Unit 27-1 - A Tough Hunt
© Jeff Filler, 2006
Moscow, ID
So, who was this man I was to spend the next week with? He sounded nice enough over the phone, and via email, but now I would finally meet him. He had beaten me to my parents’ cabin, our meeting place, and my first sighting of him was from behind. I gulped, slightly, at the burly figure – definitely `eastern Idaho’. But as I came to the deck and our eyes met, I knew it would be good.
So began a dream hunt for Rocky Mountain Bighorn Sheep. We finished socializing and headed out, for even from McCall we had a four hour drive into the Frank Church Wilderness.
At the trailhead we donned our packs. I had spent full day packing and repacking, so everything fit, and nothing packed could be spared. But Jeff Choules, my partner, hadn’t had that luxury, and instead had loaded all of his stuff into the back of his truck, which was then now being loaded into his backpack (yes, at the trail head). When he was done we donned our gear and headed toward the trail. The only problem was that Jeff could hardly move. His pack weighed close to a hundred pounds. So we spent precious remaining daylight while he unpacked hopefully expendable stuff. Finally we headed out in the last hours of light.
We descended [deleted], by nice trail. Though there was not much left of it, the evening was beautiful. We sensed elk, perhaps close, and maybe wolf. At the bottom of the hill, and at dark, we camped along the main [deleted] Creek.
The next morning as we broke camp some mule deer came by. We grabbed video cameras, getting footage.
We broke camp and followed the trail down the main creek, relatively small nearly two-thrids the distance from mouth to head. At each bend in trail we were working out of alpine and into more “sheepie” terrain, theoretically. Spruce and greenery gave way to fir and rock. As the terrain opened up we spent more time looking. We camped the second night at [deleted] hot springs and we looked around.
Monday morning we split up to look and glass; there were tracks around the hot springs – definitely deer and maybe sheep. I was told the sheep liked the minerals of the springs. Sheep coming to the springs would be too easy, but we’d look anyway. I climbed north; Jeff looked south. I looked into the [deleted] drainage, which was brutally rugged; Jeff looked at the north facing slopes of the main creek. Some deer came to the springs; we got them on video.
No sheep.
By now several things were happening. First, we weren’t seeing sheep, or convincing sign. Second, our heavy packs were wearing us out. But third, regardless, I had this feeling that tomorrow, Tuesday, would be the day. And on my lips the song, “Give me Jesus.”
I spied some terrain some four miles east that looked good, past [deleted] creek. It looked good on the map – and, though I couldn’t really see it, as it was around the bend - I really wanted to try. We decided to do it. It would be out turnaround condition. If nothing, we would backpack out and re-think our hunt.
We stripped way down. No tent, minimal food – we would penetrate east and see. We went past [deleted] Creek, and broke off north, and UP. At dark we got on a point of sorts, and looked a bit, then crawled in our sleeping bags under the stars.
During the night a blazing full moon came out – giving the appearance we were camped in the middle of a full-lit football stadium. But, alas, as far as civilization was concerned, the farthest thing from it.
Morning came early, clear, and crisp. The alpenglow first hit Big Baldy, a staggering peak of almost six thousand feet rise above the river and creek below. As we got out of our bags, I had this feeling we should keep low profile, we were on a point, and visible. I half ignored ‘it’, but also half paid attention.
Jeff went west to glass, and I went east. It looked good. After an hour or so we joined up. Still nothing. There was some terrain I still wanted to look at. Plus, I wanted to be able to look under where we had spent the night. I told Jeff to give me until 10:30…if nothing, we’d go out.
I picked a contouring route that would take one to a place where could look back under where we were, and also over to the ‘last’ canyon I wanted to check.
My contour worked well for a while, but then I hit a rock outcropping. To go over would take me up into timber and out of good viewing; to go low would sacrifice some elevation, but looked better, so I started down.
Quickly I ran into what looked like sheep beds below me. I had heard and read about them, but heretofore not seen any myself, so I was rather curious. I decide to descend down to them, and once in their midst, was somewhat in marvel. I then looked further downhill and there stood about 80 yards away a beautiful ram, broadside, looking at me. I brought up my optics. He looked legal, but maybe only so, so I didn’t shoot. He might be…well…it wasn’t worth even the question.
He looked at me, then forwards, then back. Something else had his attention – I supposed it to be other rams. He then stepped out of sight. I was trying to get somewhat ready.
