For more than an hour, my hunting partner Val Geidans and I had been within 30-50 yards of that protector bull in the high timber of Montana's Beaverhead-Deerlodge National Forest, but so far all we could lay eyes on were parts that don't make for good kill shots, especially with archery gear. So even though we were oh-so-close, we needed to shake things up.

We had spent the morning scurrying up and down hillsides trying to stick an elk with an arrow, while guide Nowell "Corky" Polus strategically called to the herd. Two bulls were working in tandem, with one servicing cows and leading the herd to its late-morning resting area, while the other protected the herd against solo bulls looking to pick off a hot cow. The more Corky cow-called, the more agitated - and louder -- the bulls became.

Finally, the moment of truth. Corky suggested we bugle to piss off the bulls, with the caveat that bugling would cause one of two reactions from the elk. Either that entire herd would bolt over the mountain top, or those bulls would come looking for a fight.

He was right.

As the herd continued to move, Val and I separated to move up and Corky cow called a little more. Then, just as I was crawling across 20 yards of open ground, Corky let go with a bugle.

The timber exploded with the sounds of enraged bull elk. They screamed bugles, snorted, barked and raked their antlers against the trees. And then one came straight for me.

I've been intrigued with elk hunting ever since a buddy moved out west and regaled me with tales from elk camp. My interest grew even more when he shared some delicious elk back straps on a fishing trip. As a result, over the past few years I have made time to try my hand at chasing this magnificent and tasty animal, without any tangible success.

I've tried a drop camp in Idaho's Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness during the rut with a rifle, only to find that the outfitter failed to relate what his people did once we arrived: that wolves had all but made hunting there impossible. On that particular adventure I did see a few wolves chasing a bull. I also found that when you elk call, you might find yourself surrounded by a pack of wolves that leave paw prints the size of your hand. But I also fell in love with the high mountain country where the elk are found. Last year, we traveled to Colorado for the second rifle season, hoping to score an elk while staying at a friend's primitive wilderness cabin. Again we were skunked, but should have at least connected on a conga line of cows that wandered into the sights of one of two members of our camp with a cow tag. That's a story for another day.

In some parts of the west, wolves have made elk hunting all but impossible.

There was plenty of elk sign, but it was old. And since that area had over-the-counter tags, it didn't take long for the spike in human activity to cause the local elk to head for the hills - literally. I observed some magnificent mule deer bucks through my scope, but I did not have a tag for them. And again I fell in love with the hunt and the beauty of the high mountains.
Last week I was in southwest Montana for a guided bow hunt during the rut in one of the most physically spectacular venues I've had the privilege to explore. Camped at 8,800 feet, as a guest of Trail Creek Lodge, I finally had the experience I've been seeking.

Trail Creek Lodge and proprietor Paul Maliskey run a truly first-class operation. The camp was supremely positioned and equipped. The horses were healthy, the tack was in good order, the food was very good (thanks Matt!), and the guides Chris and Corky were knowledgeable, super hard working and downright good companions.

Hunting elk is physically challenging, and you must be prepared for altitude, extreme weather conditions and taxing hikes. (Wisconsin DNR photo)

No free-range hunt is guaranteed, but if you are seeking a professional, not-outrageously-priced elk hunt in an area with lots of animals I recommend that you call these guys. I cannot say enough good things about Trail Creek Lodge and especially Paul and Corky. They are good people who know their business and work their tails off to make sure you have every opportunity that your fitness level and weather enable. If, like me, you're a whitetail hunter from the flatlands, getting the most out of your elk hunt requires some planning and attention to your fitness. One thing I'm not sure you can control is how you will react to the altitude, so it may be wise to show up a couple days early to ensure you have a chance to acclimate. Altitude sickness is real and it can completely ruin or at least limit your hunt until you acclimatize. Aside from that, you need to be prepared for extreme weather of all kinds -- from very cold, wet or snowy to extremely hot - sometimes in the same day. Bowhunting elk is challenging, but it can also be extremely exciting. On Wednesday morning, we left camp on horseback at about 6:30 a.m., hoping to locate some of the bulls we heard bugling in the hills above camp the night before. Corky thought he knew where they may have ended up, and 45 minutes into the ride we dismounted to bugle. We received an almost immediate response but it was from at least a mile away.

So we got back on the horses for another 10 to 15 minutes, until we spotted a rag-horn 2x3 bull about 300-400 yards away, making his way through a meadow in the general direction we assumed the calling was from. Corky sounded his cow call, and while the raghorn seemed unimpressed, two other bulls -- the ones we were looking for -- responded.

As it turns out, the two bulls that responded were doing something that I did not know happened: they were cooperating to protect and service a herd of cows.

That's how I ended up meeting an angry bull at 6 yards. As desperately as I wanted a shot, I was invigorated by the hunt and especially glad I didn't piss myself.

I can't wait to get back!