When I was a bit younger, I remember getting a copy of an Eastman's Hunting Journal Sheep Edition. Thumbing through that magazine and seeing the Dall sheep hunts that guys had come home from and the exceptional trophies they took. The vertical craggy mountains that they scaled, the extreme weather that they endured, and the physical and emotional highs and lows that they experienced lured me to want to go on such an adventure.
To me, it was just that...an adventure! A journey to the far reaches of this continent, to a place that few will ever go, on a hunt that many will only get to dream about. A sheep hunt in the mountains of Alaska is the ultimate, it is the pinnacle of the hunting experience, the most physically and emotionally draining hunts that one can partake in.
I hunt because I want to test myself, I want to know what I can do, on my own. To match myself against something and to see if I am good enough to succeed. This was to be an adventure that I'd dreamed of and thought I may never get to do it.
Once Rose and I moved up here, I had to wait a year to become a resident so that I could chase rams in the high mountains. This gave me plenty of time to plan everything. I researched and read everything I could find about areas and sheep numbers. I called Biologists and talked with sheep hunters about types of gear they used and their experiences.
Then it came time to procure all the gear I would need for this hunt, which quickly became very expensive and here's why. First of all, I'd be flying in two hours from civilization into the arctic. Weather can be extremely harsh and unpredictable. Second, everything I needed in order to survive had to be as light as reasonably possible because it needed to be packed on my back. The better and the lighter the gear, the more expensive it became.
I began by making a spreadsheet with all my clothing, food, and gear. I started analyzing where I could cut weight and gear that I could replace and save weight. I shaved ounces off where I could and saved several pounds by buying a new tent and a new sleeping back.
As winter went by, I bought gear along the way and tried to do a little bit at a time. Next I would need a rifle so I talked to my dad and had him ship up his Ruger 7mm Remington Magnum. It's a great flat shooting mid-weight gun, great for sheep. After topping it with a new, German made, Zeiss scope, I spent a fair bit of time sighting it in and shooting different rounds through it to find one that shot accurately and grouped tightly. I finally found one that I liked and shot good groups.
I had originally planned on going solo on this endeavor only because I didn't have anyone to go with. But just after we moved up here, I'd met a guy that was as much into hunting as I was and we hit it off pretty good. So in the fall he'd asked if I wanted to go with him to the Brooks for a sheep hunt. I jumped at the offer and we went from there.
It seemed like forever but finally the mountains began to loom ahead. After more time, we were at their feet and then flying through small little passes with walls so close it felt like you could reach out and touch them. We quickly broke through to the other side and not far ahead we spotted our landing strip. We did a 180 and the pilot dropped right down on a gravel bar and the plane touched down.
We were there!
We quickly unloaded the plane and started lugging our 80 lb packs over to a spot just off the strip to set up our base camp and to off-load a bunch of our gear. As we did, the pilot took off and the buzz of the plane faded to silence and we were left to set up our camp in the most beautiful landscape I've set foot in.
We setup a large tent and stashed most of our extra gear and food and things we'd only need back down at base camp. We loaded up our packs, which were probably about 50 lbs apiece and started looking for sheep, which we'd already spotted a few. We had a game plan prior to landing as to where we wanted to go but after flying in and seeing a few other camps and some advice from the pilot, we were changing our minds.
There was a lone sheep that we spotted way way up high and looking through the spotting scope we could tell he was a ram but weren't sure how big. We figured he was a big one if we could see his horns from 3+ miles away. So we headed in that direction and started seeing more sheep, all lambs and ewes, but sheep none the less.
About 3 miles in we spot a tent just over a rise and went to talk to the hunters to see what their plan was. It was not an ideal situation as we didn't know they were up there and we'd hiked all that way to only run into other people. There were two guys and one was a guide. He was a bit upset that we were up there and said he saw us land and that we should have seen him as he was hiking up that drainage. I assured him that we didn't see him and that if I had, that the last thing I'd do was to follow him up there. I said I'm not going to ruin your hunt and will go elsewhere. He calmed down and was nice enough to point Jerome and I in a different direction. So our option was to go all the way back and then up another drainage or go down to the bottom of the drainage about a half mile and then up the other side to the next drainage over. So down we went.
