As guide Will Woolley and I stood on a windy ridge looking across the grass and shrub-covered landscape, we zipped our jackets up against the morning chill. The hillside across the canyon was steep and the ravine below deep. At the bottom of the canyon was a series of springs ringed with green vegetation, and at the top of the ridge was windswept grassland. Except for scattered mesas, there was very little level ground.

We set up the spotting scope and glassed the area from left to right and top to bottom, then repeated the process. Our efforts yielded a distant doe and fawn and a couple of raghorn elk. After 20 minutes we moved on.

We stopped to glass at another vantage point, then made a short hike over a ridge to look at some country to the west. We spotted several small bucks and a group of elk cows but nothing to get excited about. We got back into the pickup and headed into Whetstone Canyon. About halfway down the incline, Will looked over his shoulder and jammed on the brakes; a good buck was running up the hillside behind us.

We bailed out of the truck, and I quickly found the running animal in my binoculars. About 200 yards away, the buck slowed to a walk, stopped and looked back. Will set up his spotting scope and soon determined it was a heavy-beamed 5x5 mulie with a 30-inch spread. We figured it would score between 205 and 210--the buck of a lifetime.

After studying the magnificent buck for a few minutes, Will turned to me and said: "I knew he was way too big, but I wanted to get a better look. I have a client coming next week, and this buck is the type of animal he's looking for."

I nodded and smiled, secretly wishing I was on Santa Rosa Island with a trophy buck tag in my pocket instead of a management tag.

The previous day, I had traveled from my home in northern California to the Camarillo airport to board a charter flight for the 30-minute flight to Santa Rosa Island--a mountainous, 54,000-acre island 35 miles offshore of Oxnard, California.

A former Spanish Land Grant, livestock ranching was established on Santa Rosa in the mid 1800s, and the ranch house that today acts as a hunting lodge was built in 1857. In 1910, Roosevelt elk from Washington's Olympic Peninsula were introduced, followed in 1929 by mule deer from Arizona's Kaibab Plateau. With good genetics, mild winters and no predators, the animals flourished. For many years, only the ranch owners, their families and ranch personnel were allowed to hunt.

Roosevelt elk from Washington state were introduced to Santa Rosa in 1910, and with a lack of predators and mild winters, they can grow impressive racks.

While hunting will end here several years from now (see accompanying sidebar), Santa Rosa Island has become one of the premier locations in North America for trophy mule deer and Roosevelt elk. Because the animals on the island are introduced, they are not eligible for entry into the Boone and Crockett records, but they do qualify for Safari Club International, and with 54,000 acres of open space to roam and no fences, hunting on Santa Rosa Island is as fair chase as any hunt in the world.

During the 2003 season (late August to mid November), the bull elk harvested averaged 315 inches (SCI scoring). The largest bull ever taken on Santa Rosa scored 370 and was shot in September 1998. Last year, the mule deer averaged 192 and included a high percentage of nontypical bucks. Santa Rosa's record buck was shot in October 1999 and scored 245 nontypical.

I was hunting with Les Naisbitt, a building contractor from Reno, Nevada. He was on Santa Rosa Island with a trophy Roosevelt elk in mind--300 inches or better. Over the first two days, we looked at least 40 bucks and 30 bull elk, but none of the bucks met management criteria (usually 26 to 28 inches and no more than three points per side) for me, and neither did we find a bull that met Les's expectations. Still, it was one of the most interesting two days I've spent afield on a big game hunt, with nearly nonstop opportunities to size up animals.

The third day dawned clear and bright, but just after sunrise clouds moved in from the Pacific Ocean and fog shrouded the higher slopes. At the time, we were on 1,574-foot Soledad Peak, the highest point on the island, but visibility was too poor for glassing. We eventually found a vantage point that gave us a good view of several hillsides and draws, and while the fog made spotting animals difficult, Will located a buck that looked like my shooter. It was a huge three-point, at the upper limits of width as far as a management buck goes, but Will gave me the nod, and we began the stalk.