A Kechika River Adventure

[IronNoggin]

This will be the tale of our most recent hunt.
Although this was a hunt rather than fishing, I felt a few on here would enjoy the tale.
It is going to be lengthy (as was the trip) and incorporate numerous pictures.
It will eventually also have a few videos attached, after I get the handle of editing them.

Due to it's length, I'll be running this one up in installments.
So, the tale will be broken down into like-themed components for ease of posting & reading.
For those with a lack of patience for such things, I suggest coming back to see it in it's entirety tomorrow or the next...

The Plan

This was not our first run at the Kechika River system.
In fact, we have been there numerous times, and taken Stone Sheep, Moose, Elk, Goats, Bears & a few Wolves out of there over the years.
Through that time period, a handful of us have developed a real love of this area, and so it wasn't much of a consideration for me when the suggestion came up we should give it another go this fall...

The Kechika is an offshoot of the Liard River. It flowss into the Liard just above Skooks Landing (less than a hop skip and a jump from the Yukon Border).

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kechika_River

https://mapcarta.com/24325756

Last year, we went in with a single jet rig, and way to damn early.
The two weeks we were there, one spent the overly hot days suffering in shorts & T-shirts, and the nights sweltering with no sleeping bags required. No game was taken, as they simply refused top even move in the heat. Very few critters were even spotted.
Thus it was decided that we would make the run a fair bit (3 weeks) later. Turned out to be a decent choice.

Many conversations were blistered across the phone lines between Alberta and BC with the growing plans.
Two jet rigs this year. All the best equipment of course. Time on the ground centering on a 3 week possibility.
Eventually I submitted a Hunter Host request for our Jet Jocks, which was to my surprise granted almost immediately.
Surprised because all the other folks I knew that applied for the Host Permits had to wait literally months for approval, and in some cases they were denied.

Permits in hand, Licenses two, we anxiously awaited the upcoming departure date...

 

[IronNoggin]

The Run

Skooks Landing is a LONG way from Port Alberni.
In fact, the route we take runs right around 2,350 kilometers (or 1,460 miles for those who prefer that unit of measure).
It takes us two days on non-stop full boogie to drive there.
We had a minor delay the day we expected to leave, but at 4:30 am the next morning we rolled out, and hit the first ferry across the moat.
The drive through Vancouver was even more complicated than usual, as Highway 1 was down for construction.
So, we had to meander through side streets for a couple hours before we managed to put the Big Smoke behind us.
The truck purred, and we made excellent time after that, only stopping for fuel and the odd bite to eat.

At dark, my troubled eye doesn't allow me to drive any more.
So my Partner ponied up, and grabbed the wheel for the continued run.
Late into the black, we hit Chetwyn, and begged a room for a few hours off my Partner's sister in law.

Upon getting up (at 4:30 am again) I contacted our Alberta Buddies to determine where they were.
They have a much shorter distance to travel, as they started off in Alberta Beach (just west of Edmonton).

Turned out they had run well into dark themselves, and were poised at Wonowon (Mile 101 of the Alaska Highway) waiting for the fuel pumps to be turned on. A viscous run ensued, and we managed to catch them still there.

We had arranged for the commercial fuel manager to meet us in Fort Nelson, so when we landed there the Jet Jocks turned in to collect many many barrels of dinosaur juice. My Partner & I scrambled through town, gathering up a few last minute supplies, before hooking back up with the Ladz.

Just prior to Toad River we encountered the largest game check I've ever wandered across.
No less than nine CO's, a couple Greater Yellow-Legs, and a handful of FN representatives.
Our Buddy's Alberta Tags and Jet Rigs were like Honey, and we had everyone's full attention immediately.
Turned out I knew the senior officer that was onsite from a previous lifetime, and we chatted a bit about fellows we knew way back then. All Licenses etc were in proper shape, and they soon wished us well and sent us one our way.

Another long run, a quick bite at Toad River, and we made Skooks Landing just after dark.
The place was JAMMED!

As Elk Season was well underway, over 75 trucks & trailers filled the parking area beyond capacity, with many simply run into the bush.
I have never ever seen that landing so full, and we openly wondered just how far up, and which systems that many hunters had poured into.

Not wanting to load and shove off in the dark, we simply bunked in the trucks for the night, anticipating an early rise the next...

Along our drive, we saw numerous deer, a few bears, several elk & sheep, and the usual multitudes of buffalo along the Alaska highway portion.
Not wanting to even slow down for a minute, no photoes were taken.
The drive is an interesting one, as the road wanders through many varying kinds of ecosystems, ranging from full desert, rain forest, alpine and northern woods. Beautiful, and helps make the drive more than tolerable.