It was a nasty down hill descent and a grueling climb up the other side. But we finally made it about 4 hours later. We reached a saddle and decided that it was a good place to camp and pitched our small tents. We had a great vantage point but still hadn't seen any good rams. Our plan for the morning was to hike straight up the ridge that we were on and pop up over the top to see what was on the other side.
A little side note...From the airstrip to our spike camp we walked 4.4 miles with 50 lb. packs here is an elevation profile of that hike.
The next morning, there was fog and we packed up and began our hike up the mountain. By now our packs were significantly liter with only the essentials. The fog began to really sock in and we had to stop and try and wait for it to clear. Reason being, if there were sheep ahead of us, we could completely push them out of the area without us even seeing them. We waited until noon and came back down to camp.
After getting back to camp and eating some lunch, the fog began to clear and it ended up being a sunny afternoon. Again, we climbed another 1300 feet over 3/4's of a mile. We were now on a nasty, super steep shale hillside, working up and across to some stable ground to get further up and over the top. Jerome blurts out, "SHEEP"! We scramble and throw up the binoculars and it's a lone ram down below us and up the drainage from our camp. We quickly descend the shale hillside and get to a small ridge line where we can set up the spotting scope and look the ram over. The ram is slowly feeding up and slightly away from us and we can see that it's a good ram.
Jerome and I keep taking turns, looking at him through the spotting scope and he says it's full curl. I agreed and I trusted his added judgement as he's killed 7 full curl ram; he knows sheep. The sheep was at about 900 yards and there were two steep ravines and a nasty boulder field between us. Jerome said, if you don't go after him, I'm going to!
I made the decision to move on this ram and it took a little bit to get below his line of sight. I moved and climbed as quick as I could with my rifle slung across my back. I covered the distance and had about 400 yards to go where I had to sneak and stay hunched over so he couldn't see me. The terrain was just a jumble of shale and loose boulders that would teeter under your feet. There was a boulder just a few steps in front of me that would make a good rest and I just needed to get there. It was precarious to get to and a rock shifted under my feet and slid and the ram looked up and I was stuck in an awkward position for several minutes before he looked away and I could move. Finally I got to the rock and rested, slowed my breathing and began watching him through the binos. I looked him over and watched him turn his head. He still looked to be full curl. I ranged him with my range finder and it said 238. I rested my dad's 7mm across the boulder in front of me and watched him for several more minutes through the scope. He looked great as he quartered away slightly and I thought to aim a touch high. I lightly squeezed the trigger and the report of the rifle echoed through the walls surrounding the ram and I. I loaded another shell and readied for another shot but as I did, the ram took a step backwards and began to wobble and dropped right in his tracks.
I was elated and I could hear Jerome let out a WOO HOO from way back where he was watching from! I yelled back, "Ram Down"! We were so excited that we had a ram down on the first day in a place we'd never seen with our own eyes. I went up and looked at the ram and he was just awesome. I hiked back to Jerome and he had carried my pack down part way. I was anxious to get my pack cause I needed some water, I was exhausted after making that stalk and then covering that ground again to go back and meet up with Jerome and get my pack. Somewhere along his descent, the mouthpiece came off of my water bladder hose and my water drained out. There was no water up high where we were and Jerome had only a bit left in his.
We got to my ram and we took photos and I began caping and quartering up my sheep. The cape was beautiful with no blood on it and while I was doing that, Jerome headed up the hill to the top to see what was on the other side. It took me a couple hours but I got all the meat off the sheep and had it pretty much all ready to go when Jerome got back. I asked what was up there and he said it was scary how steep it was and that he wouldn't go back up there. He got to the top and the other side was fogged in and he couldn't see anything.
With our packs loaded up we began to head down to spike camp, which was about a mile away and 800 feet down. The packs were super heavy, mine must have weighed 70 lbs or more. I was having a difficult time navigating the boulders and the steep down hill. The trekking poles that we both had saved our hides many many times and were one of the most invaluable tools of the entire trip. Part way down, I was so exhausted that I had to drop my pack and off-load the head and cape and I'd come back in the morning for it. I was dehydrated at this point and just dead. I shouldered the pack again and although lighter, I didn't make it much further and had to just dump the pack and walk pack to camp with just my rifle.
