We were there. On the ridge top at 9850 ft elevation, spotting scopes poised as the sun rose last Friday morning, one day before the D6 opener.
The wind howled as it became light enough to catch the image of deer within 200 yards of us, then 500, then clear across the basin to the next ridge. Nothing.
As the sun began to peak over the eastern horizon, it caught to tips of the peaks to the west and the curtain of light gradually worked it’s way into the basin. Surely a deer would appear before long.
No to be.
Saturday, opening day, was more windy yet. As we climbed to our lookout, a light shined down on us from the ridge above. A hunter was camped on the ridge at about 10,500 and he was shinning his light at us to let us know he was there. A few minutes after first light, we heard a couple shots from his location and we guessed that he’d downed a buck.
However, no legal bucks did we see on Saturday, or Sunday. On Monday I spied the only legal buck of the trip, but he was so small that I could not shoot him. The small fork on one of his eight inch antlers made him a potential target. The fork was so small that I didn’t notice it until he stood in the sun sixty yards down hill from me. After centering him in my rifle scope, I pretended to take him and then watched as he disappeared in the williows.
That’s the way it was. Fierce winds for three of the four days.
I had good company and we ate well with excellent views.
If I could figure out a way to leave today, I’d head back up there and be hunting tomorrow – I know there’s a buck up there somewhere.