We were drawn in NM Unit 53 for archery elk this year. Unlike last years two week trip, I could only spare a week to hunt. We hunted in the Latir Peak Wilderness area of the Carson National Forest, which is just NW of Red River, on the recommendation of several people, notably Ursusguy.
Me and my buddy drove all night on Friday to get there. Arrived in Red River about 5 a.m., and when the rest of our party (his dad, dad’s former co-worker, and co-worker’s son-in-law) woke up at their hotel at about 7, we crashed for about an hour while they went and grabbed breakfast. Luckily, this year the hike in was only about 3 miles, unlike the 9 mile hike with zero sleep of last year. Unfortunately, we were packing our own gear in, so we were all carrying pretty big packs. We were planning on going in with 3 days worth of food, in case there weren’t any elk in the area. I think I had the smallest, at about 35 pounds, since I’m a nut about high quality, lightweight gear, and not taking anything that isn’t absolutely necessary. (Side note: if you want a high quality backpack, get a Kifaru; they are expensive, but worth every single cent. I bought a smaller one for this year’s trip, and it was absolutely awesome. I’ve suffered through other supposedly excellent backpacks, which really weren’t). Everybody else was approaching 50 pounds, which kind of sucked for them.
Hike in was uneventful, but uphill. The trailhead at Cabresto Lake was at ~9400 feet, and we planned to camp the first night at the Lake Fork/Bull Creek confluence which was about 2.5 miles in and at ~10,200. No matter what shape you are in, unless you are a professional athlete or hardcore cardio nut, the altitude is going to bite you when going from DFW to 9400 feet. The hike in mainly just winded me, and no altitude sickness appeared. Yet.
Sunday, we got up, and me, my buddy, and his dad hiked up the Bull Creek Trail to it’s confluence with the Lagunitas, since the Lagunitas is a pretty remote creek/canyon complex and take some work and steep uphill climbing to get into. We got about halfway up, and my buddy’s dad decided to stay where he was, due to his boots hurting and the altitude getting to him. Me and my buddy continued on up, and finally started seeing elk sign. More and more of it. We got to some open meadow areas and sat down to rest and glass the top of Latir Mesa. As we were sitting there, I was glassing some of the rock slides, and was like “Huh, sheep.” Sure enough we spotted a few bighorns up in the rocks. We moved forward a few yards to get a better view of another area of the mesa that had more grass. Instantly, I was like “Dude, that is a friggin’ huge herd of cows, and Holy Crap, that is a monster bull with them up there!” My friend didn’t believe me until he saw them through my binoculars. This bull made my bull from last year look small. Absolutely huge. And completely untouchable from where we were in the bottom of the canyon and them being up top. We started referring to him as the Hartford, since this is the exact pose he was making when we saw him:
Well, we decided to explore the canyon some more, and after awhile, the temptation got to be too much, since we found the trail they used to go up to the top of the mesa. We climbed up, from about 11,400 feet to about 12,200 to try to put a stalk on them. We miscalculated where they were though, and we spotted them climbing up to the top of the mesa. They had winded us, but hadn’t seen us so we stayed put, and later saw a few of them dropping back into the canyon. There turned out to be about 40 cows/calves and the one 6x6 bull. We decided to back of and go back to camp. About this time, the altitude sickness started to kick in. Part of my problem is that I’m in really good shape, and I don’t really slow down when I hit the mountains. I go balls out until I’m sucking wind, catch my breath, then do it again. After I’m acclimated, there are no problems, but the first couple of days suck. I think I lulled myself into a false sense of security since I had no problems on the hike in. First it started with a headache, which only increased in intensity as we headed down the canyon. Then the nausea kicked in. Not bad, since I had just been snacking all day, but I was right on the edge of yacking what little I had in my stomach. I had to sit down or lay down several times coming down, and when I got back to camp, I downed some ibuprofen, drank a lot of water, and crashed for a couple of hours. Luckily, that seemed to stop it, and the rest of the trip was fine.
