Handgun Hunting Afield

 

 

Hunts that are a “mountain top experience,” they’re something very few handgun hunters enjoy repeatedly.  Most experiencethem rarely. Hunts that may not be wildly transcendent, or even involve a mountain, but they are something special. Handgun hunts wherein the total experience becomes more than simply memorable. It becomes extraordinary, leaving an indelible mark on one’s life.

During a long career as a game warden and wildlife biologist in Wyoming, and over many hunts, I have been blessed to enjoy countless outdoor experiences and adventures. Some of which were truly amazing. But, my recent bighorn sheep hunt in northwest Wyoming topped them all and began 27 years ago.

In 1997, I drew a Wyoming bighorn sheep tag and had 9 rams within about 150 yards on opening day. Anguishing over whether or not to pull the trigger due to the rams’ location, I moved to a new spot to better assess the situation, only to spook the group of bachelors down the mountain and into another hunter. Inexperience, the lack of a hunting companion, and finding no more sheep in range combined to leave a coveted tag unfilled.

In the years following my 1997 strikeout, I eventually accumulated 23 preference points for Wyoming bighorn sheep. In the meantime, a change in statute had made Wyoming ram licenses a once in a lifetime opportunity. This year I drew my second, and last, ram license for Wyoming. The hunt area I choose was one that doesn’t require maximum points because hunting there demands a significant trek into the wilderness to a place loaded with grizzly bears. Knowing it would be a challenging hunt, I applied anyway.

This would ensure me another sheep hunt before any change to a bonus point system. Something many folks are pushing for, but would likely kill the chance to eventually draw a license.

A scouting trip in early August took me and my hunting partner, Nate, about 10 miles into the Absaroka mountains, gaining 5,000 feet of elevation ladened with heavy backpacks.  We camped in the alpine at 11,300 feet, after convincing a young grizzly that it was our place to hang out and not his.  Three days of scouting turned up about 70 sheep, including a couple nice rams, and seven grizzly bears, most of whom were working moth sites – rolling over rocks to gorge on the fat filled insects. It was a wonderful way to celebrate my 58th birthday.

A little less than a month later I had put together a crew of three guys, including Nate, to help with my hunt. The plan was to go out in pairs in order to glass more ground and increase our safety. Then hiccup one hit. One of the guys had to bail at the last minute. He was sick in bed.  So, Nate, myself and the other friend loaded up and were ready to head for Cody. 

Our plan was to spend the night there and hit the trail at first light.  To help save us some serious physical exertion, another friend and fellow Game & Fish employee, Tony, was going to pack our gear in on his horses while we hiked in light. Then the phone rang. Hiccup two – Tony had an emergency come up and wouldn’t be able to help us for another day or two. After a bit of consternation, we decided to head out as planned and backpack in, because we felt it was critical to get into our hunt location at least three days before the opener. To help lighten our load, Tony agreed to pack in the extra food and gear that we wouldn’t need for a couple of days when he was able.

The next morning, we hit the trail just after sunrise. The weather was perfect for a 10-mile trek, even with heavy packs and over 20 pounds of optics and handguns. I was running the two-handgun system promoted by Chris Rhodes. It is a truly effective way of covering your bases, and on my chest was a 7 ½” BFR in .357 mag. Its cylinder full of handloaded 140gr Cutting Edge Raptors guided a 30mm Gen 2 Ultradot. If a ram was further than 150 yards, I’d go to the custom XP-100 Chris had built for me in 6.5 x 284, on which was mounted a Leupold VX3-HD 2.5-8X CDX-ZL scope to direct 127gr Barnes LRX handloads.

A little less than half way in, the friend who had joined Nate and me began to suffer some physiological distress. He couldn’t continue uphill. As we sat and discussed what to do, two men caught up to us on the trail. We visited for a while and learned they were heading up to help an outfitter who had himself drawn a sheep tag and was babysitting a trophy ram. After they left us, we decided that Nate and I would press on to the campsite we shared when scouting. Our other companion insisted he could make it back to the pickup alone, and turned downhill, planning to pick us up at the trailhead whenever we came out.

