Where the wild
Four generations guiding elk, mule deer, and apex predator hunts across 184,000 acres of private Bitterroot wilderness. Backcountry pack camps, master tracking, fair chase. The mountain decides.
Six hunts. One mountain
that gives nothing freely.
Archery Rut
Seven days in the timber when the bulls go loud. Spot-and-stalk and call-and-wait, close enough to hear them breathe.
Backcountry Wilderness Pack
Pack in by horse and mule to a wall-tent camp miles past the last trailhead. Hunt elk and deer on ground that sees no one.
High Country Muley
Above timberline for old, heavy bucks. Long glass, longer climbs, and a shot you have earned by the time you take it.
Late-Season Elk
Deep cold and migrating herds. When the snow stacks up high, the elk bunch in the bottoms — and that is where we hunt them.
Lion & Hound
Cold mornings cutting track behind a good string of hounds. When they strike, you go — up the drainage, through the snow, until the tree.
Rifle, First Snow
The week the weather turns and the elk move. Fresh tracks in new snow, glass to the ridgelines, a rifle steady on a pack.
Rocky Mountain Elk
Sheep & Summits
The hardest tag, the highest country. A once-in-a-lifetime ram hunt for the few who draw, guided by the people who know the rock.
A private kingdom carved from the Bitterroot spine.
Men who can read the
language of weather and track.
Wade Hollister
Wade was born in the cabin at the head of Blackwater Creek and learned the high country before he learned to drive. He runs the hunting side of Blackwater Ridge the way his father and grandfather did, on foot and on time.
Eli Calder
Eli reads track and snow better than most men read a map, and he keeps his hounds honest through the worst of a Bitterroot winter. Fourteen seasons in, he still gets up the ridge before the dogs do.
Tomás Renfro
Tomás keeps twenty head sound and willing across country that breaks lesser strings, and he loads a pannier so it rides square all day. If the camp gets there dry and the elk comes out whole, that is Tomás's work.
Cole Marsh
Cole came up shadowing Wade and now runs the spike camps deep in the private wilderness, where the bulls hold and the trails quit. He hunts patient, glasses long, and trusts the wind more than the calendar.
We will not promise you a kill. We will promise you cold mornings, blistered hands, country your boots will remember, and a hunt earned in the way our grandfathers earned them — on foot, in the wind, against an animal that owes you nothing.
Twelve months. Five seasons.
Choose your weather.
Seven days in the timber when the bulls go loud. Spot-and-stalk and call-and-wait, close enough to hear them breathe.
Sep 8 – Oct 4
From · 7 Nights
Pack in by horse and mule to a wall-tent camp miles past the last trailhead. Hunt elk and deer on ground that sees no one.
Sep 15 – Oct 31
From · 7 Nights
Above timberline for old, heavy bucks. Long glass, longer climbs, and a shot you have earned by the time you take it.
Sep 1 – Sep 28
From · 7 Nights
Deep cold and migrating herds. When the snow stacks up high, the elk bunch in the bottoms — and that is where we hunt them.
Nov 18 – Dec 6
From · 6 Nights
Cold mornings cutting track behind a good string of hounds. When they strike, you go — up the drainage, through the snow, until the tree.
Dec 1 – Feb 15
From · 5 Nights
The week the weather turns and the elk move. Fresh tracks in new snow, glass to the ridgelines, a rifle steady on a pack.
Oct 22 – Nov 8
From · 6 Nights
The hardest tag, the highest country. A once-in-a-lifetime ram hunt for the few who draw, guided by the people who know the rock.
Sep 15 – Oct 20
From · 10 Nights
Notes from the saddle,
filed by lantern light.
Handmade at the Foot of the Ridge
Made by hand, here, by people who use what they make. That is not a marketing line for us. It is the address on the building and the…
The Five Minutes That Double a Pack’s Life
Most gear does not wear out. It is neglected to death. A short, honest field-care routine that costs five minutes and buys years.
Built to Outlast the Trail
We make gear that is meant to be handed down, not thrown out. That decision shapes every stitch, and it costs more up front for a reason.