Once I reached camp, I guzzled some water and ate something and collapsed in my tent, by now it was 12am I think.
Another quick side note, on our hunt, it never got dark. It was always light enough to see.
At about 5 or 6 am, I woke up and felt fairly rejuvenated and went up and got the head and cape, threw it back on the pack and hiked it all out of there. It felt a bit lighter now that I had some water and food in me but it was still heavy. Every time I stopped to take a break, it was amazingly difficult to get back on my feet with that much weight on my back.
Once back at camp, I rested a little bit and then unloaded all my meat and got it all laid out in the shade behind my tent and began working on caping my ram. The job proved tedious, getting the hide off of the skull, careful not to cut through it and doing it correctly. Finally, the cape was off the skull and it was now time to trim every bit of fat and flesh off of the hide. This has to be done to keep bacteria from growing on the hide. If bacteria grows on the hide then the hair can slip out and you have a worthless cape. Also you have to salt the cape to help preserve it. The salt has to get to the actual hide and will only penetrate a quarter inch. So care must be taken to remove all fat and tissue so the salt can do it's work.
Next, the ears need to be turned inside out, the eyes, lips and nose need to be "split". This means you have to make small cuts and skin down so that they are opened up from the inside so the salt can get in there. This entire process took me literally all day with not so much as a break to eat. Jerome finally woke up and helped me quite a bit. What an enormous amount of work, and I thought this was suppose to be fun! HA!
Later that evening we walked up and perched ourselves above camp a ways and sat with the spotting scope and started looking for a sheep for Jerome. We spotted 13 different rams scattered around the mountains in all directions, the closest being about 3 miles away. After deciding to call it a night and head down to camp for some dinner, we turned and looked up above our spike camp and up and into the next basin, a group of rams appeared through a small saddle that we couldn't see from below. They were feeding across into the basin where I'd got my ram the night before.
In this picture, we were spotting rams all around us, 2-3 miles away. When we turned to go back to camp, we spotted five rams that had snuck through a saddle just above the end of the spotting scope in this picture. They were moving left to right and Jerome took his sheep on that mountain face above my head. My ram was taken the day before to the right of me, across light gray rock slides below the small saddle on the ridge line.
We raced down to camp and grabbed our packs and hurried up the mountain. We climbed the almost vertical 1000 feet in no time and snuck the last little bit to get a view of the rams. There were five of them and three looked nice, two were sub-legal and not full curl. So we devised a plan and I stayed back and watched while Jerome stalked the rams. He had a difficult time getting down and across the mountainside without being seen. He finally got to the bottom of the first ravine and then made his way up. He again had to cross some open terrain before he could drop down again into the second ravine. At this point, I lost him and didn't know how the stalk was going or where he was.
After a long while of watching the sheep, I saw Jerome pop up and ready his rifle. I thought to myself, alright! He's going to do it. I watched through the binos and I could see his muzzle blast before I could hear it and I saw the sheep scatter and he fired again, anchoring his ram. It was an instant replay of the night before!
The next day was a repeat of the day before, more fleshing and caping. We were tired, our backs and bodies hurt from sitting hunched over working on these hides for the last two days. I boned out all of our meat to make the loads lighter and trimmed bloodshot meat off as well. A plan was devised on how to get everything out and how we'd do it. We also said no more shooting animals, at least not up where we were.
Our plan was to take the sheep, capes, and horns straight down to the creek, about 1300 feet. We'd stash the meat and capes in the shade and then go back up and stay the night at camp. The next morning we'd pack up our camp and grab a little meat at the creek and then head to the air strip. After dropping that load, we'd head back to get the meat, cape, and horns.
Well, our plan didn't exactly go according to plan. We dropped everything in bottom of the creek drainage and hiked all the way back up to camp. We were pretty beat and it was later in the evening. We walked up to our tents and Jerome said, "Hey, there's some caribou over there". I thought nothing of it and guessed them to be the cow and calf we'd been seeing over there for the past two days. Jerome looks through the spotting scope and says "TROPHY CARIBOU"!!! and he's just freaking out. I'm calling B.S. and I just don't believe him. I mean I'm just now taking my pack off, that's how fast this is all going down. He tells me to look for myself and sure enough, there is a monster of a caribou in the basin across from camp.
