Grouse are drumming on a nearby log. Cranes are calling in the distance. A lone truck is parked under the pines west of Island Park. The engine goes quiet and three hunters get out. One of them is Travis Arnold. He tightens his shin-high boots, puts a large, canvas pack on his back, brushes his burley fingers over his thick beard then marches into the woods like he knows where he’s going. Truth is, he knows exactly where he’s going and he would still know if he was blindfolded.
“It’s just a place I’ve been coming for 22 years,” Arnold says. “Taken a lot of bull elk out here. We’ve made a lot of memories. I just love it out here. I always have.”
In early summer, he’s not here for bulls. He’s here for bears.
--Kris Millgate