Hells Canyon has changed my life on more than one occasion. The highs and lows, both physical and emotional, that I’ve endured since I first set eyes on that rugged terrain have created life long memories and scars. In all honesty, I’m not sure I’ve ever been to a more terrifying, yet exciting and pristine place in all of Idaho. From riding through the rushing streams, to the bottomless cliffs to the stunning sunsets and the blistering winds along the peaks, Hells Canyon is a hunter’s paradise locked between two sides of a concrete-filled country. It's a last frontier hidden in the lower 48 where the animals are plenty and the people are few as only the most experienced dare to venture out in the pursuit of game, and that’s where this story truly begins.
Chase Hitner and his family are no strangers to the outdoors or Hells Canyon. With years of logging and hunting under each of their belts, the word “novice” doesn’t come to my mind. As a matter of fact, Chase pulled off something very few will ever be able to claim - the harvest of a self-guided bighorn sheep and a B&C goat within the same year. I know from talking and hunting with him that both were well-earned trophies. The latter of the two is where I come in.
I’ve been around mountain goats for years now, stalking in as close as possible to the timber goats of north Idaho. Often watching them from under 15 feet, I became familiar with their habits and how to properly judge the trophy value of these incredible animals. Their ability to not only survive but thrive within the most inhospitable terrain that nature has to offer adds that special something few animals possess. To me, the allure of goat hunting is not so much the killing of the goat, but the killing of the man you were at the bottom of the mountain, the man who had to overcome his physical and mental limitations, and the man who defeated his doubts and conquered himself. The goat is a symbol of that moment in his or her life, and I was fortunate enough to be there for Chase’s moment.
It was mid-September when I first found out that I would be guiding an Idaho goat hunt in October of 2017. As a guide, it’s a dream hunt; as a hunter, it’s been a lifelong goal. I immediately had a grin on my face and a plan racing through my mind. The typical questions followed about the client's physical abilities, exact time frame, and the logistics of packing in. Next up came the countless hours of time behind the glass studying travel corridors, talking with Will about goats he had seen, planning approaches, and finding quality billies all while keeping the hunt within reasonable parameters. It’s part of the job as a guide to do the footwork for the clients and make sure all members of the hunting party will enjoy their time. As my coworker and friend, Will Matthews, says, “Perfect, proper planning prevents poor performance.” It sticks with me every time I go to plan a hunt, and this was a hunt I couldn’t mess up on.
After I found the group of mature billies I wanted to pursue, the next obstacle was figuring out how to get within shooting range without hiking over there and exploring it myself. After glassing each individual section of the ridge and studying topo maps, I put together a plan and headed out. A week later, the hunt would start.
It was now October 26th. Chase, his brother, Garren, and his father, Bill, arrived in Riggins at our lodge along the Little Salmon River. We covered what gear was needed, how the hunt was expected to go, where we’d be, and how long we might be there. After packing their gear and mine into manties, along with the food for the week, we sat down and had one last meal this side of the backcountry. In the morning, it would be packing time.
The pack in never gets old for me. The views from that high up are breathtaking and sometimes the wind is too. As I mentioned before, the Hitners were familiar with Hells Canyon and their past was extensive. As a matter of fact, Bill swore up and down years before that he would never go back, not because of a lack of love for the area, but due to him believing it was beyond his ability. I can definitely say that he not only surprised me with his determination, but himself as well.
Once we reached camp after the three-hour ride and 6,000 feet of elevation change, it was time to get settled in for the evening, tell hunting stories (where I first heard about Chase’s ram), and rest up for the upcoming trek. Fortunately, the goats had been spending their time on a nearby ridge, which, for us, meant we wouldn’t need to saddle horses, we’d get a little extra sleep, and had a bit of “hoofing it” to do come morning.
I don’t know about you, but when I have a hunt of this caliber the following morning, I find it hard to sleep. The excitement is overwhelming, especially when you know that your plan is bulletproof. Needless to say, that extra sleep I was hoping to get didn’t happen and my plan was not as bulletproof as I thought. Morning came faster than I could blink, meaning I had to crawl out of bed and get ready to roll.
Breakfast? Check.
Boots? Check.
Pack? Check.
Optics? Check.
Gun? Check.
Fall in creek? Check.
