Alaska Range Dall Sheep: My First Sheep Hunt

[JustOneMoreShot]

We made it back to the sheep cash relatively quickly with the empty packs and Joey and Casey were ahead of me and I could hear them talking in a frenzy. "I don't know where the horns are ... we left them right here!" I was 100% certain that they were just messing around with me that the horns had somehow disappeared in our absence. I struggled to look around them to be sure that they were not trying to stash the horns and hide them from me. It got very real when Casey started moving away and looking frantically about and Joey yelled out at him "You are really freaking me out looking way over there for the horns dude! We left them right here I know it!" I knew right then that they were not joking. I could hear and feel the trepidation in their voice. They were panicking and I felt my adrenaline rush and I started to panic as well. I felt so helpless and small as we rushed around looking everywhere for the horns. The meat and cape seemed to be untouched... until it was discovered that the smallest game bag was missing as well! The thief took the horns and the bag containing the backstraps! It was awful. How could the trophy be missing? Stolen right out from underneath us while we were gone! We looked everywhere circling around and running a grid over the entire area. I told Joey that I was concerned that it was so steep that perhaps if something was carrying them off and dropped them that the horns would roll and end up falling down into the creek below. He said that he already looked in the creek and did not find them. I told Joey that was fine but I wanted to have a look also and when we were done looking and ready to give up I would scour the rushing creek inch by inch as we left and he agreed that it was a good plan. After a solid hour and forty five minutes of careful searching Casey shouted from down in the creek. "I found them! I found them! I have the horns! They are down here!" Joey and I looked at each other in astonishment. It was a miracle and our collective prayers had been answered! The trophy had been found and I breathed a sigh of relief as Joey jumped over high grass and brush like a gazelle to see the horns with his own eyes. I made my way over to the edge to look down as well and told Casey to hold them up and grabbed two photos of him and asked him to hold the ram's horns up high over his head. I'm not sure when we were more happy right then or just after I took the shot!
We gathered up all the remaining meat, cape and horns and packed it out and back down to the Jones laughing and joking all the way. Casey had earlier commented about how sheep hunting has lots of highs and lows and he did not know how prophetic that statement would turn out to be.

 

[JustOneMoreShot]

 

[JustOneMoreShot]

This photo below shows where we bivy camped at Point A marked on the photo. The horns were carried by a critter for a ways and dropped and fell down into the water. Point B is near where the camp actually was that we did not get to the night before in the dark. The terrain is rough and challenging to negotiate in daylight and even more impossible in the dark!

 

[JustOneMoreShot]

 

[JustOneMoreShot]

I can't believe that I left my waterproof gaiters at home for this trip. Huge mistake I have two pairs and was trying to decide which ones to bring and left them in the basement in a staging area with my gear while packing. I ended up getting by during the trip by either using a strap off my pack and tightly wraping my waterproof rain pants around my Kenetrek boots or using duct tape that I had and doing the same.

 

[JustOneMoreShot]

 

[JustOneMoreShot]

Back at the Jones we cooked the tenderloins and some of a quarter on sticks held over the open fire. Joey had packed some Greek Seasoning in a ziplock bag from base camp and it was excellent on the sheep and I wished that we had more in the coming nights. We checked and received no response from base camp by way of the DeLorme satellite communicator. We decided that since we have never received any communication from base camp that they were likely having problems with the satellite dish or the router, possibly mechanical problems with the plane. Tons of scenarios ran through our minds... I hope that a plane has not gone down somewhere or perhaps a hunter was hurt somehow and they are all tied up dealing with that. We were concerned but comfortable sitting there in our new camp at the Jones. The next day still no word from base camp. I sent a message to my wife and asked her to get me the name of another person in camp. I described our situation of being stuck and needing to get word out to camp for the plane to come and get us to my wife very poorly. She was in a state of panic and got me Larry's email and cell phone number and admonished me for taking five years off of her life. Larry also did not respond to our calls for extraction or what we were supposed to do. So that was another dead end. We made the decision to send Casey our packer back to camp to get word on what was going on and what we were supposed to do. We were nervous sending him all the way back to camp alone but were very sure that he was capable of making the trip solo. He took his .44 Magnum revolver, a bottle of water, rain gear, sleeping bag, and an ACR personal locator beacon in his pack with the promise to send us a message when he got to camp. Joey and I waited and kept ourselves busy around camp gathering firewood. After Casey left we checked on the meat that we had cashed down the river about 500 yards only to discover that wolf tracks had replaced several of the bags! They had carried three of the bags to the edge of the river and managed to take one bag with a rear quarter and go up the steep side and into the alders. The other rear quarter was pulled free from the game bag and laying out on the rocks but appeared intact and not chewed. The third game bag was slightly torn and abused but the meat remained inside and we returned what we had back to the cash site in the center of the wide, rocky river area. We decided that it would be a good idea to set up and hunt the vermin from the opposite bank up high approximately 150 yards from the meat where we would have an excellent vantage and cover. Joey was concerned that we would be violating game laws so we went back to camp and he reviewed the regulations. Joey determined that they would likely return and to be safe we should move the meat to a different location so that we would not be hunting over bait. The meat was moved and we set up in our perch to wait for the wolves to return. We were harassed mercilessly by flying bugs that did not bite for many hours. They were in our ears and eyes and mouth as we hid in the lush green mess of alders and lichen grass stuff high over the river and rocks below. It was interesting that they seemed to be more attracted to Joey than me and he commented several times that he had hundreds buzzing around him while I only had one or two. Needless to say the wolves did not return and we never caught a glimpse of them as they were likely feasting on the large rear quarter.

