifle booms and the elk is on the deck.

Larry cannot see what happened and asks if he got ‘em. I am jumping and yelling with jubilation, while Larry looks at me as though I have lost my mind. He then realizes that the bull is down, and he joins in the victory dance.

We walk down to the bull and find him to be a very nice 6X5 that we had scouted. His driver’s side has a weird curve to the main beam. While scouting the night before, I told Larry I would love to shoot the curved beamed bull. Too late for that now.

We spent the next three hours boning meat and packing it up the steep hills to the truck. I demanded that Larry not carry the heavy loads of meat. He protests, always wanting to carry his fair share.

There were plenty of other less cumbersome items that he could pack to the truck. Given the cold, wind, excitement, and his general physical health, he swallowed his pride and agreed. He did carry the skull, antlers, and an assortment of other items that saved extra trips.

When we got to the truck, two of the five hunters we had met at the trailhead saw the results of our success and came over to talk. They were very nice and complementary of Larry’s bull.

One asked how long we planned to stay. I told her, “Until we get another bull.” She asked if I had talked to the game warden or heard the weather forecast.

I had not talked to the warden, and when we left civilization three days earlier, the forecast was good, with possible snow coming within a few days. The two hunters told us of the revised weather forecast, and the warden having driven by and told everyone to get out of there before the snow came. The forecast for that elevation was for 30”-40” of snow over the next two days.

We drove the half-mile back to our camp, laughing of our success, yet pondering if these folks weren’t joshing us, just to eliminate some competition. When we got to camp, we cooked a warm meal and pondered our plan for the hunt.

In the time it took to cook lunch, the wind increased by another 20 mph, and by the time we finished eating, it was a whiteout. Our decision was made for us. We would break camp and hunt the lower foothill country, even though I knew it was almost entirely private land.

It took a lot of effort to take down the wall tent in that wind. The work of breaking camp and loading everything in such haste was a hard pill to swallow, as I had a tag in my pocket, and we had expended considerable cost and effort to get here.

My friend Toby had told stories of having been rescued via snowmobile when a big blizzard hit in 1995. At the time Toby told the story, I thought that was a once in a lifetime event and was not worried. Seeing the size and amount of these snowflakes, and knowing it took three hours to get to this spot on some of the worst roads in WY, my mind thought that caution may be a better idea, and I finished loading camp.

It took us a long time to get out, and there were times I thought we would get stuck. The inclines were steep and the side hill spots were wet and greasy. We did make it to the county road. We got a motel that night, and decided to wait out the weather at a safe locale.

We woke the next morning to six inches of blowing snow, at an elevation much lower then where we had been camped. We hunted the foothills for five days, seeing lots of bulls and having some close encounters.

I spent three days trying to call one group off a big private hunting ranch, onto the BLM ground we were on. They would come to the fence line and scream at me, but would not make that suicidal jump to the public side. The footage of these bulls at 120 yards, paralleling the fence line and screaming at me in blizzard conditions is amazing. Hard on cameras and hard on the hunters, but we gave it our best shot.

Finally, I tired of the frustrations of the elk on private ground, the many landowners denying access across their property to isolated BLM ground, and the weather just wore me out. Wind, cold, and snow like I have never experienced in early October, had won.

(Reason to smile)
View attachment 6810

Why we hunt.

So, that is the story of the Wyoming elk hunt. Like all hunts, it had its unexpected and uncontrollable elements. On public land, you adapt and do what you can to put a plan together. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t.

The most cherished part of the hunt was spending time with Larry, knowing every day with him is borrowed time. For him to shoot the only bull of the trip was perfect scripting.

It is from experiences such as Larry’s, and my own health problems, that you see my signature line below.

Larry and I have a pact that we will spend at least one hunt together each year, living for the reality of today, rather than the promise of tomorrow.

Larry's story of his health struggles, and this hunt, are recorded on many hours of film that I will edit this winter. We all guard our personal lives, but Larry was open to sharing his personal battle with others, so they might see that at the darkest hour, with a loving family to support you, some blessings from above, and a positive attitude, brighter days may follow.

We all know others who have fought a battle similar to Larry and did not survive. Those less fortunate serve as inspiration to live life to the fullest. And Larry is doing a damn good job at that.

Thanks Larry.


Arizona Strip - November, 2007

View attachment 6812



New Mexico - October, 2008

View attachment 6813

"I call again, and he starts walking toward us with that, “I can’t see you, but I am coming to look for you” language to his body. He is now at ninety-five yards, and quartering slightly toward us.

Larry has the bipod extended and says he is going to shoot. Before I can say, “OK”, the rifle booms and the elk is on the deck."

Excellent, fantastic, way to go Big Fin! Your Uncle Larry is really an inspiration for us all, I'd say, please congratulate him also. A big time congratulations to you, excellent!!

Very good, Big Fin. Thanks for sharing Larry's story with us.

It's a good reminder of how well we really have it when everyday trivialities begin to get us down.

I'm sure that dead elk means more to you than the unpunched tag in your pocket.

Priceless...

Great story, really great.

Carpe Diem

Seize the day, etc.

Words to live by, and you & Larry do, Fin.

Well done. Maybe the best hunting story I've read in a while.

Rimrock aka Bill O'Connell

Awesome story Big Fin. I always enjoy your hunting adventures and your outlook on life in general. Thanks for sharing your experiences.

Great story, thanks a bunch, truly inspiring. Very neat looking bull your uncle was able to take.

Ditto! I always love hearing your stories and seeing the pictures that accompany them! Thank you for sharing!!!

VERY VERY COOL!!! I can understand some of what you went through supporting Larry with his illness and I'm currently doing the same right now with my father (pancreatic/liver cancer). Glad you two are able to spend more time together in the hills. It looks like both of you are enjoying the heck out of it and for that I'm glad for both of you!

Thanks for the great story Big Fin. after the past 3 weeks, that made me snap out of it a bit. maybe I will hunt this season after all. congrats to your Uncle Larry. what an inspiration. and again, thank you.

Great story Randy! Thanks for the background on Larry, he sounds like an excellent Uncle and role model. Kudos on the nice bull as well.

As always, can't wait for the video as I'm sure it'll be fantastic.

Very cool story and bull Fin. That is awesome and I'm sure Larry enjoys these hunts as much as you do. Thanks for sharing your experience.

Thanks for the tell of the tale! Everyone should have an Uncle Larry or one with his Spirit! John

Great story. Sounds like you had a very successful hunt. I hope there are many more to come.

That is a neat story Big Fin

It's great to have family members to hunt with