Sheep 2016 Sharing the passion

[Stid2677]

After having the great fortune of harvesting a few rams, I’m now at the stage in my hunting life where I have to balance my love of this crazy addiction known as wild sheep hunting with my health and sheep conservation. Happiness is just having the opportunity to spend a few, all too brief moments in the picturesque mountains they call home.

In 2016, I was hoping to draw a sheep tag in the annual drawing, but no such luck, or ever for that matter. After the results were published, a friend that has never harvested a ram asked if I would sheep hunt with him. After thinking about it over a few days, I told him I would, and he booked transportation into the south-side of the Brooks Range. The transporter told him he would not fly us in until the day after the opener. I’ve had the same experience with other transporters operating the same way, they will not fly in DIY guys until they get their guides and their clients in for the opener. I understand the reasoning for this, guides use these guys every year and Joe resident may only use them once.

Knowing we would be starting out behind the power curve did not deter us from booking, after all we would be sheep hunting. The sheep bug bit Chris and he really wanted it bad. He tried a few times but was still ramless.

Chris lives several hundred miles from me, we talked gear, guns, past trip reports, food, all the stuff that makes sheep hunting a year round affair. We both purchased new rifles for this hunt, and used the off-season to get them ready. His choice was a Kimber Montana chambered in .308 topped with a Swarovski Z3 with ballistic turret. I also decided to pack a Kimber but choose the Adirondack in 6.5mm Creedmore fitted with a Swarovski Z5 Sheep Hunter 3.5x18x44 with BT and had a custom dial made for my hand loaded 130 grain Accubonds. Both he and I spent some range time dialing in our rifles and confidant both were ready for the task.

Adirondack compared to Mountain Ascent.

 

[Stid2677]

Before we knew it, the all too brief Alaskan summer was nearing an end and the time to head off into the mountains was at hand. Chris drove up and we did our last minute gear shake down and went over our game plan based on map recon and past hunt reports. The drainage we would be hunting has long been known to hold good sheep and was hunted back in the day by a famous Alaskan guide. Tales of huge rams and good numbers had us both very excited to get on the ground.

We caught a commercial flight into the village to meet up with our air taxi. On the flight to the village the pilot chatted with us and the running joke was that all that our transporters sheep hunters brought back was blueberries. So we were known as “the berry pickers” from that time on. The plane dropped us on the ramp and we moved our gear over to the transporters shack and started prepping for the bush flight into the drainage we would be hunting. Our pilot runs a one man show and was out flying when we arrived so we spent our time making sure all our gear was in order.

While we were waiting our turn, a truck pulled up loaded down with camera and camping gear. It was the crew that films one of the Alaskan TV shows. I see how they get those folks so chatty now, lots of beer. We helped him load the plane as we did, he informed us that there would be a guide working the drainage and that he had an assistant and two clients in there. He did share that we could cross the river and get into an area that the guide did not have guiding rights to. The weather was bad up in our drainage so our pilot loaded up all the TV crews’ gear and flew it out.

While we waited, we discussed our plan now that we knew we would have competition for legal rams. I’m not anti guide but those guys are pros and I was not too excited about trying to out hunt someone that knows the drainage so well. We decided that we would go for the area that the guide was not in and quickly got out our maps and GPS to see what route would work best.

We’ve had the wettest summer I can ever remember and before we flew out I was concerned that water levels may cause us trouble. I ask our pilot about it as we were flying it and he said that about a week before the water was as low as he had ever seen it. However,, as we flew up our drainage it was clear to see that the river was raging, and I mean raging. The normally gin clear water was a nasty dirty brown and was all the way up into the willows and alders. The flight in was worth the trip all by itself, I never grow tired of gazing at the wonder that is the Alaskan bush. We flew over the vast Yukon river flats, mostly swamp and home to moose that will never see a man. We saw large numbers of caribou and as we neared the foothills we could see their trails they have used for millennia as they zigzagged the tundra. As we circled the strip it was plain to see that there would be no crossing the river until it went back down and cleared up.

