Mission Impossible - Sheep Hunt 2011

Our goal for this year was to take two rams, during a walk-in sheep hunt, out of the Kenai Mountains. Based on the ten year historical data for the whole game management unit we’d be hunting in; there was a 94% chance that we’d both fail and come home empty handed. Nothing like an even harder challenge to put on top of the difficulty of everything a walk-in sheep hunt encompasses. And this from a GMU that has boasted a year of zero ram harvests. But I’d been scouting this area for three years now, and it gave us confidence knowing that there were at least a few in these mountains that were legal rams. We now had the hard task of finding them, hunting them, and out hunting the competition that the Kenai Mtns are known for.

We started hiking on Sunday evening, and within just a few minutes from the truck it started to rain on us. I hate hiking in the rain – way too wet out of rain gear, way too hot in rain gear. We only made 4 miles that evening.

Clouds were in and out as we continued our hike the next day (Aug 8th), no rain, but lots of wet willow brush to work our way through. Rain gear again (nuts) as we plowed through the buck brush, sometimes taller than our heads. After several miles of this, we topped out above tree line and could ditch the rain gear. It sure felt great to hike in normal clothes from then on.

The clouds were really starting to pile up as we continued climbing up into the high mountain passes. Close to the ridge top, I suddenly saw sheep taking form above us through the mist of clouds. Rams, right where I left them in July! We bee lined it over to a side ridge and took cover in a shallow gully to survey the situation. As the fog lifted in and out we were able to see four different groups of white coated animals on the mountain side, all within a half mile of us. Goats, Lambs and Ewes, and two groups of the long horned Dall rams. To our delight the farther group held all three of the big boys.

Our anxiousness for this hunt had wrought our (normally enjoyable) years worth of planning for this hunt. Even now, in close proximity to the legal rams, we continued to glass down our back trail (as we had done the entire hike in) to check and see if anyone was coming up behind us. We only had a day and half before the season opened but we never set easy about the chance of being alone up here.

Our little rock gully turned out to be a great spot for a nap, it felt like a perfect rock recliner, all the right angles, but hard as heck. It was spitting snow and cold. Pulling out my sleeping bag and taking a nap sounded good, but as I told Steve, “the rams would see us then, Look, giant blue slugs! Everybody run!” I still managed to sleep for 15 min or so in my recliner while we waited it out for a chance to move. Soon enough the fog set in thick and we knew we could move under cloud cover to a planned camping spot. Visibility was down to less than 40yrds but I was familiar with the area. Soon we were in our camp location. A ridge would keep our tent out of sight of the rams that were still close – if the fog ever cleared. The wait was now on. The fog was making this hunt reminiscent of last year’s wait in a tent for four days of boredom. Once during a brief clearing on the 9th, we were able to catch a glimpse of the rams moving down into a narrow canyon. They were sticking around at least.



There was nothing to do for the day and half we sat in there. Anxiousness of other hunters, coupled with not doing anything prevented me enjoying some longs naps. Read a book, stare at the tent walls, eat some snacks – pretty darn exciting huh. A couple times I hiked the snow field seeing if there were any other boot tracks showing that we had competition in here – no tracks, back to worrying some more.

4 am on opening day, still socked in. At 8am I said to Steve, “Nuts, we should be hunting.” Everything was looking to clear up. In a few minutes of a hasty get ready, we were out of the tent and on the search. We knew they should be close, it was only a matter of where. Within an hour I had two of the rams spotted on the side of the mountain. Now for the stalk, and it wasn’t easy. It’s never easy doing it right. Around the backside of the mountain and come down from up high was the plan. Once on top of the ridge, all the cuts and gullies in the mountain side had us searching back and forth to find exactly where they were. Like I said it wasn’t easy, it was afternoon when we crept down through the crags and peeked over a little ledge. The bigger of the full curl rams was bedded at 253yrds. He had a little posse with him, one of which was the smaller full curl. Steve wanted to shoot when given an opportunity and as we waited for a clean shot opportunity I finally located the other big ram, 800yrds below us feeding in and out of our sight in the rocky terrain. We waited.



