It was mid-September, and my archery elk season was well underway with a couple of memorable but unsuccessful elk encounters under my belt. On this day, I made a day trip to Oregon’s Cascade Range where I spent the morning looking for elk in the pouring rain for the third straight day. By midday, I was sick of the rain and willing to change plans and switch pursuits to finish out this day—hunt in some dryer conditions within a reasonable distance from my original destination. 

Switching Gears 

There was a spot less than an hour away with a better weather forecast, a spot I had been itching to hunt for a fall bear for at least a year. I predicted it would be great due to the presence of oak trees, falling acorns, and the proximity of timber and water. I had spent many hours e-scouting the area too. All signs pointed to a great fall bear hunting location. The afternoon was forecasted to be mostly sunny and cool. I had visited the area for a short evening bear hunt the week prior and saw two bears, both passing by small openings at long range, which gave me no time for an ethical shot. I knew if I wanted to kill one of these bruins, I would need to have a plan.  

Earlier in the week, I spent a few hours driving, hiking, and pouring over my digital maps to try and find a cross-canyon shot under 400 yards where I could have a chance at tagging one of these elusive mountain bears. All the work paid off and I had found a great spot to set up and watch for a passing bear, which I marked with a pin on my map. After leaving my rainy elk hunting location, I arrived at my planned bear hunting spot around 2:00 pm with some essentials for making a successful long-range shot: my Tikka T3x LITE rifle, chambered in 30-06, equipped with a Leupold VX-5 scope, a bipod, and a small sandbag for the stock. I loaded some essentials into my backpack and began the trek through the hills to my shooting vantage where I could watch two openings simultaneously, both at 350 yards distance.  
 

The Waiting Game 

When I arrived, the wind was howling. All I could do was hope the gusts would settle down soon. It took me 30 minutes to find an ideal spot to shoot from due to the steep pitch of the canyon. With time on my side, I would settle for nothing less than a rock-solid shooting position. I dug myself out a small spot to lie prone, perpendicular to the slope, and positioned the rifle so the crosshairs were on one of the openings. I ranged and verified both openings at 350 yards. I dialed my turreted scope accordingly. Then I sat and watched the wind howl and the trees bend for two more hours before it finally, mercifully calmed to a windless afternoon.  

Around 4:00 pm, I watched two bears cross an opening in the timber about 750 yards away with only the faint squawks of stellar jays to foreshadow their appearance. They were out of range, but the very sight of their black masses on the hillside sharpened my focus and gave a sense of imminence to another appearance. At about 5:00 pm, I heard some stellar jays relentlessly squawking in the timber on the opposite side of the canyon several hundred yards away from the openings I was watching. I hoped it was a sign that another bear was on the move.  
 

The Shot 

By 5:30, I was still hearing the jays and their sounds were edging closer to one of my openings. Moments later, I heard the loud unmistakable crunch of a large animal stepping on a rotten log. I positioned my rifle towards the opening closest to the sound. I rechecked my scope settings and settled into the prone position, ready for what would likely be a fleeting shot opportunity. At 5:35, I got my first glimpse of black through the trees at the edge of the opening. I took a breath, settled my nerves, and waited. Like an apparition, his black mass materialized and entered the opening at the top left edge. I could tell right away he was a good bear. I followed him with my crosshairs, waiting for a pause in his steps. My mouth was dry. I shouted a few deer grunts across the canyon hoping to stop him, but he either didn’t hear them or didn’t care. After a few more steps into the opening, he finally stopped broadside, giving me the opportunity I was looking for. I settled the crosshairs on his vitals and squeezed the trigger. The rifle jumped and the shot echoed in the canyon as I heard the unmistakable delayed thwap of my bullet hitting its mark. The bear immediately sprinted to my right and then up into the timber above the opening. Moments later, as the report from my rifle had reverberated and faded into the distance, I watched him come tumbling back down out of the timber and stop on a bench in the terrain. I said a quick prayer of thanksgiving. 
 

The Recovery 

I started calling a few friends to see if there was anyone who could help me pack him out of this canyon on short notice. No one was available. I watched the jet-black heap for 30 minutes to ensure he had expired. I then headed his way to take a few steps to keep him cool overnight so I could pack him out in the morning since darkness was quickly approaching. With gravity on my side, the hike down into the canyon went fast, but it was the thick, brushy creek bottom that presented the biggest obstacle. I paced back and forth along the edge of the brush looking for a way in, but it was almost impenetrable.  

I finally found an opening big enough for a raccoon and smashed my way through it, pushing, stomping, and splashing until I got up to the other side. The opposite canyon wall was very steep, and the climb went slowly even as I hastened my steps and gasped for air. When I got to my bear, there was no ground shrinkage and I quickly realized he was my biggest bear to date at 6 ft and about 250 lbs. I filled out my tag, snapped a few photos, and took some steps to get him cooling and propped him up on some low brush to allow air to flow under the carcass overnight.  

As the sky darkened, I dropped back down to the creek, crossed it, and made my way up the other side. It was dark when I returned to my vehicle. I made a couple more phone calls and finally found a friend who was willing to help me pack the bear out the next morning. My sleep was restless that night, knowing my bear was still up on the mountain. My friend and I met and parked our rigs at first light and began the trek across the hills and into the canyon. We boned out the bear for a minimal packing job and began the pack out. By noon, we were back at our rigs with the bear meat and hide in the cooler. My prep from the night before ensured there was no spoilage.  

Looking Back 

One of my favorite things about this hunt was that I was able to take a less than ideal hunting situation and turn it into success by changing plans midday rather than throwing in the towel. I could have let the rain get me down and headed home, but instead I changed it up, sought better weather within a reasonable distance, and ultimately found success in a different pursuit. A few days after my bear hunt, the weather improved in the cascades and I was able to fill my elk tag, too.