Stones and Struggles

Mid August and a long drive found us in a room in Fort Nelson BC. Four of us, Ron and Trevor, Nigel and myself, made up our group of sheep hunters. We left Fort Nelson early the next morning and headed up the Alaska Highway to our trail head. We were starting a ten day sheep hunt in northern BC. Arriving at our destination we parked the truck, shouldered and adjusted our packs and began the twenty kilometre hike into the beginning of our sheep country. As we struggled up our first hill it became evident that Ron and Nigel were setting the same pace…a fast jog, while Trevor and I plodded along behind, eight hours later found us at the foot of gigantic stone covered mountains, several small creeks flowing along the valley floor set the stage for our picturesque camping spot. Pitching the tents we soon began to glass the areas around us. Ewes and lambs were evident on a nearby hillside as were a number of caribou that silently moved by our camp . The weather was clear and crisp and all seemed right in the world.

The next several days found Nigel and I trekking of in one direction while Ron and Trevor took another, sheep were spotted, rams included, however none that were made the legally required full curl. Nigel had never harvested a ram before and I was extremely eager for him to have this opportunity. We had agreed that both of us would have to agree on an animal being legal before we attempted to take it. On day four of our expedition Nigel and I decided to head for the pass, this being an area several hours away that allowed one to scale the near vertical ridge to allow access to the “back country”. We slowly made our way up the age old sheep trail that led us through the pass. Reaching the top we quickly found a spot off the skyline in which to glass. Time passed and we spotted a small ram with several ewes. Disappointed in our first glance into this country we shouldered our packs and began to walk along the ridgeline, moving twenty steps along I raised my bino’s in one last look, refusing to believe that the country before me did not hold sheep. As my bino’s reached my eyes into view came a large band of rams, quickly motioning to Nigel we sat down and began to glass. The rams were located at least one mile away on a grassy flat, well below us and low in the valley that was before us. Even with our spotting scopes cranked as high as the wind would allow us to go we were unable to tell for sure if any of the twelve rams were legal, however three or four seemed to show good mass. After a brief discussion it was decided that we must go have a look. For the next ten minutes we discussed strategy’s regarding our “sneak”. Finally we decided to go straight at the rams; we had to descend through a creek bed and follow it down the valley, moving along the creek bed found us out of sight of the rams. Putting faith in the fact that the feeding rams would not move to far we continued on at a fast pace to a place were we had to leave the safe haven of the creek bed and begin to crawl through the small red willow brush. Interspaced between the willows were clumps of grass, providing next to no cover resulting in us spending a large amount of time worming along the ground in order to sneak up on our rams. The valley floor cascaded down towards the river below in a series of small benches, as we crested each bench we would tentatively peer over, excepting the rams to be within one hundred yards or so. Each look brought disappointment as the rams appeared to have disappeared, we glanced furtively at the valley walls lifting up on each side, hope to catch sight of the band of rams…. Nothing, with our hearts sinking we continued on dragging ourselves over the rocky terrain. As we approached what was to be the last drop Nigel suddenly spoke, “there they are”. I was positioned slightly behind and lower than Nigel, as I raised my eyes there TWENTY FEET away was the first of the rams, as we were slightly higher and hidden in the buck brush they had not spotted us, the rams were feeding in a parallel line to us, as the first one came into Nigel’s view I heard him say “its close”, by the time the first ram came into my view Nigel was on the second ram, “no” he says, I am looking at the first ram and quickly go on to the second, I then hear Nigel say “ I think so” as the third ram comes into view I am looking at a ram that I have dreamt about, a forty inch curl, not broomed of and both tips come up well past the bridge of the nose before falling away in the start of the second curl, I am in awe, Nigel I stutter, take him, take him. By this time Nigel has moved on to the fourth ram, he hears my mumbling, I raise up on one knee, thinking that Nigel will shoot, for a brief period in time the world stopped, the rams look straight at us, disbelief in their eyes, we looked back in awe of the magnificent site that was before us. In a flash the world moved back into fast forward the rams broke and headed directly away from us on a steady run, I quickly try to explain to Nigel which ram to take, his rifle is up but he cannot pick out the right ram, “I can’t find him” is all he says. The band is out in front at about seventy five yards running straight away, as they reach the last ridge before they will disappear I can not help myself, I lift my rifle and quickly find the ram that I had hoped Nigel would take, it is running straight away from me and I aim for the back of its head, at the shot the ram stumbles and begins to slow, it stops and briefly turns, I shoot again and it begins to run back towards us. Minutes later Nigel and I are beside the ram, admiring the gift that was given to us. Mixed emotions run thru me as I had hoped for Nigel to have the privilege of taking the ram, yet I am thrilled with the thought of having taken this regal animal. The ram becomes our ram and the past minute of life bonds us closer together as friends.

The process of caping and deboning the ram takes longer than normal as we discussed what had just taken place. Once the job was done we began the long arduous pack back up the valley, tackling the pain staking job of ascending the back side of the pass. Each step was six inches up the hill only to slide back two but after several hours we reached the top, three more hours found us back in camp, smiles from ear to ear. The evening was spent regaling Ron and Trevor with the day’s events. Several days later we packed up and made the trek back to the truck, ram in hand. Another ten days spent in nature’s playground with good friends. Does life get any better??