chuckwellington
AH member
What: Rocky Mountain Bighorn Sheep
When: September 2024
Outfitter: Idaho Wilderness Company (Steve Zettel)
When I drew the tag, my first instinct was to DIY it. I quickly got over that and have no regrets. I highly recommend Steve and his crew. Between him and Adam, there was probably over sixty years of experience in that region. His guides are great, personable, and work hard. Stock is healthy and their system is dialed. The kind of outfit where you show up ready and keep a good attitude and you'll have a great time.
The trip out went smooth as can be expected. I packed knives, ammo, and anything else that had to be checked in my rifle case. Everything else went into my frame pack as my carry-on. Luckily, my pack frame isn’t bulky and the bag cinches down pretty tight.
Flying into Salt Lake City and renting a car was the most convenient and economical way for me. The drive gave me a chance to see the landscape. Along the way, I made quick detours through Craters of the Moon and Atomic City.
The next day started early at the airfield. Despite forest fires creating visibility issues in portions of the range, we took off on time. Smoke definitely was present and we made a couple turns through the valleys to our destination. I never felt uneasy or feared that we would have to turn back.
After repacking our gear, Adam and I struck out for our first camp with our two saddle horses and three pack animals. The ride was about three hours up. After climbing for a bit, the trail hit a ridgeline and leveled out somewhat. Steve and Jess were about a half hour behind with the rest of camp and more stock.
Upon arriving at the site, we unloaded, tied the stock, and headed out to glass for the last few hours of light. It was early afternoon and I was officially sheep hunting. None were spotted except for one lamb/ewe group. Afterward, we came back to a fully built camp consisting of a wall tent for cooking and hanging out and individual tents for sleeping. Quite the adventure for day one.
The next day, Adam and I heard several cracks and thuds that sounded like rams butting heads. We glassed until our eyeballs were about to fuse to the glass but could not turn up any sheep. We made the decision to move camp to a spot that hadn’t been hunted in three years. Adam, Steve, and I would take a lighter camp and four packers while Jess returned to tend to some fishing clients.
After nine dusty hours, we arrived. While Steve set up camp, Adam and I lead the whole circus down to a spring some distance below us. We stuck a pipe in the ground to refill our bottles and dug a makeshift trough for the animals. The move paid off. Late in the day, we spotted several rams in at least two groups on the opposite mountain. We put them to bed, cooked supper, prepared for the next day.
The plan was to hike back down the trail, off the mountain, and up the other side into a position above the rams. We had a signal, a game bag on a prominent rock, for whether or not the rams were still in play. The trek was supposed to take two and half hours but as we picked our way through the timber, we spotted something incredible.
Another larger band of rams down low on the other side in a landslide. They were bedded and hadn’t spotted us so we had ample time to survey them. There were also two respectable rams but they didn’t match the ones we were stalking. Though we could have gone after them, we decided to keep our eye on the prize.
Getting around these rams required sidehilling further away from our destination. A couple hours later than planned, we arrived at our vantage point where we could see back toward camp. The ram we were after was in the same neighborhood we left him as indicated by our signal. Steve couldn’t even see the second group from his vantage point. We were only about 400 yards away and began the final approach.
Five hours after leaving camp, we located the group in a small bowl. So we dropped our packs and climbed a rock pile directly above the group. The group was scattered in front of us from 150 to 200 yards and our target ram briefly showed himself in the open before we could set up. He fed into some thick growth and out of sight. The waiting game commenced.
Very carefully and extremely slowly I moved to behind another rock. Using my bino harness on the rock as a rest, I was able to lay back to keep the pressure off my back while keeping my rifle on the rock. All I had to do was sit up and be ready to rock. At this point, we’d been waiting for a couple hours. The extra time allowed us opportunities to slowly move all the ass-pain rocks until we were fairly comfortable. My mind started to wander to my water bottle at the bottom of the pile behind us. Ants crawled all over us and one felt like it was burrowing into the back of my neck.
The sun slowly moved across the sky as every ram in that group gave us an opportunity. Every ram except the #1. Even #2 bedded in full view. But we already decided that we were holding out for the big one.
Everyone moved beds at some point. A small ram bedded in front of our target before moving beds twice. Again placing himself in the way. Number one, however, only turned around in his own bed. He was snoozing contentedly near a large rock only feet away from a wide open space. All we could see was his hindquarter.
The shot was roughly 180 yards sitting supported at a healthy downward angle. Because this was exactly the scenario I envisioned in most of my practice, I was totally confident. A little shaky, I calmed my nerves. The crosshairs floated over his vitals as I squeezed the trigger. The shot broke. Adam didn’t see the sheep and I didn’t see the impact. Just as the trigger broke I noticed another sheep in the top of my scope. Dread poured over me. Had I shot the wrong ram?
