I can't say I've ever been on one of those back country hunts where you get dropped off by plane and spend several days in search of wild game. Being 61 and pushing 62, I'm not sure I would hold up very well if I had the opportunity now. Perhaps the most difficult hunt I can remember is when my FIL and I poled out a buck that he had killed one cool December morning back in the late 70's. Even after field dressing it, I'll never forgot what it took for the two of us to pole that buck out over a distance of roughly two miles. We had to carry it down an old fire lane in order to reach the truck that had been parked on side of the road. I would swear a dead deer weighs twice as much on hoof as a live one. Still, what I would do to be able to help him get another one out of the woods today.

What was your most difficult hunt and would you do it again?

My toughest hunt was probably Mountain Reedbuck hunting in South Africa on Mount Camdeebo. These are basically the African version of a North American mountain goat. Chased them up and down mountains at high elevations for two days and my body thought it was two weeks when we finished. Never got a shot at one for all the effort. I might try it again, but would have to do a lot more training than I did last time. Not sure I'm up to it now that I'm pushing 60.

I also helped out on a cow elk hunt one time in AZ that turned into a royal butt kicking. I didn't draw a tag but volunteered to be camp cook for the week just to get away for a while. 4 guys had tags and the first 3 all shot their cows within a hundred yards from the road. In fact we were able to load all of those into a pickup and process in camp. 4th guy made a rookie mistake and gut shot his cow and them chased it 2 miles into the bottom of a canyon to finish it off. And we had to leave early the next morning. Processing that elk in the dark, by lantern light, and then packing a quarter at a time out of the bottom of a canyon at midnight is something I never ever want to do again.

I’ve not yet been on a hunt that physically wore me out, even in the mountains I go at my own pace as to not get exhausted.

The most miserable I’ve been is In Colorado when it started snowing and didn’t quit for 3 days. Staying in a 3 season tent, everything I had was soaked after the 1st day and the 3rd day I was soaked to the bone and borderline hypothermic

I threw in the towel on the 6th day of an 8 day hunt

My last cow bison hunt. DIY hunt on foot.
2 days of post holing though thigh deep snow, for miles waiting for them to cross onto the National Elk refuge . Temps were below zero each morning with single digit highs.
By end of day 2, I could barely walk out of the field.
Day 3 found a big group on the refuge and I took my cow , happily paid for gutting and dragging to the road where we processed it ourselves.
3 days of deep snow and cold conditions but a load of great meat at the end.

40 years ago in British Columbia, mountain goat hunting. Flew by jet, then float plane, then full day on horse back to a tent camp.
Five days of hunting and climbing mountains above the tree line before I got him. Would love to do it again, but there is no
way I could physically handle it. A great hunt and great memories. So glad I did it when I was 30.

Mine was an unguided Dall sheep hunt in Alaska. We parked the truck several hours from civilization and hiked in 26 miles. Spent 5 days up and down the mountain, living out of our packs, and finally connected on an old ram. Two of us processed him on the side of the hill, then packed him 26 miles back to the truck, along with all of our camp gear. I think between the two of us, we lost something like 34 pounds in 9 days.

Saskatchewan whitetail. Sitting in a ground blind watching a bait pile for 8 hours a day was absolute torture to me. Saw 3 deer a day on a good day. Hunted 5 days like that and never saw anything worth shooting. If I would have shots boomer my opinion would be the same.

1965 deer hunt in the North Dakota Badlands. We arrived the 2 days before season started, cold as a well diggers butt, scouted, saw some real good ones. Went to bed early the night before, we woke up to almost 2 foot of snow that just about caved in our tents. It was 2 days before the snowplows cleared the road to our camp area. We went ahead and hunted, never saw anything moving, the snow even kept us from moving. Finally packed up and made it to the main road, 2 hours later it was a blizzard, found a motel and spent 2 days waiting for the snow to stop.

Most difficult hunt has to be in 1984, in east Texas. We were hunting ten miles off any paved road on a Friday afternoon when one heck of a storm came up. We looked up and a tornado was coming through snapping 20ft pine trees like cord wood. The tornado came within 75 yards of my tree stand. After it snapped trees for 5 miles over the country road we were locked into the lease. This was way before cell phones and all the telephone lines and power lines were down, so no contact with the outside world. After four days the county road crews cut the trees off the road. By the time we got back to Dallas our families thought we’d been flatten by that level 3 tornado. After that year no more east Texas!!