 

[Stid2677]

As we unloaded we confirmed our pick up date and in a flash he was off and we were left alone to ponder what we would do now and just be in awe of the beauty of this very special place. With crossing the river out for the time being we had little choice but to push up into the guides area. I was hoping that maybe,, just maybe they already had rams down and would be waiting for their next clients to fly in on the 17th or so, that would give us a week to get on some rams or if the water came down we could cross and get into some drainages the were not being hunted.

The walking looked to be good from the air, as it often does. But once on the ground, this was not to be so, the heavy rain had the ground soaked and the walking even up high was miserable. We tried high and we tried low, but we had to choose either life sucking tundra, or flooded willows. Our hopes of walking near the river on the gravel bar was dashed by the flood stage river. The normally crystal clear water was an angry caldron churning with nasty brown flood water. You could hear the clunk, clunk, clunk, as huge boulders were being forced down river by the powerful force of the over flowing river. It was late in the day and raining, so we just did what sheep hunters do and embraced the suck, head down one foot after the other. We walked until the tundra had sucked the strength from our tired bodies and the light was fading. We made camp on a bench and quickly set up the Sawtooth and got some hot chow going to recharge for the long day we had ahead of us tomorrow. We had not got as far as we hoped and wanted to get some good rest to push hard the next day. Our plan was to try to push up to the headwaters until we spotted some rams. As often is the case, our well-laid plan did not survive first contact and we would have to adapt as we went. Even though I have been on many more sheep hunts than Chris has, I wanted to try to share as much of what I have learned with him as I could. I was very conscious about not just making a plan but both asking for his input and explaining the thoughts behind my choices.

We arose early and were greeted by a clear day but with heavy fog. We had some hot chow and some hot coffee for this old guy. Chris doesn’t drink coffee, but I can’t get my boiler burning without my morning Joe. We tidied up our gear and got ready to move, Chris was glassing before we started hiking since the fog was lifting and spotted 3 rams, he also spotted a tent. So we now faced our first of many choices we would have to make. I unpacked my spotter, a 95mm Swarovski ATX. I glassed the rams and one looked legal, the tent had no sign of people or activity.

We decided we could not pass at a chance of a legal ram and since we could not see anyone we thought they may be up the side drainage they were camped on. The rams were bedded and it looked like we could climb and side hill over to them. After several hours we got cliffed out and could not reach the area the rams were bedded. We had no choice but to descend and see if we could find them again and find our way around the gorge.

 

[Stid2677]

Once we got down we had the angle to see where the rams had been, they were no longer there and now we could see a couple guys hanging around the tent we had seen before. Not wanting to try for rams they may be camped on, we had a chat about what best to do and decided we would push forward and leave that side drainage and rams to the hunters already there. It was not an easy choice to walk away from the rams, but I tried to put myself in the client’s boots and I know I would be unhappy if I were he and had resident hunters going after the animals I was paying big money to hunt. They were there first, so we would look elsewhere.

We both knew that it would be a long day of unpleasant walking, but knew that there was some very sheepy terrain up the drainage and we had 10 days to work with. The walking got better after we passed the side drainage, and the day was bird blue and warm. As we walked I could not help but to think about all those that had been here before me. We saw giant bull moose sheds, as we moved higher into the drainage. Small sheltered draws were full of both moose and caribou sign. Was easy to see that this drainage held lots of game and was rich in browse. As we hiked I would take time to just soak it all in stopping every once to eat a handful of blue berries and low bush cranberries, after all I was a berry picker.

 

[Stid2677]

As the day neared an end, we were well away from the last camp we saw, but still had not seen any other rams. We were now a hard day and 1/2 hike from the strip, and would most likely have to hike another day to get near the headwaters. The pilot had said that the guide worked 2 camps, so we knew that we still had hunters above us. We made camp in an absolutely beautiful spot. A small creek fed into the main river and formed a lower bench that made for a very sheltered camp, lots of wood, fresh water and high ground to spot from. We were also across from a side- drainage across the river that also led to the area that was outside the guides area. If the river ever came down we could cross and try to hunt the drainage the pilot told us about. Anyone that has ever hiked long and hard knows how good it feels to drop that pack and get out of those heavy boots. We both collapsed into our fart sacks and quickly let sleep wash over our exhaust bodies as the sound of fast flowing water babbled in the background. Many I have shared a fire with find it hard to sleep in the bush, not me. I love being near flowing water and find it so soothing.