Eventually, the band reformed. We counted and recounted. Seven or eight times we each came up one short and the best ram that we could now see was the chocolate colored #2. I’m confident I shot the right one. But where is he?
After a while, I decided to go back and find the actual hit site and located a stump with a suspicious mark in it. Like bullet hole suspicious. I’m still not sure if it actually was a bullet but it lined up with the rest of my landmarks so I started sweeping uphill. Head down to look for blood. Up for sheep. Down for blood. Up for–
There he was. Laying on his side. Nose to the sky. That beautiful curl glowing in the evening light against the deadfall. He hadn’t gone three steps. We had been off on our original search by only a few yards.
As I walked up to him every emotion imaginable went through me. There’s the normal excitement of accomplishment mixed with the guilt of taking a life. There was also the relief of finding the animal and that it was a quick death. An interstate move, career change, and my grandfather being in the hospital all had weighed on me in the preceding weeks.
Multiply all that by 10x because this was a literal once-in-a-lifetime moment.
As I approached, I dropped to one knee right next to him and everything just kind of fell silent. I short circuited for a moment, unable to think. I lifted his head and felt the weight of those horns.
As we got closer to the bottom, the vegetation became thicker and more annoying. Because we had a steep climb ahead and the creek bottom was downright cold and was sure to keep the meat from spoiling, we opted to store the loads there and come back with stock.
The first 3/4 of the way up were as steep as anything we’d been on and with only my headlamp to guide me, I seemed to find only the worst routes through the deadfall. With every step, I slid back six inches in the loose dirt.
It was about this time that the day started to catch up with me and my quads started to cramp with every step. The only way to keep one from locking up was to take another step. That vicious cycle continued for a while.
The last few hundred yards were less steep but I’d begun to feel like I’d left one of the meat sacks in my pack. It was one of those mind over matter moments where you keep pushing because you have no other choice.
I will say that the stars that night were dazzling. The sky was so clear that I got lost looking for constellations I normally could find on instinct.
At 2am, just under 18 hours after leaving camp, we staggered back in. Steve heated us up some Mountain House and we recounted the hunt from all three perspectives. It was difficult to sleep right away because of the excitement of our success. We spotted a singular sheep that morning. Through all the time, hardships, and distractions we stayed true to taking that one ram.
The next day, we packed up and moved back to base camp. The descent was dusty and smoke had blown back in. I couldn’t see my feet nor the opposite ridge because of the dust and haze.
I spent the next few days enjoying the wilderness. We moved base camp higher up in preparation for the upcoming elk and deer seasons. I rode and hiked a lot of miles searching for bears and fishing the creeks and caught several cutthroat trout and salmon smolt. One of the trout was every bit of 15 inches and a few more were also in the double digits. Though mostly uneventful, it was one of my favorite portions of the trip.
All in all, I could not have asked for a better hunt. This was truly a once in several lifetimes type of experience in a place that is so incredibly special. I’ll remember the smell of the dust and sound of wind over the ridgetops every time I look at my ram’s skull.
When: September 2024
Outfitter: Idaho Wilderness Company (Steve Zettel)
When I drew the tag, my first instinct was to DIY it. I quickly got over that and have no regrets. I highly recommend Steve and his crew. Between him and Adam, there was probably over sixty years of experience in that region. His guides are great, personable, and work hard. Stock is healthy and their system is dialed. The kind of outfit where you show up ready and keep a good attitude and you'll have a great time.
The trip out went smooth as can be expected. I packed knives, ammo, and anything else that had to be checked in my rifle case. Everything else went into my frame pack as my carry-on. Luckily, my pack frame isn’t bulky and the bag cinches down pretty tight.
Flying into Salt Lake City and renting a car was the most convenient and economical way for me. The drive gave me a chance to see the landscape. Along the way, I made quick detours through Craters of the Moon and Atomic City.
The next day started early at the airfield. Despite forest fires creating visibility issues in portions of the range, we took off on time. Smoke definitely was present and we made a couple turns through the valleys to our destination. I never felt uneasy or feared that we would have to turn back.
On the Ground
We (outfitter Steve, his wife Jess, and myself) touched down on the dirt strip and unloaded. The prop noise died and a silence took over. No clanking of machines or buzzing of people. Just a nearby stream and the wind. We were joined by my guide, Adam, and at least a dozen horses and mules. I met my ride, a chocolate colored gelding named Elvis. He had a long, showy mane and a crush on a mare named Pink.After repacking our gear, Adam and I struck out for our first camp with our two saddle horses and three pack animals. The ride was about three hours up. After climbing for a bit, the trail hit a ridgeline and leveled out somewhat. Steve and Jess were about a half hour behind with the rest of camp and more stock.
