Sweet Success: Valles Caldera Elk Hunt 2025

My elk hunting season officially ended on Friday, 9/12, at 7:30 pm when I filled my tag for this year’s epic Valles Caldera archery elk hunt. I was blessed with the opportunity to draw this coveted tag for the second year in a row and was successful in harvesting a mature bull elk. This bull was one of many I had the chance to stalk, learning from each encounter and sharpening my understanding of the species and their environment.

This year’s elk hunting adventure started on August 30th as we trekked north to the Valles Caldera, the stunning foundation of the Jemez Mountain range. Formed over a million years ago by a supervolcano, this vast landscape of meadows and ridges is the most majestic place I’ve ever hunted. Over 7 days, I stalked elk, played the wind, used the shadows, and observed cow behavior to find my moment. Each failed attempt was a lesson — especially learning how the cows dictate the herd’s movements during the rut.

The Final Evening

Friday, the final evening of my hunt, brought both tension and turbulence. The weather had been shifting throughout the day—dark clouds loomed overhead, a chill breeze swept through the valley, and intermittent showers soaked the fire roads and trails. Thunder echoed faintly in the distance as the mountain air thickened. These conditions weren’t ideal for comfort, but they were perfect for masking movement and sound.

After one final blown stalk at the waterhole due to the slightest movement, I noticed a small herd making its way down a logging road in the basin below. I backed out and repositioned myself across Redondo Creek. Moving stealthily, I got within 160 yards of the bull and maneuvered to a spot 60 yards from the logging road. As he stepped into a narrow opening between two trees, I released my arrow, striking him in the lungs.

I moved closer for a follow-up shot and sent another arrow into the lungs, dropping him into a meadow. I then closed the distance and made one final heart shot to complete the harvest. A rush of emotion and gratitude filled me. The rain returned, gentle at first, then steady and soaking. The rain was constant, dampening my wool shirt, but the warmth of the moment shielded me from discomfort.

An Unexpected Detour

As I pedaled up the mountain earlier that day, it hit me—I had forgotten my knife. It was one of those moments where you think, “If it happens, I’ll deal with it then.” Well, it happened. The bull was down, and now it was time to face the reality of field dressing him… with nothing but my old, worn Leatherman.

Thankfully, I remembered Gerald’s wise advice: “The first step is to get the chest cavity open to release the heat.” So I went to work. That little multi-tool might’ve seen better days, but it got the job done—just enough to start the process and keep the meat from spoiling. As the rain picked up and the fire road started flooding, I knew I had to make the descent fast.

Five miles later, feet soaked to the bone but running on adrenaline, I rolled into camp. Gerald was waiting, flashlight in hand and smile on his face. I showed him the photos, grabbed a warm bite to eat, slid my knife into my pocket (this time for real), and we turned right back around.

With soaked feet and gritty determination, we pushed back up the muddy road to finish what we started.

The Real Work Begins

We reached the animal around 10 pm. The dirt road was now a small river from the storm, and riding in the center through overgrown grass was the only viable path. My shoes were drenched, socks soaked, and our breath visible in the cold air.

Under the dim light of headlamps and a glowing 3/4 moon, we processed the elk. Bugles echoed all around us—a haunting, powerful reminder that elk were in full rut. Just a few hundred yards away, we heard bulls clashing antlers and screaming challenges into the mountain night.

By 1 am, we had the meat loaded in packs and on the trailer. The ride down was surreal—mist clung to the trees, moonlight danced through the clouds, and the only sounds were our tires cutting through puddles and the distant chorus of wild elk.

Reflections and Gratitude

I am truly blessed to have had the guidance and mentorship of Gerald, who helped me build the success formula that made this possible. His knowledge and presence have been critical in my development as a bowhunter. I also want to thank Carl for his incredible support and generosity in letting us use his camper as our base camp—having a warm, dry place to return to made all the difference.

Throughout the hunt, I drew my bow over 20 times. I used nasal breathing techniques to calm myself, a skill I began mastering after last year’s hunt. My training paid off—over 130 miles biked, 50 miles hiked, and 20,000+ feet climbed, all while carrying my bow.

I was reminded again of the power of preparation, prayer, and persistence. This marks my third consecutive successful hunt with a bow. I thank God for the gift of health and fitness, and for the peace I find when shooting my bow. With Jose’s help, I’ve learned to focus deeply and shoot with calm control.

Knowing where your food comes from is a gift. I was born a hunter. My tribe is one of hunters and gatherers. I am a hunter. Listening to traditional pueblo songs on the drive reminded me of my roots and connected me to something deeper.

Thank you, Lord, for this experience. Thank you, Gerald and Carl, for your wisdom and support. This was a hunt I will never forget.