2020 Sheep Hunt
MEMORIES OF A QUEST
Its opening day of sheep season 2020…3:45 AM. My alarm rings in my sleeping bag. I wake up with the instant buzz every hunter feels on opening morning. I look up at the stars and sit up…
I am laying on the ground behind my truck near the trailhead. We had arrived there around midnight and decided to catch a few hours sleep. My goal is the top of a nearby mountain by sunup. Little do I know the physical, mental, and emotional journey I am embarking on. This day is to be the climax of the last 13 years of bighorn sheep hunting experiences. As I sit here writing this, memories flood back like they happened yesterday.
My sheep hunting journey started in 2007. I had hunted deer for years, but neither myself nor any of my family or hunting buddies hunted sheep, or any mountain animal, for that matter. For some reason, mountain hunting fascinated me. I remember the first ram I saw along a highway in a huntable area. Seeing that, convinced me that shooting a ram should be possible. I talked to the one individual I knew who had hunted sheep. Open mouthed, I nearly drooled when he talked about his trips to the mountains. I read every sheep hunting story I could get my hands on. Somehow in my mind, shooting a bighorn ram on a DIY hunt became the biggest goal of my hunting career. Talking to the one mountain hunter I knew; I asked the stereotypical newbie question. “Where should I go?” He did not bristle and send me to “Zipperlip Creek”, like most guys likely would have. Instead, he graciously pointed me to a certain drainage that would be somewhat accessible for my experience level and equipment. Aug 24, 2007 rolled around. It was time to go! With the complete and utter confidence and naivety of inexperienced youth, I loaded the little 250 cc quad I used around the farm and headed west. En route, I stopped in a town and picked up my sheep tags. Wow, this was real now! I perused the regulations and stumbled across some disquieting information. Quads had to be registered and insured on crown land! I had no clue. Undaunted, off to the registry office I went, only to discover that I needed a bill of sale. In that pre smartphone era, I soon discovered that getting a bill of sale from the individual I had bought it from was basically impossible on that short of notice. Now what? I could not use the quad; and did not want to leave it in the back of my truck at the trailhead for a couple of days. Considerably subdued, I unloaded the quad at a nearby acquaintance’s place and continued west. As a prairie boy, I had the vast experience of exactly one previous night of backpacking. I had never slept a night in the mountains solo. Now, without a quad everything seemed way more daunting. It was too late to turn back, so westward I went. I passed the last trailhead before the one where I was to start my hike, and noticed Fish and Wildlife parked there. A quick stop to chat uncovered the disquieting news that they were taping off the trail with warning tape. An outfitters’ horse had been eaten by a grizzly in the area. Talk about a reality check! My mood was getting more subdued by the minute now. A few kilometers further up the road, I found the 4x4 trail my friend had mentioned as a starting place. I drove up the trail to the parking area and stopped. Strapping on my Wal Mart hiking pack, loaded with every conceivable piece of overweight gear I owned, I bravely started out. I think that it was at this point the trip changed. It was no longer just a sheep hunting trip. It was a trip to prove to myself that I could do it. It was a coming of age, a rite of passage that would somehow define me as a person. Was I man enough to do this and not back out? I was not enjoying the experience very much anymore; but knew that I would never be content if I backed out now. It was a beautiful valley to hike up. It felt a bit futile, however, to spend hours hiking up a trail that a quad could cruise along in minutes. I wanted to be up onto the ridges on the side where quads could not go. Before the end of the quad trail, I found a narrow side trail heading uphill. I took it. I was thoroughly depressed now. Evening was coming on, I had no quad, no clue where I was going, a heavy uncomfortable pack and generally a sour attitude. None of the spots that I looked at were looking very inviting for a solo camp, with a grizzly a ridge or two over. The trail that I was on reached the top of the ridge and leveled out. Now, between trees, I could see into the valley on the other side. I glanced half heartedly across; and could not believe my eyes! There on the slope, a half mile or so across the valley from me were some seriously suspicious looking white patches. Binoculars went up and quickly identified a large herd of sheep! Thinking back, I believe that was the moment at which I was hooked! A passion was born! From this moment on, I would not be content in my hunting career until one of these animals graced my wall. All the depression faded into instant exhilaration. I