Monday dawned, and three of us hiked out with empty packs to get more food. Once we got back, we moved our camp up Bull Creek so that we would be closer to Lagunita canyon. That evening, we went back up into Lagunitas Canyon and sat on some wallows we had found and called, but nothing answered or came in.
I’d had a halfway cold so far in the trip as well, and hadn’t slept well so far, so Tuesday, I slept in, while everyone else got up and hit the canyon again. I got up about 8, and proceeded to hike up the Bull Creek trail. My initial goal was to hopefully cut some fresh sign in a new area, but as I went up, there was nothing. Saw a few grouse and missed a couple of shots. There is a lake at the top of Bull Creek Canyon, and some outfitters had setup a camp a couple of days earlier. No one was hunting there yet, but the area was beat down from the horses.
I got to the top of the canyon, and spotted some sheep watching me intently. Pics are bad, but there were 13 ewes/lamb and one half curl ram. On the grassy part between the “goalpost” trees:
Wider shot:
Since it was only about 11, I decided to climb to the top, and maybe hike around and drop into the head of Lagunitas Canyon, where there was another remote lake. I have a tendency to bail off of crazy cliffs/rock slides/mountains/canyons. I guess I need to draw a sheep or mountain goat tag one day. Anyway, got to the top and was treated to some pretty awesome views. Here’s what I had to climb:
Here’s the top of the trail:
Here’s Virgin Canyon; the lone mountain out on the plains in the right side of the pic is Ute Mountain. More about that later:
Venado Peak is the big one on the right.
This is what I call Hidden Canyon. It is in Unit 53, but Unit 53 backs up to the Beaubien and Miranda Grant, so unless you obtain access through the Grant, this canyon is locked in and the only way to get into it is to drop in from the top. Some promising looking meadows and wallows. I’ve humped deer a pretty long way, but it was too far to carry something out of by myself.
Continuing around, I finally got to the head of Lagunitas Canyon. I sat down to rest and glass the canyon, and immediately spotted a herd of elk near the top of Latire Mesa where we had seen them a couple of days earlier. I started counting them, and when I reached 40, I realized I was only halfway through the herd. Holy Crap. I then was able to make out the big bull and a smaller on that was with him. Here’s the big pic, followed by a zoom in where you can barely make out the herd.
I sat and watched them for awhile. I then started noticing the ripples, cuts, and dips in the terrain. I got this crazy idea that I might be able to stalk close enough to get a better look at the big bull, especially since the wind was blowing up out of the canyon and over the top of the mesa. So the hike began. I had a pretty long way to go, but eventually got close enough to them. I had to sneak & peak a couple of times to get my bearings, but eventually I found myself just up the mesa from the bulk of the herd. The stalk began.
Once I got down about even with them, I was about 100 yards up the canyon from them and flat on my back, with my feet downhill, bow on my belly. Left foot would slide over, upper body would catch up, then my right foot would slide over. The terrain consisted of rock and grass that was about 2” high. Like this:
I covered about 40 yards, where I reached the point that any movement would draw attention to me, since about half the elk were feeding and half were bedded. It was about this time that I saw antlers. Two sets. Believe it or not, I had dropped down in the perfect spot, and both bulls were bedded within 60 yards of me, with most of the cows down the mesa from them. Whenever the cows that were facing my direction would look away, I would sneak a peak at the bulls. One was the Hartford, and the other was a smaller, 5x6. I got to spend 3 hours lying in the sun on an exposed mountainside (it wasn’t hot) literally trying to inch my way closer to them. 40 yards was my magic number. They would bed and then get up and feed, then bed again. A couple of times the Hartford looked like he was going to come my way, but would always feed away. Every once in awhile the bulls would give a little half-hearted bugle, probably just talking to their cows since they were all in the same general area. I wouldn’t have herd it if I wasn’t laying right there.