Upon arriving at the site, we unloaded, tied the stock, and headed out to glass for the last few hours of light. It was early afternoon and I was officially sheep hunting. None were spotted except for one lamb/ewe group. Afterward, we came back to a fully built camp consisting of a wall tent for cooking and hanging out and individual tents for sleeping. Quite the adventure for day one.
The next day, Adam and I heard several cracks and thuds that sounded like rams butting heads. We glassed until our eyeballs were about to fuse to the glass but could not turn up any sheep. We made the decision to move camp to a spot that hadn’t been hunted in three years. Adam, Steve, and I would take a lighter camp and four packers while Jess returned to tend to some fishing clients.
Change of Scenery
Next morning, we broke camp and headed down the mountain and up another drainage. The going was steep and hot. We ate lunch in the saddle and only stopped to water the horses near the bottom. Much of the deadfall was already cut, but we still had to dismount several times to lead the animals through particularly complicated terrain. I also managed to break a second set of reins. The horses were tired so we mostly led them the last couple miles. One pack horse missed a step, broke off from the string, and took a short tumble down the hill. After about 10 minutes, it was all sorted. Luckily, no harm to animals, people, or gear.After nine dusty hours, we arrived. While Steve set up camp, Adam and I lead the whole circus down to a spring some distance below us. We stuck a pipe in the ground to refill our bottles and dug a makeshift trough for the animals. The move paid off. Late in the day, we spotted several rams in at least two groups on the opposite mountain. We put them to bed, cooked supper, prepared for the next day.
Showtime
Day four started early. While this camp was hard to get to, the advantage was that we could glass practically from the tents. So I had scrambled eggs and coffee sitting behind my spotter. Almost immediately, we spotted a large band of rams. Possibly a coalition of the two groups we’d seen the evening before. There were two respectable rams and we had our eye on one in particular. He was heavy and carried mass well. They were in a good position for a stalk so Adam and I packed our frame packs with kill kits, lunch, and water and set off on foot at around 8am.The plan was to hike back down the trail, off the mountain, and up the other side into a position above the rams. We had a signal, a game bag on a prominent rock, for whether or not the rams were still in play. The trek was supposed to take two and half hours but as we picked our way through the timber, we spotted something incredible.
Another larger band of rams down low on the other side in a landslide. They were bedded and hadn’t spotted us so we had ample time to survey them. There were also two respectable rams but they didn’t match the ones we were stalking. Though we could have gone after them, we decided to keep our eye on the prize.
Getting around these rams required sidehilling further away from our destination. A couple hours later than planned, we arrived at our vantage point where we could see back toward camp. The ram we were after was in the same neighborhood we left him as indicated by our signal. Steve couldn’t even see the second group from his vantage point. We were only about 400 yards away and began the final approach.
Five hours after leaving camp, we located the group in a small bowl. So we dropped our packs and climbed a rock pile directly above the group. The group was scattered in front of us from 150 to 200 yards and our target ram briefly showed himself in the open before we could set up. He fed into some thick growth and out of sight. The waiting game commenced.
Patience Kills
Two small rams kept us from moving into a better position. They eventually ignored us and I attempted to better my position while trying to locate our target ram. Eventually, I was able to find a solid prone position. Our ram was bedded with only horn visible. As the waiting continued, I checked my position and noticed that while my reticle was on the ram, my barrel was directly in line with a rock directly in front of me. SOL if he actually presented a shot.Very carefully and extremely slowly I moved to behind another rock. Using my bino harness on the rock as a rest, I was able to lay back to keep the pressure off my back while keeping my rifle on the rock. All I had to do was sit up and be ready to rock. At this point, we’d been waiting for a couple hours. The extra time allowed us opportunities to slowly move all the ass-pain rocks until we were fairly comfortable. My mind started to wander to my water bottle at the bottom of the pile behind us. Ants crawled all over us and one felt like it was burrowing into the back of my neck.
The sun slowly moved across the sky as every ram in that group gave us an opportunity. Every ram except the #1. Even #2 bedded in full view. But we already decided that we were holding out for the big one.
Everyone moved beds at some point. A small ram bedded in front of our target before moving beds twice. Again placing himself in the way. Number one, however, only turned around in his own bed. He was snoozing contentedly near a large rock only feet away from a wide open space. All we could see was his hindquarter.