 

[JustOneMoreShot]

 

[JustOneMoreShot]

 

[JustOneMoreShot]

Late that night we got a text from Casey. He had made it to base camp and he instructed us that the guide was not coming for us by plane and that we needed to pack back out over the mountain the way that we had come in! This was terrible news but at least we had a plan. We had lost our packer and he had left some of his gear with us in this camp so he would be light and fast and now we had to divide everything between the two of us and get out. We finished the last of our Mountain House meals that night and ate plenty of sheep meat. The next morning it was raining hard and we got a late start as the rain subsided. On 15August we left camp with heavy packs and started the long hike out. That morning all we had left for food was a small Cliff bar that we split in half. We had sheep meat of course but did not eat any more of that. We made the long hike at a modest but steady pace and wondered how fast Casey had made it with an empty pack. As we crested the largest mountain we could just see the tiny base camp finally. We were overjoyed to be so close to reaching our goal. We hesitated at the top of the mountain and discussed our options. The smartest decision would have been to camp there for the night near the spot where the three of us camped the first night out from base camp. We could have messaged Casey where we were and our intentions to stay there for the night and requested him and other packers to leave camp and make it up to us with food in the morning and split the load across two or three more strong backs. We were not thinking clearly as we were cold, hungry, a little wet, very tired and anxious to get to camp and the cots we could see below us. The light was fading and already behind the mountains perhaps 10pm I cannot remember but it should not take us too long to go downhill for goodness sakes. We were wrong, very wrong. Together we made the wrong decision to hike down the mountain that night right away. It was brutal and treacherous. Each step was hard fought with the 80-85 pound packs across the razor sharp and loose rocks. Each step was poised to potentially be our last and the descent was so steep and shear that frequently we could not see what obstacles were in front of us until it was too late and we encountered them only to discover that we would have to backtrack and go around as it was impassable with long straight drops off of cliffs. We were racing against the approaching darkness and there was no turning back as we picked our precarious path down the mountain. Once I walked along an edge about 15 feet long that was about half the width of my boot with my left cheek pressed firmly against the rock face. Eventually Joey had gotten stuck and pinned behind me on an obstacle that I had just finished. I heard him calling out to me in a panicked tone that he was falling. I turned quickly to see that he was wedged and stuck and unable to move but not actually falling. I did my best to reassure him that he was ok. He was agitated and described to me that he couldn't move and felt like his feet were sliding and he was going to fall. I did my best to calm him and told him to switch his feet around... he was trapped with his feet crossed underneath him and he looked awkward. He attempted to get his feet right but called out to me that he could not because his pack was too heavy and pressing him down and he could not lift himself up enough to swap his feet. He was panicked and distressed again and I told him "fine that is ok listen, just un clip out of your pack. Leave your pack there and get over here to me without it". He was able to unbuckle and squirm out of his pack and scramble over to me and we determined that his pack was likely wider than mine and couldn't pass by where I had taken my taller and top heavy pack. I was struggling mightily with the sloshing and shifting weight of my pack but up until this point was just getting by. I told him to remove his rifle and spotting scope from the pack. He and I agreed that the DeLorme Satellite communicator and his iPhone were vital so he retrieved those pieces from his pack as well and filled his pockets. I convinced him that I was ready to receive his pack and he needed to pass it down to me. I was holding tight to a boulder with my right hand and had my feet braced and my left arm out in space stretched at the ready. He told me that I could never catch it and I argued that I was 100% confident that I would catch it or at least stop it as it got to me. Boy was I wrong! On the count of three I was expecting him to lay down and gently release it to me as slow as possible. Instead he let it go like a 85 pound greased, slippery pig. It pounded my hand aside and flew past me like I was a child. We watched in horror as the pack landed beyond me and cartwheeled and picked up speed like nothing I have ever seen before. It was gone in a flash and the area was so steep I lost sight of it in seconds but could continue to hear it crash and go end over end all the way down the mountain. It made my stomach turn and I felt sick. I looked back up and over my shoulder at Joey and his expression I will never forget. Like a child at a county fair who just let go of their first balloon to watch it rise up and away forever. He started to tell me about all of the things in the pack that he was sure that were lost and destroyed. I tried to tell him that it was all just gear and stuff that could be replaced. "But my GPS is in there and my tent, my Oakleys... oh and my Vortex binoculars..." He was in shock and really so was I. It was different to witness a valued piece of gear rocketing toward the bottom of the mountain compared to the countless rocks that I have watched roll down the mountain this week. This was somehow more real and you could feel it cutting to your core. After a minute or two he snapped out of it and we again started picking our way carefully down the steep, sharp mountain.
