The Avalanche Bull: 2019 Colorado Muzzleloader Elk Season – By Mike Lavelle

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I’m very excited to announce a new contributing author to the Thin Air Outdoors website, Michael Lavelle.

Mike hails from a small rural town in eastern Nebraska.  He spent his childhood enjoying the outdoors, specifically chasing ducks and quail around the Hickman area.  He has been fortunate enough to develop his career as a Wildlife Biologist, spending his days working outdoors for the APHIS (Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service) branch of the USDA, specifically studying feral hogs and developing techniques to control their populations.  When he’s not working or spending time with family he enjoys pursuing big game with his bow, muzzleloader and camera.  I’m very excited he has taken the time to re-cap his 2019 elk and goat hunt.  Thanks for sharing Mike!

After years of hunting an overly crowded unit in Northern Colorado and going the entire muzzleloader season of 2018 without seeing a single elk, we decided it was time to pick up stakes and try a totally different area.  I explored the hunting statistics online and found a unit with far fewer hunters and better success and mountain goats. My partners in crime Kurt and Justin were game for an adventure and a break from overwhelming numbers of other hunters so we applied for the new unit.  As spring turned into summer, the tags began to roll in and we all drew bull elk tags as well as several other tags all for the same time and place.  We were bound to have an exciting September, though no one had a clue as to what to expect.

The day before the muzzleloader opener found us at the trailhead my wife and I ventured in from a couple months prior.  The parking lot was shockingly devoid of hiker and hunters aside from 3 possible rigs.  Excitement was high as we pulled on hiking clothes and our packs with the expectation of coming back out in a day or two with at least one carcass in need of an ice-filled cooler.  With 8 tags (deer, elk, bear, and a goat tag) in pocket, we had nearly that many coolers stuffed with ice.  We had our hearts set on charging in the 4+ miles to the high saddle providing reasonably good access to three different drainages and seemingly prime habitat for all of the species we held tags for.  We saw a couple mule deer does on the edge of the huge meadow we followed all the way in, so expectations for deer were running high.  As hoped, we made it to the saddle and found a great spot with incredible 360-degree views of peaks and meadows.  After setting up our tents in a flattish area with minimal rocks we trotted back down to the creek in the meadow we had just came up from to fill our water vessels for opening morning.

Backcountry Home

Kurt’s mind was set on pursuing goats for the first couple days and Justin and I were set on finding elk.  We all planned to be on the high vantage point above camp before first light to see what our opportunities would be.  After glassing for 10 minutes and realizing there was nothing obvious within shooting distance we shifted our location. As I peered into the shadows on the face of the nearest peak looming over us, I clearly saw a bull elk locked onto us from treeline more than 1000 feet above.  Immediately Justin and I jumped into action to “stealthily” make the approach while Kurt agreed to keep an eye on him from below.  The approach was nothing easy and in no way quiet climbing up loose rock and through waist-high willows.  Once we reached where we expected him to be we couldn’t glass him up, and got no response from several subtle cow calls.  Kurt caught up to us and we hoped he’d have a clue on how things played out from his vantage, but he had no details beyond what we also saw firsthand. However, Kurt did say we passed within shooting distance of a small buck that was to become known as the “camp buck”.  As we still expected deer tags to be filled easily, I had my sights on elk for our first day and decided to “settle” for the camp buck later.

Winds were just right for an eastward adventure along the long north facing slope north of camp, so Justin and I struck out with thoughts of bugling bulls fighting over harems in the dark timber.  As Justin and I have been hunting together for well over a decade we had the routine down.  We’d take turns with one out front as the shooter and the other hidden in the back as the caller, while doing our best to spend 25 minutes at each location before jumping ahead roughly 200 yards to do it all over again.  Unless we’re feeling overly crazed, our calling typically starts off with cow/calf mews followed by several bull squeals and then silence for 5 minutes, repeated in sequence until we have no gut feel of potential.  Usually the gut seems to be right.  As the morning turned to afternoon, we noted a lack of promising sign along the way and no response to any of our calling. 