After the 3 hours, I had closed to about 45 yards. There was a rock cairn about 5 yards to my left, and that was my goal. Most of the rest of the herd had moved up to the top of the mesa, but about 6 cows and the 5x6 were still bedded down. About this time, the weather started to change as well. It had been clouding up all day, and at 12,400 feet, you can see a lot of the weather coming in on you. Every once in awhile, lighting would strike a distant peak, which is kind of disconcerting when you are holding a bow with aluminum arrows. There was a rain squall blowing in, and when it hit, I was high enough, that it was mostly BB size sleet. Which was good, since I didn’t get soaked. I managed to close the last 5 yards during this time, but the bull was still bedded at a bad angle. The BB sleet slacked off for a minute or so, but then a true hailstorm hit. Dime+ sized hail started pouring down. Which hurts, BTW. The cows tried to endure it, but a few seconds later, they all jumped up and headed to the top of the mesa. The bull stayed bedded. But then he decided that he’d had enough as well. He stood up, and I sat up. He turned his butt toward me, and looked over his shoulder at me. I drew, but he continued to stare at me, and if he was wondering what the mysterious lump on the mountainside was. I held at full draw for as long as I could, but since I shoot a recurve, I had to let down. He finally turned broadside and I drew again and released. The arrow was flying perfectly, but I neglected to account for the wind that was blowing up the mountain. The arrow sailed harmlessly in front of his neck, but he just stood there. Had I accounted for the wind, it would have hit him in the center of the chest. I immediately started fumbling for another arrow. I finally got one out, but each time I started to draw, my glove was caught on the string in a weird position. I had to let down three times before I got to full draw again. He was still standing there. This time I accounted for the wind and released. The arrow was flying perfectly towards his chest. But halfway there, a strong gust of wind hit and caused the arrow to fishtail. I thought it was going to be blown off course, but it amazingly straightened back up. However, it was now off center, and a second later, it hit the bull just behind his ribcage, halfway up. It buried about 12 inches, and the bull took off up the hill. I immediately jumped up and gave chase. When I reached the top of the hill, the whole herd came galloping back over the top, and took off toward the end of the mesa, where they stopped. I sat down and started glassing them, hoping to see my bull get wobbly and fall. He had a huge blood spot on his side, but he was acting like nothing was wrong. He would lick his side now and then, but then start scent checking cows.
Eventually, they dropped into a canyon at the end of the mesa. I sprinted the half mile, and when I reached the edge of the canyon, the whole herd was in the bottom, and the Hartford was bugling his head off. The 5x6 was still wandering around scent checking cows. The arrow was no longer in him, so he’d throw it somewhere along the way. About this time, another bull started bugling from a clump of trees on the side of the canyon. He finally stuck his head out, and he was another huge 6x6. He immediately bailed off to the bottom of the canyon, and the Hartford and him started bugling back and forth, while making their way down the canyon. The Hartford kept his cows and the 5x6 on his left and the challenger on his right. The canyon was shaped like a V, and I was on the right side of the canyon, so I went and bailed off the end hoping to catch up to the herd and get another arrow into the 5x6. I was flat out running down loose rock and gravel. I ate it more than once, but my backpack broke most of the fall. Unfortunately, walking elk move about 4 times as fast as a running human in mountain terrain, and in the ensuing 2 miles I lost them. The bulls were bugling the whole way down the canyon, where they hit the Lake Fork, and went up the other side of the creek canyon.
I finally had to convince myself that I’d lost the bull. I had no idea if he would survive, since he had shown no signs of weakening. I returned to camp, elated, pumped, sad, pissed, sick, etc. It was a completely unreal and awesome experience that was perfect from the get-go, but then went sour at the end.
The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful. The elk were all still herded up and not really bugling, so we didn’t see any more. All the elk in the area were in that one herd.
