The silence on the other end of the line seemed to stretch forever. Finally Galen sighed.

"All right," he said. "I swore I'd never have a woman in hunting camp. But just this once, and only because it's you and Kitty, I'll take you elk hunting."

Three weeks before at the SHOT Show I had run into Kitty Beuchert, the NRA's Assistant Director for Women's Issues and Information. Kitty mentioned that she'd wanted to go elk hunting for 10 years or more. But, she added wistfully, she was starting to have back problems and didn't think she'd ever get to go.

On my way back to Florida after the show, I thought about what she'd said. I knew only one person who elk hunted, Galen Geer. He and Kitty also were friends, so I didn't mind asking him to take us.

After he reluctantly agreed, Galen spent a lot of time helping both of us get ready. He coached us about guns and cold-weather clothes and altitude sickness. Since I shoot a .25-06 for deer, he helped me arrange the loan of a .30-06 from U.S. Repeating Arms, and offered suggestions when I couldn't find a load that suited the gun. And when elk season finally arrived, he hauled Kitty and her daughter and son-in-law and me all over Colorado.

We arrived at our campsite at 3:45 a.m. after driving almost all night, set up a couple of tents, and collapsed into bed. But as soon as the sun rose I was wide awake. I climbed up above the campsite, sat down on a rock, and pondered the threads of experience that brought me here.

Though I love hunting, I never had any aspirations to go to hunting camp. Now that I was here, I couldn't figure out why not. My husband and I camped when we were first married, and I enjoyed every one of our trips. To combine camping with hunting--which I would rather do than almost anything else--seemed a natural blend of activities. I sat and watched Steller's jays flit through the sagebrush and cedars until movement from below told me someone else was finally waking up.

By late afternoon the second guide, Paul Adam, had arrived and we had camp pretty well set up. We spent a couple of hours scouting the area for deer and elk sign, and generally getting to know our surroundings.

After a frosty night, Paul dropped Kitty and me on a ridge and then moved up above us. As the sun came up and the land warmed, I watched mist rise off the cedar trees on the mountainside across from me. Once I heard footsteps crunching on the shale slope. Though I sat very still, I never saw anything; later Paul told me three elk cows passed by just out of my sight.

After sitting there in the sun for less than two hours, I knew I'd been waiting all my life for this. I hoped by being a good guest I could show Galen and Paul that women really do belong in hunting camp.

When we returned to camp we found Galen entertaining two very formal-looking gentlemen. He introduced them as Kurt Rotter and Peter Albrecht, two German army officers in this country on a joint U.S.-German operation. They had a few days to spend before going home, and a friend of Galen's had sent them to him to go hunting. After some initial surprise at finding themselves in hunting camp with three women, Peter and Kurt adjusted to the idea and spent hours telling us about German hunting customs.

The next day, Galen and Paul decided to put on a deer drive. Paul took Kitty and her kids up on the mountain; they would walk out over a series of ridges toward the rest of us, pushing deer and elk ahead of them. We'd meet them for a late lunch when they came out.

Galen stationed the rest of us along the ridge where Paul's group should come out. I saw a single doe pass below me in the middle of the morning; other than that, only Steller's jays and magpies moved. By noon I was sweating in my heavy clothes. Despite nighttime temperatures below freezing, the days warmed into the 80s.

The four of us came down off the mountain and waited for Paul to join us. And waited. And waited. And waited. By 4 p.m. Galen had notified the park ranger in charge of the area that we had people lost. Though he didn't say much, Kurt and Peter and I could tell he was nearly frantic with worry. Finally he handed me the keys to one of the trucks and said, "Here. Take these guys and go hunting."

Half an hour after we left, Paul and company walked off the mountain half a dozen ridges away. Somehow they'd gotten onto the wrong ridge and wound up about two miles from where they should have been. Someone had seen their orange hunting vests and told the ranger, who told Galen, so he was there to meet them.

The next night, Paul and Galen decided to split the camp in two for the night. At 11 p.m. Galen, Kurt, Peter, and I walked up onto the mountain and set up a spike camp several miles from the main camp. Sometime before dawn something big walked by and woke me up. In the gray light of early morning we found elk tracks a scant 10 yards from where we'd been sleeping. We followed them until a warm dung heap confirmed that we were only minutes behind a bull elk. But he slipped away into dark timber, and we never got a look at him.

On the last afternoon of camp I asked Galen, "Well, what do you think about hunting with women? Will you ever have women in camp again?"

His answer was a gruff, "No! You three were great, and I enjoyed having you. But having women in camp changes things in ways I don't like."

I admit I was disappointed. Five days of hunting camp had left me craving more, and I'd hoped for an invitation back. I'd also proven to myself that I could do this, and I figured I had a year to either change Galen's mind or find someone else to take me hunting.

The week after our camp, Galen had a group of men in camp for Colorado's second season. In the middle of the week he called me.

"Um, Galen?" I asked. "Why are you calling me? You're supposed to be in hunting camp."

He laughed. "The men all went home. They said it was too cold at night, too hot during the day, and too dusty all the time. They complained about everything. You guys out-camped them, you out-hunted them, and you out-shot them. Let's do an all-women's camp next year!"

When I could finally close my mouth I started laughing. Women may be winning men over to the notion that we belong in hunting camp very slowly, but we are winning them over. I'm looking forward to this year's camp, and this year's crop of women, and to seeing how we do in the elk meadows Paul and Galen have staked out for us.