Just a short few minutes after we lost his pack it happened, the unthinkable. I was still just ahead of Joey and I was standing on a large rock by myself about six foot by six foot in diameter. A large rock and it felt secure. It wasn't and in an instant it dropped out from under me and I could feel myself in free fall. I couldn't believe it was happening at first and realized that it was going to really hurt in a second as I fell approximately twenty feet. When the rock with me riding on top of it hit the mountain it crashed and pitched violently, tossing me like a ragdoll hard on my right butt cheek and thigh and then I was airborne and falling again. I had a flashback of the pack screaming down the mountain doing cartwheels so fast it was just a blur and I told myself that I could not let that be my fate. I spun my torso and grabbed to the razor rocks and anything that I could reach like a possessed cat being thrown aggressively into a bathtub. By God's divine providence I stuck right there like a piece of velcro to the mountain. The impact was sharp and I caught a pointed rock in the rib cage but I was not falling and I was conscious. Joey immediately broke out in a string of expletives shouting if I was ok. He asked repeatedly if I had broken my leg as he did his best to move quickly down to me unencumbered by his lost pack. I responded that my leg was ok; I could move it. In rapid fire succession he next asked if I had broken my arm as my brain was still trying to survey and inventory what had just happened and where I was hurting most. As I lifted my head off the rocks he was just getting along side me and I told him I was ok. He said "Shit man that was a bad one! Oh my God!" I told him that it really hurt the most in my ribs but that I could breathe ok. He asked if they were broken and I shrugged and said I don't think so. All in all we were both lucky and I just ended up with a massive bruise from my backside to my right knee and cuts and gashes on my hands and forearms and a good rib punch. We limped the rest of the way down the mountain and collected his gear as we came upon it piece by piece. Joey's Oakley sunglassess, Gerber knife, Gerber multitool, and Garmin GPS were donated to the mountain and never found as they were likely launched out of Joey's pack as it careened down the steep shale. A few other items display the scars of buzzing down the mountain the hard and fast way but survived to go another day. The Vortex no questions asked warranty will be put to the test for his binoculars.
After making it out of the steep rocks and getting to the start of the green part of the mountain we donned our headlights as we fully needed the light to continue. Walking in the green grass and lichen was much easier but still with some challenges. When we made it to the alders it was pure hell and very difficult to penetrate especially in the dark with the large and heavy pack and rifle catching every branch. The only good news is that we were very close to camp and I was whistling extremely loud every 40 yards hoping to wake the guys in camp to come meet us and help us through the alder mess so that we would not wander around any longer than we needed to. Eventually our calls were answered by Casey and another guy Jake and they grabbed our packs from us and got us quickly to a roaring fire. We ate food by the fire and they said that they had seen us up at the top of the mountain with our flashlights but guessed that we were going to wait and come down in the morning. They had lost us up near the top in the crags and deep cuts and did not see us start coming down. They laughed and called us bear bait walking through the alders with the sheep meat on our backs like a couple of fools. No good explanation of why we were sent to the Jones to hang out for several days before backtracking all the way back to camp was ever given by the head guide. I still don't know why that huge detour was accomplished and added on to the trip. Perhaps in some strange way it was earning the ram the hard way instead of getting lucky and taking him on the second day of the season and then walking out the third? Maybe the head guide thought we were ahead of schedule and needed to burn some time in the wilds of Alaska?
The next day I slept in a little bit and then over breakfast the head guide asked me if I wanted him to call the charter and get me out of camp ahead of schedule. I said heck no I have a wolf tag and a caribou tag; I am ready to hunt! I asked if they were seeing any good caribou in the caribou camp and he replied that no one was out there yet and he had other hunters that he needed to get out there and other spots ahead of me. Two days later he and some other guys were looking over the poles for a wall tent and it was determined that they were cut to the wrong lengths for the tent that was supposed to go out to the Caribou Camp. So a smaller Cabelas Alaska Guide tent was rustled up and it and an older guy who does have a AK guide license flew out and got it set up. The next day the older hunter with a brain tumor went out there and another hunter from either Wisconsin or Minnesota made it out to the Caribou Camp. I sat in camp and hunted wolves for a few days around camp unsuccessfully. I heard once or twice that the guys in Caribou Camp were not seeing many 'bou at all and all were far away out of range and it was too small of a camp for more hunters to join. There was a film crew in camp filming video for a show called "Building Alaska" or something close to that. It may be on the Discovery or DIY channel. They shot some time lapse video of my ram horns on a piece of timber at dusk with the clouds moving quickly in the background and the videographer let me watch the footage on his camera and it looked really good. My overall opinion was that the head guide had a lot going on in camp and was a little consumed with the tv film crew and perhaps had too many hunters to handle. Maybe not but that was my take away and several other hunters thought the same as well and people were talking about it. A few of the guides and in camp help also told me that they would have been pissed as hell at being left out at the Jones for days and not given any word only to then to make it back to camp and then sit for days and days and not get moved to a camp for caribou was poor treatment as well. So after a week waiting around I called it good and got out of camp. Of the ten hunters that I knew and saw in camp hunting sheep including me five were successful. I am grateful for my trip, the amazing country and bringing home a trophy that I will always cherish. I can't wait for my next Alaska adventure!