The next morning we made a plan to push even farther up the drainage. This camp would serve as a base camp and we would spike camp forward from here. I did not tell Chris at the time, but I already knew I had hiked past the point I could pack a ram back unless we could walk along the river as the walking in the flooded tundra is simply more than my ole body could stand. The guide that hunted this drainage back in the day did so with a mule train that he packed in hundreds of miles from the nearest road. This drainage while awesome sheep country was more spread out than many drainages I have hunted and had long distances between side drainages. There are many hidden and hanging valleys and benches that require climbing to peer into, lots of hiding places.

We hiked all day and as the day was fading we came upon an old camp that was on a high bench. There was even a rock wall made, and wood that had been carried from far below. From the looks of it, the wood had been there for many years as it was very punky. From our vantage point we could glass into 3 drainages. Chris set up his cuben fiber shelter and I put up my tarp to give us some cover to glass and eat from. From our little slice of heaven we had an amazing sunset and quickly spotted a few sheep. I got the fat girl out, my pet name for my ATX 95mm spotter and had a closer look at the sheep we had spotted. Lambs and ewes and one lone ½ curl was all we could find. We shared a meal and some hot drinks and retired for the night.

 

[TJ]

You've got my attention Stid.

This is going to be a good one.

 

[Stid2677]

We had been pushing pretty hard and slept in a bit the next day. I sure did not want to get much farther from the strip as it would take 2 hard days to reach the pick up point. I could tell the water was coming down a bit, but still no crossing, so after some conversation we decided to stick and stay and have a good look. Not long after breakfast Chris spots a guy hiking along the other side of the river heading down the drainage. At first we thought this was a through hiker, but about 30 minutes later we see 2 more guys and one of those had a rifle. All three met up and disappeared from our view behind a big boulder and we did not see them again.

After a bit of discussion we surmised that it must be the guide, a packer and their client. They were not packing any horns so we had to believe that they had bailed and were heading back to the camp we had seen. This was a kick in the groin; I thought to myself, that if the guide for this area could not find a ram and was pulling back, we were going to be hard pressed to find what he could not. Chris has an in reach and could check weather. The forecast showed a front coming with high winds and snow in 2 days. We decided we would stay another day glassing and fall back to our base camp before the snowstorm.

 

[danarnold]

Good stuff!

 

[Stid2677]

The views and vistas from our perch made it easy to see why someone had selected this spot as a camp. We could see for miles down 3 drainages as well into some hidden and hanging valleys. Chris spotted a lone wolf across the river from us about 1500 yards away. She was working down the drainage and appeared to be looking for a meal. Was a treat to observe her through my spotter, I could see that her winter fur had not yet come in as she was ratty looking. She was trying to catch something in the flowing water and kept biting at the water. I had no interest in killing her, but I did want to see if I could call to her.

I let go with a brief yelp, and boy did she come a running. She blasted off like her butt was on fire and came straight to us. I thought for sure she would stop at the still raging river, but she crossed that like it was nothing. She ran straight to the base of the slope we were on and was at about 200 yards when she got so close we could no longer see her. She was singing and howling the entire time. It’s almost surreal to hear the howls of wild wolves as they echo from all around you. A few hours later we spotted another ram slightly more than ½ curl and we enjoyed watching him move and feed about the drainage. I could tell from his body language that he was on alert, not sure if it was the wolf or the men we had seen hiking near where he was. I started to think that many of the sheep had been pushed back into hiding and that we would have to push back off the main drainage.

 

[Stid2677]

Chris retired for the night into his cuben fiber shelter,, the evening was clear and pleasant and I choose to sleep under my tarp. I know that I don’t have many sheep hunts left in me and I want to soak up and savor every single moment. Hard to explain to some why sheep hunters find so much enjoyment from doing something that can be some times so uncomfortable. As sleep slowly overcame me, I drifted off thinking of those that had done the very same thing from this perch.