Jump into creek and pull Bill out? Check.
Let’s just say we started off freshly bathed.
After that, we ran into a few other hitches in the plan. We were taking our time moving up the ridge, picking our way around the cliff edges, and glassing in hopes of catching a goat out in the open, but finding nothing. We saw tracks and sign covering the hillside but no goats. Figuring they must have moved up due to the shift in weather from blizzards a week ago to 50 degrees and sunny weather, we took off up the ridge. What was going to be a two-mile hike over 1,000 feet in elevation gain was about to turn into a four-mile trip one way with 2,500 feet of elevation gain. Higher and higher we climbed and still no sign of a living goat. Looking down off the cliff edges and climbing out on craggy point, we again saw nothing.
At this point, I decided to check out another vantage point about 300 yards from where the three of them were glassing. Slowly crawling backwards down the edge of a cliff towards a rocky point that would allow me to see miles' worth of hillside, I stepped out on a car-sized rock that I’m not 100% sure would stay there. Thankfully, the rock stayed still as I got set up for glassing. A half an hour went by with nothing showing its face. Disheartened, I got ready to head back to the guys when suddenly he stepped out at 1,000 yards. I knew from the moment I saw him that he was a great billy. I gathered my gear and oet out of the goat’s line of sight. Running around the ridge, I got their attention, signaled that I’d found a goat, and told them to meet me up on the ridgeline.
Now back together, we busted out the spotting scopes, checked out the billy, and discussed our approach as he was still 1,000 yards away. Gathering our gear for a second time, we headed up along the ridge, again taking our time and keeping an eye out for other goats in the area. Sure enough, Bill spotted another goat 200 yards away bedded on a cliff’s edge, but unfortunately, it was not quite the quality of goat we were after. We broke over the next ridge and got eyes on the first goat. He was now at 600 yards and still bedded where we had last left him. Next up was an obstacle course through a section of burned up blow down, very similar to Pick-up Stix. After some fine gymnastics displays from all four of us, we finally reached the ridge that was within shooting range of this goat.
Again, spotting scopes were out and we were discussing back and forth whether or not this goat would reach the B&C level. Mass? Check. Length? A little shorter than the typical trophy goat. Studying this goat for over an hour, we finally reached a decision. It was time to let the led fly. Slowly moving down the ridge to a clear shooting lane, all the while attempting to stay behind trees and rocks as not to spook him, we set up - Chase with his gun and me with my video camera and rangefinder ready to fire. Another 45 minutes went by waiting for this goat to either move his head or stand up when it finally happened. The billy looked to his left, and Chase sent a round in center mass at 365 yards. The goat stood up, and Chase sent another round, this time hitting him a little back. The goat stumbled and stepped a few yards down the mountain, offering another broadside shot. Chase let the last shot ring out. The goat collapsed and fell 50 feet off of a cliff, now out of sight.
High fives with his brother and dad ensued and a lifelong memory was made in a place the three never thought they would stand together again. We gathered our gear for what would be the last time we headed over to the goat. Walking up on an animal that you’ve dreamed of holding your entire life is truly incredible in every sense of the word. The long, thick fur, the black horns, and the tough feet of these animals set them apart from all the rest, especially this goat with over 6” bases and 8 1/4” horns. We knew this billy would break that magic 50” mark.
Though the hunt was over, the pack out wasn’t, and as always the reward of a successful hunt has a price. Our price included heavy packs, steep hillsides, and another creek crossing. Fortunately for Bill, he didn’t go for another swim. With that being said, the four of us probably could have used a quick wash after that long day.
It’s funny how a hunt works out. A hunt-of-a-lifetime ended within one day, but not quite the way I had expected. To be honest, I had envisioned guiding three guys up a mountain to kill an animal. As it turned out, I ended up hunting with three friends and witnessing one of the most special moments between a father and his two sons. It was a hunt that didn’t end with a shot, but with laughter, good scotch, and three new friends.
I would like to thank my bosses, Bob and Brad, for entrusting me with this hunt as well as all of the other guides that I work with that made this hunt an enjoyable experience for everyone. I couldn’t do it without you guys. Also, a huge thanks to Cal Halladay of Sheep Mountain Outfitters for recommending me as a guide for these incredible animals in Idaho.