The Mountain Hunting Thread
- Thread starter Ardent
- Start date
Another year of mountain hunting for Dall sheep in “God’s greatest act of creation” - the Yukon - is in the books.
This year the mission was different. Getting my brother his first Dall ram.
The hunt began late, as airline flights were rescheduled, and work delayed last minute preparations. Getting into the mountains on opening day, rather than up the day before season opener to glass and get set up.
The late start clearly increased difficulty. The first day on top, we heard a shot below us in the valley. Rams we had spotted bolted down across a valley and up over two mountains in the distance.
That night while getting water, three rams ambled in from the other side and watched us, none legal, one getting close. They bedded and spent the night across the valley from us. We glassed them again in the morning, and watched them head over the peak to razor ridge.
We pulled up camp and followed, as that was away from the shot, and the ridge had been productive in the past.
Approaching razor, we spotted a family of four and a friend attempting a stalk on five rams on a mountain across another valley. Then we saw a hunting party of three come over the top of razor right towards us, before taking a drainage down to the valley. After that, we saw two hunters climbing another mountain in the distance, toward bedded sheep.
A storm rolled in, so we set up camp for the night, a little annoyed with all the hunting pressure we had seen.
In the morning, no sheep were to be seen, all were hiding away from the invasion of people.
We pulled up camp, knowing what we had to do. Climb across five mountains and three valleys away from the other hunters, to get to the band of rams we had seen scatter from the shot on day one. They had not been pursued.
On the way, we checked all the usual spots we knew, glassing sheep kill mountain, bedding lake bluff, the cliffs and all spots in between. The sheep had, just like that, vanished. We pushed on in the direction last seen.
On the way, we spotted a magnificent caribou bull, and a few young bulls and cows here and there, moving across the mountains. Always beautiful to see.
We pushed as far as we could into the twilight and set up camp at the first likely spot for the third night.
The next day we fanned out over two large mountains, checking the cliffs, fingers and the valleys surrounding. New country to us. We had a close encounter with a band of lambs and ewes, meeting at the peak of a bluff. They bedded nearby in the safety of the cliffs below.
Not seeing any rams, we consulted topographic maps of the area beyond. We found a perfect box canyon in the contour lines and decided to push across the next valley and up the mountain to it, also the direction the rams had left for days ago.
As soon as we crested the summit next to the canyon, we picked up rams in our glass. One of them was clearly legal. Majestic, he walked like he was the king. Head high, testing the air every step, looking left and right as he moved. A young ram followed his lead.
As the light was getting dim, they fed along the top of the canyon. We attempted to get into a shooting position, but the country was too big. The ram made his escape to nearby cliffs, feeding along the top until nearly midnight. We headed back to camp with the plan to head back as soon as we could the next morning.
The next morning, we moved camp closer, as returning in the dark through the mountaintop boulder field the night before was not an experience either wanted to repeat.
While we set up camp, caribou came to investigate. Curious, they milled around our tents at a “safe” distance. Once camp was set, and breakfast was ate, we headed for the canyon. Using an old Inuit trick (holding hands above our heads while walking), we were able to get the curious caribou to follow along with us for a kilometre or so as we walked.
We stalked in and set up for a shot the next evening, but no rams passed through, only lambs and ewe’s who fed right passed our ambush. The sentinel ewe spotted movement as we were making supper in the rocks, hopped up to check. She got within 5 feet of us, and was surprised when she peered in and saw a face staring back.
Over the next few days, we caught glimpses of rams in the mountains and plateaus surrounding triple curl canyon. They all were on the move and vanished as stalks were planned. The walk to and from spike camp and the canyon was becoming familiar even in the dark. The days were running out.
On the last day, we pushed beyond the canyon and surrounding mountains to the last mountain in the mountain block. We spotted a band of rams feeding far below on the plateau. None legal were visible, but we hoped they had their boss with them.
We stopped to eat, keeping an eye on the band. After eating, we continued to glass and spotted a string of seven rams just as they were about to crest the mountain overlooking triple curl canyon. We quickly put the spotter on them, the from three all looked good.
We quickly packed up and ran down the mountain, through the saddle and up the mountain they had crested. The wind was good, they were headed straight into it, and we were on their tail.
When we reached the top of the mountain we found them as we suspected we would, days earlier, in the bottom of the box canyon.
More to come…
This year the mission was different. Getting my brother his first Dall ram.
