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Mountain air brushed past my face, as the trail of old memory lay before us. As optimistic as I have ever been, we headed deeper into the mountains. Flat prairie had turned to foothills, which had turned into the mountain ranges that now engulfed us. Several hours of riding later, we were finally at base camp; the first leg of our expedition was complete.
It had been a long journey to get to this point. Five years of DIY backpack hunting in some incredibly rugged country and the previous year going with Skip Selk, a local outfitter in late season had all preceded this day. I was now back with Skip for the first few days of the new season. Our time was limited but Skip knew the country well and I was determined to make every day count.
Opening morning found us at the headwaters of “Secret Creek”. It is a major sheep corridor with prime habitat. Far enough into the mountains to discourage all but the most determined of backpack hunters but accessible enough to reasonably hunt the area by horse.
I was filled with optimism; the day before we had spotted a band of seven rams. Three rams appeared to be legal with one old monarch well past his prime. His crown was broomed heavy and his belly hung low. This is perhaps the oldest ram I have ever seen on hoof and we were moving in to get a better look. An hour later, we were set up in a better vantage point where we pulled the spotting scopes out once again. Quickly we relocated the rams; they were running straight up the mountain! Scanning the area, we spotted another hunter who had simply walked straight to the rams only to spook them to the top of the mountain. We watched as the backpacker turned back, walked out, and over the mountaintop.
Sheep hunters often talk about the highs and lows they experience while hunting sheep, this was definitely a low point but as every seasoned sheep hunter knows, your luck can change in an instant. A flicker of a tail, an unsuspecting glimpse in the binoculars, and the hunt is back on.
Day two found us back in the same drainage in the off chance the sheep had come down from their perch in the crags of the mountain. We did relocate the rams but now instead of one hunter in the drainage, there were five others plus us! I was in a state of disbelief, knowing how hard these guys would have worked just to hike into this location with fifty-pound packs. Being just over twenty miles from the nearest road, the real question was, how do you pack an animal out on foot this far back in the mountains?
We decided to pull the pin and go to another drainage that “hopefully” had not been pressured. Disappointed but still optimistic, we headed out and were soon back at base camp.
The next three days brought nothing but disappointment. Plagued by extreme weather including two snow days in the mix, things were not looking good. Although it was unseasonable weather for late August, it is not unheard of in the mountains. A fourth day turned up nothing, not even a track had been seen in the scree.
At this point in the hunt, my optimism was fading fast but as every experienced sheep hunter knows, optimism is one of the key ingredients for success. It is what drives you to go out day after day looking in drainages with only the remotest of possibility, it is what makes you put your boots on in the morning and head into poor weather, and it is what keeps the mentally tough, tough. On a tough hunt, every day becomes a choice to persevere and those that do are often rewarded.
Down to my final day of hunting, spirits were at an all-time low. We only had time to check out one more drainage. In the hours I had spent riding and glassing, I knew that even if I did not harvest a ram, I had already been successful. This was pristine country and few people had ever set eyes on it. I truly have been one of the fortunate few that have had the privilege of experiencing this wilderness first hand.
Shortly after mid-day, it finally happened; we spotted the first band of sheep! They were only ewes but now the search was on and it didn’t take long for Skip to locate two bedded rams. Fortunately for me, they ended up being the two best rams and we had spotted them first. The rams, although attentive, didn’t seem concerned as I got into position. Using my pack as a rest, my first shot shattered the mountain’s silence and connected. Luckily, the ram was hit hard and we had time to get around him and set up for the final shot.
This monarch had finally come to rest on a precarious scree slope and waited our arrival. Making our way to him, I had a true sense of reverence for this animal. Few species have the magnificence and allure of the bighorn.
Lady Luck had smiled on me, not only did I have a tremendous ram on the ground, he had come to rest only 500 yards from where we could bring the horses to. This might not seem like a big deal to some, but to those that know what it takes to pack an animal off a mountain any distance, this was a welcome blessing.
Alberta’s bighorn sheep, perhaps the most difficult species to hunt in all of North America, had been my nemesis species now for seven years. No matter how hard I hunted or how far I hiked, I just could not get on a good ram. Everything from the rugged mountain ranges to the inclement weather can bring even the most seasoned hunter to their knees. There are many sheep and a lot of tags, especially if you are a resident, but that does not guarantee you will find a ram and certainly does not guarantee success.
Although my quest for the bighorn had begun many years ago and is finally complete, I will continue to pursue them as long as I can. There is something about the allure of mountains, the habitat sheep live in, and the difficulty of finding a trophy ram that only a sheep hunter can understand. ■
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