The Last Great Sheep Hunt

[adventure907]

I've always enjoyed reading the tales from other sheep hunters and I appreciate that they took the time to share, so I thought I'd take a little time and share the story of one of my favorite hunts. It was a grind, it had high's and low's, but in the end it was a trip I'll never forget.

 

[adventure907]

I’ve been very fortunate in my hunting and guiding career that I’ve been on many Dall sheep hunts. To me, a Dall Sheep hunt is the pinnacle of mountain hunting in North America. Not only are Dall Sheep one of the most beautiful animals to roam God’s green earth, but the trials and tribulations involved in a hunt for Dall sheep make the effort, the sweat, the blood and the tears all the more meaningful.

While all of the many sheep hunts I’ve participated in hold a special place in my memories, one hunt in particular stands out as the most demanding and rewarding of them all. This is the story of that hunt.

As many of my hunts do, it started outside the small town of Tok, Alaska. Meeting my new hunting partner for the first time, Charlie was an affable fellow, enthusiastic and excited for the adventure he was about to embark on. Even before the hunt began, luck was on Charlie’s side as he was the lone winner of the one available non-resident sheep permit for the area that we would be hunting. That night we went through gear, told stories, and generally just relaxed as we prepared for the following day’s trip into the mountains. Charlie seemed well prepared gear wise and alluded to the physical conditioning he took part in preparation for his hunt. The true test of his preparation would come when our boots were finally in the field with mountains to climb.

The following day, we made our way into the field. While the flight was uneventful, the weather was not. The ceiling increasingly became prohibitive for us to land at our initial destination, so we stopped short which ultimately added about 10 miles to our approach into the area we hoped to hunt. I was dropped off first, followed by Charlie a few hours later. With some daylight left, we began to hike. We only made it about 3/4 of a mile before the weather deteriorated quickly. Strong winds and sideways rain made our decision easy, we would camp for the night and see what tomorrow would bring. I found a little depression in the earth that provided some protection from the wind, so we each set up our own respective tent, consumed a freeze dried meal and called it a night.

The morning of August 9th we awoke to a blizzard, whiteout conditions with a biting wind. With the winds howling and visibility low, dangerous glacier travel seemed to be out of the question for the day. While this would put us behind schedule to get into our hunting area, a tent day was the responsible choice for us to remain safe.

The first campsite

As the weather began to finally clear that evening, the landscape was blanketed in almost a foot of fluffy white snow. With the thoughts of sheep dancing in our head, we knew we had our work cut out for us the next day.

 

[adventure907]

August 10th, opening day. We woke up early, ate a quick meal of instant oatmeal and broke down camp. With almost a 14 mile hike ahead of us, making time was the theme for the day. Charlie proved to be an excellent hiker, in shape and with no complaints as to the tough hiking conditions. Every step proved potentially perilous as the layer of snow hid the rocks, ice, and glacial moraine underneath. One wrong step could lead to a hunt ending injury, or worse. Crevasses offered sudden and hidden dangers with one fateful fall leading to a possible glacial death. Sheep hunters have died before in the depths of a glacial crevasse, and they are sure to die again. My number one job as the guide on this hunt was to make sure me and Charlie stayed safe.

Beautiful day for a hike, but a lesson would be learned

The day was beautiful, blue bird as far as the eye could see. With the sun shining down, the landscape was bright and the temperature warm as we trudged along. Occasionally we would stop and glass, looking for our first sighting of sheep. Now mind you, looking for a white animal in a completely white landscape is quite the challenge, but not impossible. I explained to Charlie, first look for tracks, and that if we did see sheep, they would appear almost yellow against the white backdrop. As much as our optimism yearned for that first sighting, it wasn’t to be and we carried on with our forced march further up the glacier.

Suddenly, the peace of the valley was broken by a thunderous roar approaching from behind. Was it an avalanche, a rock slide perhaps? Our eye’s turned skyward. Though we were deep in the Alaskan wilderness possibly a hundred miles or more from the nearest humans, we soon saw we weren’t alone. Two F-16 fighter jets, flying just above the lowest peaks thundered their way up the valley. As a former military member, Charlie instantly recognized the twin horizontal stabilizers of the F16 Fighting Falcon. Just as quickly as they appeared, they were gone. While one of the aspects we love about remote Alaska hunting is the peace, the quiet, and the solitude, both Charlie and I commented on the sound of freedom and the reassurance of our military always on guard and ready to defend our way of life, the way of life that offers us the freedom to hunt and choose this way of life.

