Goats in Rough Places

Thick wet willows slapped our faces as we maneuvered our horses up the long, steep, log-laden trail to tree line. It was a tough and slow ride through the dense jungle of downed trees, freshly fallen from the early September heavy and wet snow of a week earlier. A chainsaw and machete made the trails passable, but the work ate up a lot of valuable hunting time. I thought we would never get to our spike camp, but six hours later we arrived!
Fall was in the air, and the early morning frosts added to the chill of excitement and anticipation. The spectacular reds and yellows painted the slopes of the Cassiar Mountains of northern British Columbia, and the billy we eventually spotted high on a rock ledge above our camp validated our travel to this rugged paradise.

This adventure had started a couple of years prior at the Sportsmen for Fish and Wildlife (SFW) Western Hunting and Conservation Expo where I’d served as master of ceremonies for the evening events and worked on stage as block man with my good friend and best auctioneer on planet earth, John Bair, who has raised tens of millions of dollars for conservation. As part of my stage duties, I introduced and provided descriptions of the many hunts, once-in-a-lifetime special tags, and other unique sporting items that John auctioned. Together we worked the crowd with humor and commitment to the mission, bantering back and forth on the various special auction items. Oddly enough, it seemed that every time a mountain goat tag or hunt came up for bid, John and I would say to each other, “Sure wish we could make a goat hunt together!”

Apparently, someone heard that banter and took it to heart. That someone was conservation leader and visionary Don Peay, the founder of SFW and the Expo. Don also has managed SFW’s two Canadian outfitting businesses, Arctic Red River Outfitters in Northwest Territories and Full Curl Stone Outfitters in British Columbia. These two special places and businesses were gifted to SFW by lifelong conservationists Marc and Debbie Bingham. The profits generated from these outfits help fund SFW’s many conservation projects. In addition to booking and selling hunts, they have also used these hunts for raffles and auctions, as well as having given hunts to combat veterans and to those who have given much to conservation and our country.

To my surprise, after the Expo came a call from Don saying it had been decided that John Bair and I would get our wish of a goat hunt together, with Luke Vince at Full Curl Stone Outfitters. I was absolutely stunned and appreciative beyond belief.

John and I then spent numerous evenings on the phone discussing gear lists and travel plans. Working out in the gym and hiking with heavy packs were part of our daily pre-hunt routines to get ready for a mountain hunt that could be more physical than my Dall’s sheep hunt in the Mackenzie’s of Northwest Territories.
The 5:50 a.m. departure on August 28 from Augusta, Georgia, connected me with John Bair in Vancouver, and after dealing with customs and boarding our delayed flight we arrived in Whitehorse at 8 p.m. Our outfitter and guide Luke Vince’s wife met us and got us checked in at a local hotel, before we capped off the day with a fantastic halibut dinner.

The following morning found us making the five-hour drive to Watson Lake where we met our pilot, Darwin, who loaded gear and food for our 45-minute flight to camp. Upon arrival we were warmly greeted by Luke himself, plus his assistant guide Justin, his wife, and their two young sons. A log cabin was our home for the night and was the perfect place to lay out our gear for the next day. After a superb home-cooked meal, we shot our rifles while the younger boys shot squirrels and fished until dark.

The next morning found us up before daylight, chowing down on moose sausage and pancakes, then over to the corral where we loaded the pack string and saddled up for the ride to our spike camp…and what a ride it was! We would ride, dismount, machete and chainsaw, remount, and then repeat. It was an aggravating and slow ride because of the seemingly endless time needed to clear the trail, but eventually we came to the spot where Luke decided to set up our spike camp.

After our Mountain House dinner and care of the horses was completed, my down sleeping bag was a welcome friend, especially when that nighttime’s low dipped into the mid-20s.

The fourth day from home was our first day of hunting, and at 5 a.m. Luke gathered up our hobbled horses, bells ringing as they sauntered back into camp. As the horses chowed down on oats, we scooped eggs and ham from our Mountain House bags. We glassed the surrounding slopes in hopes of spotting the pair of goats Luke had seen on an earlier scouting trip, but unfortunately, it appeared they had moved on along with the melting snow. What an easy hunt that would have been, right from our spike camp! It was Luke’s hope that they were still close by, since both goats had appeared to be shooters. That anticipation pumped John and me as we made our plan for the day.

We saddled up and took off. The weather was excellent with frost earlier and barely reaching 60 degrees for a high during the day at 5,000 feet. The ride was tough! The thick willows and downed trees added their challenges to the steep climb to tree line.

When we reached the upper edge of the timber, we tied the horses and removed their saddles before climbing to a rocky peak to glass. Then we hiked the jagged ridgeline, glassing the slopes below for long periods, in search for what we’d come for.

After several miles and long after the noon hour, Luke recommended we take a break and sit tight. As John and I dug some jerky from our packs, Luke climbed down a slope to a point below. In short order he spotted a goat bedded down that appeared to be asleep. Luke motioned us both down the slope, and we came, literally sliding on our butts until we reached his side.
There, 415 yards straight below, lay the billy. We could only see the top third of his body and, the way his head was lying, we couldn’t get a good look at his horns.
So, we gambled and crawled down to 351 yards. From that vantage point the goat looked like a shooter, but the dilemma facing us now was that the goat was asleep. Luke said we’d have to wait for the animal to stand up for a good shot.
We discussed options of making noise to get the goat to stand or sliding down the steep slope to another rocky vantage point about another 50 yards below. We chose the latter and upon reaching that point, Luke placed his pack on a rock outcropping, providing a solid rest. I was in an excellent shooting position, but the goat was still asleep and not providing the best shot opportunity.

