Full Draw, Full Heart
Celebrating the spirit of the West through real stories from real people.
Ryan Benson is the first of six storytellers selected to be featured in our Pendleton Whisky Campfire Stories—a special collaboration between RMEF and Pendleton Whisky. Winners receive a custom Pendleton Whisky x YETI® 45 cooler, valued at $300.Now, pour yourself a glass of Pendleton Whisky, settle in by the fire, and join Ryan as he shares the story of his unforgettable 2023 archery elk hunt.
PHOTO: Courtesy Ryan Benson
Campfire Storyteller: Ryan Benson
It would be dark soon and I needed to get back to the truck before the sun totally disappeared and it started to get seriously cold. But I wasn’t in a hurry.
I sat on the trail with my bow. My whole body hurt, and every part of me was soaking wet. With only a few hundred yards and one incredibly steep incline left, I couldn’t wait to get back to my vehicle and a change of clothes after a very long day, but I also wanted to take it all in. I’d been dreaming about a hunt like this for years and it had just happened.
A few days earlier I found myself in the middle of the classic night-before-the-first-hunt-of-the-year scramble to make sure I had all the gear I would need to survive in the backcountry for several days. I checked off everything on my gear list and went to bed with much anticipation for the next morning when I would make the three-hour drive to the trailhead and set out looking for elk.
I’d moved from South Dakota to Colorado at the end of 2020 and spent my Septembers during 2021 and 2022 trying my hand at archery elk hunting. I’m a lifelong hunter, but relatively new to bowhunting, and I grew up in eastern South Dakota, mostly pursuing deer with a rifle and pheasants with a shotgun. Elk hunting in the mountains might as well have been a totally different hunting language. I learned a lot from those two seasons and had some very cool encounters with elk but never drew my bow back on an animal. This year felt different.
I arrived at the trailhead the next morning where I linked up with my buddy Chris. An experienced elk hunter, I met him earlier that spring at a 3D archery shoot and he was gracious enough to let me tag along for this opening weekend hunt.
We left the trailhead in the early afternoon and started hiking into an area we’d scouted over the summer and found some elk. We were hopeful that they hadn’t gone far. After a few miles we sat down to eat a late lunch and do some glassing. An hour later we hadn’t spotted any elk and were about ready to pack up and keep moving when I gave a face of burnt timber across the drainage from us one last look. There, a few tan patches materialized into elk. We continued to scan the charred timber and kept picking up more elk through the glass. Chris pulled out his spotting scope and questioned “Are those all elk?”
They were indeed elk. In fact, the entire hillside was covered with elk. Cows and calves stood up to feed then bedded back down as several bulls bugled. It was September 2nd and only a few hours into our hunt—we couldn’t believe it.
We watched in awe as the entire herd slowly began to get out of their beds and move away from us over the ridge. We decided to follow, but soon realized we couldn’t beat the impending darkness. There was just one ridge separating us and the elk so we found a good place to camp, confident we could get on the herd in the morning.
I awoke full of excitement, still absorbing our encounter the night before. Chris and I packed up our camp and hiked up to the top of the ridge just as it was getting light out. From there, we could see down into the drainage on the other side, and it wasn’t long before we found the herd of elk. We glassed and listened to bugles while trying to figure out their direction of movement. They were feeding and moving slowly away from us, but we decided it might be possible cut them off and get within range for a shot. Hiking hard with the wind in our faces, we approached slowly to make several attempts to get in front of the elk. But each time, instead of coming toward us they angled away leaving us unable to keep up. After a couple of hours playing “cat-and-mouse,” the herd decided to leave the area. We simply watched from the top of a flat ridge as the whole group exited our drainage and eventually reappeared several ridges and a couple miles away. I was disappointed, but still amazed and taking everything in. I couldn’t believe we’d just experienced being that close to so many elk. I’d felt like at any moment I might’ve gotten a shot opportunity.
With the herd out of view and Chris and I discussing our next plan, we suddenly heard a bugle below us. We quickly realized a small group of elk hadn’t taken off with the big herd. Although we couldn’t see them because they were straight below us, we knew from the bugle that they must be nearby. Chris suggested calling to see if we could make something happen.
I found a spot where I felt hidden but offered some shooting lanes and settled in. Chris dropped back and started cow calling. The calls kept the bull bugling below, but he did not seem interested in getting closer. We called and waited, and called and waited some more, but it seemed as if these elk were not going to come up out of the bottom. We decided to stop calling for several minutes. As we sat quietly listening, suddenly I heard brush rustling from below and elk moving in our direction. Here we go! I thought as I tried to remain calm.
I locked onto the edge of the ridge about 40 yards away and stood with my bow in my hand, arrow nocked and release on the string. The first cow crested the edge of the ridge and moved toward me followed by a couple of yearling bulls and a couple more cows. For an instant I was in a dilemma. Going into this hunt I told myself I would shoot the first legal elk that came within range. I’d hunted for two years without ever pulling my bow back on an elk and I wanted the experience of getting that first one under my belt. Yet, there I was with a cow within range, but I knew a bugling bull was close behind her. For a split second I thought maybe I should wait for the bull, but with several elk already within view and moving closer each second, I knew I would risk spooking them if I waited.
I quickly shifted my attention back to the first cow. By then she had moved closer and to my side, so I turned my body to prepare for a shot as she stood broadside right at 30 yards. I raised my bow and drew back. My movement caught the cow’s attention and she jumped back like she might take off, but then stopped to look over her shoulder. I had a severe quartering away shot with the cow’s rear end almost facing me, but then she turned her head over her body to look at me and offered a small window to shoot behind the shoulder to the vitals. My pin found the target, and I felt surprisingly calm and steady. I released and watched the arrow hit perfectly. The cow didn’t make it to the edge of the ridge as I got to watch her go down within sight.
Overwhelmed with excitement, I turned around to look at Chris as he approached with a huge smile on his face. We celebrated with a hug, and I thanked him for helping me kill my first elk. As we walked up to the animal, I was full of appreciation for these elk that we get to chase and the landscape that we get to do it in. I kneeled down next to the cow filled with gratitude that all the hard work, preparation and failures of the last couple years had paid off.
Six miles from the truck, we knew we had a long day ahead of us. We deboned all of the meat, put it into game bags and loaded it in our packs. A little past noon we started our long, heavy trek back to the trailhead. This was my first time having so much weight on my back and the pack out was a painful experience, yet I knew when it was over all I’d be able to think about was how awesome it was. We took breaks for water and snacks, and I did my best to keep up with Chris. Despite the tremendous physical toll and a couple of stiff rainstorms, I couldn’t help but continue to take in my surroundings as we moved through rugged and beautiful terrain with my bow in my hand and the elk that I had killed in my pack.
It was after 7 p.m. by the time we got to the last steep incline leading to the truck. I sat down one last time to rest before making the final push. Soaked, hurting and exhausted, I sat looking out at the mountains as the sun started to go down. It was beautiful. I felt so blessed and grateful. Blessed to be able to be in a place like this and to chase such an amazing animal. Grateful that I had just killed my first elk, that I did it with my bow and that I achieved a goal I had been pursuing for a long time. I’m also grateful that Chris invited me to hunt with him. I learned so much joining him for a couple days in the woods and I’m not sure I would have gotten in a position to kill this elk or been able to pack it out without him.
I made the last painful climb to the trailhead and finally unclipped my heavy pack. I changed into dry clothes to get warmed up and we put all the meat into coolers on ice. I couldn’t have asked for a better experience for my first elk. I can hardly wait for the next one and to experience it all over again.
Ryan Benson writes from Colorado.