After about 20 minutes and getting impatient with the mosquitos eating us we tried to get the caribou to stand up. First we tried howling like a wolf to get their attention, they didn't care. So we tried yelling at them, they didn't care. We tried just standing up, nope, nothing. So I said, why don't I just fire off a round and then you pop him. Jerome agreed and he got ready. I fired and they stood up and looked at us. Jerome touched off a round and hit the bull low in one of the legs. Then I fired and pretty sure I hit him behind the shoulder and Jerome put one more in him. He was down and we couldn't believe that we just put down such a monster!
When we got to him we were even more amazed at how big he was! So we cut him up and buried the meat with rocks to keep it cool the next day cause we had to get our sheep out first. It was the beginning of a long long day.
We got started early and headed down to the air strip. When we arrived, everyone else that was at the strip began making their way over to us to see what success we had. There were a couple old-timers that were clients of the guide we ran into and a few other hunters that were just like us. We showed pictures on our camera as we hadn't brought our sheep out yet. They were all in awe at the caribou we just got. Then the guide started walking over with a couple paper plates with a danish, a tangerine and a piece of sausage for each of us. We scarfed it down and thanked the guide for the generosity. It was pretty cool and I think a thank you from him for showing him courtesy on the mountain and being respectful of him being up there first.
So off again and we went up and retrieved our sheep and back down we came. By now we were pretty darned tired and had already hiked about 12 miles or so. Each time there and back we had to stop and take off our boots and cross a stream, talk about cold, it hurt like crazy. The tundra walking back was like walking on a sponge, what a mess!
After completing two trips, we still had one left to go. We figured we'd walk up to the next drainage and go up to the caribou that way, instead of back up to where we'd been camped and go through the saddle. Well it proved to be a little longer and just a heck of a climb. We finally got there and we were spent! We loaded everything up and decided to B-line it to where our spike camp had been and then go down that way. We got over there and headed down the other side, stopping for a break on the down hill side.
Jerome got up and headed down and I sat for a few more seconds. Jerome by now is below me about 30 yards and turns and says to me "TROPHY CARIBOU"! I'm sure he's pulling my leg and screwing with me and he insists. He says, "Get your rifle quick"! So by now I'm believing him and quickly get my gun and hustle down to him I see a caribou coming straight up to us. So I hunch down and scoot down the hill a ways and lay down prone on a little tussok. I look back up at Jerome and he signals that he's coming. The caribou, by now is fixated on the giant set of caribou antlers on Jerome's back and thinks it's another caribou. So the bull is just coming to us like he's on a string. I soon see antlers in the scope and the rest of him comes into view. By now he's only 80 yards away and I put the cross-hairs right on his chest and squeeze...BOOM! He immediately is down.
We were both pretty excited and just stunned at how unexpected it was. Now we each had our sheep and caribou in 4 days! So once again we took to taking care of another animal and since it was late in the afternoon and it was cooling off, we just gutted it and let it cool down over night. We finished our pack out and by now we were really feeling it. My feet were just destroyed and my knees hurt like crazy.
The next morning we took off and retrieved my caribou and we could finally just relax at camp. We both could hardly move and the pads of my feet felt like they were going to literally tear off. I never did get a blister, just some hot spots, but they were just raw. All the slipping and sliding of my feet inside the boots and the weight on my back just really took a toll. We ran the GPS the entire time we were packing and all the trips out and back to get meat totalled to 24 miles. About 45 lbs of camp hiked out to the strip, two boned out sheep with horns and capes, and two large boned out caribou with horns. That is a lot of weight!
So now it was just time to wait for the plane to come get us which was going to be about 3-4 days. In the meantime we took care of all our game meat. We took and laid it out on garbage bags to that it would dry out a bit, instead of sitting in wet game bags. By now the weather had changed as well and it got really cold and really windy. The weather was blowing straight off the Arctic ocean and was freezing. This helped to dry our meat out a little bit as well and to keep it cold, it might as well have been in a freezer!
