Landlocked and Loaded with the new 7mm Backcountry

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Author’s note: Before we get to the fly-in hunt, I’d like to thank the people who made it possible. The sponsor for this aerial adventure has been building the World’s Finest Triggers since 1946. Timney, the oldest and largest trigger manufacturer, offers upgraded bang switches for everything from vintage Mausers to modern Marlins and everything in between. If you’re in the market for a trigger upgrade, please check out their offerings. Special thanks to Chris Ellis, Timney’s VP of marketing and communications, for saying yes to a hunt many deemed crazy, controversial, and even dangerous. To Timney’s owner, John Vehr, I will forever be grateful for the support. Without your blessing, this story never could have been told.

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Rotors whirling and Lycoming engine straining, the Robinson R44 detached from the makeshift helipad. After slowly gaining elevation, Tony Chambers pitched the helicopter forward. Before long, we were hurtling above desolate Wyoming rangeland at 100 mph. In minutes, we rounded the corner of dry riverbed and locked eyes on our destination, a tall ridge dotted green by clumps of juniper and pine. From above, Tony picked a coalbed methane (CBM) well carved into the hillside and delicately set us down. Start to finish, the flight was just four minutes. Engine running, managing editor Jayce Kadoun and I pried our gear from the fuselage, ducked our heads, and scampered beneath the twirling rotors. Once safely out front, Tony lifted off and swung north to pick up the next load of hunters. When the helicopter disappeared behind a ridge, Jayce and I stared in awe at the Holy Grail of public land hunting before us, over 20 square miles to roam. No guides or trespass fees required. “We did it, Jayce. We finally did it.” “No, you did it,” he said. “This was all you.”

Landlocked Public

Before moving to Wyoming, the issue of landlocked public land never crossed my mind. It didn’t take long to change that. In my county alone, over 70,000 acres of Wyoming State Trust and Bureau of Land Management (BLM) is virtually inaccessible to hunting, angling, and countless other forms of outdoor recreation. The reason for this is simple: Private ranchers won’t allow the public to cross their land. It's hard to blame landowners. After all, their land, their rules. This is a big deal locally, as it condenses most of the hunters on the accessible parcels of public land. But across all of Wyoming, an area the size of Hawaii (4+ million acres) is essentially off limits to outdoor recreation. Again, that’s just one state. Throughout the West, a staggering amount of landlocked public land exists. According to OnX Maps, 6.35 million acres of state land is entirely landlocked by private land holdings in Western states. Another 9.5 million acres of federal land — an area larger than New Hampshire and Connecticut combined — is inaccessible by land vehicle, hoof, boat, or boot. What this means is if you don’t have permission for ground access from adjoining landowners, the only way to legally enter these vast swaths of public property is by air.

Booking the Flight

Four years ago, the idea for this fly-in hunt took shape. Three years ago, I took it seriously. Last year, a DIY hunt on landlocked ground became an obsession. I had to make it happen. The first step was finding an aircraft. How hard can it be? I thought. After striking out with 26 air operators across Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, and Colorado, I realized that chartering a fixed wing or helicopter for a public land hunt was next to impossible. Most commercial pilots with a bush plane or helicopter won’t take hunters in. Pilots either don’t want to upset the ranchers who give them business each year or they lack the Part 135 certification from the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA), which covers non-scheduled carriers, helicopters, and charter operators. Part 135 exists for passenger safety, so it’s no surprise this is both difficult and expensive to acquire. Before giving up on my dream, I began carpet-bombing the aviation industry, begging for someone to join us on a hunt. All we needed was an aircraft and a pilot. If we didn’t pay them for the flight, we could all hunt together. I may not be a smart man, but I am a determined one, so I reached out to a dizzying number of aircraft manufacturers, including helicopter, fixed-wing, powered parachute, weight-shift trike, and even commercial drone manufacturers. (I really did explore using a giant drone to access this land.) However, the most comical call I made was to a hot air balloon manufacturer in the Midwest.

“You ever sell a hot air balloon for hunting?” I asked. “I’d like to fly into landlocked public land, and this seems like it might work.”

“No, you’re the first to ask,” said a representative who no doubt still cackles each time he tells this story. “You do realize you can’t steer hot air balloons, right?”

(For the record, I did know that, and I still think a hot air balloon could work.)

I’d nearly given up when I did one last Google search and stumbled upon Tony Chambers of Wind River Air (windriverair.com). To my astonishment, Chambers owns a Robinson R44, is Part 135 certified, and has a passion for accessing landlocked public land. When Tony said yes to an early October deer and elk hunt, step one was complete. The plan was coming together. But I was so fixated on how to make the hunt happen that I never addressed an important question — should I?

Black and White, or Gray?

Like corner crossing, using an aircraft to access public lands is a contentious topic in the hunting world. Leading up to the trip, I conducted informal polling. Amazingly, not a single hunter I knew had flown in. That surprised me. Even more surprising were the split opinions on whether this was the right or wrong thing to do. The majority deemed an aerial hunt on public land a righteous endeavor. “Hell yeah,” they’d say. “Go for it!” Others thought I was crazy. I couldn’t understand why until the truth came out. They were concerned about our physical safety.

It’s an interesting take. Their argument boils down to this: When someone has sole access to land for generations, eventually they will consider it theirs. If someone sets foot on this land, they must deal with the consequences. Could an unhinged rancher or outfitter use violence to keep hunters off public land? Sure, but it’s unlikely. Real life isn’t like an episode of “Yellowstone.” In addition, today’s hunters have it better than ever. GPS software like OnX allows land ownership disputes to be resolved in real time.