It was now early afternoon, and we were a long way from our horses on the opposite side of the mountain. At which point Luke gave us two options. One, wait until the billy got up on his own, or two, bawl like a goat in hopes of getting him to stand. The first option could take hours, so I chose the latter. Luke bawled and bayed. Eventually the goat lifted its head and looked our way but did not stand. His horns had now come into clear view and declared he was a shooter, but still, no shot opportunity. Then the goat eased his head back down.

Luke asked if I wanted to chance getting closer. “Yes, let’s go for it!” We slid another 40 yards further down the slope where my rangefinder said 260. There, we positioned my and Luke’s packs along with my rifle for a shot. Luke bawled again and the goat stood. The angle down the slope was severe. The billy turned and angled, quartering toward me. My crosshairs met the goat where his neck connected to his body. I was confident that at this angle the shot would take out the spine and opposite shoulder. I squeezed the trigger of my 300 WSM Mark Bansner Alaskan Hunter and watched the goat tumble off the ledge from which he was perched.
He rolled, and he rolled, and he rolled down the rockslide. As the goat went out of sight, Luke, who was filming the kill shot on his phone said, “Oh s*** boys, we may be spending the night on the mountain.” It didn’t matter!
After high fives, we just sat there, reliving what had just happened. The explosion of emotion was off the charts, and we drank in the moment that only a hunter could appreciate. I then offered a prayer of thanks to our Lord and Creator.

At that point, we decided to eat our lunch since it had been many hours since those eggs and ham – plus we knew we needed to build our strength for what was to come. Clearly, it would be a real challenge to get the goat out of this rugged terrain before dark. Taking pictures and skinning for a full body mount would eat up lots of time. Adding to the unknowns that lay before us was the fact that we couldn’t even see how far the goat had rolled down the mountain.

It was 2 p.m. when we began our descent. The rocks were razor thin and sharp as a Havalon knife. As we crawled and slid, Luke got to the goat first and shouted up to John and me. “He’s big, real big!” From afar, the billy looked like a polar bear as we approached from above. When we reached where the horned trophy lay, Luke said this was the biggest goat of the year and was in the top five goats taken in his 15 years of guiding. Instead of ground shrinkage, this goat had grown bigger and Luke guessed him to be over 350 pounds.

After we clawed and dug a spot in the rocks for positioning the beast for pictures, we began taking photos from every angle. Then the task of skinning for a full body mount began, which was a huge challenge on this steep slope. Eventually John and I boned out and packed the quarters, then added the hide and head to our packs, splitting the weight between the three of us.

The climb out was nasty. Parts of the ascent were straight up, and loose rock made it very difficult to get and maintain footing. We clawed, crawled, and climbed, having to take frequent breaks to recharge. Our packs were heavy, and this was no place for someone not in sheep shape.

Two thirds of the way to the top I needed help. Weight reduction from my pack was needed due to an injury I’d sustained to my right knee earlier in the trip. I’d had a very difficult dismount from my horse when my boot lodged in the stirrup along a very narrow and treacherous trail as we’d approached spike camp the day prior and now I was hurting. (A total knee replacement five months later solved the problem.) Thank God for John and Luke’s help there on that mountain! We side-hilled for several miles until we hit a saddle filled with snow. A welcome landmark that pointed us in the direction of where our horses were tied at tree line on the opposite side of the mountain.

After topping the mountain, we spotted two billies about a mile off to the east. We discussed John going after the biggest one and spending the night on the mountain. Light was fading and collectively we decided to continue to our horses, proceed to our spike camp, and return the following day.
We reached our horses in the last light of day. In the semi-darkness we loaded our gear on the pack horses, saddled, and led our horses down the mountain under the glow of our head lamps. When the trail began to level out, we mounted and rode, winding our way back through the tangle of willows and downed trees, finally arriving back to our spike camp at midnight.

There is nothing like Mountain House at midnight…especially after removing saddles and hobbling horses while running on adrenalin. Checking the heart app on my phone showed 16.9 miles for the day.

The following morning, my legs were cramped and felt like I had been beaten – yet at the same time I was euphoric with the outcome of yesterday’s hunt. This feeling elevated even further when Luke taped the horns at 51 4/8”. (Months later, after the official drying period, the goat was re-measured at 51” which turned out to be the number one goat in the 2019 Trophy Competition of the Northern BC Guides Association.)

After Luke had fleshed and prepped the hide and head, he and John returned to the top of the mountain where we had spotted the two goats the evening before. I wimped out and stayed at camp to rest my injured knee.
When reaching the vantage point where we had spotted the goats the previous evening, they found the two and cut the distance to give John a close-up view. The opportunity presented itself, but with it still being early in our hunt, John passed on the larger goat, deciding to look for one bigger. During the following days John passed on other opportunities as well.

On day seven we broke spike camp and returned to our base camp. The ride out was filled with fall colors of gold, yellows, and reds, a painting so spectacular that only God could create. Color was at its peak and so was anticipation, and as we neared our destination, the horses picked up speed as they knew we were heading back.
It was a great feeling to be back at base camp. It felt like home being welcomed back by Justin and his family, where we relived the hunt and enjoyed the beauty of the Cassiar Mountains.

During the next few days John hunted with Justin in some new country and spotted over 20 different goats. Much of the terrain was severe and the trails were all but impassable, making getting to the goats darn near impossible. John passed on each that they glassed on distant slopes and cliffs. Shooting them is one thing. Retrieving them and packing them out yet another and clearly, the success of a hunt is not always measured in hide and horns.

As our trip ended, both John and I were incredibly thankful to Luke and his crew for providing a wonderful BC experience, and for working so hard to make this hunt successful and enjoyable. A big shout out goes to Don Peay and Sportsmen for Fish and Wildlife for this opportunity and for the tremendous conservation work they engage in and support.

In every way, our trip was more than we ever could have anticipated.