When Steve’s ram stood his shot was on the mark, right through the shoulder. To our delight, after the shot the rams feeding below started working their way up into the crags – right to where we were hidden. I’d ranged a ridgeline at 300 yards and waited for these rams to crest this point. The big ram was in this group and soon they came into view. I was ready with my rifle on my pack for a rest, and had the ram in my crosshairs. It was going to be between 280 -300 yrds and a steep angle. He cleared the other rams, turned broadside, feeding to the right. I held on the lower half of the vitals and squeezed until the rifle jumped in my hands.

The whump of the bullet was loud and the ram crumpled. Dead instantly. With that shot all the anxiousness of the past year seemed to lift off our shoulders like a great weight. We’d done it! It seemed like we could now actually enjoy the hunt without worry of will there be legal rams, will there be other hunters – we had our rams and it felt great after so much hard work the past few years. My ram had died in a narrow gully with a creek running through it so we knew he’d stay cool. We retrieved Steve’s ram first, both of us helping with the butchering to get it done quickly. Then we moved onto mine. It was head lamp time as the sun faded when we put the knives to work on my ram. When finished, we loaded up packs, held onto the mountain, and strained our heads back to see the ridge line high above that showed the end to the daunting hike yet before us.

Firm footholds propelled us up the mountain with a start time of 12:30am with the moon filtering in and out of scattered clouds after it crested the peaks. It was a steep hike. More than once, Steve found himself sweating and realized it wasn’t from the hard work but rather from the steepness of the slope. As I told him then, “It’s best to just watch your feet.” More than once, we’d suddenly have vertical cliffs loom up out of the darkness on three sides trying to hem us in and force us to backtrack. But our head lamps would show that we were on the one narrow path that would lead us right through – verses from the Bible of God directing your steps came to mind as we continued on. Not sure what it was but earlier, when butchering up the rams, I’d been dizzy and light headed; caused by much exertion with little food. Now I felt great. I felt strong under the heavy pack, sure there were times to lean over the poles or sit on a rock but I was in the moment. The cold of the clear night, the heavy packs, climbing a mountain in the low glow of a headlamp, a great hunting partner with me – it was glorious. It was the stuff that makes up the stories that men tell to other men when the fires are warm in a house, and I was living it. I was alive and my heart was filled with awe and thankfulness to my creator.



It wasn’t till 2am that we finally made the mountain pass that held our little camp. It was cold again. The snow fields lacked any of the slushiness of the previous days – everything was frozen. We’d just gone 18 hours non-stop and hunger trumped sleep. So we feasted in our shelter till we finally went to crawled in the bags at 3:30am.

We relaxed all the next day, fried some sheep meat, lounged around in the sun, read our Louis, spotted wildlife and simply enjoyed being in the mountains and enjoying all that God could show us. It was a day we didn’t want to end. The next day was the same old ending to a sheep hunt. Super heavy packs and a long, long walk out to the truck. The heat of a clear and sunny day to send us home at least had all the brush dry for us – but the bugs…I might have enjoyed a wet hike rather than the bugs. They gave us little rest and we were whooped by the time we got out.

Steve’s ram was 37.5 x 12.25 and eight years old. Mine was 35 x 12.25 and ten years old and probably the dominate ram in this group. I find it amusing that after five trips in there over three years of watching on these rams, I know for sure I had my ram in my spotting scope each time I was in there. And each time I assumed he wasn’t legal (including counting rings) – though every year he technically was. This was just the first year he finally made full curl.

The Kenai Mountains are now over and we’re glad to be done with them. That was a long write up but this was probably the hardest hunt to be successful on that we’ve accomplished in our goal of taking one ram out of each of the seven mountain ranges…all by hiking in from the road. It’d been a long time in the works for this one and we came out of it with much better rams than anticipated for.