Here's a map of the run.

You can see we have to basically drive the full length of the Province of BC - a Province so big it easily eats the state of California:

http://www.bcrobyn.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/CaliforniaMap1.jpg

 

[IronNoggin]

As we neared our launch site, it was rather obvious that this was going to be a VERY different hunt compared to last year.
Already the mountains were beginning to dress themselves in winter white, and it looked downright chilly up top:

Here's a shot of Green Death - my Buddies custom built 24.5 foot sled.
It runs an uber enhanced 502 cubic inch engine that pours damn near 700 ponies through the pump.
The eight degree hull takes some real getting used to, but allows us to fly in as little as 3/4 inch of water.
Over the years, that ride has provided us with endless hours of enjoyment, and far too many successful hunts to even begin to recite.
Those that might have wandered across a few tales of my past hunts will likely recognize her...

 

[IronNoggin]

The next morning came early, and we scrambled to load the boats prior to descending upon the launch:

Then it was a short spin down to the water, and The Beasts were once again in their own environment:

This was to be the maiden voyage of this system for the second boat (and first run of it for the Pilot too).
Due to the paint job, it was christened Flaming Death - a name that nearly came true for some of us...
It sports a 10 degree hull with Teflon, and a high performance injected 350 cubic inch engine.
At all of 18 feet, that much power is very very impressive!

And Huston, We Have LIFTOFF!

Unleashed from their bunks, these Beasts really ROAR once they are allowed.
Both literally jumped out of the water, like racehorses bounding for the finish line!
Miles literally poured past at a blistering rate, and the scenery was drop dead gorgeous!

 

[IronNoggin]

Of course no trip is complete without our Game Spotting Grizzly Protection Unit.

He well recognized what we were up to, and set about trying to be the first to spot any game as we roared along:

Gradually the terrain began to transform into mountains along our way:

And then, an hour or so past the Turnagin River, and when all seemed to be going well, Green Death sputtered violently!!

She's way to damn HOT snarled her Master.
Off comes the lid, a fair bit of oil back sprayed in the engine compartment, and an intake manifold bolt laying on top, next to it's proper place.
Whoa??
A run down of the engine, bolt back in place, and fired back up. Less than 20 minutes, another bolt worked loose (intake again) and she was running HOT again. Fixed, checked oil (fine) antifreeze (fine) and back up running.
Another 20 minutes and the rad cap on the heat exchanger let go with a gush!
Anti-freeze Everywhere.
What The Hell??

Cooled her down, made a few more adjustments, and ran up up again.
This time a rad hose let go, even more antifreeze sprayed the entire engine compartment down!

Now what?

A discussion, and we decided to re-route the coolant such that the engine would use river water (cold) and exhaust that after going through the block over the side.
By now it was apparent that the engine was producing pressure into the coolant - a cracked head, or bad head gasket being the most likely culprits. And our Green Lady was obviously out of the running for our intended destination...
A couple more miles, and we shut down for the night, and to debate what this meant for our hunt...

 

[IronNoggin]

There was never even a passing thought of abandoning the hunt.
We discussed possibilities into the night, and decided if Green Death could get up for another hour or so, we would be into an area we had explored many years ago. That area is adjacent to Terminus Mountain, and we well know it holds a decent amount of moose & elk in the lowlands, and sheep plus goats up top.

Decision made, we settled in for the night as the wolves serenaded us off to dreamland...

The next early morn, we set off again, albeit at a notably reduced pace...

Green Death initially held her own, and we could see Terminus approaching in the distance:

Before we could get there though, the big mill began to sputter and complain again. Thankfully we were rather close to the new destination, and we managed to nurse the boat into an island below the big mountain.

Terminus:

Given the status of the main rig, this Island was obviously going to be the base of our operations for the duration.
Green Death's owner drug out the tool kit, and went right to work trying to determine actual issues rather than guessing.
The rest of us gathered up supplies and carved a campsite out of the bush:

That big Teepee weighs mere ounces, folds down to nothing, has it's own stove, and is incredibly comfortable for four men!
First time I was along when it was used, and I was mightily IMPRESSED!

Camp was restructured several times, and became a comfortable home base.

Afterwards, the other boat's Pilot entertained our Camp Watcher by doing a little fishing.
That dog is RIGHT into it, and certainly lets you know when there is a bite!!
The catch (on a bare jig) was Dolly Vardens and Arctic Grayling - all of which were released.

