Caribou Gear Tarp

Breakneck Billy: A Goat Hunt On Crack

End of Day 2:

The outcome of this day was to come away with a definitive play for the morning. Set up on this ridge, I picked up all three of winmag’s goats within a few minutes based on his reported locations.
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The lone billy in the steep stuff.

I watched theses two big boys move up a chute into this boggy spring area on a grassy ridgeline but above a cliff lip making them only visible from certain angles.
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One of these goats was clearly bigger than the other, but they both looked big. One in particular had hair that hung closer to the ground than the other’s and whose body almost looked longer from 2 miles away.

Meanwhile, bluffgruff had driven back to our side of the unit, picked up cheeseburgers for everyone, and sped up the chute I had gone up that morning to try and count rings on the billy K was keeping an eye on. A closer pic from K and a second set of eyes from bluffgruff determined he was a deceivingly young billy.

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The decision was clear for the morning. The two big polar bear summbitches may have been 7ish miles deep, but where there’s a will there’s a way, and with the one’s maturity visible from 2 miles away, it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

A huge shout out here to winmag. Not only for his goat locating and judging abilities, but I probably learned more in 2 hours looking at the goats with him than I ever have in 2 hours of hunting in my life.

A plan in place, the walk back to the TH was brimming with the promise of tomorrow’s opportunity.
 
The plan:
At first light, bluffgruff would return to the glassing knob winmag and I were at the evening before in order to be a failsafe of relocating the billies, with the ability to drop off the ridgeline to meet us in the deep basin they were last seen.

K and I would leave the trucks at 3:30 to cover the 6-7 miles to set up within distance of where we left the goats the night before.

Red arrow is where goats were last seen. Blue is where I more or less envisioned K and I being by first light.
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I've done that traverse. Climbed the ridge on left to the high peak and then made the traverse to the high peak behind where you took the photo. Fun day!

Anxiously awaiting the rest of the story.
 
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Day 3: The Hunt

A reminder that I had a hard cutoff to kill a goat by 10 AM. That would give me 2 hours to process, 3 hours to pack the 7ish miles out (with help from K and bluffgruff), and 2 hours to drive home to host the RMBS event at 6. Although I am no stranger to tight turn around hunts as explained in my first post, this was definitely on another level of logistical tight rope, with not much margin for error.

K and I left the vehicles as planned by 3:30 AM, and ended up exiting treeline about here right at first light, perhaps 15 minutes behind where we had planned. However, upon being there myself, we realized this might be a positive as if we continued on we would either be in the wide open walking up the ridgeline in the sun, or we would be on the other edge of the ridge, out of sight of where the goats were last seen.
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Walking up to the last clump of spruces marked above, we sat down to glass the first 10 minutes of light. Within a couple minutes, I spotted a white shape moving down through rocks at the top of the cliffy lip previously mentioned. And then another. They were right where we left them, another 1.5 miles or so up the ridge. I backtracked, worked to the far side of the ridge out of sight (my right looking up it), and began to close the distance. K stayed below with the spotter on them to keep an eye on if they dipped unexpectedly off the ridge one way or the other.

The approach took close to an hour to gain the mile and thousand feet within range of where they were feeding.

Eventually, I snuck up to a rock pile to see them continuing to move almost parallel to my path, still uphill from me. 500 yards away. There was a decent breeze, and I was limiting myself as always to about 300 yards for a shot. I dipped back down and kept moving up the ridge, hoping that if I got above them, they would feed right into me.

A final bit of context for my strategy for the stalk. I assumed that these billies, given their location far away from recreation in the area, would be significantly less tolerant of people than the billy I had located two days prior. I was approaching this like a mule deer stalk, which is the bulk of my experience hunting the alpine. Get above, unseen, close the distance, and wait for an opportunity.
 
Day 3: The final stalk

The last few hundred yards were easy to close, as I was behind a rocky ridgeline from the goats With the wind, I knew they would not hear or smell me, so it was just up to me taking my time and controlling my breathing to prepare myself for the shot at right around 13k ft. I stashed my hiking sticks and my backpack and a rock pile, and snuck forward, low, with my bipod attached and a round in the chamber. I knew there was a chance I would be right on top of them, depending on how far they fed up the little bowl they were last seen in. The last bit of any stalk is always hard to tell time in my experience. I felt like I was going ultra slow, but it was probably only a few minutes.

