Winning one hunt sweepstakes is a long shot, but winning two? That’s the kind of luck I still can’t wrap my head around. I’ve hunted whitetails in Minnesota’s flat woods, mule deer out West, and Sitka blacktails in Alaska’s rugged country. So, when Worldwide Trophy Adventures called to tell me that I’d won their 2024 Nevada bull elk hunt, hot on the heels of a Utah mule deer hunt I’d won from them the year before, I was stunned! Two sweepstakes wins in two years? Unreal. Plus, I’d be hunting with guys who knew their elk. Erik Schell summed up the outfitter perfectly: “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.
Day one was no joke. Richie, my guide, led me up Moriah Mountain before light, climbing a couple thousand feet. The air was a bit thinner than in Minnesota, but Richie kept a steady pace. Two spotters, Cameron and Ryan, worked the opposite canyon rim, letting us know when they spotted the bulls. We eased onto a rock ledge about 400 yards above a bench where five bulls were feeding: Bondo, the 5×5, a thin 6×6, a young 5×5, and a spike. No 7×7. This was the first time I was faced with taking a bull elk, but Richie talked me through it. “The 5×5’s got 30 inches of mass per side, swords in the 20s, probably 9 or 10 years old. Scores at least 330. Solid first bull.”
I went prone on the ledge, dialing my Gunwerks Nexus in 7 PRC to 387 yards. Richie double-checked: “386 yards.” Right as I lined up, the bull bedded down. Great. I’d waited out a mule deer for five hours once, so I knew the drill. Lying on snow with a 20° northwest wind kicking up, I started shivering after an hour. Richie saw it. “You good? We can back off, build a fire, or shoot him bedded. There’s a branch over his vitals. Can you slip a round under it?” I’d put in time at Gunwerks’ Long-Range University and I knew my rifle. “I got it,” I said. Checked yardage, bubble, breathing, and squeezed. The bull collapsed. “You smoked him!” Richie said. When he tried to get up, a second round finished it. Richie’s spotting scope video of the shot is gold.
Getting to the bull was something else. I’ve taken plenty of deer, but this 360″ elk was a monster. Those antlers, with mass you could feel just looking at them, blew me away. We built a fire, took pictures, and soaked it in. Packing him out was brutal. The canyon was steep, slick with snow and shale. I took a spill, and one spotter got stuck between blowdown logs with meat packed on his back. It took us three hours to hit the canyon floor, cross a creek, and reach the truck. A flat tire on Richie’s rig slowed us down, but we made it to camp for Budweisers and a rewind of the shot.
We caped the bull that night and packed the meat in coolers, though it was cold enough outside to keep everything fresh. I hung around a few days, spotting for the other hunter’s bull, glassing canyons, and enjoying the Nevada backcountry. No pressure, just good times behind the glass. When I left, I strapped the antlers to my truck, crammed the coolers in, and drove 24 hours straight home, still buzzing. Back in Minnesota, I vacuum-sealed the meat, enough for months of meals, and dropped the rack with a taxidermist for a shoulder mount.
This hunt was as good as it gets. The outfitter knew every inch of that country, had bulls dialed in, and gave me options. For a guy who’s now won two WTA sweepstakes, I’ll tell you straight: these hunts are real and the sweepstakes are worth it. Nevada’s elk country and that crew of “paid killers” gave me a bull and a story I’ll be telling for years.
Don’t miss your chance to enter to win this world-class elk hunt in Nevada. The entries are limited…only 1,750 total entries, giving you very good odds of winning this elk valued at $72,000!