There wasn’t bear to scare away this time when we reached our campsite, but there was the outfitter’s tent 250 yards away – great. We made camp, did some scouting that afternoon and then stopped at the other camp that evening. There, we learned that the outfitter had spent well over 30 days since June locating and following a serious trophy ram. He showed us pictures of it, and then we got the news. He was watching the ram and hunting precisely where Nate and I were planning to go the next day. Since he had so much invested in the ram, was there before us, and it was a couple of days before the opener, I told him we would avoid that area and not shoot the ram out from under him– dang it anyway.

With two more days to scout before the opener, Nate and I covered a lot of ground, and our mantra became “with sheep hunting you have to go down to go up!” Suffice it to say this was definitely becoming a physical challenge, even with almost 6 months of training behind me. Hell, I had to at least keep up with Nate, even if he was about half my age. I mostly did, but not quite, and he was really good about letting the old guy catch up and rest occasionally. Besides having a real gift for hunting, Nate’s experience guiding elk hunters and working for the Wyoming Game & Fish Dept. had molded him into a game spotting and hunting machine. I couldn’t have asked for a better hunting partner. And yes, he spotted more rams than I did. 

We broke off our glassing the next day about lunch time to meet Tony in camp with our extra food and gear. He had to jet back to the trailhead. So, after a short visit, Nate and I were back at it: hiking, glassing, glassing, hiking, glassing, glassing, and maybe even resting in the sun a bit. 

Over the next couple of days, we found 5 or 6 good rams, including two that we had laid eyes on in August: one that had walked within 85 yards of us, the “Walk Up Ram;” and a littlebetter one we found on my birthday and dubbed “58.” These two rams were hanging with 10 to 14 other rams in a spot we named “Big Ram Basin.”  We also located a couple bigger, older rams, in a group of three. However, despite our best efforts, after the outfitter spooked them as we watched them together, we could never surface them again. What to do on the opener?

September 1st broke as a beautiful morning in the alpine. Nate and I were not too worried about being out at the crack of dawn based on the behavior of the rams we had been watching. But,we didn’t sleep in either. Just after sunrise we headed out from camp. Our first stop was at the outfitter’s tent to ensure we were not going to interfere with each other.  We were greeted by the outfitter’s wife and one of the five guys he had helping him keep an eye on the big ram. The reply I got when I asked where they were headed was not the one I expected. The outfitter had already bagged the big boy. “What?” I asked, “With the bow yesterday?” Bow season ran through Aug. 31. “Nope,” he replied. “First light this morning. We’re just about to leave to help him pack it out.” While the monarch of that mountain was going to be mounted on someone else’s wall, in reality it was probably a good thing. We now had all of an area we could reasonably hunt to ourselves.

A full day of hunting, including a lot of glassing and a lot of miles, didn’t turn up any rams we hadn’t already seen.  “58” and the next biggest one, “Walk-Up,” were still hanging in Big Ram Basin with ten or so others. A few smaller rams were sprinkled around some other locations, and there seemed to be ewes and lambs everywhere. We were seeing sheep and enjoying some incredible scenery. The weather was perfect, and I simply cannot describe how awesome that country is.

As darkness descended,we wandered back into camp. My tag was unfilled, but we had at least five more days of food. Best of all, we were having a great time, our spirits remained positive, and we had some gorgeous country to explore.

The plan for day 2 was much like the first. We would head to where we last saw the group of three rams that had been eluding us, but just a little earlier in the morning (lesson learned). There, we would glass and hunt that country hard and then, if need be, head back to the rim of Big Ram Basin. Several hours of effort turned up a number of yearling to 5-year-old rams. Bighorn sheep develop annual growth rings around their horns during the winter when food is scarce and horn growth about stops.  With good optics, you can sometimes count the rings and get a good guess at a ram’s age. A 5-year-old was the best we’d seen that morning and was bedded where we could definitely put the sneak on him – but not this early in the hunt.