On the last day, as we were packing up, one of our party looked up at the top of the mesa from our camp and saw some elk. I started glassing them, and immediately saw the Hartford. A few seconds later, the 5x6 came into view when he was chasing a cow. He then managed to mount and breed her. It was a huge weight off of my shoulders. Elk are tough animals and can survive a lot. As evidence, I dug a 1.5” piece of carbon arrow and a 3 blade Satellite broadhead out of the 6x6 I shot last year. He’d been hit the year before and survived.
We packed our gear out and went in to Red River to spend the night. My buddy’s dad’s co-worker and his son-in-law had to head home, since he is an ER doc in Lufkin and wanted to get back before Ike hit. We still had one day left, so we decided to hit up Ute Mountain, since we’d heard that it held a resident herd of elk. Ute Mountain is an extinct volcano that starts out at about 7,200 feet and rises out of the plain to a height of 10,050 feet. It also sits right next to the Rio Grande gorge, north of Taos. Lower elevations are sagebrush, which turns into juniper, which fades into Pinon Pine, then toward the top other species of pine, spruce, fir, and aspen, with a few meadows mixed in. It is a pretty unique place, but it is a ***** to climb, and even worse coming down. Loose lava rock, steep terrain, and lots of cactus at the lower elevations. Not to mention that we had to climb over 2500 feet to reach the top, whereas our camp in the Latir only required a climb of about 1000 feet. We jumped a few deer and small elk herd, but overall, there wasn’t much for them to eat and no water up top. I think it is mostly used as wintering range for elk, with a very small resident herd which we managed to stumble upon.
Rio Grande Gorge in the background:
Me and my buddy at the Ute Mountain summit. First mountain I’ve ever officially summited:
All in all, it was a pretty awesome trip, although tag soup isn’t going to taste so good. At least I’ve still got quite a bit of meat left from last year. Plus, I can kind of count coup on the 5x6, since a lucky gust of wind saved him. I wish I had gotten some pics of the herd, but I was so close to them that I’m sure I would have been busted.
[This message has been edited by Log (edited 9/15/2008 7:18p).]
Me and my buddy drove all night on Friday to get there. Arrived in Red River about 5 a.m., and when the rest of our party (his dad, dad’s former co-worker, and co-worker’s son-in-law) woke up at their hotel at about 7, we crashed for about an hour while they went and grabbed breakfast. Luckily, this year the hike in was only about 3 miles, unlike the 9 mile hike with zero sleep of last year. Unfortunately, we were packing our own gear in, so we were all carrying pretty big packs. We were planning on going in with 3 days worth of food, in case there weren’t any elk in the area. I think I had the smallest, at about 35 pounds, since I’m a nut about high quality, lightweight gear, and not taking anything that isn’t absolutely necessary. (Side note: if you want a high quality backpack, get a Kifaru; they are expensive, but worth every single cent. I bought a smaller one for this year’s trip, and it was absolutely awesome. I’ve suffered through other supposedly excellent backpacks, which really weren’t). Everybody else was approaching 50 pounds, which kind of sucked for them.
Hike in was uneventful, but uphill. The trailhead at Cabresto Lake was at ~9400 feet, and we planned to camp the first night at the Lake Fork/Bull Creek confluence which was about 2.5 miles in and at ~10,200. No matter what shape you are in, unless you are a professional athlete or hardcore cardio nut, the altitude is going to bite you when going from DFW to 9400 feet. The hike in mainly just winded me, and no altitude sickness appeared. Yet.
