“Your next three days are going to be hell, but I’m going to send you home with a ram.” Those were the words that my guide, Elijah Anderson, told me as we were packing up our gear on the side of the mountain in anticipation of the terrain we were about to face and the hours we were going to put in. We had just spotted a group of three Stone sheep so far away that we could just tell they were rams. With Elijah's experience, he felt that at least one of them was a good one. We decided to make the move to the new area after hunting our current area for the past 10 days. In those 10 days, we had experienced early success with my dad and me taking nice mountain goats on the first two days and Dad adding a mountain caribou on day five. The other days, Elijah, our packer, Sarah from New Zealand, and I spent every minute of daylight searching the surrounding mountains and valleys for a legal ram. Game was everywhere. Grizzlies seemed to be on every hillside, and one was almost in our laps as he chased a band of ewes right into us. Caribou fed on the grassy plateaus, and sheep were found on a lot of the mountain slopes. We turned up countless rams, but all were shy of full curl or being 8 years old.
After hiking up and down the mountains to check every hiding spot we could find, Elijah felt our best bet was to head in the direction of the three rams, even though it was a day’s ride away and the country getting to them looked really nasty. We stopped by “sheep camp,” a nostalgic little shack with hunters' stories from past years written all over the walls and our home for the last few days, to get the rest of our things and headed back to our base camp for the night.
The next morning, we left camp at daylight and rode several hours until we reached the mountain across from where the rams were spotted. A couple hours of glassing revealed that not only were the rams not visible, but we also could not find a way across the ravine in order to get on the range they were on. If we had more time, we could have possibly explored the area more and maybe found a route, but with two and a half days left, time was not on our side. Defeated, we began the long ride back to base camp. Elijah’s plan was to hunt our way back to sheep camp tomorrow and then spend the last day searching every inch of the area we could, looking for the legal ram he felt sure was there. He did a great job of staying upbeat and selling his plan, but I had to admit, I wasn’t very confident we could turn up a sheep in the area we had hunted so hard for 10 days.
After fighting an upset stomach all night, I wasn’t feeling great as we rode out of camp the next morning. Still, we hiked and searched every mountain for sheep until we reached sheep camp at last light. Once again, several rams were spotted, but none were legal. Between my stomach and the thought of tomorrow being the last day, I skipped dinner and headed to bed, hoping to regain some strength for tomorrow in order to give it our best shot at pulling off a last day miracle.
At around 4 a.m., the sound of rain on the roof of the shack woke me up. This not being my first North Country hunt, I knew that rain was not our friend and what it meant. Sure enough, as day broke, we could see that everything was fogged in. As we sipped coffee and began to realize our hunt was more than likely over, it dawned on me that it was September 6th. When I booked this hunt two years ago with Fire Mountain Outfitters, I knew it would be during my anniversary but did not realize until I spoke to my very understanding wife that in fact September 6, 2018 would be our 10th anniversary. I was replaying that colorful conversation in my head when Elijah suggested we head to the top and be in position just in case the fog lifted so that we would have one last chance at spotting a ram.
At around 12:30, holes began appearing in the fog that allowed quick glances at mountainsides. Sure enough, we spotted a few rams and my hopes rose but quickly plummeted when we realized they were rams from the days before. By 2:30, the fog was really moving out, but our time was also. Elijah said we were going to glass a previous hillside to see if the rams we saw before had anyone join them and then began our three-hour ride back to base camp. As we turned the horses to head to the glassing point, I heard Sarah say to Elijah that she saw rams laying on a grassy point to our left. He dismounted and got his scope out, but to be honest, I did not even get excited. It was an area we had seen young rams in earlier. I had seen this happen all week and it ended with him saying, “Not quite what we are looking for.” This time, though, I saw him give a faint smile to Sarah and I thought my heart was going to come out of my chest. He turned to me and said, "Don’t get your hopes up, but this could be our ram." He wanted to get a closer look, so we rode within 800 yards and began the evaluation process. The rams were up feeding and disappeared quickly over an edge before we could confirm he was legal. We eased up to the edge, but they were nowhere to be found. We hiked over and around each rise and fall in the land, but we could not locate the rams.
Suddenly, Sarah’s twin sister, Kate, spotted the rams at the very bottom of the canyon headed out of the country. Elijah sat up to get a look at them, but I could tell he did not feel we were in good shape to get a shot on these sheep. I think the disappointment of being so close and then failing was 10 times worse that no opportunity at all. As we sat there watching them and the daylight disappear, Sarah tapped me on the arm and pointed to three rams coming around the hill towards us. A quick look revealed that these were the original three that contained the possible shooter. They bedded down 430 yards in front of us and gave Elijah the look he needed to confirm that we were indeed looking at a legal Stone sheep. The target ram was bedded facing us, so the waiting game began. I got into a comfortable prone position and readied myself for when he got up to stretch. Elijah talked me through the anticipated shot and how we would handle the possibility of a follow-up shot in making sure additional shots were taken at the right animal as not to wound a second one. He also mentioned that they were sitting on a very steep hillside and that more than likely he would take a tumble but not to worry as we would get him out of there.
After 30 minutes of waiting, one by one, they began stretching and readjusting their positions. At the 45-minute mark, my ram rose from his bed and turned broadside. My rifle broke the silence of the mountains before I knew what happened. Unsure if the shot hit, I chambered another round and Elijah talked me through finding his position. The second shot produced a definite hit, and the third broke him down and he began his tumble to the bottom of the very intimidating canyon. When we finally saw him stop rolling, our celebration echoed through the mountains of British Columbia. Elijah and I embraced in a hug that was part relief and part elation of two guys who had given the maximum effort for 14 days and been rewarded with 30 minutes in the trip to spare.
Although it was only a few hundred yards down to the sheep, it took over an hour to reach him because of the severity of the terrain. When I finally raised his head from the rock, I do not think I had ever had more admiration for an animal in all my years of hunting. I was so thankful for him, for the experience, for my family (especially my supportive wife), and for God, who I felt this ram was a complete gift from. The next few minutes were spent reliving the moments and then taking pictures that I will treasure for the rest of my life. The true work began after that, and by 11:00 that night, we all had full packs and were headed up and out of the canyon. At 2:30 a.m., we crested the top of the mountain and hit the ridge our horses were on. Lying there completely exhausted, watching the Northern Lights dance in the sky, I felt like the luckiest guy in the world. September 6th really was the best day ever!
Login