Eastern Colorado goes on forever. Somewhere up ahead are bugling bulls and golden aspens—the promised land. Back behind you, your normal life is still pulling at you: work emails, status updates, deadlines. But none of that really matters now.
Just tick off another mile and another minute until you make it to camp. Or so it felt as my buddy Andrew Howard and I trekked from St. Louis, Missouri, toward Taos, New Mexico, last October for our elk hunt.
“I’ve gutted probably 50 elk in this spot right here. I guess you can make that 51.”