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, 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, and 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 hastily put the spotter on them, the front 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, 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, and 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 hastily put the spotter on them, the front 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…
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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!
He looked better this year, legal by age and curl, great first ram for a good buddy.
Will be watching this guy next year, seen him at 5 two years ago, this year he’s 7. Love his Cape! Hopefully he makes the curl by next year.
I packed up a new cam and set it on one of their trails, should make for some good photos next year too.
Looking forward to the rest of that story Uber!!
We glassed them from the top of the mountain. By the look of the lead ram, his size, how thick his bases were, the way his tips flared out he was legal.
At that height above though, the curl always looks shorter than it does dead on from the side, and certainly much less than from below.
Knowing this was our shot, we quickly planned our stalk. Only two options were available, and of the two, only one was good.
We walked back on the mountain a ways, then scrambled down vertical boulders precariously balanced. Several times we hopped over crevices between that could trap a person.
After the boulders, we slid down grass pathways between the jumble of rocks on the seat of our pants, they were so steep. Keeping as low as possible, and using the contour of the mountain to stay hidden.
To get within range the last bit of travel had to be in clear view of the rams. We had planned our stalk to be in good wind, and the lead ram had bedded facing the wind, the other rams were either feeding away from us or hidden behind boulders in the bottom.
We slid into position without being detected. 280 yards. My brother set up in a steady shooting position while I got the spotting scope trained on the ram. One issue, he was bedded dead away from us. Though obviously impressive above the rest, it is hard to judge a ram with 100% certainty in that position.
We decided throwing a rock to get him to stand would be the most logical solution. But these sheep were so confident in their security, other than a brief sideways glance, they didn’t pay falling rocks any mind, no matter how many we threw. We needed quick confirmation, we were already in overtime on this hunt.
Requiring 100% confidence he was legal before telling my brother to take the shot, I yelled at the top of my lungs, so loud it echoed through the canyon.
All the sheep popped up, but they all just stood there, wondering what that noise was, and where it had come from. I could see the lead ram still chewing his cud. He turned his head to the left side.
“He’s legal”
“Are you sure?”
“I was sure a second ago, until you questioned me. Give me a second”
The ram turned his head back to the left again.
“He’s legal”
Boom!!!! That was all my bro needed.
The walk into the bottom of the canyon to the ram was exciting. He looked better and better as we got closer.
What a conclusion to a hunt that was supposed to be 7 days, now in its 8th. A gorgeous ram, with beautiful flared lamb tips. We congratulated each other, thankful we had got it done for each other in back to back years, took photos and quickly began the process of skinning, gutting, deboning and caping the head.
With heavy packs, but thankful hearts, we began the 18 kilometre pack out.
At the end of the trip, 98 kilometres had been walked across mountain and valley. The hardest hunt either of us had ever undertaken. On the way down, we were even saying things like “I might take next year off”. “Maybe the next 10”.
That lasted until the evening we got back to Whitehorse. I texted my bro “You know what’s crazy? I haven’t even got all my gear cleaned, and I’m already thinking about going to get another one”.
At that height above though, the curl always looks shorter than it does dead on from the side, and certainly much less than from below.
Knowing this was our shot, we quickly planned our stalk. Only two options were available, and of the two, only one was good.
We walked back on the mountain a ways, then scrambled down vertical boulders precariously balanced. Several times we hopped over crevices between that could trap a person.
After the boulders, we slid down grass pathways between the jumble of rocks on the seat of our pants, they were so steep. Keeping as low as possible, and using the contour of the mountain to stay hidden.
To get within range the last bit of travel had to be in clear view of the rams. We had planned our stalk to be in good wind, and the lead ram had bedded facing the wind, the other rams were either feeding away from us or hidden behind boulders in the bottom.
We slid into position without being detected. 280 yards. My brother set up in a steady shooting position while I got the spotting scope trained on the ram. One issue, he was bedded dead away from us. Though obviously impressive above the rest, it is hard to judge a ram with 100% certainty in that position.
We decided throwing a rock to get him to stand would be the most logical solution. But these sheep were so confident in their security, other than a brief sideways glance, they didn’t pay falling rocks any mind, no matter how many we threw. We needed quick confirmation, we were already in overtime on this hunt.
Requiring 100% confidence he was legal before telling my brother to take the shot, I yelled at the top of my lungs, so loud it echoed through the canyon.
All the sheep popped up, but they all just stood there, wondering what that noise was, and where it had come from. I could see the lead ram still chewing his cud. He turned his head to the left side.
“He’s legal”
“Are you sure?”
“I was sure a second ago, until you questioned me. Give me a second”
The ram turned his head back to the left again.
“He’s legal”
Boom!!!! That was all my bro needed.
The walk into the bottom of the canyon to the ram was exciting. He looked better and better as we got closer.
What a conclusion to a hunt that was supposed to be 7 days, now in its 8th. A gorgeous ram, with beautiful flared lamb tips. We congratulated each other, thankful we had got it done for each other in back to back years, took photos and quickly began the process of skinning, gutting, deboning and caping the head.
With heavy packs, but thankful hearts, we began the 18 kilometre pack out.
At the end of the trip, 98 kilometres had been walked across mountain and valley. The hardest hunt either of us had ever undertaken. On the way down, we were even saying things like “I might take next year off”. “Maybe the next 10”.
That lasted until the evening we got back to Whitehorse. I texted my bro “You know what’s crazy? I haven’t even got all my gear cleaned, and I’m already thinking about going to get another one”.
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