Sunday, we got up, and me, my buddy, and his dad hiked up the Bull Creek Trail to it’s confluence with the Lagunitas, since the Lagunitas is a pretty remote creek/canyon complex and take some work and steep uphill climbing to get into. We got about halfway up, and my buddy’s dad decided to stay where he was, due to his boots hurting and the altitude getting to him. Me and my buddy continued on up, and finally started seeing elk sign. More and more of it. We got to some open meadow areas and sat down to rest and glass the top of Latir Mesa. As we were sitting there, I was glassing some of the rock slides, and was like “Huh, sheep.” Sure enough we spotted a few bighorns up in the rocks. We moved forward a few yards to get a better view of another area of the mesa that had more grass. Instantly, I was like “Dude, that is a friggin’ huge herd of cows, and Holy Crap, that is a monster bull with them up there!” My friend didn’t believe me until he saw them through my binoculars. This bull made my bull from last year look small. Absolutely huge. And completely untouchable from where we were in the bottom of the canyon and them being up top. We started referring to him as the Hartford, since this is the exact pose he was making when we saw him:
Well, we decided to explore the canyon some more, and after awhile, the temptation got to be too much, since we found the trail they used to go up to the top of the mesa. We climbed up, from about 11,400 feet to about 12,200 to try to put a stalk on them. We miscalculated where they were though, and we spotted them climbing up to the top of the mesa. They had winded us, but hadn’t seen us so we stayed put, and later saw a few of them dropping back into the canyon. There turned out to be about 40 cows/calves and the one 6x6 bull. We decided to back of and go back to camp. About this time, the altitude sickness started to kick in. Part of my problem is that I’m in really good shape, and I don’t really slow down when I hit the mountains. I go balls out until I’m sucking wind, catch my breath, then do it again. After I’m acclimated, there are no problems, but the first couple of days suck. I think I lulled myself into a false sense of security since I had no problems on the hike in. First it started with a headache, which only increased in intensity as we headed down the canyon. Then the nausea kicked in. Not bad, since I had just been snacking all day, but I was right on the edge of yacking what little I had in my stomach. I had to sit down or lay down several times coming down, and when I got back to camp, I downed some ibuprofen, drank a lot of water, and crashed for a couple of hours. Luckily, that seemed to stop it, and the rest of the trip was fine.
Monday dawned, and three of us hiked out with empty packs to get more food. Once we got back, we moved our camp up Bull Creek so that we would be closer to Lagunita canyon. That evening, we went back up into Lagunitas Canyon and sat on some wallows we had found and called, but nothing answered or came in.
I’d had a halfway cold so far in the trip as well, and hadn’t slept well so far, so Tuesday, I slept in, while everyone else got up and hit the canyon again. I got up about 8, and proceeded to hike up the Bull Creek trail. My initial goal was to hopefully cut some fresh sign in a new area, but as I went up, there was nothing. Saw a few grouse and missed a couple of shots. There is a lake at the top of Bull Creek Canyon, and some outfitters had setup a camp a couple of days earlier. No one was hunting there yet, but the area was beat down from the horses.
I got to the top of the canyon, and spotted some sheep watching me intently. Pics are bad, but there were 13 ewes/lamb and one half curl ram. On the grassy part between the “goalpost” trees:
Wider shot:
Since it was only about 11, I decided to climb to the top, and maybe hike around and drop into the head of Lagunitas Canyon, where there was another remote lake. I have a tendency to bail off of crazy cliffs/rock slides/mountains/canyons. I guess I need to draw a sheep or mountain goat tag one day. Anyway, got to the top and was treated to some pretty awesome views. Here’s what I had to climb:
Here’s the top of the trail:
Here’s Virgin Canyon; the lone mountain out on the plains in the right side of the pic is Ute Mountain. More about that later:
Venado Peak is the big one on the right.
This is what I call Hidden Canyon. It is in Unit 53, but Unit 53 backs up to the Beaubien and Miranda Grant, so unless you obtain access through the Grant, this canyon is locked in and the only way to get into it is to drop in from the top. Some promising looking meadows and wallows. I’ve humped deer a pretty long way, but it was too far to carry something out of by myself.
