Looking back some years ago, my main hunting partner and I began our focus to try to harvest our first Billys. Not ever having done it before, or knowing any one that really had attempted let alone done it successfully to filled their tags, our research began. We searched the regs, the LEH synopsis and maps of areas within a ten hour drive of our homes. After a few calls to conservation officers, and biologists our cards were sent in with fingers crossed on success in the draw. I might add this was some time ago, odds were better, pressure from all aspects of Goat range was down. The good old days you could say. We entered in an area where numbers were good, odds were good because of the remoteness and challenge of the area.
1st year of trying and we were both drawn successfully. Plans were made and honed to try our best. Being plagued by another friend who thought he was up for the experience, he was added making us a group of 3 with to tags. After parking the vehicle, looking straight up dam near into the high distant peaks out accent of the mountains began. Choosing to follow some of the drainages that fell into the valley below was a challenge to say the least. The dangling twisted alder that hung before us gave us slippery holds to help us pull our selves up the steep grade. This along with about a 500 foot contour line of nasty Devils club made us question what are we doing?
The hours went by, the vehicle in the bottom if the valley got smaller and smaller, just not fast enough. There was no way we could make the top before darkness. We had found no area of flat ground bigger then your stance as the afternoon slowly turned to evening and darkness would soon follow. We had to find a place to bed for the night, never mind setting up a tarp or tents, there was just no foot print big enough to do it. Everything completely around us was sloped steep enough to send a skier shooting out of a gate. Finally we found a sloped patch, that offered a spot for the three of us to lay in our bags, no tent, no tarp, just ropes lashed back and forth across us to help us keep our selves from slipping into the drainage. Crazy. Brutal, what a sleepless night. The only good thing, a shorter night, as it was early Septemper and morning finally came and we could again begin our assault on the steep grade that remained to the top of Goat range.
Finally, making the top, the views and reward of the surrounding peaks was priceless and worth every bit of sweat, aches and pains to reach what would be our hunting area for a few days. We had learned some tough lessons. Research your route, preseason scouting, and finally, don't over pack. We were rookies, all of us. Two stoves, two tents, to much food, the list went on. Our own fault, we would keep this in mind for the future. We hiked to several glassing points over the next few days and learned we had limited access to the ranges that linked together around us. Dam, shame on us, where we hiked up, where we set up, held no Billys, no Goats for that matter. We glassed several Goats, some groups and yes some lone Billys. They were all on distant ridges we could not access safely or in the time we had to be successful in bagging our first Bills. We would have to return, another time. Another year.
Entering the draw the following year, again we were successful and our plans a little more refined. Not being experts but having tried once with some tough lessons we set out yet again, this time from different access and a couple valleys over from our initial try. New logging roads and a little higher access gave us a better approach through cut blocks. We talked to some very informative loggers also in the area, they let us know another Hunter had headed up the day before and was also parked where we left our vehicle. We gave them our information and parked the truck in the highest best route to the Goat range. Beside the other 4x4.
Packs on our backs, we set out, some 15 to 20 pounds lighter then previously, we had one stove, no tent just plastic and started the still tough grind into Goat country. Hours later after again the hanging alders and sharp Devils club limited our speed and accent of the steep grades As we broke from the big timber into the the more open slopes, cliffs and ledges, we just knew, this was better range for our quarry. We knew full well on these and the slopes mountains behind, this was where we had seen the good numbers of several Goats from the year before.
It was the last day of August and the heat of the day chipped away at our water supply. We needed to find a water source. We had passed no creeks or chutes that held water, we need to get to the tops, or at least nearby for the built up snow packs our alpine pot holes that held water. Breaking over the top, we located a snow pack that had a draining cone near its base but had to crawl some under it to access it and slowly filled our water bottles and collapsible container for our water the next number of days.
As we walked a ridge line being carful not to skyline ourselves, we glassed the haunts where we expected to see Goats. Looking down one long open south facing slope, we spotted a lone tent at the timbers edge to the alpine. It Must have been the owners of the truck at the clear out we had seen. We looked for him but didn't know where he was as there was no one around the tent. We crept up upon the knife edged Ridgeline glassing as terrific Goat range came into view, ever increasing our views, we spotted a dandy lone Billy. The big Bill fed slowly across the steep grade and we marvelled at the magestic creature. For us both it was our first look at a Mountain Goat within 300 yards. Wow what a sight to see. As we just sat and enjoyed the moment at hand, filling our bellies with fresh cool water, suddenly the loud crack of a shot broke the silence and the Billy tumbled down the slope coming to a stop in the slide of boulders. WTF! It was August 31st and the Goats were still closed! We couldn't believe it. Dude must have been hidden, somewhere in the boulders not far from us. We quickly made sure we could not be seen and watched pissed off as the poacher made his way to the mature Billy. We remained hidden, for the time being.
