Some may remember my report from two years ago where I went on the same mountain goat hunt in the Chugach range of Alaska. It was an incredible adventure but I didn't bring a goat home. I went archery only and was committed to that. We had absolutely horrible weather and I barely got out of the tent to hunt. I learned a lot. And especially learned that this was something I had to successfully complete in the near future, while I am still physically able. This is the most physical hunt I'm aware of.
Fast forward... Same weather forecast. Non stop cold rain. Given those conditions, and the likelihood of a repeat of the previous trip, I made the decision before I left that I was bringing home a goat no matter what it took this trip. I wasn't going to hesitate to dump one with a gun. And of course, that's what happened.
We set up a base camp on the beach in the back of a beautiful bay as rain started the drenching process. Then we loaded the Zodiac with our packs and paddled it across the bay. Then up the mountain we went, busting thick, wet, miserable brush most of the way. The last 1/2 mile was straight up, nearly vertical technical climbing with crampons, ice axe and all fours. We set up the spike tents and dove in for the night.
The rain hammered all night and the creek next to camp got louder and louder and closer and closer. No end in sight. Deja vu!
On the second day it was still pouring, but rain be dammed we were gonna hunt as it was looking like we wouldn't have much opportunity and half my clothes were already soaked and useless. Fancy Sitka or similar gore Tex rain gear just does not work in this country.
Long story short, up into the alpine we went. We saw two big billies on a mountain in the distance where we would have to cross a huge valley to get to. It was gonna take all day to get there. On the way we were about to work our way around a big rocky point when my guide Adam froze and ducked back behind the rock. "Goat right there, and he's big!" "Get your bow off your pack!"
Adam ducked back around with his rangefinder next and said 59 yards. We figured we could work around the other side of the rock and cut the distance. That worked and next thing you know I was at 41 yards. By now the billy had caught movement and was suspicious. I just needed him to take one step and open up his shoulder as he was standing quartering to me. That never happened. After a stare down he just bolted. Out of sight in seconds. I was so bummed. That was a big goat and I never even had a chance to pop him with the rifle. Worse yet, the two original goats across the valley saw him run off and spooked into rougher country too. Dejected, as that seemingly just blew everything, my guide told me not to worry as he was confident he knew where the billy was headed.
So we climbed and climbed some more. We popped out and caught a glimpse of him at one point at 256 yds. Let's get closer, I don't like long shots. Back uphill we climbed. We got up on a little bench and had him at 160. He was looking down from the rim of a 180' cliff. He was looking back down at where we spooked him before, trying to find us.
I had him dead to rights right there and grabbed the .338. But it was not a good place to shoot. He would surely jump right off that cliff upon impact. We had to wait for him to turn around 180 degrees. After ten minutes, he finally turned and took a couple steps back onto the bench, away from the cliff.
I brought the crosshairs a few inches forward onto the shoulders. I needed to break him down right there on that little bench or risk a severely busted up goat, if we could even get to him. BOOM.
Dropped him on the spot. He kicked twice and started sliding. No, no, no, we were shouting. He slid down a slick rock and stopped just inches from going over. Pulling him back up on the bench, off that slick rock and away from the cliff was scary as hell. Typical goat hunt, you fear for your life constantly!
But what a goat! Ground growage on this bad boy. I completed the quest and am happy as hell. He ended up being 9 15/16" and 10 yrs old. One of my proudest trophies!
Last edited: Yesterday at 4:24 PM
Fast forward... Same weather forecast. Non stop cold rain. Given those conditions, and the likelihood of a repeat of the previous trip, I made the decision before I left that I was bringing home a goat no matter what it took this trip. I wasn't going to hesitate to dump one with a gun. And of course, that's what happened.
We set up a base camp on the beach in the back of a beautiful bay as rain started the drenching process. Then we loaded the Zodiac with our packs and paddled it across the bay. Then up the mountain we went, busting thick, wet, miserable brush most of the way. The last 1/2 mile was straight up, nearly vertical technical climbing with crampons, ice axe and all fours. We set up the spike tents and dove in for the night.
The rain hammered all night and the creek next to camp got louder and louder and closer and closer. No end in sight. Deja vu!
On the second day it was still pouring, but rain be dammed we were gonna hunt as it was looking like we wouldn't have much opportunity and half my clothes were already soaked and useless. Fancy Sitka or similar gore Tex rain gear just does not work in this country.
Long story short, up into the alpine we went. We saw two big billies on a mountain in the distance where we would have to cross a huge valley to get to. It was gonna take all day to get there. On the way we were about to work our way around a big rocky point when my guide Adam froze and ducked back behind the rock. "Goat right there, and he's big!" "Get your bow off your pack!"
Adam ducked back around with his rangefinder next and said 59 yards. We figured we could work around the other side of the rock and cut the distance. That worked and next thing you know I was at 41 yards. By now the billy had caught movement and was suspicious. I just needed him to take one step and open up his shoulder as he was standing quartering to me. That never happened. After a stare down he just bolted. Out of sight in seconds. I was so bummed. That was a big goat and I never even had a chance to pop him with the rifle. Worse yet, the two original goats across the valley saw him run off and spooked into rougher country too. Dejected, as that seemingly just blew everything, my guide told me not to worry as he was confident he knew where the billy was headed.
So we climbed and climbed some more. We popped out and caught a glimpse of him at one point at 256 yds. Let's get closer, I don't like long shots. Back uphill we climbed. We got up on a little bench and had him at 160. He was looking down from the rim of a 180' cliff. He was looking back down at where we spooked him before, trying to find us.
I had him dead to rights right there and grabbed the .338. But it was not a good place to shoot. He would surely jump right off that cliff upon impact. We had to wait for him to turn around 180 degrees. After ten minutes, he finally turned and took a couple steps back onto the bench, away from the cliff.
I brought the crosshairs a few inches forward onto the shoulders. I needed to break him down right there on that little bench or risk a severely busted up goat, if we could even get to him. BOOM.
Dropped him on the spot. He kicked twice and started sliding. No, no, no, we were shouting. He slid down a slick rock and stopped just inches from going over. Pulling him back up on the bench, off that slick rock and away from the cliff was scary as hell. Typical goat hunt, you fear for your life constantly!
But what a goat! Ground growage on this bad boy. I completed the quest and am happy as hell. He ended up being 9 15/16" and 10 yrs old. One of my proudest trophies!
Last edited: Yesterday at 4:24 PM
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