A moment or so later he, or another sheep, bolted out into the open, moving at incredible speed over horrible terrain. About 150 years away at first, ran (or flew) a hundred yards west and down…with a large cougar in pursuit! But while the cat took off in a run, the ram way out did him. They both disappeared in the terrain, and then the ram, or another, appeared running down and east.
I radioed Jeff that I was into sheep.
A nice ram appeared about…hmmm…five hundred yards below me. But he was hard to pick up in the shadows and quickly disappeared around a ridge. Wow, nothing happens for a long time – then a lot of stuff happens at once.
I radioed Jeff to bring water. I watched. Several deer came up the canyon the sheep and cougar supposedly went in to (though the sheep were likely long gone). I would move east and look, and then wait for Jeff before the last big canyon, where I supposed the big ram went.
Getting around to a place below the crest of the big ridge I moved through beautiful terrain, though hardly noticed, as I was thinking sheep of catching up with that ram. We were in sheep Shangri-La. Jeff joined up – pointing out numerous sheep beds. I let Jeff rest, and then we climbed up over.
On the ridge we picked a big bush. Jeff would face and look high. I went to the other side of the bush and looked low. Immediately I spotted a ram below and across from us bedded in a talus slope, right in the middle. I went back around and showed Jeff. We watched. He looked like a nice ram. He was watching below, and not up towards us. Jeff cautioned that we should wait and watch, as he may be with others – maybe something even bigger.
He was a fine ram himself, and I started getting a bit anxious. Situations like this don’t last forever. I collected some stuff as a rest …and as I was getting ready the ram got up and started moving towards some rocks and timber – he would soon be out of sight and it would all be over if I tarried.
Jeff neglected (somehow in the excitement) to bring both rangefinder and spotting scope. Well, the spotting scope we could live without, but I wanted range. I estimated 300 yards, Jeff 400. But the bullet I was shooting drops a lot in that hundred yard difference. Ughh. But the ram was climbing up and away from us, giving me a shot I could afford to be off on my estimation of range. I put the crosshairs below the base of his head and fired.
I expected the first shot to miss but at least be a ‘marker’ – I quickly asked Jeff where I hit, since I didn’t see it. But then I realized I hit the sheep; the ram stopped at the shot, and started shaking. Then it turned and ran downhill. In an amazing second shot that I don’t know if I could ever repeat, I hit him in the breast, and stopping him. He was down. I had my ram. I shouted with excitement. It was Tuesday. I knew it would be Tuesday.
It was obvious that we would have to carry the ram down, and not back to where we spent the night, so I would head to the ram and start to dress it, while Jeff would go back and get our stuff and meet me back at the kill.
I made it over to my ram and was immediately stunned at the size of the creature. I guess I assumed a ram was the size of a nice mule deer buck. This animal was amazing – it was more the size of a modest elk. It was August 31, and warm. I didn’t have a camera, but I did have a knife, so I immediately went to work getting hide off and meat cooled.
At length Jeff joined me. He had our stuff, and also was now taking video. He ranged my shot, 319 yards. We got still picks. As dusk came upon us we were ready to move. The trail was straight below us, a half mile or so, a rugged half mile.
We got to the trail at dark. We stashed the animal in a ravine, and headed up trail. By moonlight we made it back to the hot springs, 2 am. We slept.
While on the mountainside with my sheep I sat-phoned my dad. It was obvious we were not going back up [deleted] Creek with the animal – we would have to carry it to the [deleted] airstrip, some nine miles east. I asked my dad to find out what our options were – and that I would call him the next day.
Wednesday we packed up everything and headed down trail to our sheep. Jeff left behind his camp chair, left by someone else earlier. At the sheep we spent some time capping it, further, until a nasty storm broke loose. The storm was good – in that it brought cooler weather, but would make for miserable camping. During the afternoon, I called my dad, as arranged. He had arranged for McCall Aviation to come in and scoop us up Thursday evening at [deleted]. I told my dad that he “didn’t understand the kind of terrain we were in” – and that he need to change it to Saturday morning, at the earliest.
We hurriedly stashed the meat again and headed down the trail for a place to camp.
The problem with the area is that it is all so horribly steep. The only flat spots might potentially be along the creek, but that was way below the trail. So we headed down trail – it looked like about four miles east the trail hit the creek bottom, and so it did. We arrived at creek bottom at dark. Yes, we found some flat – but it was all flood plain. Ughh. But we had a tent again. Amazingly I was able to get a fire going in the storm, but it wasn’t much enjoyed in driving rain, so we got inside our tent and retired. As we drifted off to sleep I hoped we wouldn’t get a flashflood.