The proven poacher made his way down the steep grade, positioned the Billy, took several pics and sat and picked his nose for the next half hour ...... Yes that went into our report too.lol. Well much to our surprise, he didn't even dress the Goat, he didn't remove quarters, nothing. He started up the grade towards us unaware he was watched the entire time. It would take him a while to reach the top so buddy and I threw on our packs and made our way quickly part down the hill to look like we were just coming up. As the poacher broke the Ridgeline he was very surprised to see he had company, and witnesses he didn't know about. We were choked and it was hard to not just loose it on this guy, not only had he shot out of season, but made no effort to retrieve or preserve the meat.
We introduced ourselves, exchanged names and chatted a bit as he was completely oblivious to us watching his every move. We noted his clothing, his gun, his pack ....... And shortly after our little visit, we split up and penned down the info we noted from the poacher. We wanted him caught. It was late afternoon, and opening day was tomorrow. We set up a quick overnight camp, knowing full well we would give up the hunt to get this guy nabbed.
Shortly after daybreak and a small breakfast, we made our way back to the ridge high above the poached Billy. There he lay, complete carcass. Full hide, head and hooves removed, no meat. WTF! We made our way down to the big Billy, took several pics, took out a sample of meat and small portion of hair he had missed. We would do all we could to get this jerk caught . Our hunt was over, for another year.
We made our way off the mountain, got his plate number from the loggers and made our way to the closest town.
Calling and finally meeting up with the local CO, we handed over film, the sample and both made lengthy reports in all efforts to try to make sure this guy would get charged.
It worked, later we were informed that through mandatory inspection, and many tough to answer questions, he was charged and convicted. He said the goat had tumbled several hundred feet and spoiled the meat, strange, why was the hide not pulverized? Gun confiscated, Goat hide forfeited, fined several hundred dollars, no hunting for a year. The gun was returned to him after fines paid and believe it or not he actually got another LEH for the same species and area as soon as he was qualified, which I think is completely wrong. If you poach, you should not be allowed to ever hunt that animal again. IMO
As said, this was some time ago, and luck would have it that with the tough access, and decent numbers at the time, buddy and I would draw LEH permits both again. Right on another chance at these magnificent animals. We would be returning , a little more educated, more prepared, more determined then ever to be successful.
Once again, we headed into the magestic ranges that the Mountain Goats called home. After changing our approach and access yet again, to give us more options we pulled, pushed and dragged our sorry back sides up the hills and into the slopes, slides, and rocky out crops common in goat range. We were focused on returning with a decent Billy, maybe even two if we worked hard enough.
Setting up a camp at timberline on a ridge that would give us access to a T like range would give us the best opportunity so far compared to the two previous attempts. At daybreak, we drew straws, actually grass shoots to see who had first chance. Buddy won, no matter who spotted what, he had first shot. We had done this before and liked the competition and suspense it would bring haha.
We set out in different directions. It was opening day. Maybe our hard work would pay off. I set up high on a peak near 8600 feet glassing numerous possible hiding spots while buddy glassed another area and view not far away. After a couple hours, tired from the hike in, and with spotters eye, I fell asleep beside an eagles nest with the warmth of the sun energizing my broken achey body. As I awoke, I stretched a bit, waved to buddy several hundred yards away. Looking back I spotted a big white blob making its way across on open flat basin at the base of knarly cliffs. Swinging around the spotting scope, I was blown away to see a beauty of a Goat stop and start dusting up a bed that he made him self comfy in. The game was on! I bound my way across the ridge to show my hunting partner what I was pretty sure was a big Billy. After, further glassing, we confirmed, nice heavy bases, close together, slow arched curved horns and the tell tale scent glands of a male. We checked our wind, glassed him a while longer, and made our plan for buddy to take a shot. This took a couple hours as we had to be careful not to expose our selves and blow the stock. Areas were down right dangerous for human passage, but we picked our way through the boulders, the cliffs and slide above and to the south of where the Billy still rest. Wow. We got within a couple hundred yards when he finally got up to feed and slipped over a cut ridge between us. He was hidden, for the time being. As the shooter quickly charged the ridge as to not get caught in the open, the Bill had moved some uphill towards the cliffs. He was only about 50 yards when my bud took his rest, and let the 7mm mag go drilling the Goat through the shoulders, he stumbled and stepped but remained on his feet, turning the opposite side, he was hammered again through the shoulders and collapsed.