Next came The Council of Changed Plans, and how we would hunt as a consequence...
And once again, the wolves serenaded us as darkness draped the river valley...

 

[IronNoggin]

Next up will be The Hunts.

My Lady will be arriving in mere moments, and we have a few things to do (after being gone 3 weeks that should be little wonder!).

I will continue the tale as suggested in my first post, but that will likely have to be in the morning.

Cheers & Thanks for your Patience!
Nog

 

[slaydown]

What an awesome post!! Thanks for taking the time to do this and I cant wait to hear the rest.

 

[Oly1]

Yes awesome so far. Love that country, but been a few years since we have been there. Sounds like it’s time to bring the magnum out. Patience patience patience. Is it morning yet.. LOL

Oly

 

[Bows Up]

Count me in as one of those enjoying the tale. Not getting off the Island this year.

 

[IronNoggin]

The Hunts

From our base camp noted above, we could scan the frontal faces of Terminus and another set of hills.
So, the two spotting scopes were set up and manned almost constantly from the moment camp was established.

It wasn't difficult to spot the several groups of goats up there, but the only one that looked like he needed a closer inspection always (and I mean always) was seen in areas impossible to get anywhere near without wings. Still, a watchful eye was on him frequently in the hope he would eventually offer an opportunity...

There were several groups of rams, and a handful of ewes & lambs on those hillsides as well.

Despite staring at them so hard it felt like our eyes were being sucked out of our heads, we simply could not make any of the rams grow the extra few inches required for an uphill effort. One thing I did notice about those rams was that several (over half in fact) were sporting deep & wide curls, indicating great promise for the next few years of developing some very fine sets of horns. That mountain and area has always been known for tight-curl rams (not lengthy) with minimal examples of the Argali style flare. Looks to me as though that is changing there now. Can't really understand the why, but certainly can and did recognize the what. Days were spent analyzing each ram in full detail. One looked as if he would be "just shy", while the balance were lesser that that. Terminus is among the first mountains hit by the outfitter crew each year, and it is often said that by the end of the first day or two, all the legal rams will be taken. Heard it had some rather intense pressure on the opener this year, and to us, it rather did look like a clean sweep had been accomplished...

Elk season was nearing it's end by now, so we decided to put a little effort into seeing if we could dig up a bull or two.
Mornings and evenings would find us hidden in natural blinds, and calling to entice anyone within hearing range to respond.
During the days, those not manning spotting scopes were quietly prowling in wide searches for sign.
And sign there was! From wallows to scrapes to bootprints, it was obvious some were about.
And we did get the odd reply from both sides of the valley, letting us know the bulls were there, but wary.

One encounter was quite the rush for my local Partner.
He had never called in a bull before, and so had spent a fair amount of time earlier in the fall practicing bugling and cow chirping until he had it down pat. A couple of mornings after we landed in this spot, he and I crept out well before the first light, and set up in an area that would allow us to watch any approach from most angles, and especially so downwind. At the first fairly quiet bugle he let go, there was an immediate response that echoed eerily through the chilly morning's frost.

Almost sounds too good I muttered.
But when challenged again a few minutes later, it was obvious this was the Real McCoy, and headed right at us like a heat seeking missile!!

My Buddy's eyes started to glow, and he actually gave a few twitches that gave away the level of adrenaline roaring through his veins at that moment.

The bull closed quickly, taking perhaps 20 minutes to cover over a kilometer. Only to stall out in some dense timber. A few cow chirps was enough to get him raking the trees violently, while gorilla grunting the whole time. Eventually he could stand it no more, and roared into the open, threw back his head, and roared his own challenge into the brisk air. It was chilly enough his breath seemed to hang for hours. Binocs up, One, Two, Three, Four, Five... again. Same result. This was a huge bodied very mature bull that was never going to grow a sixth point. Bases were monstrous, and it was obvious that he considered himself King of this particular mountain!

Although a little disappointment, my Buddy swelled with pride as he put his rifle down. I did it! I actually called that bugger right in! From the corner of my eye I could see his hands shaking a little, and fondly recalled the first bull I called in myself so many years ago. And yeah, as I recall, there was a little shaking on in my hands that morning too!!

The bull swung his head from side to side seeking his adversary. Not finding him caused him to vent his anger repeatedly to the sky. Was one hell of a fine experience, and we both saluted this magnificent creature as he slowly headed back up the mountain...