Continuing around, I finally got to the head of Lagunitas Canyon. I sat down to rest and glass the canyon, and immediately spotted a herd of elk near the top of Latire Mesa where we had seen them a couple of days earlier. I started counting them, and when I reached 40, I realized I was only halfway through the herd. Holy Crap. I then was able to make out the big bull and a smaller on that was with him. Here’s the big pic, followed by a zoom in where you can barely make out the herd.
I sat and watched them for awhile. I then started noticing the ripples, cuts, and dips in the terrain. I got this crazy idea that I might be able to stalk close enough to get a better look at the big bull, especially since the wind was blowing up out of the canyon and over the top of the mesa. So the hike began. I had a pretty long way to go, but eventually got close enough to them. I had to sneak & peak a couple of times to get my bearings, but eventually I found myself just up the mesa from the bulk of the herd. The stalk began.
Once I got down about even with them, I was about 100 yards up the canyon from them and flat on my back, with my feet downhill, bow on my belly. Left foot would slide over, upper body would catch up, then my right foot would slide over. The terrain consisted of rock and grass that was about 2” high. Like this:
I covered about 40 yards, where I reached the point that any movement would draw attention to me, since about half the elk were feeding and half were bedded. It was about this time that I saw antlers. Two sets. Believe it or not, I had dropped down in the perfect spot, and both bulls were bedded within 60 yards of me, with most of the cows down the mesa from them. Whenever the cows that were facing my direction would look away, I would sneak a peak at the bulls. One was the Hartford, and the other was a smaller, 5x6. I got to spend 3 hours lying in the sun on an exposed mountainside (it wasn’t hot) literally trying to inch my way closer to them. 40 yards was my magic number. They would bed and then get up and feed, then bed again. A couple of times the Hartford looked like he was going to come my way, but would always feed away. Every once in awhile the bulls would give a little half-hearted bugle, probably just talking to their cows since they were all in the same general area. I wouldn’t have herd it if I wasn’t laying right there.
After the 3 hours, I had closed to about 45 yards. There was a rock cairn about 5 yards to my left, and that was my goal. Most of the rest of the herd had moved up to the top of the mesa, but about 6 cows and the 5x6 were still bedded down. About this time, the weather started to change as well. It had been clouding up all day, and at 12,400 feet, you can see a lot of the weather coming in on you. Every once in awhile, lighting would strike a distant peak, which is kind of disconcerting when you are holding a bow with aluminum arrows. There was a rain squall blowing in, and when it hit, I was high enough, that it was mostly BB size sleet. Which was good, since I didn’t get soaked. I managed to close the last 5 yards during this time, but the bull was still bedded at a bad angle. The BB sleet slacked off for a minute or so, but then a true hailstorm hit. Dime+ sized hail started pouring down. Which hurts, BTW. The cows tried to endure it, but a few seconds later, they all jumped up and headed to the top of the mesa. The bull stayed bedded. But then he decided that he’d had enough as well. He stood up, and I sat up. He turned his butt toward me, and looked over his shoulder at me. I drew, but he continued to stare at me, and if he was wondering what the mysterious lump on the mountainside was. I held at full draw for as long as I could, but since I shoot a recurve, I had to let down. He finally turned broadside and I drew again and released. The arrow was flying perfectly, but I neglected to account for the wind that was blowing up the mountain. The arrow sailed harmlessly in front of his neck, but he just stood there. Had I accounted for the wind, it would have hit him in the center of the chest. I immediately started fumbling for another arrow. I finally got one out, but each time I started to draw, my glove was caught on the string in a weird position. I had to let down three times before I got to full draw again. He was still standing there. This time I accounted for the wind and released. The arrow was flying perfectly towards his chest. But halfway there, a strong gust of wind hit and caused the arrow to fishtail. I thought it was going to be blown off course, but it amazingly straightened back up. However, it was now off center, and a second later, it hit the bull just behind his ribcage, halfway up. It buried about 12 inches, and the bull took off up the hill. I immediately jumped up and gave chase. When I reached the top of the hill, the whole herd came galloping back over the top, and took off toward the end of the mesa, where they stopped. I sat down and started glassing them, hoping to see my bull get wobbly and fall. He had a huge blood spot on his side, but he was acting like nothing was wrong. He would lick his side now and then, but then start scent checking cows.
