Colorado Elk Hunting: 2026 First Rifle
This had been a trip that been in the works for around two years. My hunting buddy, David, from back home in Georgia and I wanted to take another stab at Colorado elk hunting after we had been skunked back in 2024. We had a handful of points and were able to comfortably draw unit 2 in Northwestern Colorado. The unit was full of roads with a high percent chance of success, so we were excited to have a "relatively" laid back hunt where the truck would haul all of our stuff instead of our legs. We had spent several months looking at maps, calling biologists and CPW staff, and reading up on everything we could about the unit and had a basic game plan of where to camp and hunt. However, as per the usual, the weather had other plans for us.
Scouting
This past winter was one of the worst Colorado had ever seen with a record-low snowpack making an already rough drought even worse. Our plan was simple: find the water, find the elk. With so little flowing water in the area, we thought we'd have a fairly high chance of catching the elk as they move to and from watering holes.
Two days before opening day we drove out to the unit to do some scouting. After finding some BLM land, we set up camp, which was incredible this year. Truck hunting means you have a truck, and a truck means a comfortable camp. My massive Nemo Aurora Highrise along with a Slumberjack roadhouse tarp gave us an absolute palace of a basecamp complete with heaters, starlink, insulated chairs, tables, and a proper kitchen. As we finished building camp, the weather started to turn. Howling winds pushed in clouds that covered the once blue sky and brought in a slight drizzle. Despite the souring weather, our spirits were still high as we planned our next day while eating a steak and having a beer. That night, the weather continued to worsen as the drizzle turned to driving sheets of rain and the wind pushed the boundaries of our tent.
We planned push a couple of miles deeper into the BLM land and spend a few days out of our packs away from the roads, so we could check out several watering holes and springs near some private land. The worst of the storm passed through before sunrise, and we decided to stick with the plan. Unfortunately, it had turned every dip, hole, and depression into a puddle so hunting water was no longer an option. Still, the area we were heading into had some interesting topography that made it worth scouting.
Turns out I need a refresher course in reading topo maps, because what I thought was a hikeable route turned out to be a series of massive boulders and cliffs. We spent hours working our way around 50-foot drop-offs and impassable terrain.
More rain and wind were in the forecast for that evening, and we wanted to reach our campsite before the weather turned an annoying situation into a dangerous one. Unfortunately, the storm came early, just as we reached another cliff. We could see the campsite below us, but getting down would have taken a couple hundred feet of rope, climbing gear, and skills we didn’t have. To top it all off, the rain had made the rocks slick and nearly impossible to climb safely. We were in trouble.
After a break to regroup and eat a snack, I dumped my pack and went looking for a way down. Luckily, I found one a couple hundred yards to the east. The climb down wasn’t pleasant, but we made it off the cliff safely.
Beyond all the climbing and rerouting, we’d seen virtually no elk sign, and the whole area had started to flood, leaving us nowhere safe to set up camp. Dejected and exhausted, we made the tough call to cut back to the road and hike the five washed-out miles to base camp and higher ground.
The only thing that made any of this okay was knowing that we could call home once we got back to camp and eat something warm.
Opening Day of Colorado Elk Hunting
The rain continued through the night and turned back into a light drizzle the next morning, and as we started to get ready, we discovered that we were surrounded by fog so dense it'll make you claustrophobic. We loaded up the truck and headed down to a meadow that looked like good grazing material. The rain deteriorated the roads to the point of them almost being impassible, and on more than one occasion, the truck slipped off the road. By some miracle we managed to reach the meadow and saw plenty of sign but no elk. Rub lines, hoof prints, droppings, we were surrounded in sign and maybe a couple hours behind the elk. Things were looking up, and despite the rough weather, we were finally starting to feel optimistic about the hunt. The weather, however, had other plans for us.
As the road conditions continued to fall apart, we made the decision to pull out of the woods and try and find a place to stay in town. The area where we were hunting was the same distance from camp as it was from town, and the conditions weren't going to improve as the forecast shifted from rain to snow. We headed back up the mountain into the fog to tear down camp as we raced to beat the coming storm. And beat the storm we did as we had that entire camp packed up in less than an hour.
As we drove down the mountain, we had the rare privilidge of running into the district wildlife manager (we found this guy before finding a single elk which is nuts)and were able to pick his brain about where to go. He told us a few things. First - everyone was hunkering down in this shitty weather which made us feel good about heading into town. Second, he gave us some pretty good clues where to find some elk. We thanked him for the insider tips as he checked our tags and off we were back down the mountain.
