Rolled out with plenty of time to get to the area in question while still dark. Had a few "
Interesting" moments on the way in as the ol' 4x4 literally scrambled to climb some of those nasty hills! Found a decent place to leave her, waited ~ 25 minutes for first light to grey things up a bit, and wandered over for an initial survey...
What we saw as the dawn broke was pretty well the epitome of an old veteran buck's summer requirements. Way high up there & remote, mossy bluffs interspersed amongst fingers of forest, in turn interspersed amongst older cuts offering a substantial forage base.
Perfect...
Working our way slowly around the rim an adjacent basin in order to develop a final plan of attack, we happened across the Old Boy's bootprints.
HUGE! More befitting of a Good mainland Mule Deer than an Island Blacktail! And quite fresh, this fellow is very likely somewhere right close...
In hushed tones we discussed just how to set up on the two adjacent basins we believed the
Big Boy to be living in. I did notice the fog starting to make a menacing approach, but figured it might bypass us, or at least burn off within a reasonable spell. Just as we were firming up the plans for the day, a distant rumble of another truck clawing it's way up the mountainside disrupted the morning's quiet. Listening intently, I could tell when it hit one of the meaner spots (where I had almost slid off the bloody hill) as it literally
screamed to maintain traction & balance... Being this far back, what are the bloody odds?
Crap! 
Is another hunter aware of this area, this buck? What to do? Surely they will see my rig and withdraw. But what if they don't?
Perhaps we should hang back and have a little chat with them to determine their intentions I suggested to my Buddy...
A half hour later, not one, but two overloaded work trucks bounced down the trail in our direction. From the way they were rolling, I could certainly tell these were NOT private vehicles, rather work trucks being driven HARD! When they rolled to a stop, I approached the lead truck to the words: "
Damn Surprised to see anyone up HERE!"
My thoughts exactly I murmured in reply...
Turned out this was a tree planting crew which was assigned to this same area for the next week to ten days.
DAMMIT! Not only would their presence create a rather serious disruption, but hunting around folks whose location / activities I cannot monitor exactly is something I would never do...
How long again I inquired...
Around 7 or 8 days left up here the foreman replied...
With heavy hearts we made our way back to my rig, and began the long, slow descent from that mountain. As we did so, the menacing fog decided to roll in rather heavily making the descent even more interesting (and something that would have complicated the morning's plans had we been able to proceed).
Along the way we paused several times to consult Google Earth and ground proof those findings. Not much in the way of good doe habitat down below, but some. And... some we actually saw a handful of Ladies in...
If there's one thing a cagey old Blacktail will not tolerate, it is human traffic in his supposed hideaway. Given the size and remoteness of this one, I would actually be more than a little surprised should there any more present than that solitary Big Boy on top of that hill. And I'll be even more surprised should he remain once the tree planters have finished their efforts.
But... in a week and change we WILL wander back to prove this to ourselves.
And, in a matter of a few weeks, that
Old Boy is going to be wandering to lower latitudes in search of love. Methinks we'll make something of a point of monitoring those Lady's presence, and perhaps,
just perhaps, there might yet be another opportunity to shake hands with the
Monster of The Mountain...
Cheers,
Nog
"Political correctness is a doctrine, fostered by a delusional, illogical minority, and rabidly promoted by an unscrupulous mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick up a turd by the clean end."