My August 2024 Dall Dream Hunt

j3butch

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Joined
Oct 9, 2017
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Basalt, CO
The Journey Begins: A Dream Years in the Making

The early morning of July 31, 2024, marked the beginning of an adventure I'd been eagerly anticipating for years. My alarm jolted me awake at 3:15 am, but there was no need for the backup I’d set for 10 minutes later—I was already wide awake, adrenaline coursing through my veins. The journey that lay ahead was not just a physical one but also a culmination of years of dreaming, planning, and preparing. I was finally going sheep hunting.

As I set off on the four-hour drive to Denver International Airport, the reality of what I was about to undertake began to sink in. For the first hour, my mind raced with thoughts of what lay ahead, but eventually, a calm washed over me. This was it. I was actually doing it. The dream that had taken root in my mind back in 2017 was about to come true.

Back then, in my mid-40s, I'd started yearning for a true adventure hunt—something that would take me far from the comforts of home and push me to my limits. At that time, the closest I’d been to the north country was through the internet, where I spent countless hours researching, dreaming, and planning.

In 2019, I got my first taste of what I was seeking when I hunted woodland caribou and Canadian moose in Newfoundland. While it was a thrilling experience, it didn’t quite satisfy my hunger for adventure. The cabin-based hunt, complete with creature comforts, was far from the rugged, remote challenge I craved. I wanted more.

The Decision to Pursue Sheep Hunting

In June of 2020, I got serious about making my dream a reality. After listening to a Kifarupodcast, I reached out to Clay Lancaster, whose hunting chops had been endorsed by Aron Snyder, someone I admired. Initially, I inquired about a mountain caribou hunt, thinking a sheep hunt was financially out of reach. Clay explained that the mountain caribou hunt was challenging and took place in terrain similar to a Dall sheep hunt, and I should consider it. But he also said and without a hint of pressure, if I’m even considering a Dall hunt there’s no reason to wait.

For months, Clay and I exchanged texts, discussing the possibilities and logistics. Eventually, I made up my mind—I wasn’t getting any younger, and if I was going to hunt sheep, it had to be now. To make it happen, I’d need to save every bit of disposable income, but it was a commitment I was willing to make. The fear of living with regret as I got older was a powerful motivator.

The timing couldn’t have been worse, with the world in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic. Still, I put down a sizable deposit on a hunt scheduled for August 2024, nearly four years in the future. It was a hard decision to wrap my head around, but I knew that if I was going to do it, I needed to act quickly. And so began the long wait. I had to file away my excitement and focus on other things, knowing that one day, the time would come.



Preparation and Anticipation

The years passed slowly, but they were filled with experiences that helped prepare me for the adventure ahead. In September 2021, my good friend and hunting partner and I headed north to the Brooks Range of Alaska for a barren ground caribou hunt. This DIY drop camp hunt was just the adventure I needed to test myself and my gear in the tundra. The hunt was incredible, and I took a beautiful bull caribou early in the trip. Looking back, I realize how important that hunt was in building my confidence and proving to myself that I could indeed hunt in that type of terrain.

January 2024 finally arrived, and with it, the realization that this was the year of my Dall sheep hunt. The anticipation had been building for years, but now it was real. I had spent countless hours consuming sheep hunting content, listening to every podcast, and watching nearly every YouTube video I could find on Dall sheep and the Northwest Territories. While I did my best to stay in shape year-round, I ramped up my training eight months out, eager to be in peak condition for the hunt. As soon as the snow melted in the spring, I started hiking the mountains surrounding my home in Colorado, pushing myself harder with each outing.

By July, I started documenting the lead-up to the hunt on Instagram. I was even a guest on The Hunt Backcountry podcast, where we discussed the preparation and anticipation as part of their “Before and After Series.” (Airing soon..). IMG_0654.jpegIMG_3126.jpegIMG_3165.jpegIMG_3842.jpegAt this point, there was no turning back—everyone I knew was aware of the hunt and how much it meant to me. Not that turning back was ever an option.
 
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j3butch

j3butch

WKR
Joined
Oct 9, 2017
Messages
302
Location
Basalt, CO
The Journey North

The morning of July 31 was the start of my journey north. I had a direct flight from Denver to Edmonton, and upon arrival, I was beyond relieved to find all my gear in baggage claim—a huge logistical hurdle successfully cleared. I wheeled my gear into my room at the Renaissance airport hotel, did a quick inspection, and then met up with a new hunt buddy I’d met on the flight for a burger and beers. Life was good.

