The Hoodoo Ram
I'll
start by saying that I haven't hunted much since our oldest kid was born. A few
extended weekends here and there for deer, but nothing extensive. This year was
different. With Covid reducing the number of guided hunts in 2020 and, to a
certain extent, 2021, a buddy and I figured that our chances would never be
better to do a fly in hunt. The plan was a ten day sheep/caribou combo hunt in
the Cassiar mountains. A sheep for him and a bou for me. This was going to be
quite a step up from past years.
All
trips have their low points. And our trip certainly started in a bit of trough.
We had to wait almost three days for weather to clear before flying in.
A common sight for our first three days
Once
the plane dropped us off, we set up a low camp on the lake and got up early the
next day to put in a spike camp at the edge of shrub line with 6 days worth of
food and good views of a sheepy-looking bowl. By dinner we spotted a group of
8-10 ewes and watched a group of 5 rams playing (head butting) each other on
one of the ridges ~2km away. We definitely chose a sheepy place.
The
rams had moved on by first light, so we spent the morning glassing the slopes
of the adjacent valley, while keeping an eye on the group of ewes. This area
looked more promising for caribou (and sheep). Just after lunch I spotted a
group of 5 rams just below the ewes in the shrubs about 800m away. My buddy
worked his way to 100 yards of the largest ram, but he was broomed and looked
to be less than 8 through the spotting scope at 100 yards. He could have been
legal based on his other horn, but it was tough to get good looks. It was a tremendous
stalk that ultimately ended in a pass.
Day 2
of hunting was mainly spent glassing a new slope.
Late afternoon, I spotted this fella 1.5km away as the crow flies and 600m down in elevation.
Not sure what Pythagoras says about distance, but it was going to be some effort to get down to him and it was getting late in the day. We decided to pass on him and come back the next day with extra food with the plan to bivy.
He
wasn’t there on Day 3. My buddy got some more play on that first group of rams,
but they ultimately spooked and took off. It was the only action for the day. We
ended up bivying that night anyway with the hope of getting an early start to
Day 4. I must say, the romanticism of a bivy wears off quickly. I would sleep
for an hour at a time using a small foam pad for my legs and my empty backpack
for my torso, while wearing every piece of clothing I had.
I
started Day 4 chilled and disheartened. We checked out the usual haunts, but no
new rams. However, my buddy spotted a new group of ~20 ewes that we hadn’t come
across yet. So, there was some optimism that something else may wander in. Just
after splitting up for our lunch glassing sessions, my buddy yelled, “you’re
ram is back!”
Sure
enough there he was; bedded down in almost the same spot as two days earlier. We
were set to fly out in two days, so this was more or less our final play. Because
we bivyed the night before, we only had our lunch and a few snacks for sustenance
this day.
We
hiked down a steep gully out of view of the bedded ram. As we approached
treeline, he went down to feed next to the creek. We quickly made our way
through the trees, dumping our packs at some point to maximize our
manoeuvrability. The noise of the creek drowned out our movements and we got to
within 150 yards of him feeding on our side of the creek. Although we were
close, he didn’t give us many good looks. He had an unusual growth pattern to
his annuli and although he looked to be full curl, depending on the view, we
could never be 100% certain. However, I was getting more and more confident that
he was legal.
He
went back up to his bedding spot and it was from this vantage point that we
could make out that he was indeed full curl. He also looked to be at least 8
years old.
I
moved down to a better shooting position. Based on the previous glassing
sessions, he seemed to have a regular route from his bedding spot to the creek
and I set up to be roughly 100 yards by the time he hit the creek. 120 to 150
yards to his feeding spot. We waited. And waited. And waited.
He
bedded down for over three hours. It drizzled off and on, and we regretted
leaving our packs so far back. Although we could have shot him from his bedding
spot (~250 yards), it was quite the drop to the creek and it looked like he had
damaged one of his horns. We didn’t want to break off that horn, which looked
to be the longer of the two.
Finally,
he made his way to the creek. I had my hiking pole for a monopod and I had used
the three hours of waiting to dig out a bit of a chair in the slope. I felt
very stable. He didn’t give much to shoot at as he crossed the creek and moved
towards the feeding area. Instead, he was methodically moving down the creek;
away from me. 170 yards, 180 yards, 190 yards. If he turned the corner, then I
would have to make a move and likely spook this wily vet. Although, it was
outside of my regular shooting range, I decided to take him before he made the
turn.
BOOM!
The shot echoed throughout the valley. I heard a “Fuck Yeah!!” from my buddy
above. The ram was down.
But
only for a few seconds. He was back up, but he was obviously hit. His back legs
were not functioning properly. He was moving around too much for me to take a
second shot. I was flustered. He ended up in the creek, stumbled and started to
drift downstream on his back and side while he continued to struggle.
I took
another shot just before he was swept around the corner. At this point, I had
one round left. The rest being with my pack; 300 yards uphill. I made a run for
the ram.
When I
got to him, he was on his side on a sandbar. Clearly exhausted and not long for
this world. We locked eyes for a few brief moments. Then, I fired my last round
into his chest, while trying to avoid any “meaty” areas. He was done.
It was
just after 6:30. Sunset was 8:30. We had minimal food. I hadn’t had a sip of
water and only part of a meat stick since dumping our packs over 5.5 hours ago.
We were over 6km from spike camp with a steep climb out of the creek. We were
over 7km from low camp with no known trail. We were set to bivy for a second
night. Thankfully, we were well below treeline and there were options for a
fire to keep warm. Oh, and a creek for water and a whole sheep for consumption!
After a
few quick pics, we started work on the ram. I set up a rough camp just before
dark and then we finished up on the animal by headlamp. We made a roaring fire
and cooked the ribs, which we consumed between slugs of scotch. We got to sleep
just after 1am as raindrops pitter-pattered on the siltarp.
The
simple things. Photo courtesy of C.Thiessen
I got
about 2 to 3 hours of sleep that night between helping to maintain the fire and
finding a comfortable position for rest. Breakfast was leftover sheep ribs.
It
continued to drizzle, so we loaded up our packs with meat, cape, head and the
rest of our gear. Not sure what our packs weighed, but we were glad to be going
downhill rather than up.
It’s
tough to describe a 7.5 km bushwhack that entailed weaving through a creek and
thick bush/forest. Always searching for the perfect game trail that inevitably
peters out. Or that horse trail that is solid for 50m before it completely
disappears due to blow down or some other unknown reason. All of this while
carrying a load that can’t exceed a 90 degree angle while sitting or you end up
falling over or require assistance to stand back up again. We were soaked to
the bone and our caloric intake was well below our output of the last two days.
It took us 7 hours to get back to low camp. We dropped our packs and raced for the chips and the beer we had stashed in the lake. The sun was out again, but we were due to fly out the next morning. We still had our spike camp 5km above us, which followed a horse trail for the couple of kilometres, but it was another whack through the shrubs for the rest. It was going to have to wait.
Morning
light
Obligatory ptarmigan pic (white-tailed)
Obligatory sunset pic