The hunt began late, as airline flights were rescheduled, and work delayed last minute preparations. Getting into the mountains on opening day, rather than up the day before season opener to glass and get set up.
The late start clearly increased difficulty. The first day on top, we heard a shot below us in the valley. Rams we had spotted bolted down across a valley and up over two mountains in the distance.
That night while getting water, three rams ambled in from the other side and watched us, none legal, one getting close. They bedded and spent the night across the valley from us. We glassed them again in the morning, and watched them head over the peak to razor ridge.
We pulled up camp and followed, as that was away from the shot, and the ridge had been productive in the past.
Approaching razor, we spotted a family of four and a friend attempting a stalk on five rams on a mountain across another valley. Then we saw a hunting party of three come over the top of razor right towards us, before taking a drainage down to the valley. After that, we saw two hunters climbing another mountain in the distance, toward bedded sheep.
A storm rolled in, so we set up camp for the night, a little annoyed with all the hunting pressure we had seen.
In the morning, no sheep were to be seen, all were hiding away from the invasion of people.
We pulled up camp, knowing what we had to do. Climb across five mountains and three valleys away from the other hunters, to get to the band of rams we had seen scatter from the shot on day one. They had not been pursued.
On the way, we checked all the usual spots we knew, glassing sheep kill mountain, bedding lake bluff, the cliffs and all spots in between. The sheep had, just like that, vanished. We pushed on in the direction last seen.
On the way, we spotted a magnificent caribou bull, and a few young bulls and cows here and there, moving across the mountains. Always beautiful to see.
We pushed as far as we could into the twilight and set up camp at the first likely spot for the third night.
The next day we fanned out over two large mountains, checking the cliffs, fingers and the valleys surrounding. New country to us. We had a close encounter with a band of lambs and ewes, meeting at the peak of a bluff. They bedded nearby in the safety of the cliffs below.
Not seeing any rams, we consulted topographic maps of the area beyond. We found a perfect box canyon in the contour lines and decided to push across the next valley and up the mountain to it, also the direction the rams had left for days ago.
As soon as we crested the summit next to the canyon, we picked up rams in our glass. One of them was clearly legal. Majestic, he walked like he was the king. Head high, testing the air every step, looking left and right as he moved. A young ram followed his lead.
As the light was getting dim, they fed along the top of the canyon. We attempted to get into a shooting position, but the country was too big. The ram made his escape to nearby cliffs, feeding along the top until nearly midnight. We headed back to camp with the plan to head back as soon as we could the next morning.
The next morning, we moved camp closer, as returning in the dark through the mountaintop boulder field the night before was not an experience either wanted to repeat.
While we set up camp, caribou came to investigate. Curious, they milled around our tents at a “safe” distance. Once camp was set, and breakfast was ate, we headed for the canyon. Using an old Inuit trick (holding hands above our heads while walking), we were able to get the curious caribou to follow along with us for a kilometre or so as we walked.
We stalked in and set up for a shot the next evening, but no rams passed through, only lambs and ewe’s who fed right passed our ambush. The sentinel ewe spotted movement as we were making supper in the rocks, hopped up to check. She got within 5 feet of us, and was surprised when she peered in and saw a face staring back.
Over the next few days, we caught glimpses of rams in the mountains and plateaus surrounding triple curl canyon. They all were on the move and vanished as stalks were planned. The walk to and from spike camp and the canyon was becoming familiar even in the dark. The days were running out.
On the last day, we pushed beyond the canyon and surrounding mountains to the last mountain in the mountain block. We spotted a band of rams feeding far below on the plateau. None legal were visible, but we hoped they had their boss with them.
We stopped to eat, keeping an eye on the band. After eating, we continued to glass and spotted a string of seven rams just as they were about to crest the mountain overlooking triple curl canyon. We quickly put the spotter on them, the from three all looked good.
We quickly packed up and ran down the mountain, through the saddle and up the mountain they had crested. The wind was good, they were headed straight into it, and we were on their tail.
When we reached the top of the mountain we found them as we suspected we would, days earlier, in the bottom of the box canyon.
More to come…
Great story so far and great pictures! I don’t really hunt sheep, but it seams that in the last 10 years every body and there dogs is a sheep hunter up here(Yukon) it’s crazy the amount of people that started going after sheep. Seems that there is so much more than when I moved up here 29 years ago!