Pressure’s On
At about 5pm, four hours after we first got to our rock pile, the big guy stood up. Now all he needed to do was take three steps to the right and he’d be in plain view. However, he turned and walked straight away. At the same time, several others started milling about so I tracked him in the scope through the deadfall interspersed with green brush. Then I blinked. Literally blinked and refocused and there he stood. Adam and I were in constant communication keeping track of who was moving where. But from his position three feet to my left, he couldn’t see the ram. At some point during the belly crawling phase, my magazine catch caught on a rock. Because I was unable to silently reinsert the magazine, this turned into a true one shot scenario.The shot was roughly 180 yards sitting supported at a healthy downward angle. Because this was exactly the scenario I envisioned in most of my practice, I was totally confident. A little shaky, I calmed my nerves. The crosshairs floated over his vitals as I squeezed the trigger. The shot broke. Adam didn’t see the sheep and I didn’t see the impact. Just as the trigger broke I noticed another sheep in the top of my scope. Dread poured over me. Had I shot the wrong ram?
Eventually, the band reformed. We counted and recounted. Seven or eight times we each came up one short and the best ram that we could now see was the chocolate colored #2. I’m confident I shot the right one. But where is he?
The Suspense Continues
Adam descended down into the scrubby mess while I wheeled around the top in case the ram ran out. No joy. No blood. Nothing.After a while, I decided to go back and find the actual hit site and located a stump with a suspicious mark in it. Like bullet hole suspicious. I’m still not sure if it actually was a bullet but it lined up with the rest of my landmarks so I started sweeping uphill. Head down to look for blood. Up for sheep. Down for blood. Up for–
There he was. Laying on his side. Nose to the sky. That beautiful curl glowing in the evening light against the deadfall. He hadn’t gone three steps. We had been off on our original search by only a few yards.
As I walked up to him every emotion imaginable went through me. There’s the normal excitement of accomplishment mixed with the guilt of taking a life. There was also the relief of finding the animal and that it was a quick death. An interstate move, career change, and my grandfather being in the hospital all had weighed on me in the preceding weeks.
Multiply all that by 10x because this was a literal once-in-a-lifetime moment.
As I approached, I dropped to one knee right next to him and everything just kind of fell silent. I short circuited for a moment, unable to think. I lifted his head and felt the weight of those horns.
The Aftermath
Adam came along shortly. We exchanged high fives and took photos. Then the cutting commenced. Eventually, we loaded the shoulder cut cape, the skull, and all the meat into our packs and stepped off. By now it was nearly 10pm and too late for horses to come to our aid. Our plan was to head almost straight down and then back up. This was be a loss of 800-900 feet of elevation before a gain of 1400-1500. Though my pack probably weighed right at 80 pounds, navigating deadfall in the dark was the most difficult part of the descent.As we got closer to the bottom, the vegetation became thicker and more annoying. Because we had a steep climb ahead and the creek bottom was downright cold and was sure to keep the meat from spoiling, we opted to store the loads there and come back with stock.
The first 3/4 of the way up were as steep as anything we’d been on and with only my headlamp to guide me, I seemed to find only the worst routes through the deadfall. With every step, I slid back six inches in the loose dirt.
It was about this time that the day started to catch up with me and my quads started to cramp with every step. The only way to keep one from locking up was to take another step. That vicious cycle continued for a while.
The last few hundred yards were less steep but I’d begun to feel like I’d left one of the meat sacks in my pack. It was one of those mind over matter moments where you keep pushing because you have no other choice.
I will say that the stars that night were dazzling. The sky was so clear that I got lost looking for constellations I normally could find on instinct.
At 2am, just under 18 hours after leaving camp, we staggered back in. Steve heated us up some Mountain House and we recounted the hunt from all three perspectives. It was difficult to sleep right away because of the excitement of our success. We spotted a singular sheep that morning. Through all the time, hardships, and distractions we stayed true to taking that one ram.
Pressure’s Off
We spent the next day recovering, retrieving meat, and being lazy. My ram rough scored just a hair over 180″. An exceptional specimen for this area and absolutely perfect to me. That night, we had fire roasted sheep ribs.The next day, we packed up and moved back to base camp. The descent was dusty and smoke had blown back in. I couldn’t see my feet nor the opposite ridge because of the dust and haze.
I spent the next few days enjoying the wilderness. We moved base camp higher up in preparation for the upcoming elk and deer seasons. I rode and hiked a lot of miles searching for bears and fishing the creeks and caught several cutthroat trout and salmon smolt. One of the trout was every bit of 15 inches and a few more were also in the double digits. Though mostly uneventful, it was one of my favorite portions of the trip.
All in all, I could not have asked for a better hunt. This was truly a once in several lifetimes type of experience in a place that is so incredibly special. I’ll remember the smell of the dust and sound of wind over the ridgetops every time I look at my ram’s skull.