By midafternoon we had made our way along the ridge to where it turned towards a saddle that looked like it might provide access to the drainage we came in on the day before.  With no excitement to this point we needed a change of scenery so headed toward treeline.  Within moments, we caught site of …. what was it … it was an orange-clad hunter seemingly in his underwear working the knife-edge ridge towards a high point.  There was a huge bowl out of sight to us and we assumed this crazy soul (later realized to be Kurt) was moving in on a goat somewhere below in this bowl.  We laid back on our packs and watched Kurt, unknowing that he was being observed from below, for the better part of an hour.  He’d work his way this way and then that, sometimes within view and sometimes not.  We expected him to get down with his gun up to take a shot at any time but it never came to be.  We later heard that he was in a tough spot with questionable routes in all directions. Apparently it was too hot in the beginning… explaining the underwear situation. 

Once Justin and I got tired of watching Kurt’s antics we set out to hunt our way back lower in elevation just above the meadow.  We set up a handful of times before Justin needed to take a pee break, so we stopped just at the top of a slight rise.  While I gave him a bit of privacy I was scanning downslope and surprise, there was a bull coming straight upslope towards me from 20 yards away.  I help up my hand and whispered STOP as Justin approached while zipping up his pants.  His face said it all … not again, not another screwed up opportunity?!  I looked back at the bull as he screeched to a halt just behind a mess of brush, and I was unable to see his antlers to count tines.  He stood for at least a minute, but it seemed like five. Before turning and trotting away I caught just enough of an image to see he was legal.  I ran with him for a bit; he stopped long enough for me to see five slender tines on one side, but not long enough for me to take a shot.  We made it back to camp long after dark with our tails between our legs.  After sharing stories of the day, it was indeed hilarious to see Kurt’s response when we asked about where his pants were.  He claimed that it was far too hot and strenuous and he had no shorts so he stripped down to his underpants… we gave him the benefit of the doubt.  Days 2-6 were very much like day 1 with many miles of hiking and very few animals. 

Afternoon of day 7 found us quartering and packing a hard-earned goat down 6 miles of trail and roughly 2,500 feet in elevation.  After collapsing into our trucks, we drove to another trailhead which accessed the same drainage Justin and I had hunted over the first several days of the season.  We had camp set by midnight when we made plans for the next morning, now only hours away.  Justin and Kurt planned to sleep in and I knew I had to give it my all as there were few days left to get the job done.  I’ll admit I slept in a bit and hit the trail at about shooting light. I’m glad I waited as the trail had some exciting spots where avalanches from the previous winter/spring had deposited crazy mountains of trees, duff and snow.

My first setup was about a half mile up the trail just beyond one of these avalanche sites.  I could see several avalanche chutes beyond the creek on the opposite side of the drainage, and they looked like they should hold some elk or deer.  I worked my way off the trail a bit, settled into the deadfall and began calling.  Almost immediately I got a response from across the slope and way up towards the tops of the chutes.  This was the first bugle I had heard this season so I was really fired up. I immediately began throwing gear into my pack to charge ahead.  I ran down to the creek and picked my way across the raging creek on the jumble of deadfall.  I was now on his side of the creek though unsure of which chute he was in.  I called again and got an immediate response.  Feeling he could come into view at any time, I opted to start in the chute directly ahead of me.  I charged upslope until the deadfall kept me from going any further.  I popped out my cow decoy and nestled down behind some logs and began to converse with the bull.  We went back and forth for at least 10 minutes and I was sure he was going to appear directly above me and walk downwind into my lap.  He eventually shut up and I convinced myself that he had come in downwind from below, caught my wind and had disappeared. 

