Adventurewriter
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My once in a lifetime Mountain Goat hunt was worth all the hype. I scouted all summer long saw a fair amount if Goats but not really ant gnarly goats everybody dreams about. The cranky old loners hate people and live in seclusion...which equals nasty country. Been working hard all summer to get in mountain shape and needed every bit of it when everything was said and done. The season was under way and so far wasa strike out strike out for any good billies....glassing another area I saw two goats bedded on a 13,500 pile of rotten rock a couple of miles away. Impossible country unless you have wings. They were a long way away...but looked like horse headed billies.
I glassed another area and when I came back just caught one of the goats that had been bedded dropping down a trail in a secluded drainage. Strapped on the back pack and was off for the two hour as hike to the foot of the drainage. When I arrived this two mile long amphitheater of crumbling stone and cliffs looked perfect. At the end moving along a lifeless area of rock heaps was a lone goat I have Swarovski glass but he was too far to tell what he was. But where he was alone screamed Billy. ...I made a plan and was off...
Then looking high the side of the mountain I saw three goats in a small grassy area. At first glance I thought it was a Nanny and two kids...one big one and two little ones. I busted out my scope and could see it was three Billie?s...the two smaller ones were feeding and the big one was lying down a heap of white hair. I had studied telling the difference and how to judge goats all summer but this was a no brainer this goat was a beast and the plan changed in a heartbeat. Then the big Brute got up and I was in awe he was so hairy with his winter coat it massive shoulders almost cartoon-like. This was a Billy I had been dreaming about.
After years of mountain hunting you have a mental mountain travel calculator...how long it will take you to get from a to b. I figured about 45 minute to an hour...but the slope was allot of small rock which can be looe and like trying to crawl up a sandpile. The slope was steeper than it looked and the loose rock and altitude made it tough. Finally pretty whipped I made it to where the goats should be and they were gone. I kept moving forward and saw a rock rock ridge above me a bit of white and then a goat head peeked over and then disappeared and I could see the backs of moving goats. I knew I had to dig deep and move up to see them to get a shot knowing around the side of the mountain it was all super steep rock and cliffs. I was able to move up and one of the goats about 200 yards away looked back giving me a shot. An hour before this was a Billy I would have taken in a heart beat. I just knew it wasn't him... Continuing to move up I hoped the big one would come back and take a peek. He did....there was no doubt it was the big one... I knew he wouldn't look long and would have a few second window before he realized what his buddies were excited about. The image of him standing on that rock in the waning light wind will be with me forever.... Thank God for my Snipepod to steady my gun....I was dumped with Adrenaline and heart and lungs pounding from the effort of the climb and 12,000 foot plus altitude at the crack of my .270 WSM he dropped hard.......... But goats are notorious for taking lead and for a second I saw his head lift and the hump of his back move further away out of sight. It was going to me more digging deep. I knew already he was probably in the sheer cliffs and scree. I was able to make my way up and saw him at 100 yards. I made and off hand shot and he dropped out of sight to the other side of a rock cut and I could see his hooves spinning up as he went on a crash downhill like a windmill just over the hill. I would have bet $1000 to a dime he was going to be a hairy wad of hamburger 1000 feet below us. I was able to make my way to the edge of the abyss. I saw a bit of white hair a hundred yards below where I last saw him... On this huge mountain side there was a three foot wide gash in the mountain from a hard rock miner a hundred 150 years ago. He hit it perfect and it was the only thing that would have stopped him and it did..... Two feet either direction or he would go all the way to the bottom. He was in great shape except for about a half of inch broken off of one of his tips. The long horn is 9 2/8th and with 5 4/8th bases? the Billy of my dreams. Would be right on the edge of making Boone and Crockett Awards but the tip deduction will hurt. We will see....but doesn't matter this is one of my all time best life experiences and that doesn't come off a tape measure...
The DOW ages him at five years. His winter coat was full prime and ridiculously thick.
I have been hunting my whole life and would put this in my top five experinces....there truly is nothing to match a true mountian hunt that pushes you to the edge for that deep satisifation
I glassed another area and when I came back just caught one of the goats that had been bedded dropping down a trail in a secluded drainage. Strapped on the back pack and was off for the two hour as hike to the foot of the drainage. When I arrived this two mile long amphitheater of crumbling stone and cliffs looked perfect. At the end moving along a lifeless area of rock heaps was a lone goat I have Swarovski glass but he was too far to tell what he was. But where he was alone screamed Billy. ...I made a plan and was off...
Then looking high the side of the mountain I saw three goats in a small grassy area. At first glance I thought it was a Nanny and two kids...one big one and two little ones. I busted out my scope and could see it was three Billie?s...the two smaller ones were feeding and the big one was lying down a heap of white hair. I had studied telling the difference and how to judge goats all summer but this was a no brainer this goat was a beast and the plan changed in a heartbeat. Then the big Brute got up and I was in awe he was so hairy with his winter coat it massive shoulders almost cartoon-like. This was a Billy I had been dreaming about.
After years of mountain hunting you have a mental mountain travel calculator...how long it will take you to get from a to b. I figured about 45 minute to an hour...but the slope was allot of small rock which can be looe and like trying to crawl up a sandpile. The slope was steeper than it looked and the loose rock and altitude made it tough. Finally pretty whipped I made it to where the goats should be and they were gone. I kept moving forward and saw a rock rock ridge above me a bit of white and then a goat head peeked over and then disappeared and I could see the backs of moving goats. I knew I had to dig deep and move up to see them to get a shot knowing around the side of the mountain it was all super steep rock and cliffs. I was able to move up and one of the goats about 200 yards away looked back giving me a shot. An hour before this was a Billy I would have taken in a heart beat. I just knew it wasn't him... Continuing to move up I hoped the big one would come back and take a peek. He did....there was no doubt it was the big one... I knew he wouldn't look long and would have a few second window before he realized what his buddies were excited about. The image of him standing on that rock in the waning light wind will be with me forever.... Thank God for my Snipepod to steady my gun....I was dumped with Adrenaline and heart and lungs pounding from the effort of the climb and 12,000 foot plus altitude at the crack of my .270 WSM he dropped hard.......... But goats are notorious for taking lead and for a second I saw his head lift and the hump of his back move further away out of sight. It was going to me more digging deep. I knew already he was probably in the sheer cliffs and scree. I was able to make my way up and saw him at 100 yards. I made and off hand shot and he dropped out of sight to the other side of a rock cut and I could see his hooves spinning up as he went on a crash downhill like a windmill just over the hill. I would have bet $1000 to a dime he was going to be a hairy wad of hamburger 1000 feet below us. I was able to make my way to the edge of the abyss. I saw a bit of white hair a hundred yards below where I last saw him... On this huge mountain side there was a three foot wide gash in the mountain from a hard rock miner a hundred 150 years ago. He hit it perfect and it was the only thing that would have stopped him and it did..... Two feet either direction or he would go all the way to the bottom. He was in great shape except for about a half of inch broken off of one of his tips. The long horn is 9 2/8th and with 5 4/8th bases? the Billy of my dreams. Would be right on the edge of making Boone and Crockett Awards but the tip deduction will hurt. We will see....but doesn't matter this is one of my all time best life experiences and that doesn't come off a tape measure...
The DOW ages him at five years. His winter coat was full prime and ridiculously thick.
I have been hunting my whole life and would put this in my top five experinces....there truly is nothing to match a true mountian hunt that pushes you to the edge for that deep satisifation