That first night back at base camp we washed up one of the sheep hearts and some back strap and cooked it on over the fire. I had heard many sheep hunters say that it was the best meat you'll ever try. Well I don't know if it was cause I was hungry and had been eating nothing but Mountain House freeze dried food and oatmeal, but they were right. That sliced up sheep heart was super tender and just melted in your mouth. The backstrap had a different taste and texture from the heart and was equally tasty. I can't say really what it tasted like, maybe a really really good filet mignon? It wasn't really gamey at all.
We actually cooked it over our neighbors fire. There was a group of four guys camped about 100 yards away from us and we knew one of them from an online hunting forum that both Jerome and I frequent. It was cool to put a face to a name. We all hit it off and hung out at eachothers camps and swapped stories and got to know eachother. It was a real cool element to the trip that I didn't anticipate.
So the next day was just kind of spent resting and hanging out. I wanted to go hike around but my legs wouldn't let me, I was having a hard enough time getting around camp! Later that evening, the guide that was at the strip had the six of us over to his camp for dinner. His three clients had already been flown out and he had a large surplus of food to get rid of before his next group clients showed up, as there'd be another shipment of food coming with them. So we ate like kings, chips, dip and salsa, pistachios, grilled sheep back strap and tenderloins, sliced up bell peppers. Then we hung out inside the tent and he made coffee and tea while one of the other hunters passed around his flask of spendy scotch. Which I have to say made us all cringe a bit, it was pretty rough!
Here's some sheep ribs and tenderloins we cooked up, talk about tasty!
We began breaking camp down and loading our packs as quick as we could and the other group of hunters next to us helped us haul our stuff over to the plane. Within 20 minutes we were airborn and heading to Fairbanks. We couldn't wait to get home and get a shower and a good meal.
It was a really late night and we arrived back home at about mid-night. I unloaded gear and cleaned up and went to bed. The next morning, Jerome and I went straight to the Fish and Game office to get our sheep horns sealed, a process that is required up here. They measure the horns and age them, then they drill a hole in the back of the horn and insert a plug with a number on it.
They measured Jeromes first and then mine. A young biologist was looking it over and he went and got another biologist. Then a group of biologists were there inspecting it. They weren't sure it was full curl or not. There were 8-9 guys looking at it and they all went to an office and were in there for 15 minutes or so and decided that they were going to have a State Trooper look at it and contact me.
I was crushed, I couldn't believe it. After everything I'd gone through, I was in disbelief that this could be happening to me. The State Trooper that dealt with my case gave me a real hard time and saw me as a criminal instead of a guy that just made an honest mistake. For those that don't know, I've never had a fish or game violation, I know the regulations backwards and forwards before I go hunting or fishing. In this case, my ram just happened to be just shy of full-curl and what seemed difficult for the biologists to make a decision on, seemed very easy for the trooper. He seemed to just want to nail me to the wall for whatever he could. One of the biologists said he thought it was about 15/16's of a curl. Per the regulations, the outside edge of one horn must grow through 360 degrees of rotation. Mine was about 340 degrees of rotation. Another hunter that was at the strip, an accomplished sheep hunter, said he probably would have taken the ram if given the chance. He was impressed with the mass that it carried. The bases of my horns measured 14.5 inches. Base circumferences are a big indicator how big a sheep is, along with horn length. Sheep in this area usually only get 12.5-13.5 inch bases. Some of the other hunters, who thought it was full-curl as well, said I was lucky to shoot a ram with such large bases and that I could go a lifetime of sheep hunting and never get another one.
It ended up being a long drawn out process in which I was forced to get a lawyer and try and fight it. I was charged with a misdemeanor over the whole thing and I felt that was extremely excessive and didn't fit what I had done. In the end, my lawyer was able to get it knocked down to a simple violation, no more than a traffic ticke, and no fine but I won't get my sheep back. It's a very unfortunate ending to my hunt and one that I have definitely learned a lot from. We have already booked our return trip for next year and I will look to redeem myself and will be much more cautious in choosing a ram to take. With a bad taste in my mouth from this years hunt and my first sheep hunting experience tainted, I am very excited for next year and to be back in those mountains again.
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