Sleep during our first night was intermittent and restless at best. A fall storm howled throughout the night, bringing fierce winds and icy precipitation. Every time I awoke with one part or another of my body aching and screaming for repositioning, the storm forced thoughts of doubt into my mind. I thought , "surely we didn't get this far just to spend our trip in the tent out of the elements". I've heard horror stories of hunts gone bad before, where the unfortunate hunters saw no sign of the mountain, let alone their prey. Alaska's weather has a way of foiling even the best of plans. When we awoke, one peak out the tent revealed this to us. Snow. The picture below is looking up towards the mountain. We made breakfast and waited patiently for a break in the weather.
This is a short video clip of the wind that thrashed our tent through the night. It was taken in the morning while we prepared breakfast.
Around nine o'clock, I realized that not only had the wind died, but the sound of sleet tapping against our tent had stopped. Herm looked out the door and sure enough, the sky had dried up and the clouds were breaking. We decided to make a run for the mountain. A goat could be just an hours hike away. Only one way to find out. The terrain up top was rocky and lightly covered in snow. We decided to clear the east side of the mountain first as it was mostly cliffs according to the topo map. It didn't take much glass time to clear the area of goats, so we headed to the west side.
We cleared ridge line after ridge line, approaching each with as much stealth as we could muster in the slick, unpredictable moraine. Eventually, our persistence paid off. I approached this ridge and slowly peaked over the craggy top and saw close to a dozen goats bedded down in the shadows below. They were barely discernible against the snowy back ground. I called to Herm and made a devil horn sign to him. His expression was that of a ten year old at the naked lady booth at a carnival. We saw more on the ridge line below us. You can barely see one sky-lined mid way on the ridge in the picture. To our dismay, at least one was looking up at us. One thing I've read and experienced with sheep and now goats, is if you get above them, they are more curious than alarmed. Threat for them comes from below, and this was going to be their undoing.
But we weren't close enough for a shot, and our potential undoing looks like this. The only way down is through this skree and moraine filled shoot. We patiently picked our way down the slope. Herm took the lead, occasionally stepping out of the way so I could descend and not risk hitting him with the rocks that I may knock loose, or my self should I fall. While I paused for him to descend, I took this picture.
We finally got into position to shoot, their were 5 goats on the ridge. Four adults and one kid. Alaska law states you can't kill a kid or a nanny with a kid. Their are ways to discern a billie from a nanny, but they are subtle and unless you can lift their leg, it's not certain. Fortunately, the nanny had enough of watching us creep to with in 140 yards, and she got up, taking her kid with her. This put targets on the remaining three. Herm's gun rang out and a huge nannie dropped in her tracks and began rolling down the grassy slope. Confusion ran amok amongst the remaining two, I quickly set my sights on one and we had two goats down. It was 3 p.m. Sunset was at 7:45, we had two goats to clean, and camp was a rugged four miles away. Time was not on our side.
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