The area we were hunting is basically a big plateau encompassing maybe 10 square miles. It is made up of undulating alpine that rises and falls a few hundred feet here and there and drops off into cliffs and other very steep terrain. One good way to hunt sheep in this type of terrain is to poke along, carefully peering over the edges every so often, as there are more nooks and crannies than an Eggo waffle, and you can’t see into them using traditional glassing techniques.

Leaving the 5-year-old, we headed back to the edge of Big Ram Basin.  We again spied the group of rams that included “58” and “Walk-Up.” Where they were moving about grazing and bedding was wide open, both on the basin floor where they foraged and up in the steeper terrain where they usually bedded. We watched the rams for about an hour, taking some videos and pictures through the spotting scope. Successfully stalking them would be a serious challenge.

Cussing and discussing our options, we decided the “58” was the one to chase, and “Walk-Up” a close second.  We let the rams bed for the second time that day, and after about 45 minutes decided to move on them.  We figured that if we could scurry across some steep open terrain and talus without being noticed, then get to the bottom of one of the staircase cliffs above the rams, I might get to a position where I could take a shot.  Carefully we picked our way. Each step could be the last, either buggering the sheep from our open position, or slipping into what would surely be an injury filled fall.  Nate and I made it about one-third of the way to where we wanted to be.  Then the rams got up from their late morning nap and moved back to the Basin floor.  Dang it – time to back out carefully, climbingback up several hundred feet.

Once back on top, we decided it would be about impossible to stalk “58” where he was. So, Nate and I split up to glass a few other places. We met up again in a little over an hour and then jumped it back to our lookout over Big Ram Basin.  There, we settled in, ate lunch, and watched the rams graze, bed for a bit, and graze some more. Eventually, a few of the younger rams made their way towards some water running off a small snow melt, while the older guys began to slowly work back towards the cliffs and talus.  We knew they were headed to bed again, and that we’d have maybe two hours to get to them.  There had to be a way to do it.

I left Nate watching the rams and ventured below our lookout to see if the ground we couldn’t see might offer another way to get on the rams. I found a steep grass and forb covered slope that would take us down about half way or a little more into Big Ram Basin to a point were we might be able to side hill about a half mile to a spot above the older rams. I hustled back over to Nate and at about 2 pm we decided to go for it.

Down we descended, and then Nate spotted them. Three ewes grazing in the perfect spot to bust us and ruin the stalk. We hunkered down on the steep hill, waiting.  Eventually, the ewes turned back from whence they came and we continued our play on the rams.  Two hours ticked by as we made what we agreed was the hardest stalk either of us have attempted.  Moving off the vegetated slope and side-hilling towards the rams, we gingerly picked each step. Cliffs and loose rocks met almost each foot fall. It was nearly impossible to move quietly or quickly. Rocks tumbled down, dislodged by our efforts, and each time causing us to pause and cringe, hoping we hadn’t spooked the rams, for they had finally moved out of sight.

Step slowly, ease your weight down, remain calm if a slip or misstep happens, be patient, be careful, be quiet, man up and keep going – the words repeated through my head, and as I found out later through Nate’s as well. We finally made it to our intended destination. A peak over the edge should reveal the rams. Nate couldn’t see them. I couldn’t see them. Our hearts sank. We looked at each other. Maybe a couple more steps? Nate led, then turned to me beaming and whispered, “They are right below us!” He quickly ranged them. About 170 yards. It was XP-100 go to time.

I made my way over to Nate and crept down to a sloping rock that offered great shooting support. We looked over the rams. They were all bedded. Most of them were only partially visible, being obscured by rocks and low growing vegetation. We had watched these rams long enough that we knew who was who. Nate spied “58.” He was barely visible. The top of his head and horns along with the top of his rump scarcely showing behind some rocks. The second biggest ram, “Walk-Up” was fully exposed, bedded and presenting a perfect shot angle. I extended the bipod on the XP, set my Cole-Tac shooting bag beneath the pistol’s grip, and sighted through the scope now set to 5X. “One-hundred and sixty-eight yards to the most exposed ram,” Nate whispered. “But, he’s not the big one. It’s ‘Walk-Up I think.’What do you want to do?” He continued. We spoke in hushed tones and discussed what to do. “It’s your hunt,” Nate reminded me, “You can wait for “58” to stand up, or take “Walk-Up,” it’s up to you.” 

