Camping Solo and Hunting Smarter: A Week on Colorado’s DIY Elk Ground

Camping Solo and Hunting Smarter: A Week on Colorado’s DIY Elk Ground

Colorado is home to over 22 million acres of public land—but for one week last October, my world shrank to a 3-mile radius of timberline benches, beetle-killed deadfall, and the steady whisper of wind across scree slopes. No guides. No buddies. No backup. Just a camp, a bow, and the plan I carried on my back.

This is the story of a solo elk hunt—seven days alone in the backcountry—and what it really takes to hunt smarter when nobody’s there to help.

🏕️ Day 1: Off the Grid and Into the Quiet

I set up camp at 9,300 feet after a brutal climb with 65 pounds of gear. My bivy overlooked a drainage I’d e-scouted for weeks—north-facing slopes, two saddles, and a string of wallows along a game trail. By the time I boiled my first freeze-dried meal, the realization had settled in:

Nobody was coming. And that was exactly the point.

🎙️ “You don’t hear your own thoughts until the woods stop echoing back everyone else’s.”

🦌 Day 2–3: Elk Sign & Wind Lessons

I found fresh droppings, track clusters, and rubbed saplings on the fringe of the main bench. But thermals were tricky. Morning air rushed downhill. By 10AM, it flipped.

I bumped a bull by misjudging the switch.

Lesson learned: If you don’t know the wind, don’t move. I glassed that evening and saw a 5×5 crest the saddle at last light. He never bugled.

🎙️ “Solo hunting isn’t about silence. It’s about listening harder.”

🔭 Day 4: Low Calling, High Patience

Midweek brought calm thermals and still mornings. I used soft cow mews and raking to mimic herd noise, not confrontation. That brought in a spike and satellite bull at 40 yards—no shooter, but close.

My routine: glass, call, wait, adjust—always keeping my scent out of likely bedding pockets.

I moved midday and hunted evenings in ambush zones—no blind calling marathons. Every call had a purpose.

🎙️ “In solo country, every sound you make is amplified. Make it count.”

🏹 Day 5: The Shot I Waited For

At 6:43AM, I caught movement in the shadow line. A heavy-bodied bull pushed past a bench, nose low, checking a cow trail.

He stepped broadside at 32 yards, paused, and offered the shot.

I drew, settled, and released. The arrow hit tight behind the shoulder. He tore uphill, crashed at 80 yards.

🎙️ “No bugle. No fanfare. Just a clean kill earned by staying invisible.”

🥾 Day 6–7: The Pack-Out and the Walk-In Memory

I quartered him, hung meat in a shaded cut, and began the first of two brutal hauls. Took me two days with breaks to cool meat and recharge.

The trail out was longer than I remembered. The silence heavier. But the satisfaction—unmatched.

🎙️ “Nobody cheered. Nobody filmed. But I smiled the whole way home.”

🧠 Solo Hunting Smarts: What Made It Work

✔️ Camp Light, Think Long-Term – I could move if the elk disappeared
✔️ Wind First, Movement Second – Thermals dictated every plan
✔️ Glass All Day – Spotting mid-day movement gave me my only shooter
✔️ Minimal Calling – Soft, intentional sounds proved most effective
✔️ Pack Discipline – Overbuilt kits ruin mobility in solo terrain

🧰 Gear That Got Me Through the Week

Most people think solo hunting is about strength. It’s not. It’s about focus, stillness, and respect. When you strip away the noise—no phones, no trail talk, no campfire jokes—you’re left with one question: Did I come here to hunt or just to hope?

“You don’t need a crowd to prove you earned your tag. Just a clean shot, and the silence that follows.”