As the day wore on, I felt my legs starting to betray my willpower. As the first hunt of the season, the shock of the weight on my back and the terrain we were traveling began to take its toll on this long first day of hiking. I decided we should probably start to look for a camp site, do some glassing, and rest for the next day’s travels. While some glaciers offer hospitable terrain for camping, this one did not. I searched for anything suitably flat to get our tents up, but nothing on ice nor moraine would suffice. This meant one short, hard climb to get up and off the glacier with the idea we’d find a flat spot for the tents. With burning legs, well, at least my burning legs, we made it off the glacier. A flat spot for the tents was quickly found and camp was made. We spent the last few hours of the evening glassing for sheep, eating freeze dried, and generally just enjoying the peaceful solitude we found ourselves in. As far as camps go, it had one of the most beautiful views a sheep hunter could hope to see. With out hard day behind us, we retired to our respective tents and called it a night, with dreams of sheep dancing in our head for the following day.

Our second campsite, up off the glacier

to be continued.....

 

[adventure907]

August 11, 2022. We arose with optimism that today was the day we would find some sheep. We broke down camp, loaded our packs, and lumbered on, further up the glacier. As we trekked through the snow, it soon became apparent we were on the trail of a sow grizzly bear, accompanied by a cub or two. The tracks showed little sign of melt-out, so I knew that at some point we were likely to cross paths with momma bear. To her credit, she did give us a good trail in the snow to follow, just hopefully without a surprise meeting. An hour or so later as I turned a corner, my eyes caught movement up the hill from us. It was her, with not one, nor two, but three small cubs of the year. As the wind was briskly in our face, I knew I would have to be careful in announcing our presence as to not startle her and create an unwanted encounter. As the sow and her cubs voraciously consumed blue berries, we enjoyed watching them for a few moments as they gradually moved in our direction. With the bears now at a 45 degree angle from us, I knew a slight change in wind direction would soon alert her to our presence. Sure enough, a gust hit the side of my neck. The sow raised her head, stared intently in our direction for the longest of two seconds one could ever experience. The, with an audible ‘woof’ at her cubs, her head turned and she bounded up the mountain, cubs in tow. As most bear encounters go, all is well that ends well, and this one ended well.


Momma and her gang

We took this break in our travels as an opportunity to eat lunch, glass for sheep, and enjoy the encounter we just had with momma bear and her litter.

After a few more hours of hiking, we finally arrived at the area we hoped would hold sheep. While it was early in the evening and the weather was favorable, the first order of business was to get camp set up. As I knew we’d likely be spending a few days here hunting out of this camp, finding a comfortable camp site was paramount. After getting our tents up on a grassy plateau, it was finally time to hunt. We gathered our gear that we’d need for the evening and went for a little walk. With just a few hours of light left, we found ourselves a perch that offered a view of a splinter drainage and began our search for sheep. Our surroundings offered a stunning view. The peaks loomed high above us, creating a stadium effect encompassing the glacier below. Only God could envision such a stadium on this grande scale.

Campsite #3

As we glassed and enjoyed the evenings good weather, Charlie broke the silence with the sweetest words a guide could hear.

“Josh, I see some sheep”

As I trained my eyes in the direction Charlie was glassing, simultaneously my hands moved instinctively to my spotting scope. After a quick look through my binoculars to locate the white sheep, appearing to be two of them together, I fixated my spotting scope on them.

“Rams”, I quietly whispered.

After quickly evaluating the first ram, a deep dropping 3/4 curl, I moved my scope to ram number two.

“Charlie, we’ve got a ram to hunt”.

Mr. Big

Up and Comer

While judging full curl sheep can be very difficult for the untrained, as well as the trained eye, the type of ram a sheep guide loves are the one’s that only require one quick look. This was one of those rams. He tipped out well, offering a classic, beautiful flare. He was a classy looking sheep.

The excitement was palpable. After two days of hard travel we finally had a glimpse of our quarry. Now, they likely would, but we just had to hope they’d stick around for us to make a move in the morning.