As we reached town, the drizzling rain turned back into a downpour, and even the streets in town flooded. We didn't have any reservations or ideas where we'd go, but we found an old bed and breakfast that had a couple of open beds and enthusiastically reserved a room. It was a cool place, and we enjoyed eating and hanging out in the shared areas. Later that evening another pair of hunters came in and they had almost the same story we did: showed up and got flooded out of camp so they had to head back down into town.
David and I made yet another plan for the next day based on what the district wildlife manager told us and headed to bed.
Day Two
As we drove out into the field, we realized how screwed we would have been had we stayed out in camp. Snow had blanked the wilderness areas and even the highway had slippery spots. Slowly driving back towards the BLM land the district wildlife manager recommened, we finally spotted an elk.
It was a singular bull alongside the road. While we didn't have bull tags, we knew that where there are bulls, there'e cows and pulled over to put a stalk on the bull and hopefully his harem of cows. Most of the morning was spent looking for him, but to no avail as the best we could do was finding his tracks. But we had seen elk, and that was enough to get us going again.
After getting back into where we wanted to go, David and I split up. He had a knob that served as an excellent glassing point, and I was to scout the drainages to the south. The wind had picked back up again but there wasn't a cloud in sight as we headed towards our individual areas. We both ran into incredible amounts of sign but still nothing fresher than a couple of hours; were were getting close. After a couple of hours, we regrouped to have lunch and started driving furter down the road.
As we drove, David commented that the elk could be just over the ridgeline that ran parallel to the road. With nothing else better to do, I suggested we go and check it out. We parked the truck, grabbed nothing but our rifles, and headed over the ridge. Immediately we were surrounded by elk tracks that were no less than an hour old and the hunt was on. I stayed low and followed the tracks for about 200 yards until I looked up and saw them. Roughly 80 elk along the ridge maybe 1200 yards away. I called up to David and hustled to get as close as I could to them. After 20 minutes of creeping up and down towards them I came to a ridge that ran perpendicular to a field where the elk were grazing. Shortly thereafter David had joined me. We were still 350 yards away, there was no more cover between the herd and us, and with 15 mile an hour crosswinds, I took my shot. I hit a cow but she wasn't down, and I had learned from experience to not take my time here so I immediately put another round in her and down she went. David, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. Being from Georgia, he struggled with his wind calls and had a series of clean misses. In less than 25 minutes, it was all over.
As we headed over to the cow, we realized we were no more than 250 yards from the road, and the truck could make it down to the elk so I ran back to the truck and backed it right up to the cow for us to quarter and pack her up.
It had all happened so fast that I hadn't begun to realize David's disappointment in missing until the near silent drive back to town. As I drove, David spotted another herd of elk and realized they were on public land. I immediately pulled over, and we hauled the rifles out from the truck. Because we're morons, the magazines, bipod, and tripod were tucked deep in the truck and weren't accessible without pulling everything out. David grabbed my rifle along with a handful of ammunition and said "fuck it, I'll hand feed it" as he jumped over a cattle fence. I grabbed my binos and headed after him and could tell that one thing was on his mind: redemption.
We crested another ridge and saw the herd in a meadow about 250 yards down from us. With nothing to stabilize his shot, David put the gun on my shoulder as he hand fed his cartridge. I tried to be as still as possible as I closed my eyes and plugged my ears waiting for the shot. David pulled the trigger, and I opened my eyes to see a cow go down. He had done it. Once again, it was all over in less than 25 minutes. Stunned in disbelief as to what just happened we sat there for a second as we processed what David had just accomplished. With no bipod or tripod or even a magazine, he had filled his tag. On top of all that, we were once again next to a road where I could back the truck up to the cow.
After quartering his cow, we headed back into town with a truck full of elk smiling ear to ear.
Thoughts on this hunt
I normally hunt deep in the backcountry away from people, roads, and general civilization. Hunting serves as an important physical, mental, and emotional reset for me, and I was initially opposed to this unit. However, after spending time in that country meeting the incredible people that lived in town and seeing experiencing two kills one day, I've softened a little when it comes to hunting out of a truck.
Backcountry hunting represents a kind of freedom for me. The freedom to roam where I want, sleep where I want, and the opportunity to find food for myself. But hunting with a vehicle represents another kind of freedom: mobility and flexibility. We changed plans almost hourly with this hunt and covered over 50 miles in two days. Not only that, but when we hit a low point, we could go back into town and get a shower. Sometimes we forget that hunting is supposed to be fun and not just 5 days of physical misery. I don't care what other people think, sometimes it's just as rewarding to back the truck up to the elk as it is to pack it all out.