 

[William Hanson (live2hunt)]

Awesome story! Congrats. I love the pics.

 

[Mad Mountain Mike]

Wow, what a ride this read has been. If you don't write professionally you should. Great story and awesome photos, I felt like I was right there with you. Congratulations on an extremely well earned ram and thanks for taking us with you on this hunt.

 

[WestDan]

Glad you made it out of that fall safe and sound. Sounds like the next trip should be with a different outfitter, but you did get your ram!

 

[Yellowknife]

Incredible write up. Wow. Been waiting for that story. An adventure and a half there.

Sorry to say that it confirms some of my thoughts on that particular guide operation though. Sounds like you just about paid the piper for his choice to send you out with a rookie guide, even if he was a great guy. I don't like to Monday-morning quarterback, but it sure seems like an awful lot of those adventures just shouldn't have happened.

Certainly you have some stories to tell though, and a very nice ram to show for it.

Yk

 

[Stid2677]

Incredible write up. Wow. Been waiting for that story. An adventure and a half there.

Sorry to say that it confirms some of my thoughts on that particular guide operation though. Sounds like you just about paid the piper for his choice to send you out with a rookie guide, even if he was a great guy. I don't like to Monday-morning quarterback, but it sure seems like an awful lot of those adventures just shouldn't have happened.

Certainly you have some stories to tell though, and a very nice ram to show for it.

Yk

+1, I echo the above. That is a story you hear from first time sheep hunters, not a guided hunt. WOW,, great ram though.

Steve

 

[Shrek]

Congratulations ! Great story and pictures ! Please post up the Outfitters name so we can all be sure to give him proper credit for his work

 

[GMD]

I killed my ram at the very top of the peak just west of where you killed yours. I took a great ram but the equipment was shit and the guide didn't want to carry a spotting scope because he thought my Swaro 65 and Outdoorsmans tripod was too heavy. Not many return clients. Every year there are similar stories to yours and almost every single hunter leaves with the same opinion. Clusterfuque extraordinaire.

 

[JustOneMoreShot]

My guide on the ground was very good and the packer was excellent as well. I wished that they both had more experience sheep hunting but you have to start somewhere and we all were a good team and worked well together I thought. I had a Vortex Razor HD with a 65mm obj and the guide had the same thing but with an 85mm obj so we just took his and left mine at base camp. My tripod was a little better and lighter so we took mine and left his. He had some Vortex binocs and nice gear Kryptek, Kenetrek, etc. He even took his own rifle as a backup and also for the off chance he could take an animal that we happened upon after my sheep was down I guess.
After I was flown back to McGrath and spent the night in the Bunkhouse the next morning there were two hunters who were brothers and they were with a different outfitter. They each got a sheep. They said that there were 5 hunters in camp and then after each tagged they were replaced one at a time until a total of 10 sheep hunters for the season went through. They had 6 guides on the ground for the 5 hunters in camps. They went 9 out of 10 for sheep. They said that the SuperCub was in the air the entire time checking on spike camps and a really well run organization. It was about $3000 more than what I paid but worth the extra coin. There was a hunter from my camp that made it to the Bunkhouse the morning that I was there and he and I flew PennAir out of McGrath together. He did not get a sheep and hunted really hard for 10 days. He was a bit disappointed and is not sure what to do next year. But is most likely going with a different outfitter. Unless the outfitter offers the hunt for half price or less and promises to have some significant changes made... Who knows.

 

[hflier]

One hell of an adventure. Congrats for sticking and getting it done in a very tough situation. Lot's of good stories and pic's, but your outfitter potentially put your life in danger and I am very glad that you made it out safe.

 

[snowcamoman]

That was one of the best written and told sheep hunting stories I've read in a long time. Congratulations on a sheep well deserved. I'm glad you made it back in one piece, fairly intact and still functioning.