Killing a trophy animal on any hunt is a dream come true, but killing two? That truly is the hunt-of-a-lifetime! This hunt started with driving three nine-hour days from Portland to get to Gundahoo River Outfitters in Muncho Lake, British Columbia. It was there that I met Quintin Thompson along with his mother and the main base camp cooks. Quintin decided to fly us out that same night to what would be our headquarters for the next week – Burn Off Camp. Along with the guides, I would be joined by another hunter named Cory Thompson from Colorado. After a short 20-minute flight, we got everything set up and decided to leave Burn Off Camp first thing in the morning, taking the horses about eight miles to the west and setting up a spike camp.
On the first day, we encountered a bull that my guide, Justin, called in to about 20 yards. It was not a legal bull, but he came very close and it was a super exciting experience. After that encounter, we tied off the horses and decided to make a move on another bull that we had spotted with a cow. After about five minutes of calling, the bull came in to about 10 yards. It was a legal bull but still very small and Justin advised not to shoot saying that we could do much better. We then made our way up the valley to our final spot where we set up camp. Later that evening, we saw a big, impressive bull moose about 500 yards from our spike camp that was headed in the opposite direction.
Justin said that it was no doubt a Boone and Crockett bull.
The next day, rode the horses up the valley and climbed up high so that we could glass for the rest of the afternoon. Around an hour before dark, we spotted the same bull from the night before, this time right across the valley from us. We quickly jumped onto the horses to try and get across the drainage as fast as we could. After a quick ride, we found a great spot to set up and try to call before dark. After calling for around half an hour, there were no responses, so we decided to return to our spike camp.
Day three started with a light drizzle in the air. We geared up and headed down the valley back towards Burn Off Camp, intending to get up higher on the side of the mountain and glass the valley below. The weather then started to turn nasty with the wind blowing and the rain falling. We were all so cold that we decided to head back to camp. We arrived just before dark and made the decision to pack up and head back to Burn Off Camp the next morning.
The morning of day four found us packing up camp and loading the horses to make our eight-mile trek back to the cabin. About a mile into our trip, Justin turned back and saw a massive bull moose about 1,000 yards from where our spike camp was located. We immediately turned back and formulated a plan to go after the monarch. Justin and I left the rest of the group and headed in the direction that we had last seen the bull.
As we got above the meadow that we had previously seen the big bull in, Justin immediately started cow calling. This had me a little confused as I was not set up and ready yet. What I didn’t know was that Justin had already seen the moose directly below us in the timber and he was attempting to mask our sound with that of a lonely cow. I jumped off my horse, grabbed my rifle, and quickly set up for a shot. The moose came directly toward us in the timber, offering no shot opportunities. Fortunately, he moved away from our direction and kept coming up the side of the hill. He finally presented a beautiful broadside shot at 75 yards. I slowly squeezed the trigger on my Christensen Arms .300 WSM and the bullet found its mark right behind the front shoulder. Two more quick follow-up shots and the bull-of-a-lifetime was mine.
I was amazed at the sheer size of the bull and his antlers. High fives and congratulations were shared all around. We then got to work on the bull, and Justin and Cole caped the beast out in about three hours. We loaded up the horses and finally made our way back down to Burn Off Camp.
On day five, we decided to switch gears and start hunting for mountain goats. Although the day was filled with nothing but rain, Justin and I were able to spot two trophy goats high up in a drainage basin. The only way to get to them was to ride down the valley and around the backside of the basin, which would be a 12-hour ride. We sat until dark, putting them to bed before riding back to camp. The next morning, we all headed back to the area to see if we could relocate the goats. On the way, we spotted two more goats high in a basin located just behind the basin we were in the previous day. Since Cory had not yet harvested an animal, I told him and the guides that he would get the first option of which of the two goats he wanted to shoot.
We started putting the stalk on at about 1,000 yards. We soon found ourselves 300 yards away from the two mountain goats. As Cory and I laid our rifles over our packs and prepared to shoot, Justin told us that the larger of the two goats was completely broken off. I quickly made the decision to let Cory harvest the other goat that had both of his horns intact. After three quick shots, Cory saw his first goat roll down the hill and ended up landing only 50 yards away from us.
Days seven and eight of the hunt were filled with crazy weather and limited sightings of any mountain goats. Even after hiking all the way to the basin we had previously seen the goats in, they were no longer there. We decided to head back to camp to get warm and dry.
The next morning, we spotted six goats high on the skyline of the valley across from us at Burn Off Camp. We came up with a plan to ride down the valley a couple of miles to a drainage that was behind the ridge that they were on. Justin figured it would take us around four hours to get there, and after about an hour into the ride, we crossed the river and began to head up through the timber at the base of the drainage. I looked up through the timber to see if I could see the original location of the goats, and to my complete surprise, they were headed in our direction. I mentioned to Justin that they might be heading down so that they could water. They kept heading our direction, saving us hours of riding and climbing. We jumped off the horses and ran to the edge of the timber to get a better look at them. The goats came and started drinking water from the creek only 130 yards away from us. I was ready for a shot, but Justin couldn’t tell if the goat we were looking at was a billy or a nanny. After some deliberation, he decided that we should pass on these goats and head over the top of the mountain to see if there were any others.
At that exact moment, I felt the wind at the back of my neck and all of the goats ran clear to the top of the mountain. It was then that Justin got a better look and felt confident that the largest of the bunch was in fact a billy and that I should take a shot. I asked the range, and he said they were at 350 yards. That was further than any shot I had ever attempted, but I felt it was a makeable one, so we laid the pack out on the ground and set up the bipod to get steady. The first shot hit the goat in the front leg, and Justin said it was a good shot and to send another one his way. The second shot hit the goat right in the breadbasket and he dropped instantly. That made two incredible animals and two amazing experiences in less than one week!
I have nothing but the highest praise and respect for Quintin Thompson and Gundahoo River Outfitters. His operation is very professional and fantastic from top to bottom, and I am looking forward to the opportunity to come and hunt with them again. A special thanks to Justin and Cole for working hard to help me. Finally, I would like to express my sincere gratitude to my wife, Evelyn, and my son, Hunter, for putting up with my hunting obsession. She works very hard to hold down the fort while I am gone, and I couldn’t do it without her!
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