For Yampa Valley hunting and fishing guide Alex Thompson, becoming a champion in the outdoors has never been about crowds or cameras — it’s about the real victories that happen far from any arena, in a single moment where skill, instinct and respect for the land come together.
Thompson, 25, grew up in Steamboat and began following his father into the field before he was 12. He earned his hunter safety card at 10 and was applying for elk points by the time most kids were starting middle school. But it wasn’t until he picked up a bow in high school that he realized hunting would evolve into more than a hobby for him.
“Once I started archery hunting, I became addicted to the game and the sport,” he said.
Close encounters and hard lessons began to shape his outdoor knowledge, and his first successful bull harvest came a few years later with a rifle. By college, he was skipping classes when duck hunting was good, even if that meant dedicating time to catching up on his studies afterward.
The transition from young hunter to professional guide came during the pandemic. That year, he was working on a peach farm in Palisade and had plans to return to school after a summer job at Three Forks Ranch.
Halfway through the season, that plan changed.
“I realized college really wasn’t for me,” he said. “I wanted to pursue a career in guiding fly fishing and hunting.”
With mentorship from experienced guides and support from his family, Thompson began guiding public pronghorn hunts and cow elk hunts. He kept a meticulous logbook and guided 34 cow elk hunts in his first season. Over the next several years, he broadened his skill set to include bull elk, mule deer and bear.
The Yampa Valley, he said, gave him an advantage few places can match.
“We have a wide variety of species here,” Thompson said. “You learn different tactics because you hunt antelope in sagebrush so much differently than hunting elk in dark timber. Being able to grow up with that variety makes it easier to translate those skills no matter where you go.”
Thompson now guides internationally, with seasons in Sonora, Mexico, and in the Southern Alps of New Zealand, where he co-operates an outfitting business. The work is demanding, often requiring 60 to 90 straight days in the field.
Despite that fact, he said it still doesn’t feel like a job.
“I’ve developed such good relationships with a lot of these clients. It’s like hunting with good friends,” he said. “That makes the long days go by well and not feel like work.”
Still, guiding brings pressure. Clients spend thousands of dollars, many with lifelong dreams of harvesting a particular species or trophy. Thompson manages that weight with communication and honesty.
“A lot of it is managing expectations,” he said. “If someone tells me they want a 200-inch mule deer, I’ll explain what that means and what’s realistic. Once clients start seeing animals, they understand it better.”
When a hunt ends without a harvest, he wants clients to walk away with something more valuable than trophy inches.
“I always hope they leave with a great experience and become better outdoorsmen,” he said. “Tracking, processing, understanding animals — those are the things I love teaching.”
Unsuccessful hunts also shape him as a guide. Thompson calls it “hindsighting.”
“In the moment I probably would have made the same decisions,” he said. “But looking back, you see how you can improve next time. I always want to evolve and learn more about how these animals live.”
Asked about the most important lesson he’s learned, Thompson didn’t hesitate. “The wind,” he said, laughing. “I get screwed over by the wind more than anything.”
Thompson said his definition of a trophy is simple — the meat. It’s what he values most, both as a way to provide and as a reminder of conservation. Clients may prioritize antlers, but he works to find the best representation of each species regardless of size.
As for what it means to be a champion in the outdoors, Thompson sees it as a balance of skill, learning and sacrifice.
“To be a champion as a hunter is to outsmart the animal you’re pursuing,” he said. “These creatures know their homes a thousand times better than we do.”
Guiding requires sacrifice too, especially long periods of time away from family and friends. Yet the rewards, he said, are unmatched, especially when a client succeeds through shared effort.
“One of the most rewarding parts is teaching someone the whole process all the way through the harvest,” he said. “When we both succeed, it feels like we both became champions.”
Thompson said champions are also responsible for protecting the future of hunting. With public debates over predator hunting and wildlife commissions shifting in philosophy, he believes education is part of the job.
“One of the biggest championships in my world is helping people understand science-based wildlife management,” he said. “Hunting is under pressure, and we need to make sure it has longevity.”
For Thompson, the greatest stories often come from the mountains without anyone watching. And like any champion, he said those stories are what keep the tradition alive.
“Successful harvests create good stories,” he said. “People hear them, and they want to be champions too.”