The next day, after a solid night of sleep, I continued my journey north, expecting to spend the night in the backcountry. My flight plan with Canadian North was a series of hops: from Edmonton to Yellowknife, then to Inuvik, and finally to Norman Wells. From there, I would take a floatplane to June Lake, the main hunt camp for NWT outfitters, before being flown via helicopter to the backcountry.

As I boarded my first flight, I noticed I was surrounded by hunters, many of whom had already taken several sheep. It quickly became apparent that sheep hunting was largely a rich man's game, although there were a few of us “blue collar” hunters a realization that made mIMG_0713.jpegIMG_0714.jpegIMG_0726.jpegIMG_0730.jpegIMG_0738.jpege feel even more determined to make the most of this opportunity.

Our final stop with Canadian North was Norman Wells, where I held my breath again as I watched the checked luggage make its way down the belt. Hallelujah! My rifle and gear bag safely in hand, I joined the rest of the crew hunting with the Lancasters and boarded our final flight to the June Lake Base Camp. After a short shuttle to the floatplane, we streamlined our gear, leaving big bags and rifle cases in a secured shed for the hour-long ride into base camp.

Base Camp Arrival and Last Preparations

Upon arrival at base camp, all eight hunters were assigned to shared bunkhouses, with two to three hunters per cabin. We settled in quickly and gathered for a hunt meeting led by Clay. He covered important details like helicopter safety, rifle etiquette, and tag distribution, then paired us up with our guides. My guide, Don, and I were slated to hunt a block furthest from base camp, so we didn’t make it into the field that day. Time simply ran out, but I was okay with that. It gave me a chance to organize my gear and chat with Clay, his partner/uncle Jim, and the man who started it all, Clay’s dad, Stan Lancaster. Meeting these legends of the NWT was a true highlight of the trip.The next morning, August 2, I enjoyed a leisurely start to the day, sipping coffee and indulging in a big breakfast. As I waited for our departure, I spent the morning glassing the countryside for caribou, grizzlies, and wolves. The anticipation built as I readied my gear for what felt like the tenth time. Around lunchtime, we got word that two sheep had already been shot—a rifle hunter had his down, and a traditional bow hunter had a hit but no recovery yet. Finally, I heard the words I’d been waiting for: “Gear up, you’re heading out in 20 minutes!”

With a mix of excitement, nerves, and the culmination of nearly four years of planning swirling in my head, I loaded into the helicopter with Don, and we were off the ground. We were dropped at the head of a beautiful basin, with an incredible turquoise alpine lake as our backdrop. We quickly set up our tents as rain was about to hit, and since we needed to wait 12 hours before we could hunt, there was no rush. It was 4 pm, and we had a shooter ram on the other side of the mountain.
 

waspocrew

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Apr 2, 2022
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851
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MT
Enjoying the read! Looking forward to the rest! This isn't making 2026 come any sooner for me haha.
 
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j3butch

j3butch

WKR
Joined
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Messages
302
Location
Basalt, CO
The Hunt Begins

The morning of August 3, we were out of camp by 7 am after a quick breakfast and coffee. We ascended just shy of 1,000 feet and slowly crept over the saddle where we expected to find the rams in the valley below. But there was nothing. We glassed for a bit and then contoured about 600 yards to get a better angle up the valley. The loose boulders and shale, combined with numerous no-fall zones, had my heart rate sky-high. One false step could have resulted in a dangerous slide.

Despite our efforts, the sheep were nowhere to be found, as they had countless options to evade us. We suspected they were at the head of the valley, so with the wind in our favor, we pushed on, stopping to glass and taking our time. As we reached the head of the valley, Don dropped to a knee, giving the telltale sign that he had spotted sheep. It was on.

Unfortunately, a young ram had us pegged at 480 yards. While he didn’t spook, he kept his attention on us. All we could do was hold our position and hope to spot the 10-year-old ram we were looking for. Eventually, the old ram stood up out of his bed, and I slowly positioned my rifle in hopes of getting a shot. I had mentally set a max yardage of 400 yards before the hunt, and the shot presented was 480 yards, corrected to 435 for the angle.

I was steady with the old ram in my crosshairs, but the sheep were far from calm at this point. After one more confirmation of range from Don, I checked my turret and level and took a deep breath. Safety off. My mind raced, thinking about my self-imposed yardage limit—not the thought pattern one wants before taking the most important shot of their hunting career. Safety back on. I looked at Don and said, “I’m not comfortable at this range.” It was one of the hardest hunting decisions I’ve ever made.

We tried to gain 75 yards, but in the process, we spooked the sheep. I quickly got on the ram again, but now, as the sheep moved away and across the mountain, the distance increased from 450 to 475 to 500 yards. Eventually, we called it off. The sheep continued to climb and ended up bedding down about a mile away on the highest peak overlooking the valley. We watched them for a couple of hours, mostly in silence, each of us replaying the events and calming ourselves. As I replayed the decision in my head over and over, I hoped I wouldn’t regret not taking that shot.