Once in a lifetime decision point – time to “cut nuts.” Glassing these rams over several days had given me a sense of their behavior. Sometimes when they rose from their beds they would stretch, take a step or two and urinate before moving off. Other times they had stood up and simply bounded off with out a moments hesitation. “Walk-Up” was not much smaller than 58, and the memories of 1997 haunted my thinking.

“I’m going for ‘Walk-Up,’ it’s a bird in the hand,” I whispered to Nate.

“Let me get on him,” he replied.

My hold was rock solid. This was a chip shot. My crosshair focused behind the bedded ram’s right shoulder at an angle that would take a bullet through his heart and exit the front of his chest. No buck fever here, I had envisioned shooting a ram during all my practice shooting sessions over the summer. As I rang steel at various ranges and from a variety of shooting positions and terrain, I had consistently, in my mind’s eye, seena ram I would shoot someday. Unfortunately, this was easy to rehearse because I have culled a number of bighorn sheep in my work with Game & Fish. Sad times when I had to remove bighorns that had comingled with domestic sheep and goats to prevent them from bringing potentially fatal diseases back to the wild herds.

4:15 pm – exhale, press the trigger slowly and steadily, let the gun surprise me when it goes off. I sent it. The ram bolted to its feet, stumbled forward, took a couple of steps, reversed directions, tried to walk and then crumpled sliding downhill about 10 yards. He was without a doubt dead. I was numb. Did that really happen? Wow! Nate and I stood, whooped and slapped each other’s shoulders. 

We now had to get to the downed ram. This would mean backtracking about one-third of the way we came in order to find a way off the cliffs. It wasn’t as harrowing as the stalk, but it wasn’t a cake walk either. We found that in some spots we could almost surf the small rocks that cascaded in mini-landslides as we worked our way down, and I could tell Nate was having a lot of fun. Once off the cliffs we made our way in the direction of the ram.

Things looked a lot different from where we were now. We searched for the ram. “I am sure that looks like the rock I shot from,” I told Nate as we got to the spot we thought we’d find the carcass. Then looking to the north Nate said, “look at that!” Five of the rams from the group I had taken my ram stood just above us, 80 yards away, their eyes locked on us. And, there was “58.” Jokingly I asked Nate, “Hey, can I high grade?” A very stern game warden look and “No!” came back from Nate.  Duh – just joking. But as we looked at the rams and Nate videoed them on his phone, He noticed there, right in front of them, my dead ram. They hadn’t left their “friend.” 

The terrain where they were was steeper than we thought, and after a few seconds, the remaining rams bounded off. Nate and I made our way to the carcass. More high-fives and a wave of emotion flooded me. Unbelievable. 

We spent the next hour and a half taking pictures, partially caping and then quartering the ram. I have used the “gutless method” pretty exclusively on my big game harvests for the past several years, and that is how I broke the carcass down. All the meat in gamebags, I loaded the head and cape on my pack and Nate secured the primal cuts and a rear quarter on his.  

We then grabbed the remaining three quarters in their bags and walked them down to a big rock near the Basin floor and cached them on the top of it. That way, when we returned for them the next day, we could tell at a distance if they had been discovered or were being guarded by a marauding grizzly.  Now the hardest part – I had about 40 pounds on my back and it was nearly straight up to get back to camp. At the 10,000 foot contour line, we were in a spot where we had to climb above camp before descending to our home away from home. Somewhere in the neighborhood of 1,400 vertical feet lay in front of us that had to be ascended in about a half mile. It took just over two hours to cover that short distance, and I barely made it – the most taxing pack out of my life. Nate cruised it better than me, and we eventually made it to the top after the sun had set slightly behind us. It was downhill from there to our camp, and we fell into camp about 9 PM. The meat cached in the rocks with our food, we climbed into our tent, too whipped to do much else. Nate pulled out a couple small flasks of whiskey, and never have I drank any that tasted better!