had already found sheep, despite what seemed to me almost insurmountable obstacles. I glassed them for a while, but with my poor-quality binoculars I could not discern if there were any legal rams. The herd side hilled away from me around the corner of the mountain and I quickly dropped to the bottom and up the other side. I cautiously followed them but did not catch up. I glassed till dark but could not relocate them. At dark, high on the side of the mountain, I found a spruce tree with a slight shelf on the uphill side and extremely low hanging, thick branches. Deciding that this looked good for night, I curled up in my sleeping bag under the tree. I soon discovered that I had to brace my knees against the tree to stay up on the slope. Not the best recipe for a good night but all part of the adventure. I surprised myself by sleeping reasonably well till the middle of the night, when a squirrel or rodent of some sort ran down the hill and into my shoulder. I awoke convinced it was the grizzly from a drainage over and it took a while to get my heart rate back to normal! Looking back, I realize that forcing myself to sleep through that night was all part of my subconscious desire to prove to myself that I had the guts to carry this out. I woke up again at first light and packed up. Side hilling after the sheep, I hit some other drainages and kept guessing which way I thought they had gone. I was convinced I had lost them. The drainage that I was in narrowed to the point of being a high canyon with a narrow steam in the bottom. As I followed the stream, I noticed a small patch of sand with fresh sheep tracks. I had not lost them yet! I continued on, and looking up, I saw a sheep way up on a ridge above me. I kept following the canyon and soon it forked off into a small basin to the left. I scaled the ridge between the canyon and the basin and started glassing. Sheep started popping out of everywhere! Across from me, above me, they were all over! I began picking them out one by one, wait…There was a horn… the largest yet… A RAM! I watched him for 2 hours. Without a good camera or good spotting scope I honestly could not call him legal for certain. The whole time he just laid there in his bed on the cliff surveying his domain. I consoled myself by looking at the route to get to him if I did decide he was legal and shoot him. If he fell when I shot, it would be a long way before he stopped falling. If he did not fall, I would have, what appeared to my inexperienced eyes, a sketchy climb up a waterfall to get to him. He was basically out of range, and I was not too confident in my ability to pack him out. I told myself that I had the whole experience other than pulling the trigger, so in my mind it was a successful trip. I had conquered my fears and hurdles, found sheep basically withing rifle range, and got to judge a ram. I was totally hooked now. After taking some pictures, I headed out. Late afternoon found me back at the truck, where I realized I had hardly eaten anything since I had left the truck the day before. I cooked up some food, ate, and headed for home feeling a lot better about myself and my life than I had the last time I was on that road.
Lest I get to long winded, I will abbreviate the next few years. Suffice it to say, there are a lot of memories. Memories of accompanying a buddy who had a late season lottery draw for sheep, on a successful hunt. Memories of general season solo hunts. Memories of hunts with family members who I wanted to introduce to the mountains I was beginning to love. Memories of opening morning 2015 walking up to a ram that a couple other hunters beat us to. Feeling the bittersweet thrill as I was excited for them but disappointed for myself… memories of many miles hiked, boots wore out… memories of chasing grizzlies away from camp in a high basin above timberline. Memories of sleeping through snowstorms under tarps. Memories of laying beside a campfire, talking with good friends as I looked up at the stars in the clear dark sky that you only see in sheep country. Memories of friendships forged through the rigors of remote backpacking hunts…Memories of waking up under a tarp wet with rain, and watching sheep, goats, and grizzlys all within a mile of the mountainside I had slept on. Memories of lazy afternoon naps at 8000 feet elevation as we took turns glassing and sleeping…Memories of the looks on other hunters faces when they topped the ridge they had climbed all morning thinking they were alone, only to find us at the top… Memories of watching sheep bolt for no accountable reason only to hear a pack of wolves start howling a minute later. Memories of dozens and dozens of encounters with ewes, lambs, and goats, but a dearth of Rams. Memories of life lessons learned, and confidence gained through experience. Memories of filling a non trophy sheep tag on the same mountainside I spent that first memorable night on. I could look back at pictures of those past trips and relive the experiences for hours on end.
