In 2008, I drew my first bighorn sheep tag for a Desert ram in my home state of Nevada. I have enjoyed mountain hunting most of my life, but that hunt led to “Sheep Fever” and took it to another level. I find true contentment hiking and hunting away from civilization in desolate mountains. This passion led me to a Canadian adventure in search of a Stone sheep. I booked a 14-day hunt, allowing me to hunt other animals also. My hunt started on August 15th with a bush plane ride from Whitehorse, Yukon to the MacMillan River Adventures base camp. It’s an older camp with a lot of character, especially the rustic log barn. After 17 years of guiding sheep hunters, this would be my guide, Garry’s, last sheep hunt. Will was the assistant guide (along with his dog, Bandit), and Jordan was assigned wrangler duties. That evening, we got acquainted over dinner. It felt like I’d just met up with old friends. I had a great feeling about what lay ahead.
The next day, we packed up 11 horses and spent most of the day in the saddle. We rode through swampy bogs, steep mountain trails, and blown down timber until we arrived in camp at the base of the mountains where Stone sheep live. The next day, we rode horses uphill as far as possible. Garry, Will, and I backpacked the rest of the way to spike camp with a five-day supply of food, while Jordan returned to the lower camp with the horses. That day started off with nice weather, but it changed when we got on top. We hiked for hours as the wind howled and rain and sleet pelted our faces. We set up our tents in a small glacial bowl that had a patch of snow and fresh spring water. I was soaked when I crawled into my wet down bag. I was cold and shivered that night, but it didn’t take away my excitement.
The next two days were spent hiking from spike camp up a steep, rocky sheep trail, then glassing from on top. We hiked about 14 miles and saw 14 ewes and lambs, a fox, and two rams. One ram looked good, so we decided to go after him. We had to wait out a snowstorm during the five-hour stalk, then he gave us the slip into the timber. It was a long, hard hike back to camp and was pouring rain when we arrived after 10:00 pm.
The following morning greeted us with clear skies and a breathtaking view of the mountains. We hiked back up the sheep ridge trail, then crossed over the top to an area that was just a few miles away. It was around noon when Garry and I stopped for lunch and glassed the hillside. Will and Bandit continued hiking downhill to glass a drainage we couldn’t see. Will was gone less than an hour when we spotted him running back all excited. He had located some bedded rams further down the mountain. We hiked down to a place where we could see them bedded in between boulders about 400 yards downhill from us. It took a few minutes to tell the sheep apart from the rocks. We saw five rams, and Garry confirmed one was legal. I didn’t have a clear shot, so Will and I slithered downhill through some large, loose rocks, trying to not make a sound. I got set up on a large boulder that was sloped downhill. My head was lower than my feet, but I felt confident looking through my scope at the target ram.
I adjusted the bipod and then propped my jacket under the buttstock. I used my rangefinder binos to correct for the 45-degree angle then adjusted the turret. Shortly after that, one of the smaller rams stood to rebed. I got ready, thinking my ram might do the same. He was in my scope when he stood and started to turn. The second he was broadside, I went into auto-pilot mode and squeezed the trigger.
We were all surprised at the sound of the shot. Will said, “Shoot again!” The ram didn’t seem wounded, and we never heard the “whack!” He ran for a short distance rebedded just as I got him back in my scope. Two rams blew out while two stayed back by their old leader. My ram was laying with his head down behind a rock and didn’t offer a follow-up shot. We waited 10-15 minutes before we knew he wasn’t getting back up. While we waited, I wouldn’t allow myself to get excited because we weren’t sure he was hit. Later while skinning the ram, I saw that my 7mm bullet hit right where I had aimed.
Garry got to the ram first to enjoy the special moment of his last sheep hunt. He had a huge smile and gave the “thumbs up.” I got to my ram speechless and in awe as time seemed to stand still. I gave thanks to God for giving me this experience and His magnificent creature. It was now time to get busy taking pictures, breaking him down, and packing back to spike camp. We took a different route that proved to be much harder because of loose boulders and steep sidehills. We arrived at camp exhausted around 12:30 a.m.
The following morning, we took down spike camp and hiked out on some typical sheep terrain. A few hours later, we met up with Jordan and the horses. Gnarly trails sure make great memories, but I was definitely ready to put my heavy pack on the horses. That night and the following day were spent at the lower horse camp. We had a blast reliving the hunt, telling stories, and grilling sheep ribs and tenderloins over the fire. I even remembered to send a romantic InReach message to my wife, Nancy, since it was our 41st anniversary.
Over the next three days, we trailed back to base camp, rested, repacked, and then rode back into the bush. I still had five more days and a pocket full of tags. I wanted a grizzly and would consider a moose. We rode to an old trapper cabin by a beautiful lake to spend the night. The cabin’s chimney pipe had broken off and was ransacked by critters. We cleaned up the mess and spent the next day fishing for pike.
The brush was wet the next morning as we trailed to a basin where Garry had stashed an old canvas tent the year before. Garry had hunted moose in this area before and had success only when calling them in during the rut, but that was still weeks away. We set up the wet/moldy tent and laid out the horse blankets to sleep on. It smelled as good as you can imagine. After dinner, we took a short ride to glass an area of rolling hills covered with willows and scattered pine trees.
I immediately spotted some bulls that were within a few miles that needed a closer look. We saddled up and headed out. Garry knew a way around the boggy areas that would get us closer. Will was leading and crested a ridge to see three bulls as they went behind a small clump of pine trees about 200 yards out.
Garry and I dismounted and busted through six-foot willows until we got to the other side of the pine trees. As luck would have it, there was a small knob of bare ground nearly as high as the willows. We spotted the bulls running away as we got on top. I asked if there was a shooter, and he said, “The second one’s a good one.” I quickly dropped to one knee and wrapped my sling around my forearm. I followed the largest bull in my scope until I had a clear shot through the willows. He was quartering away and running when I squeezed and heard the “whack.” It all happened so quickly! We had left the tent about two hours earlier, and now we had a huge moose on the ground.
We were all surprised when he taped over 64". We worked until after dark and again the next day to get the 700 lbs. of boned meat loaded into panniers and packed to Pike Lake for the floatplane ride out.
The following day was my last, and we all celebrated back at base camp. New friends were now old friends. We had spent 14 days trailing through the bush, staying at five different camps, and enjoying the rugged, remote mountains. This hunting trip was amazing, but it went beyond the taking of two beautiful animals. I’m extremely grateful for every person involved and for the opportunity to Live the Adventure!
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