We hiked and glassed our way back into the valley where we had camped, hoping the sheep would roll over the top of the mountain into our valley. We glassed the ridges separating the two valleys, and sure enough, after an hour or so, we spotted one of them on top where we had left them. Rain came in hard, and we retreated to our tents to wait it out. After a couple of hours, the weather broke, and we ate our dinners, discussing the game plan for the next day.
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waspocrew

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You exercised some great restraint! Way to stick with your comfort zone with shooting range- others may have got caught up in the excitement and let one fly leading to a wounded ram.

Excited to keep following along.
 
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j3butch

j3butch

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Joined
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Messages
302
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Basalt, CO
The Challenges of the Hunt

The next morning, August 4, started with a short hike across our valley to ensure the rams hadn’t moved to our side while we slept. Once cleared, we worked our way to where we had left them the night before. We took it slow, glassing along the way, as the sheep could have fed down anywhere. The terrain was deceiving—from the main valley floor, you’d have no idea the side valley we’d been hunting even existed. It was about a 500-foot climb, picking through boulders until we reached a plateau that opened up into an entirely new valley. We gained some more elevation and set up to pick apart the entire bowl.

It didn’t take long to spot our rams at the far end of the valley, about a third of the way down a 3,000-foot face and a mile away. With no way to make a stalk and the wind unfavorable, we decided to hunker down and keep an eye on them, hoping for a chance to make a move. The rams fed around, bedded down, fed some more, and moved only a couple of hundred yards the entire day. These sheep were spooked and not budging. After 12 hours of waiting, we backed out and returned to camp. Doubt started creeping in.

The morning of August 5 played out similarly to the previous day—hike, glass, hike some more. We climbed into the valley and, to our dismay, the sheep were nowhere to be found. We glassed intently for a couple of hours and then took the opportunity to regroup and refresh our spirits at a beautiful spring, soaking our legs and feet. We rested in the sun, ate some lunch, and came up with a new plan to relocate camp a couple of drainages over.

I fought off the demons of doubt as best I could, reminding myself that I was still very much in the game. But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think that it just might not happen. If you’ve been hunting long enough, you’ve had your fair share of unpunched tags. Would I forever regret not taking the shot on my first day? I tried to convince myself that, no matter what, I would stay positive and hunt until the end with all I had. Demons...

With tent stakes pulled, air mattresses deflated, and packs loaded, we made the move to a new camp. We set up and finished our dehydrated meals by 11 pm. Darkness didn’t come until around 1 am. With tired legs, we devised a plan for the next day and retired to our tents. Sleep was tough to come by as nerves and excitement swirled in my head, nothing a couple of Tylenol PMs couldn’t handle.

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j3butch

j3butch

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302
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Basalt, CO
The Moment of Truth

The morning of August 6 I stumbled out of my tent, and found Don already kitted up and finalizing his pack for the day’s adventure. By the look on his face, I knew I needed to get myself together quickly. After downing half a cup of coffee, I caught up with him, and he laid out the day’s plan.

We had a short but steep climb out of camp to the adjoining basin, where we would slowly and methodically work our way out to another basin. Don made it clear that we would be following the 2/20 rule: walk two yards, look 20 yards, walk two, look 20—slow and methodical. The rams could be anywhere. He also emphasized the importance of staying ready and being quick to set up if a shot presented itself. In short, this could be our last crack at this ram, so I needed to make it count.

Our route led us to a crossroads. To our left was a big alpine lake, and to our right, the valley continued, offering more country to explore. We chose to go right, even though the wind would be unfavorable, in hopes of catching some rams on either side of the steep mountain before they winded us. This was a low-percentage stalk but our only play. Demons… No, stay in the game, I told myself.

I felt Don’s pace pick up a bit, and I thought to myself, “Well, so much for the 2/20 rule!” After about half a mile, we came to a small mossy patch offering a five-yard reprieve from the ankle-twisting boulders. It seemed like a perfect spot to stop, catch our breath, and regroup, but instead, Don kept pushing forward.

After another 10 minutes of hiking, something caught my eye up the steep hill we were contouring. I brought up my binoculars as I’d done a hundred times before, but this time I made out the rounded top of a ram’s horns. It took me a second to register what I was seeing—it was surreal. With Don about 30 yards in front of me, I got his attention and mouthed the words, “Rams above.” As Don brought up his binoculars to look, the young ram I had spotted was now peering down to see what had interrupted his nap.

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