I arose to catch the rising sun, my favorite time. I live to see the world wake up and start to move as the sun returns for another day. There was a chill in the air and even without the weather report it was plain to see that weather was moving in. I gathered up the wood and made a nice fire. Said a silent thank you to the folks that had humped that wood to such a lofty place. We ate a meal and got our gear ready for the days hike back to our basecamp.

 

[Stid2677]

As we pulled back, I thought to myself “things are not looking good”, I did not share this with Chris, but I was starting to think we might not get it done. We found a bit better line and walking downhill most times easier than walking uphill. We found a spring that was flowing up like a fountain and both drank our fill of the fresh sweet water. I topped off my water bottle and we paused at one of the many benches that we had crossed. The fall colors were in full bloom and the red and yellow leaves of the brush was painting the mountains with vibrant color that was even more dramatic in the morning sunlight. We were maybe about half way back to camp when we both heard someone scream. It was an unmistakable human guttural scream. The sound seemed to come from the river and we both thought it may be someone in trouble. We were fairly high up side hilling and sure did not want to hike down to the river, but fearing that one of the guys we saw may be in trouble crossing the swollen river we beat feet down to the waters edge. We spent about 30 minutes walking up and down the river calling out but never heard or saw anything.

We continued on our way back to camp and arrived near dark. We had been going nonstop since we flew in and I was in need of a reset day. We gathered up some firewood and evergreens to burn. I also went down to the main river and placed a marker to track the water level. It appeared to be receding, and I wanted to keep track of the level. I was hoping we could cross and get into some new country, but as long as the river was like it was there was no way I would risk a crossing.

The sky had grown dark, clouds came in and were down to the deck. It felt sooooo good to be in a warm dry place. We had a toasty fire in the stove and soon the sawtooth was so warm we could shed down to tee shirts. The warmth washed over my exhausted, sore body and as I started to doze off I knew I had better crawl into my sleeping bag before I fell asleep and woke up bone cold. We both had chosen to rest the next day so we slept in a bit. The snows never happen, but the clouds were still low the next morning. Was a good day to rest since the fog and clouds obscured the mountains. We were both nursing sore this and that and it felt so good to just rest and recover.

 

[Stid2677]

My water level rock was getting farther from the water so I knew that the water was at last starting to both clear up and drop. About noon Chris spotted the 3 guys we had seen from our spike camp. It was the guide, packer and client and they had horns on one of the packs. It became obvious that the yell we had heard was not a distress yell, but most likely the client celebrating his kill. The guide was pacing along the still quite swollen river probing for a place to cross. I made a mental note of the place he tried to cross; I thought this may be his usual crossing spot when the river was at normal levels. The water was coming down and clearing fast, but still looked too dicey for me.

So we now had no hunters we knew of above us, and at least one other hunter plus the 3 guys we had saw below us. We were still limited to one side of the drainage because of high water, what to do? The clouds were still low, so we choose to wait and see what the water did. We spent the day around camp tending to the chores and as the ceiling improved we were able to glass up a couple nice caribou bulls. The water was for sure dropping and clearing fast and by nightfall I was fairly confidant that we might just be able to cross the next morning.

During the night the skies cleared and the air had a chill, we woke to stillness and a hard frost. After I got a fire stoked in the stove and had some coffee, I made my way down to check the river and was very pleased to see that the water had not only came down; but was flowing crystal clear. I felt we could cross safety and hurried back to share with Chris and to formulate a game plan. From looking at the map we should be able to hike up the drainage across from us and get back into the unguided area. With that plan we packed up for another push. I was still very nervous about cross the river. I insisted that we pack all our gear into dry bags in case we went for a swim. We put on our rain gear and waders and with our packs loosely on our backs so we could dump them if we got swept away, we locked arms and made our way across. We discussed our route before hand and were very careful. The crossing was sketchy but doable and we made it across.

Have to admit that it felt good to be on the other side; we now had access too much more ground and were rested and eager to have at it. I was feeling my age and miles, but I could see the desire in this young mans eyes. It was plain to see he wanted his first ram badly and I silently promised to give him every bit I had to make that happen. We had only hiked a few miles up the drainage before the reality that what looked possible on the map would not be so on foot. So now what are we going to do?? We took a break to have a drink and a snack and to ponder possible courses of action.