The next morning it was clear and cool – good for meat. We climbed back up to our stash with empty packs and got the sheep. We passed some trail crew tools. We got the sheep down to camp – and crossed the creek with it – stashed it, and then went to break camp. We would then push camp down to the [deleted] Campground, another five miles away.
By now the main creek was big, and we had to cross it. Jeff brought along a pair of tennis shoes, which we would take turns using, in effort to keep our hiking boots dry. At one such crossing, and while I was out of my boots and waiting for him to toss the shoes, he donned video camera and threw the shoes SHORT. Of course I had to scramble like a madman to rescue the shoes, barefoot, which he now conveniently got on tape. It was planned. But the clip didn’t take…same with my Access Bar info-mercial. And so neither did we have the kill on tape. But we did get a lot of other stuff on tape. So by Thursday night, at dark, we advanced our camp to the [deleted] Campground.
Here now, were people, for the first time for us in a week. But these people were not like us. They were fresh from civilization, just off the plane. Setting up camp, eating cheese, and drinking wine, and we weren’t invited.
Friday we headed back up the trail to get our sheep where last stashed. Additional to trail crew equipment we came across mules, and eventually the crew itself. We chatted long with them – to delay the inevitable work ahead. But finally I said we must be going. To our delight, however, they offered the use of their mule … wonderful! We took the mule, loaded our packs on its back, and headed up the trail, dropping a couple $20 bills where the guys would find them.
Nearing the stash Kojak (the mule) got spooky…but it was probably just from the smell of the meat. It was so sweet to have a mule do the last haul, instead of us. We just walked while Kojak carried the load. At one crossing Jeff jumped on the mule with the sheep.
The guys said to go ahead and use the mule all the way into the campground, and just bring it back to their camp about a mile away when done. Fantastic.
So by sunset Friday we had our sheep, and our stuff, at the airfield, for departure Saturday morning.
Jeff volunteered to take the mule back to their camp, at the other end of the strip, and over the hogback. When it had become dark – and Jeff had not returned, I got worried – worried that he was into some great feast and that I wasn’t a part of it. But about that time he came and found me. We were invited to dinner. They asked Jeff what we had planned and he confessed “MRE’s”. Perhaps for a moment Jeff thought otherwise, but true companionship won out and he figured he better come get me. It was wonderful.
… As twilight gave way to stars - we dined on beef steak, green beans, salad with dressing, fruit juices, and cookies for dessert. Their proximity to the airfield and use of mules afforded no limit to luxury. We chose from cases of various drink. Around the fire we talked of good mules, and bad. As the night progressed and the logs were pushed deeper into the oversize fire, and while vodka flowed freely among some, stories were repeated, … good points and bad points of mules several times repeated, but we laughed and agreed anyway. After about the third failed attempt at leaving, we broke away and walked back to our camp by flashlight. We had a plane to catch the next morning.
Endnotes
Inserts
1) The trail crew guys had quite the `builds’ from a summer long of pick and shovel work. The got paid (contract work) by the `Trail’ – not the hour – and they worked. They cut a nice trail down [deleted] Creek. And it was by mule and sweat – recall in a wilderness one can’t use chainsaws, etc.
2) The crew main camp close to the airport afforded basically unlimited food and other supply. We ate well on our visit.
3) On Monday we also watched a beautiful mountain goat on a spire in an un-named drainage. He was king of his domain.
4) One steps back in time, or into no time, in [deleted] Creek. The only indicator of decade or century is the occasional jetliner flying overhead. Bizarre the thought that five miles straight up there are people in business suits, sitting, or a few standing in the isle, taking beverages from flight attendants, perhaps watching an in-flight movie. In the hour they will be on the ground at SEA-TAC. Whereas on the ground in [deleted] Creek one cannot move much in just an hour; travel is measured in increments of (not less than) days.
5) Almost to [deleted] Creek as we advanced camp and head, and while taking a break, we were overtaken on the trail by a fellow sheep hunter. He looked as though straight from the Cabelas catalogue, at least for gear. But for expression of face he was discouraged. He had spent many days hunting and seeing nothing. We had his quarry on our backs. But how could he get a ram – returning each night to the comforts of the Middle Fork Lodge?
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