Didn’t Draw Your Elk Tag? WTA Has You Covered.

Winning one hunt sweepstakes through Worldwide Trophy Adventures feels like a long shot, but winning two? That’s the kind of luck I still can’t fully wrap my head around. I started entering WTA sweepstakes a few years ago, taking full advantage of their Bonus Bucks program and hoping to win someday. I’ve hunted whitetails in Minnesota’s flat woods, mule deer out West, and Sitka blacktails in Alaska’s rugged country, but this was different. When Worldwide Trophy Adventures called to tell me I’d won their 2024 Nevada bull elk hunt, just a year after winning a Utah mule deer hunt from them, I was stunned. Two sweepstakes wins in two years? Unreal. And the icing on the cake? I’d be hunting with a crew that truly knows their elk. As Erik Schell put it: “John, when it comes to elk, these guys are paid killers.” He wasn’t wrong.

I opted to drive from Minnesota to keep costs down and bring back as much meat as possible. I loaded my truck with Yeti coolers and hit the road for the long drive, stopping in Denver for a steak dinner with a hunting buddy before tackling the last 10 hours to Baker, Nevada. That stretch through Loveland Pass was sketchy with snow and ice, and on the way back I detoured through Gillette, Wyoming to avoid a 30″ Denver snow dump. Long haul, but worth it to have my truck for the meat.

Baker is a speck of a town, population 16, just shy of the Utah line. The outfitter set us up in an Airbnb called The Corner Place. It was homey, with enough beds for me, another hunter, and the guide crew. The kitchen had stacks of premade meals like casseroles and snacks, whipped up by the outfitter’s wife. We heated them up after long days, but if we got back late, we’d hit the Border Crossing, a bar and greasy spoon split between Nevada and Utah. One side had slot machines, the other a gas station. We’d grab burgers and a bucket of Budweiser, the guide Richie’s favorite, and swap stories. It was simple, but it hit the spot.

The outfitter’s team was world-class. They’d been scouting for a week, pinpointing a bachelor group of bulls in a canyon 20 miles north. That first night, we sat around the Airbnb’s kitchen table sipping beers and scrolling through their scouting videos. Three bulls stood out: a beat-up 6×6 they called Bondo, a heavy 5×5, and a narrower 7×7. We decided to hit the canyon at dawn.