I wasn’t about to give up yet, so I decided to go towards where I last heard him, above and to the right of my location several hundred yards distant.  I tiptoed through a stand of spruce/fir that was spared by the avalanche and found why he didn’t come over to kick my butt, there was another avalanche chute filled with deadfall between his sliver of trees and mine.  I thought this was my chance to get in close so I began working my way through the jumble of fallen trees, not knowing if he was still there or a mile away.  The going got rough and I tumbled loudly under some logs and immediately got a bugle (a shock bugle?) in response to my crashing.  I was now in the middle of the chute and realized I needed to get into the trees on his side to get into position for a shot.  It sounded like he was just inside the treeline and only 100 or so yards above me.  I snuck around a bunch of willows downslope of me and into his woods. Before calling again I got situated behind a chest-high boulder that offered a perfect rest for my muzzleloader.  I laid my muzzleloader out in front of me, put in my earplugs and pulled my facemask into position before letting out another cow call.  I got an immediate response and heard sticks breaking upslope.  I saw a flash of tan before seeing his black legs coming my direction from about 75 yards – well within range.  There was no clear view of his antlers yet, though I hoped he would be a legal bull.  He was now zigzagging downslope and I picked out a clearing about 30 yards ahead that I hoped he’d enter where I could count points before taking a shot.  As he neared the clearing I could see the sweeping main beams and long brow tines and realized he was way beyond legal.  When he stepped into the 10-foot clearing I made a pitiful cow call with a bone-dry diaphragm stuck to the roof of my mouth, stopping him immediately.  As soon as he stopped I pulled the trigger and sent up a cloud of smoke.  I could barely see him stumble, then trot another 30 yards. As I called again he stopped at less than 80 yards and still within view.  I could see blood so knew I hit him and began to reload.  Within a minute he fell for the last time.  It took me a couple minutes to get to him, though it took longer for me to realize how big he really was, and it was only 8:40 am – my prime time! 

I took several pictures and notched my tag before making a plan for the best way to get him off the mountain and into the icy coolers at camp.  I took a GPS point and found I was only a little over a mile from camp… as the crows fly.  As the sun began to hit my neck I realized it was going to be a hot day and knew I had to get the carcass broken down and into the shade.  It was really steep and there was loose footing all around so I tied his antlers to the nearest tree and went to work.  Three hours later I had all the pictures I needed, the quarters bagged and propped or hung in the shade and had all the remaining meat in my pack ready for the hike down and out. 

The hike down and out was not easy but I made it into camp shortly after noon. After storytelling, refueling the engine, and putting the meat on ice, we all headed back up to retrieve quarters.  We eventually found the harvest site and divvied up the loads, thinking Kurt and I were doing more than our fair share with a hind quarter each.  We went easy on Justin and let him carry the front shoulders. 


We made it down and across the creek safely, though realized Justin was always lagging behind and we worried he was coming down with something.  He too was wondering why he was moving so slowly.  Once back in camp at 5:00 we found why he was so slow; my digital scale showed his “easy” pack was at 99 pounds and Kurt and I were so tough carrying our barely 70-pound packs. We owe Justin and will pack his pair of front quarters from here on out. 

I went back in that evening to grab another bag of meat we had left along the trail and saw another bull in the first avalanche chute, so had news for the others with unfilled elk tags.  After dark we celebrated with fresh elk heart as well as goat and elk tenderloin skewered on sticks over an open fire.  The next morning Kurt and Justin went in at first light after the other bull in the chute, and I slept in before going back in for the head.  Unfortunately they couldn’t find the bull, and travelled as far as they could before they ran into an impassable section of trail that was entirely covered with trees and snow.  With muzzleloader at the ready, I stalked quietly into the harvest site with thoughts I’d would likely have an opportunity to fill my bear tag.  Only birds and bugs had been on the remains so I didn’t have the opportunity to fill that tag. 

In the end, we lost several pounds, saw some incredibly beautiful country, and harvested nearly every legal animal we saw… which was not very many.  Although not a bad hunt, I know I’ll never repeat that hunt and will not be able to con Justin or Kurt into putting in for unit 47 again.

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2 Responses

  1. Drew
    | Reply

    That is a great write-up on what sounds like one tough hunt! Congratulations to Mike on a great bull and to whomever got the goat! The part about hunting in his underwear reminds me of Matt during spring turkey season. Ha!

  2. Jake
    | Reply

    Mike. Thanks for the story. For those of us that can’t breathe very well in the “thin air” these story are great memories. Thanks for posting.

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