That night back at camp as I ate a hearty meal of Beef Stroganoff freeze dry, scenarios rolled through my head. The sheep were located on a long spine. Approaching from below would be near impossible. We would have to get on their level, but if the wind direction remained consistent I doubted we could get close enough without them winding us. I tried not to overthink it. I crawled into my sleeping bag, closed my eyes and rested my mind. Tomorrow would be a new day, and we had a sheep to hunt.

 

[Duckhunterbrad]

Keep it up!!! Nothing better than a good sheep hunting story. Looking forward to more post!

 

[adventure907]

August 12th would prove to be a day of high and low’s. After a restless night due to my inflatable sleeping pad not remaining inflated, I peered out of the tent to see what the weather had in store. As my eyes attempted to focus on the landscape, it became apparent that something was very wrong. My vision was blurry and no matter what I tried, it would not focus. I immediately knew I was suffering my first experience with snow blindness. As the previous day’s beautiful weather had offered comfort to our hike, it also inflicted me with the blurred vision I was now experiencing. Charlie had been spared, as he had sunglasses to hike with, but I was not so fortunate. Not only was my face burnt, my lips chapped, but worst of all my vision was compromised. The reflection of the sun on the white landscape had taken its toll, and I had a new lesson to learn as a sheep guide. Always bring sunglasses and a little sunscreen. Lesson learned.


After our early morning camp chores, we headed out for the day with the hope of possibly finding the rams down low for their morning feed. This was not to be. When we arrived at our glassing spot, we did soon find the rams, but they were high above on the spine. The wind was sustained and very brisk, with the unfortunate luck of having the sheep downwind. We knew we couldn’t make an approach with the current wind direction so we hunkered down, glassed, and waited for Mother Nature to change her attitude. With the topography of the spine, there would be no way for us to get upwind of the sheep without being seen so our only choice was to wait them out.

Sheep hunting is a game of patience, and patient we would be, or so I thought. A guide friend of mine often describes the sheep game as ‘Vertical Chess’, and he couldn’t be more correct. In today’s hunting world, all too often a sheep hunter replaces patience and skill with the misguided judgement that long range shooting is the answer. They couldn’t be more wrong. It may take a day. It may take three days, but eventually the rams will make a mistake. Patience and skill are the key’s to taking advantage of that mistake. Little did I know, later that day my lack of patience would almost cost us our opportunity.

The view from our glassing spot

While the weather was dry, the wind was brisk. We waited all day, keeping tabs on the rams while trying to stay warm. My hope was that the evening feed would move the sheep to a location more approachable. As the afternoon turned to evening, the wind seemed to lay down a bit. Scenarios started playing in my head. Maybe this was our chance to make an approach on the spine, at their level. After a few minutes of contemplation, the decision was made.

“Charlie, let’s go kill a sheep”.

We began the climb and soon found ourselves up on the spine. Every once in a while I could peek around a pinnacle and see the rams. First 1000 yards, then 700, 500. We were cutting the distance, the rams seemed to be staying in place and the wind was favorable. As we got to 400 yards, I started looking for potential shooting locations. While I wanted to be as close as possible, I knew anything inside 400 would be doable for Charlie, so as we moved closer along the spine I was always scanning and evaluating for a proper perch to shoot from.


As we quietly made our way inside 400 yards, I felt the tickle of catastrophe on the back of neck. A gust from the gods, in the worst possible direction. While I couldn’t see the sheep from where I was, if they winded us it was all over. While bears and their extreme sense of smell will wind you at 1000 yards, 4-500 seems to be my threshold with sheep. Anytime I get within that distance, I know we can be winded at anytime if we aren’t careful with an unpredictable wind.

Frustration set in, as we were so close, yet in such a precarious position. Discretion is the better part of valor, and this didn’t feel right. We needed to back out, and back out quickly. We quickly and quietly worked our way back down the spine, hoping that the wind didn’t betray us and announce our presence. Patience. As long as we hadn’t spooked them, we’d live to fight another day. We made our way back to camp, pausing for a few minutes to admire some passing caribou.


Wolf Bait

That night as I crawled into my Hilleberg, apprehension and doubt filled my mind. I hoped and prayed that my gamble with the wind didn’t spook the rams into locations unknown. Tomorrow would be another day, and hopefully we still had some sheep to hunt.

 

[adventure907]

Keep it up!!! Nothing better than a good sheep hunting story. Looking forward to more post!

Working on getting it finished up...

 

[schmalzy]

Awesome post!


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