Back at camp this occurrence spurred a rather lively debate on the effectiveness of antler point restrictions on game management. Almost all of the Western States that had at one time tried these restrictions ended up doing away with them, and many the paper has been written as to why. In some of those areas, 5 point elk became the dominant breeders as the 6 points basically no longer existed. The same holds true for Mule deer wherein large 3 and even 2 points become the dominant mature bucks under 4 point only restrictions. I believe what we saw that morning was another manifestation of this syndrome, as that elk was as old and big as he is ever going to be. Odd that BC, and in many cases even Alberta seem driven to re-invent the wheel in this matter...

A few more elk were heard over the next two days, and more sightings uphill of not only sheep & goats, but several large black bears, and a small handful of elk. Interesting for sure, but not putting much in the way of food in our bellies, and the MRE's were getting a tad redundant...

One morning we awoke to an obvious impending weather change. It had been cool, and heavy frosts developed most mornings, but all under clear skies. This morning there was but little frost, and the red sky at morning spoke loudly to the two offshoremen in our camp. She's changing...

So, we decided to change up our strategy for the day, to explore another area, and to expand our horizons just a little. We loaded up the smaller jet with a couple day's worth of rations, a couple tarps, the hound and all four of us. Target was the Frog River system, and off we went, stopping to explore areas of interest along the way. The amount of sign of moose and elk was promising, but there were also a good number of black & grizzly bear bootprints, and the ever-present trails of the wolves...

During this run the weather did indeed turn, and the snow began to literally pummel the high hills. Here's a few shots I took along the way:

The Frog was a little down from last year, and the sledding was exhilarating in the skinny water.

This was the last day of elk season, so we had hopes of locating a good bull further up the Frog drainage which is well known to harbor decent numbers of them. We spread mean out in enticing spots to call from time to time, and wandered many side channels and meadows looking. Although the sign was there, there were NO responses to our calls....

Upon rounding one sharp corner in the river a giant 6 point bull and 3 cows were caught in the open, 1/2 across the skinny channel. Our eyes merely grazed him as he lit out like his tail was on fire, straight through the thick stuff and madly up a steep hillside! His run was so swift none of had a chance to do anything but stare in shock as he disappeared like so much smoke. No way he was going to reply to a call, so we decided against educating him in that matter, and carried on. That spelt the end of the elk ambitions (but not sightings) for this year's hunt.

A few hours later we dropped in at the Trappers Cabin to sign the Guest Book once more. Quite a few names have been added since I was last there, and a new roof appears to be damn near completed. One day I would like to shake the hands of the men who brave this country in the dead of winter in pursuit of fur!!

We did note a goat down low right from the beach in front of the cabin, but quickly determined he was a semi-mature billy of no interest to our group. The wander home required the balance of the day, and we went to bed stuffed with military rations once again...

 

[IronNoggin]

After the previous day's efforts, I found myself a little worn out. And so it was that I found myself stirring from slumber, only to discover I had slept in some. As I laid there wondering what the rest of the trip might bring, I heard the far off moaning of a cow moose. Hmmm... Did I imagine that? Nope, there it is again!!

Scrambling I was soon in my heavy camo to brace against the morning chill, rifle in hand, and was preparing to head out in the direction of those calls.

Kid's pretty good came a hushed whisper across the campsite.
Huh?
Yeah, that's him that got you going. Any bull hears that he may well respond.
Only ever remember hearing anyone better, and that was an ancient Cree in Northern Saskatchewan decades ago...

Just then the call came again, and DAMN! He is GOOD!
Always prided myself on my efforts to call moose, and have been downright successful doing that over the years.
But this was magical. Better than I had ever been, and still had me yearning to run out there with a ready rifle!

When my Buddy returned to camp, we all congratulated him on his calling.
He blushed with hidden pride, and accepted the comments in a reluctant manner.
Little did we know just what the effect of those calls would have on our next couple of days...

We spent much of the day again watching the animals on Terminus, and their response to the snow that had accumulated. Most had dropped down a fair bit, but the Big Goat, and the better of the young rams still held court on the highest of country.

Towards late afternoon, we decided to head over to a huge set of moose meadows we knew of which were not much more than a couple miles away. Again we loaded up the little jet rig for a possible extended stay, and again off we went to explore.
As we got to the channel that leads to the meadows, a HUGE Bull Moose appeared - feeding along the side of the channel about 200 yards out...