Sleep was easy that night, coming shortly after an In-Reach text to my wife and daughter about our success and another to Tony asking him to come pack us out. A congratulatory text returned from my wife, and Tony let us know he’d be up in two days.

The next morning, Nate and I packed light and hiked back down into Big Ram Basin to retrieve the three remaining quarters. The meat was right where we left it, untouched. We loaded up, and what took us about three hours the evening before was accomplished in half the time. It was definitely strenuous packing out the remaining meat, but not a killer like the previous trip. The rest of the day was spent cleaning up, organizing gear, and fleshing out the partial cape. Then, about 3:30 in the afternoon the stuff hit the fan. A severe thunderstorm moved in. Nate and I hunkered down in the 6-man teepee tent as 50 mph winds buffeted it and hail came down so heavy that it darkened the tent.  We struggled to bat the hail off the tent from the inside, hoping nothing bigger than the three-eighth inch diameter icepelting us would rain down. Then a lightning bolt struck damn near the tent. We were in a serious weather situation, but thankfully the tent held and the skies cleared. Then it was supper in the tent and an early entry into our sleeping bags.

We woke to a 25-degree morning and a fair amount of un-melted hail. Breakfast, breaking camp and packing took about half the morning as we waited for Tony and his pack horses. About noon Tony arrived with two pack horses in tow. We weighed out panniers and loaded horses. The pack horses were saddled with a total of 190 pounds of sheep and gear. Another 40 pounds or so was split between Nate and me on our backs. Tony’s ability to pack us out saved us what would have been two very heavy trips out. It was a God send for sure.

Heading out at a high clip, we all made for the trailhead, hoping to avoid the thunderstorms that were rolling in. We made it… barely, only getting a little wet and being pelted by some small hail. Making the 10-mile trip down to the trailhead in less than four hours we unpacked the horses, loaded the pickup our friend had returned in to take us home, and headed for the Game and Fish office in Cody. Arriving at the office, Tony registered my ram, noting it was the only handgun harvest he had recorded in seven years, and after close to 600 sheep registered. We said our goodbyes, hit McDonald’s and headed home. Slowly the reality of the whole thing sunk in. Over the next few days, I would mentally process all we had experienced. It had truly been a a“mountain top experience.” One that I was truly blessed to enjoy.

This article is dedicated to Mark Allen Hampton, his memory and legacy.  For he was a true gentleman, the most accomplished of handgun hunters, and the patriarch of hunting mountain sheep and goats with a handgun.

Gear used by the author on this hunt:

BCG – Custom XP-100 (6.5X284)

BFR – 7 ½ “ .357 mag

Ultradot – Gen. 2, 30 MM, 2 MOA dot sight with factory rings

Leupold – 2.5-8X CDX-ZL

EGW scope base

Leupold PRW2 Permanent Weaver-Style Rings

Lance Dixon custom holster

Cutting Edge Bullets (.357  140 gr Raptor)

Starline .357 mag brass

Barnes .264 dia 127 gr LRX

Laupa 6.5 x 284 Brass

Cole-Tac shooting bags

Maven: S3 20×40 spotting scope, B6 12×50 Binos, RF 1 7×25 Rangefinder

FHF Gear Bino Harness

Badlands: Vario backpack

Benchmade – Steep Country fixed blade hunting knife & Grizzly Ridge folding knife

Counter Assault – bear spray

Garmin In-Reach Messenger

Sea to Summit 20L lightweight Stuff sacks (used for game bags)

Gallen Backcountry game bags

Kenetrek: Mountain Guide boots

Kuiu: Chugach TR rain gear, Guide pant, Outlet Performance Fleece Tech Hoodie, and Nuyarn merino wool shirt, & ball caps.

Darn Tough – hiking socks

Exofficio Give-N-Go Boxer 2.0 (good underwear when hiking a lot is important)

Outdoor Research gloves

Under Armor gloves

Kelty – carbon fiber trekking poles

Peak Refuel Meals

MSR – whisper light stove

Seek Outside – 6 man Tipi tent

Nemo – Sonic sleeping bag and Tango light weight sleep system

Petzl headlamps

Wiley X glasses