They all vary by the age at which you attempt it. When I was 40, 16 days hunting Idaho sheep above 8000 feet was rough. At 50, maybe a 10 day hunt by yourself in Wyomings Region G is not a good idea. If you slide your truck off the road into a creek, it is a 26 mile walk in the dark from the head of Little Grey's River, back to Alpine!!!

When I was 60, I found out that even when you're in shape, chasing leopards with hounds in the mountains of Namibia was tough, but you can do it if you want. Now that I'm 70, those darn elk keep getting bigger, and the pieces you have to cut them into smaller!!!

I keep tellin' the kids tho, "If you're gonna be stupid, ya gotta be tough!!!

I lost my keys one time on a 3500 acre South Texas hunt. I'd been drinking and they asked if I wanted to ride around the ranch, "Sure!" I said. Somewhere along the way my keys fell out. 2 days later I found them next to a fence post I left my hat hanging on. Good thing I left my hat when I got out to pee. I don't know why but I did. Boy to be 25 or was it 26 again. Young sailor home on leave. Those were the days.

My toughest hunt can't hold a candle to what you guys have gone through! But it was a Southern Utah mule deer hunt. Saw a beautiful buck that was preoccupied with some ladies, so I was able to get up to about 150 yards before I took the shot. He dropped out of my sight; all the girls stampeded away, and I sat there, scoping the area again and again without seeing a thing. After about 45 minutes, I decide to go look for him close to the pine tree that I had used as a marker. Found the spot with a lot of blood and tracked it about 10 yards to where it had fallen into a ravine that led to a much larger canyon. I was a couple of miles from our base camp and didn't want to go back and get help, so, young and dumb 25 year old dude that I was (fresh out of the military and probably in the best shape I'd ever been), I decided to handle it myself. Tied off to a big tree and with a rope around my butt, I lowered myself into the ravine. It wasn't a rappel, but a very sharp incline. Quartered the buck, tied off two quarters and went back up the slope to haul them in. Turns out I wasn't the man I thought I was, so I went back down the line, removed one of the quarters, climbed back up and hauled it out. Repeat for each quarter and the head. But the time I got the last quarter up, it had begun to snow. And it snowed and snowed/ And snowed. Since it was rapidly getting dark, I decided to camp out at the drag-up place by the ravine. Hung each quarter and the head 8 feet up into a tree. Found myself a big blow-down that I could huddle under, Grabbed a couple of armfuls of wood, and tucked in for the evening, with visions of hungry bears searching for a meal dancing in my head. I awoke to a good 2 feet of snow, but fortunately, it was the dry powder that falls in many places in the arid West. I humped the first quarter back to camp, but by the time I got there, the 3 other hunters were gone hunting. Walked back for the 2nd quarter and when I returned to camp with it, 2 of the guys were back and came out with me to get the rest of the animal and my gear. I still have the antlers and that hunt took place over 50 years ago. Every time I look at them I think just how lucky I was to have gotten through the experience without killing my fool, young self!

After reading these accounts, I realize my hardest hunt was little more than an inconvenience.

Back country Wyoming bull elk hunt in 2013. We horse packed into camp and rode horses for 6 days in a row from daylight till dark hunting elk.
When we got into camp in the evening you slid off your horse to find your legs grabbed your gun and day pack. Put these in your tent ate dinner then went to bed. Back in the saddle at 5 a.m. to do it again. It was also late October cold and snowy.
I'm glad I was in shape and prepared, was the most physically demanding thing I've ever done.
Pushing 65 now and don't think I could do it again.

My story is weak too. Hunting a 2,500 acre ranch outside Batesville and had a screaming 8month old. Drove her around the ranch at 3 AM with a mesquite thorn in my tire. Changed the tire in long johns in the oat field.

Finally shot a doe at 336 yards on Sunday morning. Hunted that place for 20 years. I will say high fence ain’t a gimme.

Do it yourself Mountain Goat in the Collegiate Peaks Wilderness in Colorado in 2001. Did it on my own living out of a backpack for nearly 2 weeks. Got this billy on Sept. 12, 2001, the day after the twin towers came down.



The shot was a little over 250 yards with a 7mm Mag. As far as I could tell I was right around 13800 feet in elevation when I got him. Took 2 days to get him off the mountain and back to camp. He resides here now.



I also took a bighorn in CO and a Stone in BC but the goat was a much harder hunt.



