As the 4:00 am alarm sounded, I was already up with the same excitement I felt as a child on Christmas morning. The day Flint and I had eagerly waited for over eight months was finally upon us. Our hopes were high to encounter a bull, despite my previous week of scouting showing no sign of any bulls. The plan was to reach the Wagner Trailhead early, then hike a mile east across country to a glassing spot overlooking Cedar Creek. I was filled with energy, reminiscent of a child, ensuring we were well-prepared for the day's hunt.

Flint and Dad were also gearing up for the day but defiantly on a slower scale. As we departed Williams and headed south on Highway 73, the road was filled with a line of trucks, a stark contrast to the solitary scouting trips I had during the week. Approaching RD 125, I felt a sense of relief when the convoy of trucks ahead didn't turn off, indicating we hopefully had Wagner to ourselves. Arriving at the trailhead an hour and a half before daylight, the absence of other vehicles was initially reassuring. However, this was short-lived as four trucks soon passed by, heading towards Government Canyon.

With flashlights guiding us, Flint, Dad, and I embarked on our hike to the glassing spot. It quickly became evident that we couldn't maintain my usual pace though. Witnessing my father, who had always been my guide in the wilderness, now struggling to keep up was a sobering experience. At 70, the once strong man I knew was now moving at his own pace, a stark contrast to the father I remembered who effortlessly guided me around as a young man.

Our strategy was to divide and glass; Dad would glass a smaller canyon while Flint and I pursued the more challenging Cedar Creek Canyon. As the first light of day began to cut through the darkness, our hopes of productive glassing were dampened by the settling fog. We pressed on, but our progress was halted when we encountered another hunter from Oregon and his son, mirroring our strategy but moving in the opposite direction along the rim. After a short conversation we said our good byes and moved back towards dad's glassing location.

Cedar Creek Canyon Fogged in at sunrise on opening day

Continuing our journey, we glassed the south slopes of the canyon. As the fog lifted, revealing the landscape above, I noticed several other hunters across the canyon. By noon, seven hunters total in the same area was disheartening, but not surprising given the unit's allocation of 500 bull tags. Our efforts had yet to yield any elk or the sound of distant gunshots.

Returning to the trailhead, the sight of nine parked vehicles was a big reminder of the intense hunting pressure these elk were under. It became clear that for Flint to have a successful hunt, we needed to find less crowded areas. The following days all seemed to transform into a scouting mission for the following day, each new glassing point revealing signs of fellow hunters, suggesting the elk had been pushed further away.

After three days of relentless effort without spotting any elk, our focus began to shift from pursuing big bulls to simply family time together. On day 4 a plan was made to take a quick midday tip to the Grand Canyon. For those who have been there you know what that feeling is like as you approach the rims edge. There are no words or pictures that do God's creation justice and its truly a reminder of how powerful mother nature can be. This quick trip offered a break from the daily focus of finding a bull for Flint and the importance of just making some memories together.

Great family experience at the Grand Canyon

Returning to the hunt, we decided to keep Dad in the truck and explore new territory. The western side of the unit, with its large hills and juniper mesas, provided excellent glassing opportunities and seemed less frequented by other hunters. Our hope was to at least encounter a spike bull. However, the following days passed without any elk sightings, and I couldn't help but feel the mounting pressure of not being able to help Flint find his first elk, especially considering it was at his age that I had taken my first bull with my father’s guidance.

Desperate times call for desperate measures

It takes a toll on you as a parent not to find a way to put your child in position to succeed and I'm really feeling that let down inside of myself at this point of the hunt. On our final day, we ventured into higher elevations, having noticed that successful hunts in other camps were in similar elevations. We quickly checked each marked glassing location, but again no luck. By noon, we decided to head back to Williams, preparing for our journey back to Georgia.

During our drive, Flint and I reflected on the trip, acknowledging our time together with Papa and having the opportunity to mark off visiting one of the wonders of the world from his list of places to visit. It was great to hear that he had made great memories including checking the list of visiting one of the Natural Wonders of our world off his life's goals. As a father though it’s really tough for me to accept spending two weeks in the Arizona’s unit 8 and not to glass up any elk. It was a tough hunt and we put in 100% effort to make it happen but God had a different will for us on this trip.

Great times together that will never be forgotten

As I write this, I’m still trying to process what that will was or even if it was a will for me in the first place. Maybe we accomplished a God’s will for someone else that I’m visually not aware of but whatever the case maybe I truly had a great time with my father and son on this 3-generation hunt. Flint, Dad, I love you both equally in so many different ways. I’m so proud of Flint for the way he was able to stay with me dedicated to push his body to the next glassing location. Dad I’m so thankful for you always being there for me teaching me how to be the father I am to Flint.

Just one of those moments I felt that needed to be captured

The hunt might not have yielded an elk, but the experience enriched our family bond. As a father, it was hard to accept the outcome, but I realized that maybe this trip served a different, possibly divine purpose. This three-generation hunt was more than a pursuit of elk; it was a celebration of family. Flint, Dad, and I, each with our unique strengths and challenges, shared an unforgettable journey, forging memories that will last a lifetime.

Nothing like a big plate of Momma Jan's spaghetti waiting for you when you get home

Listed below are some great gear items that we trusted for this Arizona Late Season Elk Hunt!