Fast forward to Aug 25, 2020. Early morning found myself, and my buddies Daniel and Josh, at the top of the mountain. Darkness faded into the crimson hue of a clear sunrise. We started glassing and just enjoying watching the seemingly endless sea of valleys, rivers, and mountains transform from night’s darkness to early morning’s light. Soon we were watching ewes and lambs on a mountain across the valley from us. Daniel switched sides of the ridge and Josh headed up a little higher while I picked apart the slope Daniel had just scanned. There was nothing but the herd of ewes and lambs a ridge over. I moved my spotting scope, scanning farther and farther to the left. Daniel came back to that side of the ridge and started going over the ground we had both already picked apart. Suddenly he spoke up with a tone of excitement reserved for more than announcing the presence of ewes and lambs! There, materializing out of the shade on a slope we thought we had both thoroughly covered, were 4 rams. Even at approximately 2 miles, one of them looked awfully interesting. I watched for a while, and while I was pretty sure the left side was too close to call, the right side looked bigger. We also noticed some other hunters within probably a mile of the sheep, but they did not give any indication of being able to see them. Seeing other hunters so much closer, I was honestly questioning the sanity of trying to drop the whole way to the bottom and climb to the ridge they were on. It was looking to be an intense hike, and all the other hunters out for opening day made it a bit depressing. I decided that after 13 years of trying there was no option. I had to try. There was no way I could live with myself if I did not get closer and check them out. The sheep were in an area we had accessed in 2019, so we knew that there would be a pile of bushwhacking but also some short decent trail sections. With the thought of competition from other hunters motivating us, we dropped all the way to the bottom as fast as we could. Talk about rubbery legs! I was feeling it seriously! We headed over to the creek below the rams and started up it. Once we reached the point we picked out from on top, we turned and started up the ridge. A couple hours of bushwhacking got us up to a trail on top we knew about from last year. It was not long from there up to our last years’ camp. From now on we had no trail at all, and the side hilling was brutal. The first section was terribly steep, plugged with scrubby spruce, and cut up with avalanche chutes. One misstep in some of those places could likely end you up 500- 1000 feet down in no condition to hike out. After a couple hours of this we were withing rifle range of where we last seen the rams. There was not a sheep in sight! We carefully worked our way along the mountainside, glassing every bit of cover, and cautiously creeping over every little rise to avoid spooking anything on the other side. We looked for an hour or two, and I was confident they were not bedded on that slope. I looked on my phone at pictures I had taken through the spotting scope in the morning, and could pick out distinguishing features in the terrain where the rams had been. There was no doubt about it, we were in the right place but they were not there. That left 2 options. Either they had gone down into the timber or they had headed up into the rocks farther up the drainage. I ruled out the timber lower down. I just could not envision them dropping so far down. My confidence in that decision was rather shaken when I looked down again and saw the herd of ewes and lambs that we had seen earlier come trooping up out of the timber. Soon they were grazing the slope right where the rams had been. We discussed it, and there was no way I was going to turn back after going that far. We kept on up the drainage, side hilling cautiously above, and a bit behind the ewes and lambs. After a while we found ourselves cliffed out ahead. The way looked nearly impossible for anything other than goats! We had a chute in front of us vertically slashing the slope that we were attempting to navigate. On the other side of the chute was a rock wall. Looking ahead and down we watched the ewes and lambs cross the chute below us and duck around the bottom of the cliff. I was concerned about spooking everything by climbing down to the trail they took, so started looking across from us. There, in the inhospitable rock high above us, was a beautiful steep little grassy crack up through the cliff. It simply screamed “ram hideaway escape route” in my mind. From our angle, it appeared that there was a secluded, hidden basin behind the rock wall, so we carefully started working across the chute to the crack in the wall. Getting up to it was actually way easier than it looked. I was feeling every bit of elevation we had climbed, and my legs were protesting so I told Josh and Daniel to take the lead. I had some fun filming them climbing up the crack, then feeling a bit rested followed them up. I poked my head over the top very carefully, then had this crazy idea that it would be cool to video crawling up to the top and peeking over. I scrambled a few yards down, and holding the camera, I repeated the careful crawl up. Avoiding skylining myself, I held the camera over the top and looked down deep into the huge hidden basin below us. I scanned around with the camera and then pointed