Two days had passed since the guide and company had hiked down the other side from us. I told Chris that I felt we should push back up the drainage and try on the other side. We would be able to hike up the drainage where we saw one of the half curls and still should have a couple days before the guide returned with his 2nd set of clients, about the only option we had at this point. Not long after we got back to the river and started hiking up the drainage I spotted a huge bull musk ox. He was a toad, I got a good look at him in my spotter but he slipped into the brush before I got my camera on the spotter.

 

[Stid2677]

We moved up to a spot we had seen the ewes and decided to climb up a bit to peak over into some hidden bowls. The climb took a while and we found lots of sign and beds, one very cool hidden bed was 4 inches deep with sheep poop. The spot over looked the valley below and was completely enclosed on all but one side. We spent several hours up there as we had a commanding view up and down the valley as well as into some hanging valleys. We had drank all our water and the light was fading so we dropped back down to find a camp for the night and to get some water.

 

[Stid2677]

We were able to find an awesome spot with cover and water and was making a spike camp when Chris spotted a pair of rams across the river from us back in a hidden valley. The light was already low but one looked legal and maybe both.

Chris stayed up all night watching those rams and only gave into sleep about 6am when they moved from sight. We quickly mapped a route and packed our gear, we scrambled down to the river. The water had came down even more and the crossing was easy peasy. Once on the other side we cached our extra gear, drank our fill and filled our water bottles. There was a fresh bounce in our step as we made our way up. Things always look easier from a distance than they are once on the ground and this time was no different. Took us a while to figure our where the rams were bedded and find a way to get above them. Our way up to them had a sheep trail and as we climbed we ran into a caribou bull on the same trail. He was not sure about these two funny looking sheep. I could have hit him with a rock we were so close, we had the wind in our face but I did not want him to alert the rams to our presence. I decided to stop for a while in hopes that he would move off. After about 15 minutes I saw him off to our left and we continued up.

We topped out and was able to find the perch the rams were using, it was plain to see that this spot was a nice hidey hole for rams, lots of cover and feed as well as water. We settled in to wait them out. We could not see them but was fairly sure they were bedded out of sight. It was now about midday, so we dug in and began the waiting game. Patience,, easy to say,, hard to practice. Being patient and waiting out game is often the key to my success. This did not come naturally to me, as I like many others like to keep moving and to make something happen. But, old age and injuries have slowed my roll and enlightened me to the virtues of being a patient hunter.

The minutes passed by and those minutes turned in to hours. The cold rock all the time sucking the heat from our bodies, yet we stuck tight making sure to be ever vigilant trying to spot the rams. It was now close to 6pm, we had been watching the spot we had last saw them for about 6 hours. We knew from watching the drainage that the sheep we had seen had been on the feed by now and confidence was starting to fade and the fear they may have given us the slip started to sink in. My spider sense started to tingle,, don’t happen often, but I’m sure I’m not the only one that sometimes just gets that feeling to do something. That inner voice was telling me to get up and go have a look down the drainage. Maybe I was just cold and needed to move either way, I told Chris I was going to ease over and have a look out our backdoor.

As I neared the lip of the flat spot we were on I spotted two rams, I dropped down and made my way back to get the fat girl. I told Chris what I saw, he ask if they were the same rams and I said I could not tell until I got on them with the spotter. They were not far away at about 600 yards, was easy to see with the big glass that one was short for sure. The other was close to full curl but he looked no older than seven. I was now sure these were indeed the two rams we had spotted and climbed for. I motioned for Chris to come over and he had a look. He quickly dismissed them and thought they were not the same two and returned to his look out. I stayed and kept looking them over ever more sure they were indeed the rams we were after.

 

[SLDMTN]

Steve, I cannot thank you enough for posting your stories. They're always a great read, an inspiration and it gives any hunter something to aspire for.

