Having hunted goats for over a decade now, I can say I still haven’t had enough. Goat hunters are a rare breed. They like the pain, discomfort, danger, and adrenaline. Goat hunting takes place in the nastiest part of the mountains. Your footing is crucial, and focus must be at an all-time high. The conditions encompass rain, snow, and wind. To thoroughly enjoy that, something must be off in your brain. The following story is my 14th goat hunt.
I set out in these conditions yet again with my close friend, Trevor Embry, and new friend, Zach Welch. It’d be Trevor and I’s fourth year in a row hunting goat with our bows and Zach’s first time. Our goal was to fly into the same place Trevor and I had hunted in 2021. We had success there taking two Pope and Young billies. Prior to leaving for our trip, the weather looked dismal for our fly-in day. We were booked with Island Air to fly into the south end of the island. The three of us changed our work schedules and figured if we left a day early, we could get into our spot. The plan worked. A day early proved to be a beautiful, sunny day.
Our expectations were high for successful hunting of goats and deer, but we knew 2021 was an anomaly of high success. Flying in, we saw three groups of goats, which elevated our excitement. Since we could hunt deer the same day as flying, we spent the afternoon trying to find them.
We set out the following day in pursuit of goats, planning to hunt the closest group first. We hiked over the ridge and laid eyes on the group. The group of 17 sat atop a spine within rifle range, but we were equipped with bows only. We crested the ridge first thing in the morning and had to stay downwind and out of sight for the entire day. It was 36 degrees, raining, and windy. The day wore on, and just before dark, we called it. Back in camp, we pondered whether we made the right call keeping our distance, but we had eight days of hunting to figure it out.
We had deja vu the next morning as the goats were feeding the same direction and bound to bed in the same area. We found our roost and set up just as we did the morning prior. For three hours, we contemplated what to do and how to close the distance. The difference on this morning was that the wind was a bit more in our favor and two goats kept distance from the main pod. I had the idea to skirt the mountain and make a move on the two lone goats. I wanted Zach to get his first goat, so I laid the plan out and told him to set out after them. Having no mountain experience, he wasn’t comfortable going solo, so I took him with me. Heart pounding, pouring sweat, and exhausted, we found ourselves above where the goat’s last known location was. As we moved closer, a goat popped out. I whistled to Zach to lay low as he was cruising into position to avoid detection. Once the goat turned to look the other way, I whistled again to move. As Zach was within 60 yards, another goat popped out of nowhere. Within 20 yards of Zach, he didn’t even need to range. He sent an arrow through the perfect spot. The goat was dead on his feet and tumbled down the mountain. Unfortunately, he was on the wrong side of our camp, so we had to pack him back up the 800 feet that he tumbled down. It was 11:30 at night before we arrived back to camp with a goat in tow.
With the day’s prior plan working perfectly, we still had the original group of goats undisturbed. We set out in the morning to see if we could get to bow range. The goats stayed the course and were out of a stalkable area. I had spotted another goat a couple of mountains away, and in typical fashion, wanted to give chase immediately. Trevor, being a more thoughtful and methodical hunter, talked me out of giving chase and focus on the group closer to camp. As we kept in rifle distance, I grew ever more impatient. It didn’t seem like we would be able to get a shot at this group. We brainstormed and decided to spook the group and see where they went. After all, they would either go closer to camp or an area further away that had better stalking opportunities. Since Zach had shot a goat already, we sent him into the open valley below to see what the goats would do. The plan worked! The goats went up and around Zach and wanted to flee to the nasty country. Unfortunately for them, Trevor and I lay waiting in their path. We watched the goats as they walked straight to us from a quarter mile away. While hiding in the rocks, the goats disappeared. They should pop up directly in front of us. Time passed, and something was off. Trevor signaled me to pop up and look for the group. They had stayed lower than we thought and got around us. I took off to chase them down, hiding in the rocky cliffs. I popped out and had a goat at 22 yards, quartering away. I drew back and put my Gold Tip arrow into his opposite shoulder. The goat made it less than 10 feet before piling up and tumbling down the mountain, the same one Zach’s goat rolled down. Another pack out up and over, but what a feeling it was!
We woke to a fresh storm rolling in, and from prior experience, we knew it best to stay in the tent and keep dry. We needed a day to rest from packing meat as well. That evening, when the storm broke, I planned to get us closer to the deer I had seen a couple days earlier. Since we found them lower, I told the boys we needed to hunt that area. Zach turned up a nice buck and had the right wind to make a move. He let his Exact Archery Broadhead fly, and the arrow found its mark. Four days in and we had three animals back to camp.
There was a pretty big storm front moving in, giving us one more day to hunt. As much as we needed rest, we had our longest day ahead of us. We set out for fresh country that we had yet to explore. Along the way, we spotted a few deer but nothing worth pursuing. As we made our way to the furthest mountain, we found eight goats along the creek bottom. They were well below their typical
terrain, making it challenging to get within bow distance. It was Trevor’s turn to try for a goat. We tried to reposition ourselves multiple times throughout the day as the goats fed but couldn’t get closer than 200 yards. Knowing we were running out of time, Trevor decided to push the envelope and get in front of the now bedded goats. He went downwind and made a move to get as close as he could. While he was along the way, the goats got up to feed. Luckily, he moved ahead cautiously. He popped up and over a ridge and had a goat at 41 yards. He sailed an arrow over the goat’s back. Luck was on Trevor’s side. The other goats, confused, edged closer to Trevor and he had a shot at a mere five yards. Goat down!
Our pick-up date was set for four days later. Knowing the lake we were in needed perfect conditions to pick up, we sent a message to the pilot that we could be picked up anytime. We were stuck in camp with the weather that came in. Wind, rain, and fog would keep us hunkered down, recovering from all of the week we had put in. One day turned into four. We would update our weather daily, and it looked like we wouldn’t have a chance to get out for a few more days. We had two options, stay in the tent or get to work and hike off the mountain to salt water. Between meat and our bougee camp, we had about 500 pounds to get down. The preplanned secondary pick-up spot was four miles and 2,100 feet elevation loss. We spent a day and a half packing camp down through mountains, alders, raspberry bushes, and across a river.
Grueling is an understatement. It was top three worst pack outs I’ve ever had. When we finally got home, I weighed in 14 pounds less than when I left. It’s work that we will always remember. After some time passes, we’ll even laugh about it. Next time, we are going to plan a lighter camp just in case.
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