it down to where the ewes and lambs were starting to show up again, having circled around the bottom of the rock wall into the basin. As I filmed, I noticed one sheep standing by itself that looked a whole lot different that the ewes. My video abruptly ended as I grabbed my binoculars. Sure enough! It was the ram we had seen in the morning. I let Josh and Daniel know, and have to confess I might have been a bit hysterical in my excitement! Josh immediately ranged it. 250 yds… easy shot, but was he legal? The ram had no idea we were there. However, the ewes had disturbed his nap, and he started walking away from us. He simply would not turn his head. Thus began what seemed like hours of watching him, either from straight in front, straight behind, or from his left side that still looked weak to me. He simply would not give us a look at his right side! He even had the nerve to bed up on a ledge for a while with his left side toward us. It was torturously tantalizing! The only thing that made it bearable was the pictures and videos I was able to take. Finally, after an agonizing length of time, we got a couple brief looks at his right side and all agreed he was legal. Of course, as soon as we decided to shoot, he turned and started walking straight away from us. It was positively uncanny how he seemed determined to thwart our plans with everything he did! Josh was faithfully ranging yardage and giving me the vertical angle compensation. 300…350…400…450. My pre-determined range limit was 450. Meanwhile I was frantically trying to arrange my pack for a solid rest and shot. I just could not get it set right for such an extreme downhill angled shot. In the confusion, the sheep walked behind a cliff and I lost sight of him. That gave me time to set up for a solid shot, but when the sheep stepped out, I could not see him. For the life of me I could not figure out where he was. My excitement was not helping me at all! I’ll admit to a pretty severe case of “sheep fever”. Josh and Daniel could see him, but I was trying to find him in the scope with no success. After what seemed like forever, I found him and put my 400 yd crosshair high on his shoulder to compensate for the extreme vertical angle. He was still walking straight away but suddenly turned and stopped, momentarily quartering away. Josh called the range…485 yds. I had a rock-solid rest for the gun. I have enough confidence in my shooting ability and handloaded bullets that I felt confident I could ethically stretch my pre-determined range limit and harvest him. I squeezed the trigger… we have a perfect video of my bullet smacking the rock practically grazing his right side. In my excitement I pulled the trigger a bit too hard and pulled to the right. It spooked him back towards us. There were some panic-stricken moments when other sheep stood right in line with him, and I could not shoot. Finally, at just over 300 yds I had a clear shot and he dropped in his tracks. I had wondered for years what emotions I would feel at that moment. I was crazy excited, but there was also a surreal feel about it. I remember thinking that for years I had dreamed of hearing my rifle shot echo off the surrounding peaks. For a few seconds I just listened to that echo. I cannot quite describe the emotions I felt. Satisfaction…perhaps; gratitude …certainly; thrill and exhilaration…yes, but in a respectful, almost somber sort of way. It took a while to sink in. We stood there gazing at him where he lay and tried to soak the moment in. I cannot begin to express my appreciation for Josh and Daniel, these guys are the most awesome hunting buddies a guy could ask for! They were right there ranging and spotting for me. The deal was supposed to be, if for some reason I missed the first shot, Josh was to be ready for second try. He held his fire and gave me a second shot. Realistically, it is his and Daniel’s ram as much as mine. I am so grateful for hunting buddies like that. Hopefully I can return the favor in the near future! We waited for a few moments and sent the celebratory In-Reach messages to those at home, and to another hunting buddy who had taken on my responsibilities at work so I could hunt that day. It did not take long for impatience to get the better of us and we began the climb and slide down to where he lay. A few minutes later we stood above him looking down at his final resting place, nestled up against a tree that stopped his fall. Again, I stopped just to soak in the moment, the climax of a 13-year quest. The terrain was terribly steep, so we dragged him up to a slightly level spot it the open and spent some time taking pictures and just enjoying the moment. We had all put in a pile of effort over the last years to get to this point. Between us, we would have way over 100 miles on our boots to get here! Reality began to set in though as we noticed the setting sun. We went to work and in just over an hour we had him boned out and loaded into packs. This is where hunting buddies’ loyalty really starts to shine! We had some pretty heavy loads! It was just about dark when we started the pack out. We dropped into the bottom of a small drainage where the ewes had circled the bottom of the rock wall and started up the other side in a thick, nasty, tangle of under growth. By now it was dark enough to need the headlamps. We fought our way up through the steep stuff. Loaded like we were, I