Crouching, I kept rolling over the slope knowing that I could be closer than I wanted to be, but the time constraints and the terrain forced my hand in continuing to get closer. Nothing. I started to worry that perhaps they had squirted off one side of the slope in the past few minutes. I started paralleling downhill on the ridge, maybe I had come up too high?

Looking to my right, I suddenly caught black horn tips and another white base of hair, one of them looking directly at me. I immediately readied the gun, but they did not move. A range on the rock behind them, 90 yards. I knew that even if I moved in and they spooked, I would have a shot at this range. I remembered winmag's words of stalking wisdom. Goats don't run away, they walk away deliberately.


I moved forward, set up my rifle on a prominent rock, and got ready. Both goats were now staring at me, unfazed, and bedded. Clearly my concern about their lack of tolerance was unwarranted, or these were mature enough that they simply did not care about "threats" around them.
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The next 15 minutes were a bit of exhilarating torture. I could not for the life of me figure out which one was the more mature one I had recognized from a distance. While bedded at different angles, it was hard to compare. One's face maybe looked slightly longer? One's horn bases looked slightly girthier? But the other's looked longer? It was extremely difficult to tell, but I was only 73 yards away. I was also getting cold, fast. I did not love the angle I had at vitals with either of them bedded, but I knew I could not sit here getting fully wind blasted at 13k ft without my extra layers on and wait for them to stand up in an hour.

Bluffgruff’s perspective
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Day 3: The shot

After some light prompting, I saw the billies both turn their head, looking uncomfortable and ready to stand up. I dropped to the scope. I had determined that the billy on my left was likely the more mature, but I knew I would be thrilled with either. The left one stood, took one step turning to his right away from me, and I shot. It was perhaps more quartering away that I had wanted, but immediately knew it was a hard hit. From bluffgruff's perspective, he saw a puff of dirt come off the billy's coat, as he took 3 or so steps downhill, clearly looking sick. I stood up, moving to my left to get him in full view to take a follow up. By the time anything but his rear was in view, he went to his knees, then down. He was dead within a 30 seconds or so.

The other stood over his fallen companion for a moment, walked away about 50 yards, and unbelievably, rebedded.

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A truly surreal experience to walk up to an unbelievably beautiful animal. I don't really have an eloquent way to describe the next few minutes of sitting next to him, putting my hand on him for the first time. But I really don't think it had or even has sunk in that 4 days before my hunting season was nearly over for the year, to walking up to a mature billy in an absolutely pristine alpine setting. Truly unforgettable.
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The less said about the pack out the better. We were heading down by about 12:30, with my pack loaded with what looked like a mini fridge worth of hide and head, while bluffgruff and K split the meat. We got back to the trucks around 4:30. Bluffgruff and I agreed that this was likely within the top 3 hardest single days of hunting of our lives. My legs and back were absolutely smoked after 3 days of maximum effort above 11k ft.

Driving like a bat out of hell, I did indeed make it back in time (albeit 45 minutes late) to host a successful trivia night where @Sandbrew took the top prize, and more importantly where we distributed close to 100 stickers and yard signs opposing prop 127.

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The score sheet from the next day checking him in with CPW.
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The teeth, or lack thereof. Bluffgruff is generously taking care of the hide and head skinning him to see if there are any hidden rings under his hide.
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My final takeaways from this hunt are very similar to @EYJONAS!'s excellent goat thread. I am so grateful to @Bluffgruff, @winmag, and my buddy K for dropping their own lives to facilitate this incredible opportunity coming together. I cannot say enough positive things about them as hunters and as humans. Simply put, it's damn fun to do hard things with good people.

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Thanks to everyone for following along.
 
With those teeth, you should have called this the “A Goat Hunt on Meth” thread!

Super happy for you! And I’m very happy you included me in this hunt. It was an awesome experience. Even better when I helped plan a 16 mile death march of a hunt then said good luck and left to go to work the next day instead of suffering! 🤣
 
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