We pedaled up the mountain, bows in racks on our handlebars, the afternoon sun in our eyes.
Dave showed me where the elk had crossed the road that morning. Stashing our two-wheeled steeds under some trees, we set off up the hill. We walked up a range cattle trail, billowing dust clouds at every step, up through the jack pines that grew at the top, where we paused for water and shelter from the 95 degree heat.
We guessed the elk had slipped down into the canyon below us and were bedded for the day. Watching for sign, we moved on, looking into canyons, pausing from time to time to call, whispering to each other about the sign we were finding on the hilltop.