had the thought that we had an awfully long night ahead of us. Things opened up once we gained some altitude and got up to where we had crossed the slope earlier. It actually got quite pleasant. We rounded the mountain and got to where we could look way down the valley to the road where our truck was parked. The night was perfect, it was warm enough that there was no frost or even much dew. On one of our frequent breaks, we just sat in the grass and turned our headlamps off. It was just such a fittingly perfect end to the hunt. There was joy and gratitude, but also almost a slightly somber feel. The ram strapped to my pack was on his final trip across that high mountainside. Very likely he may have stood on this exact spot many times surveying his domain. I was struck by the peace and beauty of the scene. The evening breeze wafted up to cool my perspiring face, and the moon rose over the valley showing all the mountain’s rugged majesty. We could look thousands of feet down and miles away to where the truck sat waiting. There was the desire to rush on, but also the hesitancy to break the spell, the peace, the quiet, the feeling of satisfaction. I sat there; the moment was so surreal. I was experiencing something that many hunters dream of; but may never be able to experience. I was filled with gratitude, first to my God, the Creator of all that I was enjoying, the Giver of the blessings I was receiving. Second, gratitude for the good friends beside me, who selflessly gave of themselves so I could enjoy this hunt. Gratitude to my wife and children who selflessly let me leave them to go on these trips. Gratitude for the guys at work who took on extra responsibility so that I could have this experience. All too soon though, the awareness of the long hike ahead overpowered the enjoyment of the moment, and we got up again. We realized the warmth was a blessing in more ways than one. We had to traverse a huge grassy mountainside cut up with chutes, and canyons below. With the loads we were packing, any dew on the grass would have made it almost too impossibly slippery to sidehill like we were. I have to give Daniel some credit, in the dark, somehow, he found a place to cross the one chute beside the exact rock on the same ledge that we had used coming in hours before! The next stretch of hike is a bit of a blur in my memory. It was just as steep, and absolutely tangled with the nastiest brush you could find to bushwhack through. Normally I would have been grumpy, but at this point not much was keeping my spirits down! It might have helped to know that once we were through this tangle, we would come out to last years camp and have a decent trail for part of the way after that. We fought on through the dark for what seemed like forever, when finally, it opened up and in the light of my headlamp I could see the brush clearing and the slope seemed to gentle. Ahead of me I saw the other guys’ headlamps slow down and stop, and I gratefully staggered up beside them at our old campsite. We sat and had a quick nap and some food and discussed our options. It was after 12 am by this point but we were not terribly far from the truck, so we decided to keep on. I did not make it far, before I realized I was about done. I have never fallen asleep while walking before, but I can now attest that it is possible! We finally gave up trying to stay awake and sprawled out across the trail on top of our packs and were instantly asleep. I had the brief thought that sleeping on top of gamebags full of raw meat in grizzly country was likely a bad idea, but I literally did not care. 45 mins later it was close to 2 am and we woke up feeling somewhat refreshed and kept on. Gps was invaluable for the bushwhacking portions and finally sometime after 4 am we heard the sound of vehicles and saw headlights passing on the road. We were back to civilization. In 24 hrs we had hiked about 16 KMS with about 6000 ft elevation gain and loss. We had accomplished what many of our hunting brethren would dream of, but due to location or life circumstance, never have the opportunity to do. We were so grateful and undeserving!
At the road it was time to shed the pack! I had loaded my pack in a hurry and through all the rough country the head had slowly slipped into the side of the pack making the most awkwardly unbalanced load imaginable. If the road had not appeared when it did, I would have had to stop and repack. I gratefully dropped my pack in the ditch and experienced the weightless feeling that always accompanies that moment. The guys stayed with the stuff and I headed down the road, got the truck and picked them up, A couple hours of sleep on the ground beside the truck and we were on the road just after 7 AM. It was the end of a quest. I had proven to myself that I could do it, but had also learned the benefit of doing it with others. I could not have done it that day without Josh and Daniel. It seemed like I should almost feel a bit let down that the quest was over, but I did not. Instead, I felt complete satisfaction and contentment, the feeling that the time was right. My first ram was down, and it was time. I looked forward to many future hunting trips, yet for now I was satisfied and at peace.
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. I had it looking nice as a PDF but it was too big a file.
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