Jayce quietly chambered a cartridge while I ranged the tank. The buck was at 230 yards and actively drinking when he squeezed the Timney HIT trigger, detonating the primer on the 6mm Creedmoor from Black Hills. I watched as the 108-grain ELD-M entered his ribcage. The deer ran 40 yards and piled up. With matching kickers and good mass, Jayce’s buck was a trophy by most standards and the largest deer we saw all week. I found it baffling that a mature deer was in the open near a gravel road at 8 am. Maybe that was his normal time to drink. Maybe we got lucky. More likely, animals behave differently in areas with hunting pressure this low.

Our second hunt of the trip was complete. After less than four hours of hunting, Jayce and I had 250 pounds of game meat hanging. The only issue now was keeping it from spoiling.

Can’t Beat the Heat

October in Wyoming might be snowy and cold. Then again, it can be hot and dry. The only negative about our fly-in hunt was the weather. One of the hottest and driest summers on record morphed into an equally hot and dry Indian summer. On October 2nd, the day Jayce killed his buck, the daytime high was over 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Even worse, the overnight low was 52. Without ice, cooling our meat wasn’t possible, so we called in Tony. On the morning of the 3rd, Tony touched down. The plan was to load Jayce, his camping gear, and his deer inside the helicopter. After dropping Jayce at the truck, Tony would return for the elk and “sling it out.” A sling load involves tethering cargo to the bottom of the helicopter. After quick instructions on how to fasten the rope to the underbelly hook, Tony and Jayce headed out. When they left, Joel and I hustled to get the elk meat. Before Tony returned, we needed the meat and antlers on the road. Even though he wasn’t “landing,” the rules are the same. Everything must arrive and depart from a maintained road. On the way to retrieve the elk meat, Joel chatted with an energy worker who was bulldozing a flat spot for a CBM well and explained that his day was about to get more interesting. Two trips took us maybe 10 minutes, and we had the meat bags, quarters, and antlers tied into a bundle on the edge of the road. The package was ready. We just needed the carrier. Tony swooped in low and slow, hovering above me as I hooked the rope. Tugging on the line as he climbed skyward, the cargo left the ground. The energy worker watched in awe as bloody game bags and antlers sailed over his bulldozer. Our meat wouldn’t spoil. That was comforting. But as the helicopter flew into the distance, I was paralyzed by fear. Please don’t let that knot come loose, I thought. That would really suck. Luckily, it didn’t.

Doubling on Deer

Game density low near camp, Joel and I decided to spike out for the final night of the hunt. We selected a series of basins to the northwest, loaded our gear, and hiked during the heat of the day. To save weight, we left my rifle in camp with my father. After a long hike, we reached our perch. As shadows spilled into the basin, Joel pegged a group of deer. The spotting scope confirmed they were all bucks, and the top one was what he was after. I stayed put as he made the stalk. Scaling a ridge, Joel climbed above the buck and then slowly, inch by inch, peeked over the edge to avoid being sky-lined. It didn’t happen; this time, the deer pegged him. But at just over 150 yards, it didn’t matter. Joel tripped the Timney, and the buck was his. While taking photos, I asked Joel if I could borrow his rifle to peek over the next basin. I still had a deer tag, and as every hunter knows — and I believe Einstein theorized — the grass is always greener over the next ridge. Always. This time it wasn’t. The basin was a bust. But then I turned around, facing the canyon where Joel was dressing his deer, and spotted a grey object tucked into a cut. It was a buck, and not a bad one. I chambered Joel’s Rifles Inc. Model 70 in 6.5 PRC and peered through the scope. Two shots rang out. Thwop! Thwop! Both bullets impacted flesh. Joel and I had two deer down, less than 150 yards apart. Separately, we boned our bucks and then packed them to the mouth of the canyon, where we set up camp and discussed the fly-in adventure. After four days of this unique escapade, I was curious to hear Joel’s take.

As Good As it Gets

“Joel, you’ve hunted far more than most people,” I said. “What do you think about this landlocked deal? Is it as good as I think it is?”

“Truthfully, I don’t know how you beat it,” he said. “Sure, we could access this same ground by paying an outfitter, but it wouldn’t be the same hunt. We’d stay on the roads and beg the guide to let us hike somewhere. On this trip, we decide where, when, and how. We’re hunters, not just trigger pullers, and if we get away from the roads, we have no competition. It’s just us and the animals. That doesn’t mean you’re gonna get anything, but in my opinion, this hunt is as good as it gets.”

Joel was right; the hunt was impossible to beat. It’s easy to argue that all public land should have an easement for public access, but is unfettered admission best for the land or the wildlife? Certainly not, which is why private land hunting trumps public land and why we had so much success in a short amount of time. Less humans equals better hunting. During the hunt, my father pointed out an interesting detail. He said he’s never seen BLM that was better managed. The land was in fine shape, roads were well maintained, and there wasn’t a speck of garbage to be found. In that regard, it was like a Louis L’Amour novel, one set in the modern era, where cattle ranchers, coalbed methane extraction, and DIY as well as guided hunters were all jockeying for natural resources. The health of the land is largely due to ranchers, who not only control access but also decide the duration and density of cattle grazing. Like it or not, they are the land managers, game managers, and law all rolled into one. This explains why many landowners consider this public land theirs. Practically speaking, it is their land. While ranchers may be the de facto stewards, the ownership of millions of acres of landlocked land belongs to the American people. This means you and I can access this public land right alongside ranchers and outfitters, even if they don’t always want us there. Doing so just takes a lot of work, a bit of luck, and finally, a rifle with a Timney trigger. 

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