 

[Stid2677]

We could have easily closed the distance and got to within shooting range if we had moved on them when first stopped. This is classic sheep hunting, often you can kill them but not be able to ensure legality and once you decide they are legal not be able to get close enough. Chris returned and after much discussion we both agreed they were the rams we had climbed for. They had now moved higher than we were and had us pinned down. Once they got level we could tell the one was full curl on one side. I agreed with Chris that he was legal, but just barely so and I was sure without question he was not eight years old. Not a ram I would take, and I shared this with Chris. However, he was sure he was legal and wanted to try to kill him. I made the case for what would happen if he was wrong and I strongly recommended against it since he was not also eight. All that said he still wanted to make a play for him, so I agreed and we set out to try to kill him. While I disagreed with Chris about killing this ram I had mad respect for his confidence in judging him on his own knowing he would be the one that had to stand for that choice when he got him sealed.

We had now been looking at them with the fat girl for over an hour and in that time they had moved both above us and also had a gorge between us, There was no way we could get closer without being seen. They had moved out onto a finger and bedded down. I had been watching them for some time and from observing his behavior, I had a feeling he might just be receptive to some calling and decoying. I pitched my scheme to Chris, as it was a bold move. He would either come or run away, either way there was no way we could move without being seen. I’m not going to share all the details other than to say, I started slow and when he showed interest got more aggressive. After my first sequence he immediately started moving towards us. Chris had a better view and I could tell from the excitement in his voice that they were going to come. Flash back 10 years…….



The first time I ever hunted bears from a blind, I was shocked that such a large heavy critter could just appear, as if they had beamed in ala Star Trek. One minute you are daydreaming and swatting bugs and the next the small hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as you sense their presence. Chris and I first met when he was looking for his first black bear and I agreed to help him get on one.

That was 10 years ago, I had placed a ground blind on a well used trail that led from a thicket near the grassy tidal flat. The bears, fresh from a long winters sleep are eager to eat the fresh green glass that grows in the rich tidal flats. The spot I had chosen is pure bear paradise. In the fall the creek that flows from the near by mountains to the sheltered bay, is teaming with salmon. The bears chase the fish in the maze of alders as the creek flows through the tangle of vegetation. Fat from stuffing themselves with the calorie rich fish, they climb up into the near by hills and tuck in for the long winters nap.

As the spring returns, the sun grows ever higher and the days longer. The warmth melts the snow and the full moon tides quickly clear the tidal flats of winters grasp encouraging the tender green grasses to return. The bears flock to these areas ravaged by hunger after such a long nap and wanting to get their stomachs working and ready for the protein feast that will soon come. As temperatures warm, melt water begins to flood dens and the bears emerge, both hungry and looking for love.

 

[belly-deep]

This is a great thread. Thanks

 

[Stid2677]

I discovered the spot for the blind after blood trailing a wounded bear that another friend shot when we spotted him feeding on the flats while glassing from my boat. The shallow bay and huge tidal swings make hunting the flat from a boat a challenge, since the tide can either leave your boat high and dry, or high water trap you unable to reach the vessel.

Around 9pm each evening the thermals shift and the wind that blows in from the sea and up the valley during the day, starts the flow down the mountains as the dense air-cools. This is the time to move into the area as the wind cooled from the glaciers above now gently flows out to sea. Using the creek to cover our approach we eased into the spot where I had already placed and brushed in the ground blind.

 

[Daniel_M]

You had me at Chuli Stout!

 

[Stid2677]

With Chris in place and briefed on where to expect the bears to approach from I returned to the boat before the falling tide would leave me stranded until the next high tide 12 hours later. I motored off shore and dropped anchor in deeper water and waited to either hear a shot or for dark before I returned for him.

The silence was shattered as I heard the explosive sound of a rifle shot, the shot rang and echoed off the shear walls of the nearby mountains. I waited for a few minutes to make sure he did not shoot again and allow time for the bear to expire. I then readied the boat and hurried back to help recover Chris and hopefully a dead bear.

With my 45-70 loaded and ready I ever so cautiously worked my way through the maze of alders. As I neared and the blind came into slight I could see Chris and a very dead bear. Working together we got him broke down, sharing the load we hurried back to the boat as not to be stranded both by the tide and darkness.