"My First Bull, Laramie"

Hunting has always been a huge factor in my family. It’s what sets us apart from other families. The Purman family was always known for being out hunting whether it’s waterfowl and upland birds in the winter, muzzleloader in the fall, or anytime we had an excuse to go hunting. Every year, there is one trip we always looked forward to going to and that was hunting Elk and Deer in the mountains every October/November. We would always plan year-round and stock up supplies for it, visualizing a successful hunt.

The location we go big game hunting is sacred grounds for our family. It is where my father proposed to my mother, essentially where my family started. We took our vacations up there, whether it was fishing, camping, or hiking, we all loved to be up there. My father has been hunting those mountains since the 80’s and loved it up there with every ounce of his heart. It made me wonder sometimes if he loved it more than his children ha-ha.

My dad would always be our “Big Game Hunting Guide” whenever we went on our yearly Elk hunts. He would do anything for us to be able to successfully harvest whatever we had tags for. Even meant waking up at 4am to drive the roads to find crossings and lending us his gear so we can be comfortable and successful. On November 12, 2016, he was helping me and my brother and sister chase deer and suffered a medical emergency where he passed away that day. Deep down, I know that's where my father would want to spend his last moments.

After that incident, I was not confident enough to go elk or deer hunting without my father. I would always go up around that time of the year to see my “Hunting Family” and help my older brother (Robert) and sister (Bailey) with their hunts. I finally gave in to Robert asking me if I was going to get a tag or not and decided I was going to try again at big game hunting. The three of us usually apply for an Elk and Deer tag but this year I was the only one that drew a Bull Elk tag. This, of course, made me struggle with confidence.

We made our way into camp on a Saturday morning in late October, the 28th, and loved all the snow and cold that the mountains brought us. We stopped by camp to unload our pickups that had the food and bedding into our camper that our stepdad, Scott, dropped off the day prior. We also talked to the other guys at camp to see how they’re doing and to see if they saw anything. We saw that a man in our camp, Richard Norton, tagged a beautiful 5x5 bull and that gave me some confidence that I might be able to compete and tag a bull. Me being a bigger, heavy-set guy, my endurance wasn't up to the standard that the other guys in camp held, so on the first day, Robert told me he was going to take me on a couple of easy hikes (Boy! Either he was wrong, or I am just out of shape).

We hiked a lot of steep uphill then downhill through downed timber. For the afternoon hunt, a couple guys from camp Matt Cooper, Darian Velasquez, Richard, Robert, and I went to chase a herd of elk that was moving fast on public property behind Honholz Lakes. The hike broke me, and we never caught up to the elk, hurting my newly built confidence.

Sunday came around and warm weather was coming so we all knew the grace of snow was going to soon disappear. Our mother also dropped off my younger brother Josh at camp to tag along for the hunts. Robert decided to help another hunter that was from Minnesota pack out a bull that they shot the day previous, so I did not have a guide for the morning hunt (I was totally OK with this, I was still trying to get my legs to stop burning). Unfortunately, Sunday came and went with no luck.

When we all got up Monday morning, we could feel the bitterness of the cold. Monday morning was one of the coldest mornings I have felt ever being up there. I was hoping the colder weather would get the animals moving, but the morning hunt came with no luck once again. When we got back to camp, that is where we ran into some mechanical problems. Robert’s truck would not start and the battery for our generator decided to quit. After a couple hours of trying to diagnose and find out exactly what the issues were, I was able to get Robert’s truck to start and limp it into Laramie. We got a new battery for the generator and did a band aid fix on the truck.

As we made our way back into camp in the late afternoon with our doubts, the only thing that was easing me was Bailey and I's conversation. We were driving around curves when we spotted a bull elk standing on a hillside on public property! When we deemed it was legal, my heart started to race as we found a place to park and go on the hunt. I can remember Bailey telling me to “Just breathe. Just breathe” and I jumped out of my truck and only grabbed the bare minimum, even leaving the gun case and my pack in the middle of the road! Robert and I raced up a hill side and crossed a couple of ridges until we saw the bull grazing. I was able to post up on some rocks that gave me a steady gun rest. As Robert and I were scoping him out, we couldn’t tell for certain if he was legal or not. The second I counted 3 points on one side and saw a legal brow tine on the other, I shot. I was carrying my 30-06 that my father gifted me when I was 12 on Christmas and shooting 165 grain ammo that was reloaded by my father. When my first shot rang out, I heard an impact. I let out 2 more shots where one hit, and the other missed. Those shots were taken about 380 yards away and when Robert cut his tracks, we could not find a blood trail. My heart sank. It was getting dark out and we had 15 minutes of shooting light left.

Robert and I crested another hill where we saw the bull again, I let out a finisher shot, and he was down. The first thing Robert and I did was race down the hill and check the bull. He was a beautiful non-typical 5x3. We were hooting and hollering, I could even hear Bailey from the road. We told Bailey and Josh to bring our packs, knives, and lights. Josh, who was running up and down the hill found us, he was eager to drag him out and brought us our packs. We got to work field dressing and noticed people from camp started to show up after hearing us on the radio.

Josh decided my first bull needed a name and named it Laramie (beats out Nissan Frontier or generator). One moment I remember the most was Darian finding me and hugging me telling me how proud and jealous he was hahaha. We quartered him and got back to camp where we celebrated my first elk all throughout the night making memories, listening to music in that camper, and enjoying each other's company.

I never understood everyone’s drive for elk and deer hunting and always thought they were crazy for doing it, but after that trip that seemed to be handpicked, I understand now and want to continue big game hunting.

~Garrett Purman