Wow, what a feeling. The respect and sheer awe of this monarch of the mountains was unparalleled to any animal either of us had harvested prior to this. We were blown away at the size, the bulk, the sturdiness of the animal. Lots of celebration, pics, and sharing our success together made this a special moment for the two of us. It was incredible to say the least, the best share together of both our hunting efforts.
More to come, long story, got to get some work done.
With the Billy down near 5 pm, we needed to work quickly to completely debone the critter, and skin him out as this was a Billy my partner wanted to have lasting memories of. We stuffed our packs with the quarters, neck, flanks and back straps, along with the head and hide. Darkness soon fell upon us, and things went black. We started our climb out of the northern facing slope toward camp. Using our mini mag lites was tough, as they were only a small beam of light where ever you pointed, no such thing as head lamps or LEDs in those days. We were so fortunate to have clear skies though, which once the moon rose high enough provided tremendous light to travel right along the ridgelines. The only time we need the lights again was where darness of shadows hid our step zones, carefully we treked along. Hours went by and we finally found our markers on the ridge near camp. It was near midnight. Elated but exhausted, we started a fire, and ate a make shift dinner ..... Including Billy Ca Bob on a stick from a few pieces of tenderloins ...... Nothing tender about thus ol boys meat. Wow was that some tuff stuff lol. We hung the meat high in the big timber below us to take advantage of the wind that blew rarely constant on the ridge. We opened the cape as much as possible to help cool as quickly as we could and hit the sack. A much well earned rewarding sleep was in order. We had work to do in the morning, which would come all too soon.
With sunrise creeping over the hill, coffee was warmed over a morning fire along with porridge, and granola. Just not enough of any if it of coarse. We wanted to completely cape, flesh and split the lips to give what salt we had with us a chance to work and preserve the much deserved trophy. We took our time, did a good job, checked the cooled meat and discussed our next plan of attack to try for a second Billy. We had we figured we had two days max with the warm temps during mid day to try to get it done as to not loose any meat or cause slipping of the hair on the hide.
Setting out out towards where we harvested the first Goat, we glassed a few groups of Nannies and Kids in the more gentle, if you can call it that mountain side. Where these beasts call home is truly amazing! Just how they survive navigating this kind of country is remarkable. We watch, in amazement as some times they would appear to get them selves into areas of no return, only to somewhat stand straight up on the cliff edges and turn around in the direction from what they came. Unbelievable. We pushed on glassing, searching for another big Goat, another Billy.
As we neared the T Ridgeline intersection again, to travel north or south, Buddy pointed to the base of a slide, far below us, near the head water of what would turn into a creek further down the mountain. As we strained through the spotting scope to try to ID the Goat, he turned and walked directly towards us but far far down. We confirmed, it was another male and a decent Billy, certainly for my first Billy.
My my partner would remain high on the ridge where we spotted said Billy. He may be able to use his hands to signal me should the Goat travel in an area I couldn't see him. I started my decent into a beautiful basin surrounded on three sides by steep cliffs bluffs and the slide, to where the Billy was at the bottom of the last time I saw him. Now I must admit, I'm no mountain climber, and not the most confident in this type of terrain but I remained determined to get closer, to find the Goat and hopefully fill my tag. As I neared the Ridgeline between where I thought the Billy was I crept closer, peaking over the top, nothing ...... Creeping again closer, nothing ....... He had disappeared, or so it seemed. I backed off and quickly paced up the basin towards a steep steep draw to view in the rocky cliffs. Surely he must be there and has winded me. I scanned the cliff face and draw assuming he had some how got above me. Nothing. Dam he's gone! I raced down the slope careful not to put myself in view of where I thought could be the only place for him. Sure enough, there he lay, in the sand, just out of where water would begin to flow out of the slid, oblivious to the danger high directly above him.