We immediately landed, and a spotting scope was set up FAST. Moose have to have 3 up front, ten around, or be a spike/fork in order to be legal in that zone. A shift in the breeze suddenly carried our scent his way, and the reaction was immediate! As he turned the spotter murmured I count 12 one side! All i needed!! As the bull raced dead away, I lined up on the back of his neck just below the base of his skull. A little over 250 yards now, bullet would be still climbing from my ancient 300 Weatherby, so I adjusted slightly down the spine. BOOM! The rifle bucked almost unexpectedly against my shoulder, only to come down back on target to see him shake his huge head violently, and race into the timber!!
WTH? 180 partition didn't simply dump him at that range??

We backed off for an hour and a half, collected the tracking dog and his leash, and went in for a boo. The bull had run 100 yards uphill, then laid down. Two drops of blood was all. And he had departed well before we entered the picture. The next few hours were spent behind the dog as he worked out the exit trail. At 3/4 of a mile, darkness dropped over us like a suddenly dropped wet blanket, and we had to return to the boat and make our way back to camp with the aid of headlamps. The moose had not laid down again. At camp the other Ladz jokingly accused me of shootin for the horns, suggesting I may have put one into an antler. No damn way, I KNOW where that hit...

It was a tough night of little sleep for me. I kept going over the shot in my mind, wondering just what the hell had gone wrong. Before daybreak I was up drinking coffee in the morning's chill, waiting for the rest of my crew to rise and accompany me for an extended tracking effort. Picking up the trail where we had left it the night before, we began to decipher where it lead from there. Into a bunch of deadfall that literally took hours to struggle through. He knew we were in pursuit. And he had not laid down yet again. At another 3/4 of a mile, our crew was drenched in sweat, and more than a little disappointed. Back to camp to rethink and regroup was my suggestion. It was well taken, and it wasn't iuntil early afternoon we made a late breakfast back in camp.

While we were chowing down, the dog suddenly began his I SEE SOMETHING YOU SHOULD LOOK AT whine!
My Alberta Buddy & I glanced over, and saw a monster of a bull moose slightly upstream of the camp, knee deep and swallowing great amounts of water from the river! Nobody Panic (worse this to say as invariably everyone does each time you say it) and a mad scramble ensued. I nodded towards our Young Gun and smiled at the tall Albertan. Yep.
Danny, get your rifle on him I said, having already centered my scope on the 200 yard distant bull. I count 12 one side came the comment from the man behind the rapidly deployed spotting scope!

My Friend, shoot that bugger right in the heart were my words that followed.
Ka-BOOM!
The bull simply collapsed like a cheap lawn chair, nose first, right into the river!
WOAH!

Another mad scramble to get the small jet rig launched, as the current pushed the bull towards our shore.
Minutes later a couple ropes were secured, and we managed to push the bugger right to the beach, less than 75 yards from camp!
Did I say BIG?
Check out the size compared to the jet rig!!

There was absolutely no way the four of us could ever drag or push the weight up onto that beach!
So, drawing straws and two men donned the boots.
Quartering the high side kept the meat clean & dry...

After which we were able to roll him up onto the beach to finish processing him:

While doing so, we came across a bullet hole in the back of his neck, just below the base of his skull.
And a little digging produced a perfectly mushroomed 30 caliber Nosler Partition.
How that did not drop him on the spot I will never know.
He is only the second of dozens of animals that rifle has taken not to literally drop in their tracks.

We also found another bullet track, one that both entered and exited.
Along it's path, it found the exact item I had requested:

We all were grinning at recovering the big boy, and at the mountain of meat he provided us!
No more MRE's!!!

 

[IronNoggin]

My Young Partner has always dreamed of taking a moose over 50 inches.
Well this time, that dream came through in spades!!
And of course there were the mandatory Trophy Shots to be taken...

The pictures don't really do that boy much justice.
He was near 9 feet at the shoulder, and likely weighed in around 1,400 pounds.
He produced just over 500 pounds of boneless meat, which I am happy to report had a great flavor, and was downright tender!
Well before the rut, and damn fat!!

That night's dinner was something special for all of us!!

We rested a day after that happy happening, and gorged ourselves on this wonderful bull.
Prepping for the next chapter to come... The Mountain Assault!

In the interest of Happy Wife, Happy Life, I unfortunately will have to quit here for the day.
She Who Rules is off today, and apparently I am somewhat involved in the daily schedule...

More to come Folks. Back atcha in the am...

Cheers,
Nog

 

[wildmanyeah]

Wow what a wonderful happy ending

We all were grinning at recovering the big boy, and at the mountain of meat he provided us!
No more MRE's!!!