At nearly 60 years old, my backpack hunts in the high country are pretty much behind me but I would love to take a Dall ram someday.

I’m with Texas Dan. I got nothing to seriously compare to what you guys have done.

Still, there was this time at the lease when we ran out of Quiche...

Hands down the toughest hunt was mountain goat. No other hunt has even been close.

What ranch was it?

Heard those goat hunts are real ballbusters for sure. Congrats to those who persevered.

My toughest was higher altitude elk hunt near Eagle Nest, NM. We had no horses, just boot leather and packs to pack 'em out. 2nd toughest was mountain zebra hunt in Namibia. Chased those things for over 8 hours in rocky and very rough terrain.

Mine would be a solo self-guided back-country bear hunt. All done by canoe. Put the canoe in at the end of the trail and headed back about 6 miles to where i camped on an island. Hunted about 2 miles further back than that. Shot a boar that went about 270 lbs with 5 minutes of light left. Took me 2 hours to find him stumbling around in the thick bush and swamp in the dark trying not to get turned around. After that it was a solo drag of about 400 yards to the closest i could get the canoe. Managed to load him into my 18 foot canoe without swamping and than paddled 2 miles back to my camp. Temperatures were such that i needed to get him out and on ice ASAP so first paddled the bear 6 miles out to the truck. Than had to paddle back 6 miles to the camp to pack up my gear as all my gear and the bear did not fit in one trip. Started the truck at 930 am about 14 hours after i pulled the trigger after dragging the bear, loading and unloading him, breaking camp and paddling 20 miles. Had the bear on ice 90 minutes after starting the truck.

Took virtually no pictures as the whole sequence of events was almost entirely in the dark. Did manage one with the flashlight of him in the canoe:



Shot of my camp a day or two earlier:



Heading out to hunt in the morning:



The Bruin:



The road in (same location but pic is from a different hunt):



Coming up on the island after a morning hunt:



I was in my late forties at the time and it was shortly after that i acquired the roll-up Zodiac with a motor - what a difference.

In my thirties hunting grey rhebuck on my own. Where I hunted them, the rhebuck did not frequent the lower slopes of the mountain like the mountain reedbuck. There was a lot of climbing to be done to get to where they lived. They have amazing eyesight and they run first and ask questions later. Getting within range of a trophy ram is not easy and many hunters rate them as one of the most difficult animals to hunt in South Africa. I agree. I eventually spotted a small herd going down into a ravine. I got to the edge of a cliff and could see the rhebuck about 280m from me on the opposite slope. If I shot one, there was no way I could get to it from where I was. I carefully studied the opposite slope through my binos and it did not look too steep. I would have to make a long detour top get to the opposite slope but once there I was sure I would be able to climb down to where the animal lay. Shot was taken and the rhebuck dropped. It took about an hour to get to the top of the opposite slope and then about another 30 minutes to climb down to the animal. It was a lot steeper than I expected. I gutted the little antelope which only weighs around 25kgs. I slung it over my shoulders and started the climb out. Blood trickled into my hair, my ear, down my back and into the back of my pants. It took me over an hour to climb out of that ravine and then I still had a 4km trek to the vehicle. At the vehicle I caped and salted the trophy and quartered the carcass. By that time it was around 4pm and I still has a 4-hour drive home. I was exhausted and it was dangerous because I was alone and I was afraid I might fall asleep at the wheel. And yet, this was also one of the most rewarding hunts I have done.

Another difficult hunt, also after mountain species - klipspringer this time - took place in April in Limpopo. It was hot. Around 90-93 degrees F and we climbed steep mountains every day. I was in my early forties. I was running a fever of around 100 degrees F but - stupidly - did not want to call off the hunt which had been booked a year in advance. My face was flushed, my muscles ached, my joints were sore and I had a constant headache. Not sure how I didn't do myself serious lasting damage. Finally shot my klipspringer on the last morning of the hunt. Drove back, dropped the family off at home and went straight to the hospital. They did various tests and concluded that it was a recurrence of glandular fever which I had a few years prior.

Heck, I'm not sure I can even call myself a hunter after reading some of these personal accounts. I'm beginning to see myself more as a wannabe.

Hunting buffalo in Zimbabwe in the year 2000..Searched for buffalo, followed buffalo tracks up to 12 miles a day, for 14 days. Sealed the deal with 20 minutes of light left on the last day. throw in an adventure with a leopard, and a couple lions. Big Fun!