Beautiful sheep country.
It didn’t look like I was going to get to go sheep hunting this season so I had planned to post a story about hardcore sheep hunters. However, the weather broke, so my son-in-law Sagen, grandson Jared and I made a quick trip in to an open sheep area. What I found out on this trip was at age 76, my days as a hardcore sheep hunter are pretty much over.
Sheep hunters are a special breed enduring the pain of climbing mountains with heavy loads in all kinds of weather hoping to achieve their goal of a full curl ram. To them sheep fever comes only once a year but for hardcore sheep hunters, they have an incurable sheep fever. They are far and few between. When other sheep hunters say it’s too hard or too far, they just keep going. Pain is just a part of the hunt. They are the Navy Seals of sheep hunters. They never give up and can usually convince their partner to keep going. I knew I was a hardcore sheep hunter after I killed my first 40 incher and packed 100+ pounds out 14 miles with 7 of those miles side hilling. It was brutal to say the least. Hardcore sheep hunters are the ones generally known as “an animal.” I know that I have been called that on numerous occasions. That trait worked out great for being a guide. It allowed me to keep my clients pumped, convincing them they could do it.
Relief at last! The day that I knew I was a true hardcore sheep hunter. My first really long hard pack.
Back in my glory days as a hardcore sheep hunter. My largest ram a 40 incher scoring 167 B&C points.
On this hunt however, I had a hard time keeping myself pumped. “My get up and go, had got up and went!” My hardcore days are over, but I can still do it just not like back in the day. It makes me sad, but I guess that’s life.
Our drive up to the area was uneventful. We unloaded the four wheelers and were on our way. We had twenty miles with a little trail riding but mainly driving up a creek bed, crossing it numerous times. The creek was higher than normal making some of the crossings a little dicey. Jared was on our old Honda Recon two-wheel drive that only weighed 400#, so he floated on most crossings. I was on my Yamaha Grizzly which weighed 650# plus my extra 50# so I didn’t have that problem.
Jared crossing creek.
Hiking in to spike camp.
We set up a small base camp at the 3000 foot level, left our four wheelers and loaded our packs for a several mile hike into our hunting valley where we set up a spike camp. We camped at a fork in the valley. About the time that we were setting up the tents it started to rain. Just what we needed! After setting up the two tents we crawled into the larger two-man tent and heated some water in the vestibule for a hot drink and a dinner snack.
Having a hot drink after setting up spike camp.
Spike camp.
The next morning, we woke up to a beautiful day. We had oatmeal and a hot drink and then headed up the left fork of the valley. We were familiar with this valley from our last hunt five years ago. We had looked in it from the high ridge above. We spotted three different rams. All were at least 7/8th curls with at least one of them possibly legal. For a sheep to be legal in Alaska at least one of its horns must grow through a 360-degree circle making him a full curl. There was a camp in that valley then with others hunters, so we dropped back into the valley that we were camped in.
Looking tired.
We made it to the saddle.
This year in that same area we found no camps, but did find evidence of camps from earlier in the season. It was about four air miles to the saddle where we could look into two other valleys. We arrived in the saddle just after noon. There we had lunch and then dropped over the saddle to glass the valleys behind us. It was very disappointing. No rams in either of those valleys. When we came back into the valley from where we initially climbed up, three small rams had worked their way from the back ridge and were now in the cliffs above us. The largest was right at ¾ curl. The other two were half curls or what we call sickles. That was the largest ram we spotted. We later spotted three smaller rams on top of the ridge. That made a total of six sub-legal rams. We also spotted two small bands of ewes and that was it. We stayed until around 6 PM and headed back to the tent. We made it back to camp close to dark. According to our Fitbits the four air miles were right at eleven miles of walking.
The two year old caribou that popped in.
We had a great evening with a good freeze-dried meal. While we were relaxing a 2-year-old bull caribou popped into camp for a photo shoot. That was fun!
Climbing out of the right fork of the creek.
The next morning, we headed up the right-hand fork. That was where we had hunted mainly five years ago. I had been seeing old human tracks in the creek bed from day one when we were hiking in and had also seen old tracks coming out so I felt we were the only ones in the area at the time. However, the further we climbed in the right fork of the creek, toward the head of the valley, I discovered more tracks but still knew it showed some coming out so I still felt ok. About two thirds of the way up I was getting a drink from the creek and looked up and around a bend there was a tent with two hunters standing there. They were looking up the valley so I slipped back above the creek where we were climbing and told Sagen and Jared that we had company. It was a bummer but that’s the way it goes sometimes. We chose to back off and leave them their space. We climbed back into a small bowl that gave us access to another valley on the backside.
Jared and Sagen right before we headed off the mountain.
After climbing to the top and glassing a tremendous amount of fantastic sheep country we spotted zero sheep, no rams or ewes. That was unreal since the last time five years ago we spotted around 15 different rams and about 100 ewes in this same area. I can only guess that there was a tremendous winter kill. I had been warned by a friend who had hunted sheep in that general area for the past six years about the low number of sheep this year.
Heading off the mountain.
Campfire at base camp.
We made it off the mountain, pulled spike camp and headed back to base camp at the creek. We had a good night with a campfire and woke up the next morning with a change in the weather. There was snow at the higher elevations and rain coming our way. We packed up the four wheelers and headed out. Another sheep hunt in the books. I just love being in the beautiful mountains of Alaska where the sheep with those golden spiral horns live. Oh, to be young again but even as an old man I will go back. Maybe not as a hardcore sheep hunter but always a sheep hunter.
The “old gray mule.”