What a happy ending glad you got him

 

[IronNoggin]

Just a quick side note before I wander...

The bullet out of the 300 Weatherby penetrated right to the bone, several inches below the base of the skull.
It had caused great bruising, a few hairline fractures, and given the amount of blood in both ears, most likely permanently deafened the moose.
I am still at a loss as to why.
I did check several others from that lot by pulling the bullet and weighing out the powder.
It is right where it should be.
Guess this one gets to remain a mystery to me...

Cheers,
Nog

 

[IronNoggin]

Thanks for the kind works Folks & Happy Thanksgiving to all!
I kind of thought a few might enjoy this one...

Over the next couple of days, the weather finally broke.
Sunshine returned for the days, and well frozen ground greeted us each morning.
The snow that had adorned pretty much all of the high country was reluctantly retreating a little, and we took that as a sign.
If we actually are going to climb a mountain or two, we best get on it before the snows set in for good!

I was hesitant and somewhat concerned over this idea.
After all, I am a fat and lazy 59 years old now, and it has been a hell of a long time since I contemplated what was before us now.
But, I somehow managed to shrug that off, and begin to render my pack down to an un-manageable 70 pounds or so.
Two of the others were doing the same as the last contemplated a solo stay on top of the meat for a few days.
He was concerned about the grizzly and black bear tracks in the vicinity, but with the amount of sign we and the dog had left in the area, we didn't figure he would have much in the way of grief...

We once again packed the smaller rig, and reviewed our choice of hills to attempt.
There is one in particular we have returned to many times over the years.
In that period, it has produced several good rams (one well into the book) and numerous goats.
The area below it had also given up moose and elk on occasion, and although the latter wasn't open, just seeing them is often a special moment...
So, we decided to go with what we knew, and return to the area that has been so generous to us over the years...

That required a run well into the upper Kechika, and once again the ride through the skinny water was extremely entertaining!
I have a few videos we shot of running those areas. Bear with me as I try to figure out how to edit them before uploading to youtube. I'll get there eventually, and they are something I am certain most will appreciate...

We again saw the huge Lynx just before the turnoff to the Frog that had welcomed us so nonchalantly the previous run up that way. Once again, he simply watched as we raced by. Another black bear, and a smaller moose wandered across our paths, only to be given a smile and salute as we cruised towards our destination.

There is a rather interesting rock formation not too far from where we leave the boat:

Shortly after passing this, we pulled the jet rig up into a secure area, and I wandered over to check on last year's campsite. To my amazement, nothing, no bears, porcupines or two legs had bother the stashed propane tank (full), shovel or 5 gallon pail of kitchen supplies we had swung well aloft into the trees. Guess no one else visited our spot this year then...

The hike that followed is grueling. It is largely undertaken on loose cobble and gravel when you can't get into the edge of the bush, and is tough going even for those in shape. As the lads readied their gear, I bravely strapped on my pack, picked up my 10 pound plus rifle, and suggested I would head out certain they would catch me. And off I went...

The view back down the hill several miles up:

And what lay ahead from the same spot:

Just around that next corner, I encountered a nice 6 point bull elk, 3 cows and a single calf. At 80 yards, they had no idea I was there, so I simply sat and watched them feed for about a half hour. Eventully, undisturbed, they wandered off into the timber. Great to see, but I have to admit I was pretty damn happy I had not seen that bugger when the season was open! Would have been a NIGHTMARE of an extraction!!

Getting closer...

There is a second fork to the left, behind the shoulder of the slope on the right side of that picture. We had arranged to meet there if we hadn't hooked up yet, and it was towards that goal I struggled on. I had to admit, although I was drenched in sweat, my breathing was coming MUCH easier than expected, and I had settled into a ground eating pace that was not overly uncomfortable for my old body. After I arrived, it very much surprised me that my Buddies (one in early 50's and the other late 30's) took almost an hour and a half to catch up. Guess there's a few miles left in those old legs after all was the remark from the elder of the two. Good Job OLD MAN joked the second. It may have been a joking matter to them, but I was both amazed, and damn happy I could still pull this off! My fears dissipated, and I was actually looking forward to attaining the top!

That was to be for the next day.
With but an hour of daylight remaining, we set the first spike camp of this foray, and settled into enjoy a hot meal:

 

[IronNoggin]

Up To The Snow!