Eventually, they dropped into a canyon at the end of the mesa. I sprinted the half mile, and when I reached the edge of the canyon, the whole herd was in the bottom, and the Hartford was bugling his head off. The 5x6 was still wandering around scent checking cows. The arrow was no longer in him, so he’d throw it somewhere along the way. About this time, another bull started bugling from a clump of trees on the side of the canyon. He finally stuck his head out, and he was another huge 6x6. He immediately bailed off to the bottom of the canyon, and the Hartford and him started bugling back and forth, while making their way down the canyon. The Hartford kept his cows and the 5x6 on his left and the challenger on his right. The canyon was shaped like a V, and I was on the right side of the canyon, so I went and bailed off the end hoping to catch up to the herd and get another arrow into the 5x6. I was flat out running down loose rock and gravel. I ate it more than once, but my backpack broke most of the fall. Unfortunately, walking elk move about 4 times as fast as a running human in mountain terrain, and in the ensuing 2 miles I lost them. The bulls were bugling the whole way down the canyon, where they hit the Lake Fork, and went up the other side of the creek canyon.
I finally had to convince myself that I’d lost the bull. I had no idea if he would survive, since he had shown no signs of weakening. I returned to camp, elated, pumped, sad, pissed, sick, etc. It was a completely unreal and awesome experience that was perfect from the get-go, but then went sour at the end.
The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful. The elk were all still herded up and not really bugling, so we didn’t see any more. All the elk in the area were in that one herd.
On the last day, as we were packing up, one of our party looked up at the top of the mesa from our camp and saw some elk. I started glassing them, and immediately saw the Hartford. A few seconds later, the 5x6 came into view when he was chasing a cow. He then managed to mount and breed her. It was a huge weight off of my shoulders. Elk are tough animals and can survive a lot. As evidence, I dug a 1.5” piece of carbon arrow and a 3 blade Satellite broadhead out of the 6x6 I shot last year. He’d been hit the year before and survived.
We packed our gear out and went in to Red River to spend the night. My buddy’s dad’s co-worker and his son-in-law had to head home, since he is an ER doc in Lufkin and wanted to get back before Ike hit. We still had one day left, so we decided to hit up Ute Mountain, since we’d heard that it held a resident herd of elk. Ute Mountain is an extinct volcano that starts out at about 7,200 feet and rises out of the plain to a height of 10,050 feet. It also sits right next to the Rio Grande gorge, north of Taos. Lower elevations are sagebrush, which turns into juniper, which fades into Pinon Pine, then toward the top other species of pine, spruce, fir, and aspen, with a few meadows mixed in. It is a pretty unique place, but it is a ***** to climb, and even worse coming down. Loose lava rock, steep terrain, and lots of cactus at the lower elevations. Not to mention that we had to climb over 2500 feet to reach the top, whereas our camp in the Latir only required a climb of about 1000 feet. We jumped a few deer and small elk herd, but overall, there wasn’t much for them to eat and no water up top. I think it is mostly used as wintering range for elk, with a very small resident herd which we managed to stumble upon.
Rio Grande Gorge in the background:
Me and my buddy at the Ute Mountain summit. First mountain I’ve ever officially summited:
All in all, it was a pretty awesome trip, although tag soup isn’t going to taste so good. At least I’ve still got quite a bit of meat left from last year. Plus, I can kind of count coup on the 5x6, since a lucky gust of wind saved him. I wish I had gotten some pics of the herd, but I was so close to them that I’m sure I would have been busted.
[This message has been edited by Log (edited 9/15/2008 7:18p).]
I told you it would be a hike and a half.