The next am came early, and I awoke to the loud complaints of my overworked legs screaming blue murder for the torture they had endured thus far. You ain't seen nothing yet I growled through gritted teeth, and rose to stretch in the frozen air to work the kinks out.

A quick coffee & breakfast, and we packed up to set off uphill once again.
This time the Ladz stayed within sight, and we struggled as we slowly gained ground up the creek which was rapidly getting skinnier and trickier to navigate with each step:

Three hours in, and before we would break the timber, I called a break for more fuel. By now my belly was growling non-stop, and I felt it would be better to continue without that distraction. He's a shot of my pack & rifle, looking down towards our back-trail:

Carrying on, we again stopped briefly to water up before heading up higher. By now, we were into the alpine, and any stops were necessarily short due to the sweat literally freezing on you if you tarried:

Working ever higher took serious effort, and for me, the elevation began to introduce another problem. Living on the coast at sea level, one tends to forget just how skinny the air gets as you climb. By now, my lungs were burning (damn happy I quit smoking when I did!!) and I simply felt as though I couldn't get enough oxygen in all of the time. My little rests became more frequent, and I could see the quick look of concern my long-term Friend tried to conceal from me...

How about an early night He asked. I'm getting worn down, and we should probably camp within the last of the trees before attacking the big hills tomorrow. A wave of relief washed over me, and I was quite thankful to this rough & tumble fellow for the suggestion. Surprised a little, but more than happy to comply.

We discovered a couple of little "nests" where the slope wasn't too great, and could offer perches for our tent & tarp. And yes, that is snow in the background. We had been dealing with that for over an hour by now...

I have never been so happy for a GOOD Quality down sleeping bag!
That night it dropped well below zero, and in the morning all the water we had packed up the hill was frozen right solid!!
Instead of thawing them, we simply melted snow for the morning's coffee and quick breakfast, then it onward & upwards!!

As soon as we broke out on top, the big spotting scope & binoc's came into play:

It didn't take long at all to spot several groups of goats, and as I was packing a tag, we carefully investigated each. I've seen literally hundreds upon hundreds of goats in my forays through the hills. They had never struck me as anything I was interested in, and I certainly was not at all enthused by the meat proffered by buddies who did shoot them. But prior to this hunt, I decided that perhaps the time had come for me to take one. Who knows, this may be the last time I am capable of even getting there. Thus the reason for the tag in my pocket...

We did locate a rather fine Billy, but he was situated in an area we have called Unobtainable Rock for many years. It name is well deserved.
But as this was the best of the goats we saw, he became a frequent check target for me over the next few days:

You can't see the terrain from that picture, but the hill is surrounded by sheer cliffs of substantial size.
So my hope was that this fellow would eventually wander over to an adjacent area I could perhaps struggle over too...

Over the next few days, goat sightings were relatively common, but thus far none were comparable to the Billy above.

This was the ONLY female to be packing a baby with her, and it was two years old. More on that in a moment...

Solo BIG Female. I actually thought about taking her - but only for a few seconds. Her horns were well over 10 inches, and heavy / curved.
But then again, she was a she after all...

Skylined Goats

 

[IronNoggin]

The snow began on and off the second day we were up top.
A bit of a nuisance when trying to stay glued to the mountainside alright!

This day we located two separate herds of Stone Sheep ewe's. 32 in total. Again - no lambs. Not a one.
A few smaller rams were mixed in with them, but we simply could not find the Big Boy I drug myself up this hill to find... Yet...

Day three on top, rations left for one more, maybe two if really pushed.

Late afternoon we finally found a great ram, and he was acting rather bizarre for this time of year. He had crested a ridge about 3/4 mile distant, boogied right up to the herd of ladies, and began to sniff each one checking their status. This is November behavior, and we thought his clock was little off.
To our amazement, one of the ewes actually let him mount, and they went at it for several minutes.
The things you get to see!! Bizarre!!

The ram was well over full curl, and the lamb tips rose well above the bridge of his nose.
Game ON!!

As we discussed the best line of approach to get this old butt within shooting distance, the herd, and the great ram, suddenly SPOOKED!
And spooked BAD!

WTH??

As they raced towards the distant skyline, a much larger and darker figure came roaring up out of the adjacent canyon, and was matching the sheep initially stride for stride!
The spotting scope revealed this intruder to be a large mature Grizzly, in obviously excellent shape.
The sheep topped out and disappeared at full tilt boogie.
As did the bear in hot pursuit.

We shook our heads, and meandered over to the last point we could see them.
Much easier said than done, the task took several hours.

To our dismay, the tracks told the whole story.
The herd, with ram in tow and Grizzly hot on their tails, had left our mountain.
The spotter picked up tracks topping the ridge of the next mountain over.
To get there would take 2 days plus.
The opportunity up in smoke as quickly as it presented itself.
I could not help but wonder if that represented the last time I would ever see such a potential on a great ram, and will freely admit, that left a little mist in the aging eyes at that moment.

 

[IronNoggin]

I am going to take a small break here from the tale itself, as I want to point out something that has been troubling me since we got home.
As I noted, among 28 female goats, there was but a single two year old offspring.
Of the 32 ewes we encountered, not a single one had a lamb.
Yet the rams were there, and obviously performing their duty...

Although we heard wolves howling damn near every night, there was a noticeable absence of that on top of the hills.
Nor were there any wolf tracks in the snow.

There WERE a very large number of Grizzly Bear tracks up there, and after watching one of them attempt directed attacks on two different herds, I have come to believe they (the grizzlies) are the most likelyt culprit regarding the absence of the lambs.
It is my (and my Partners') belief that these bears have become efficient predators on high.
If I had had a tag, that bear would have died regardless of how long it took to accomplish.
In fact I thought briefly of ol' Ralph Klein's suggestions and that bear...

Those who appose the grizzly hunts have no damn clue of what they have done.
Everything out there has consequences.
In this particular case, those consequences may well mean the end of the sheep and goats on the particular hills we visited.
And I cannot think that to be a singular situation.

I am not willing to sit idly by why these great resources suffer so much because of the interference of misguided fools.
As such, I will be doing every singly thing within my power to remove the government (small g intended) that imposed this BS in our Province.
I truly hope that many others feel as I do and are willing to aid in that cause...

In the lower areas, we did not see any moose calves either.
And the elk calves were scant, about one for every 4 or 5 cows.
That I attribute to the wolves.
Here's HOPING the local trappers can get a handle on their numbers before we lose them too...

Minor Apologies for my little rant.
But this is something near & dear to my heart, and I simply had to get it off my chest...

Now back to your regular scheduled programming...

 

[IronNoggin]

Day Four on top.
Thawed frozen water with snow for a coffee.
Staring to feel bushed a little.

Selfie (the first I have EVER taken!) on the day we arrived up top:

And on Day Four:

Starting to look almost as demented as I feel...

We checked for the sheep in case they had returned.
Unfortunately not.

So I wandered over to scan Unobtainable Rock to see if the big Billy might move out.
Took a few minutes to find him...
I no sooner did, than he perked right up, jumped to his feet, and stared HARD at the wall above himself.
I swung the binoc's up to determine why, and there stood THE LARGEST BILLY I have EVER seen!

And he was focused HARD on the fellow downhill from him.

I had thought the first one was pretty good, and he indeed was.
But this new guy absolutely dwarfed him in body & horn size!
Hmmm...

Suddenly the Big Boy began a mad dash down towards the initial Billy.
That one turned in obvious panic, and the race was on!
The larger Billy was closing fairly quickly, and I thought there might be some potential he would run the other right over to the adjacent range.
A range I could get to...

Alas, such was not to be the case. When he got to the sheer walls, the Big Boy put on the brakes, and watched his rival boogie down that, and across to the next hill.
Hmmm...

I spent a couple hours admiring that Monster Goat with my Buddies.
I have a LOT of mountain experience, including work in National Parks.
My Partners both have exceptional experience in the hills as well, and both have taken book billys in years past.
We all agreed, this was the largest any of us had seen.
But no way without a helicopter to get anywhere near...

Sigh...

After a spell we wandered over to try and locate the first goat.
When we did, I managed to get within range without spooking him.
And I did hold the crosshairs on him for quite the spell.
In the end, the vision of the Monster simply would not let me touch the trigger.
So that there was likely the luckiest goat on the planet...

The next day I was out of coffee, and damn near out of everything else.
There were more rations - MRE's and stashed food back at the boat & campsite.

As I paid homage to these hills I love so much, I promised myself (and those with) that I WILL get into better shape, and I WILL be back to look for both that Monster Goat, and the Great Ram we had encountered...

The hike out was basically uneventful. A blur in my tired mind.
Pushing limits of endurance I did not know I had, this time I beat the younger crowd down and all the way out by a matter of hours.
By the time they showed up, well after dark, I had shelter set up, a good fire going, and munchies ready to chow down on.
Another feeling of accomplishment in doing so...