I typed this out on my phone twice in the past coupe weeks, but both times I couldn't get it to upload. So I'm going to try to make this short and sweet.

Two years ago, on our annual Thanksgiving hunt on POW Island, Renee mentioned that going after dall sheep was her dream hunt. She was only 10 at the time, but seeing that I have dragged her along on nearly every hunt that I have taken since the time she was a toddler, I figured that a youth sheep hunt would be a fair reward for all of the hardships that she has had to endure to make my hunts possible.

The plan was to land in the Brooks Range several days before the five day youth season to scout the area, then spend the duration of the season getting her on a legal ram. Covid set us back a year when the transporter closed for the 2020 season. So when we landed in Bettles, this hunt was 22 months in the making. The extra time gave Renee a chance to get in a lot more practice with her 257 Roberts(a sweet little M700 mountain rifle, courtesy of Mark and Sadie Young), and to take her first big game animal: a caribou bull that she pole-axed with one shot at 200 yards with the temperature at 20 below. I knew that she was ready when we finally left Fairbanks on July 27th.

After being stuck in Bettles for 5 days due to weather, we finally flew into the mountains with the season half over. To call it frustrating would be an understatement. But all that was forgotten as we flew through some famous peaks and past some unique glaciers that I immediately recognized, having seen them many times in classic books by guys like Bob Marshal and some of my other heros.

The first day we hiked to the mouth of a side valley that we had wanted to hunt. It had been raining for most of a week, so crossing the tundra was even more fun than usual. We found a couple of ram skulls on the tundra just below our spike camp. They were victims of the harsh springs that the Brooks has seen the last couple of years. We were too tired to cook, so a couple of handful of trail mix, and a power bar washed down ice cold creek water and we settled in for the night.

We lived in this area a few years ago when I was teaching in a village. I was amazed to see that the mountains were even taller and more beautiful and the colors more vivid than I remembered. But the thing that struck me the most was how I had forgotten what it was like to sleep on the tundra: natures own memory foam.

On the morning of the second day the fog finally lifted in the main valley, and for the first time we could put the spotting scope to use. We ate breakfast and downed handfuls of blueberries that grew within arms reach of our glassing spot in front of our tent. The side valley that we planned to hunt was still hidden in thick fog, so I decided that we would glass the main valley through the morning instead of heading in blindly.

I knew that the rain swollen river in the main valley was most likely impassible, so there was no point in glassing for sheep on the far side. But a couple of hours into the morning I found myself staring through the scope at a sheep trail on a peak several miles away, high above the river on the far side of the valley. I looked past the trail to a peak that was even further away. I chuckled to myself as my mind played a trick and turned a light colored boulder into a sheep for about the 20th time. I thought about taking a break, as this time my brain was even adding details: this rock appeared to have legs.

It was at this moment that I realized that the rock was moving slowly across the mountain side. "Renee, I see a sheep." As we traded between the spotter and the 10 power binos, the fog hid the sheep several times before he stopped moving and bedded for the morning. It was clear that he was a ram, but there was no way to know if he was legal without getting a lot closer. I knew that the river would present a major obstacle, not to mention the miles of soaked tundra and the thousands of vertical feet of that lay between us. But I was happy to see a sheep, and knowing that we had put our eyes on a ram felt like a minor victory.

I planned to break our spike camp and head into the side valley to look for a more accessible ram. Renee disagreed. I told her that getting to the sheep would take a full day, if we could even get up to him there was no guarantee that he was legal. I made it plain, "trying for that sheep will require a couple of days total. Legal or not, our season will be finished".

She held fast: "We only have two days either way. We should try for him."

It was her hunt, so I allowed her to make the call. We broke camp and headed back up the valley to get out of view of the ram before heading down to the river and trying to find a safe place to cross. I figured that if we couldn't cross tonight, we would camp near the river and try crossing in the morning when the river would be at it's lowest.

I could bore you with the details, but the bottom line is we could not cross the river that night and we spent majority of the next day slogging up river hoping in vain to find a crossing. The day was made memorable by wet feet, bugs and constant discomfort. By the time evening came we were within a mile of the lake where the floatplane had dropped us off two days before. Renee never complained and was still smiling when we made it to some willows that held a clear stream that we could drink from.

I hoped that the clear weather would hold til morning so that we might be able to spend the last day of the season glassing for sheep. A stiff north wind blew up the valley and played hell with our dinner preparations. The only thing that could act as a wind break was the band of stunted willows near the creek where we had fetched water. As we ate dinner, I told Renee that we would have to pitch our tent in the willows near the creek and that we could glass the valley in the morning. I figured that we would spend two nights there so that we could maximize our hunting time before the floatplane returned the day after the season.

As I waited for Renee finished her dinner, I broke out the spotting scope to glass the up the mountain that rose behind us. I wasn't seriously glassing and didn't even get out the tripod, instead I laid prone and rested it across my pack. Renee stood above me with the binoculars.

I was trying fumbling to locate a particular landmark on the mountain when Renee said "Dad BEAR". Her voice was even and I began to ask "where" assuming she had seen a bear on the mountain side. As I formed the word Renee repeated, "Dad BEAR". Immediately I knew that there was a bear very near by.

Renee would later tell me that I seemed to levitate as I went from prone to standing in one motion. The details are somewhat clouded, but I know that I took a couple of steps towards the bear to retrieve my rifle which leaned on a stunted willow on the far side of our stove and backpacks. I had already begun to yell at the bear as I chambered a round and tossed the scope covers to the ground. I never put the saftey on.

The bear stood directly downwind, about 60 yards away at the edge of the willows that lined the creek. It was big, but not huge. Probably a 3 or 4 year old. It twisted up it's nose as as it peered at us, trying to figure out what we were. I could hear my voice, but it sounded far away and very different. Renee later said that she had never heard me sound so big and gruff. I was yelling "HEY BEAR! GET BACK BACK BEAR!"

I found the bear through the scope which was set on 2.5x. The crosshairs were steady, but I could feel every muscle in my backside and legs twitching. I don't know how to put it into words, but there was no fear for the outcome. As soon as I got the cross hairs on the bear, it bunched itself, made a bound, and came for us.

I felt an odd resignation that was something akin to "well ok, so this is happening" but with fewer words. And from there it my focus was on covering the bear as it charged into the open. Something told me to shoot for center mass as soon as the bear broke past a certain point. I would estimate that my line in the sand was about 20 yards in front of us. But the bear stopped half way across the opening. It sat on its ass about 30 yards away and scratched its ear like a dog. It was as though it had forgotten that we were there. I said something like "holy shit!" to Renee, but she didn't reply. I could see that she was right next to me.

Without warning the bear rolled onto its feet and made another bluff charge. This one felt like an obvious bluff and it bounced on its front legs as though it was trying to look intimidating. It stopped at 20 yards then turned to walk away. It moved to the right and I recall seeing the crosshairs directly on its vitals as it walked almost broadside. It was no longer down wind when it stopped and looked directly at our food which laid a few yards to our right. Then it turned its attention to us. I knew that it was going to try to come again.

I felt like I was yelling "HEY BEAR! GET BACK BEAR!" the whole time, but Renee said that at this point I yelled "DON'T DO IT BITCH! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!" And I would have. My finger had already begun to pull the trigger, but the bear stopped the bluff as soon as it had made a single lurch. It looked at us for a second, and for the first time it clacked its teeth. Then it turned to walk away.

It had only gone a few steps when it broke into a run towards the willows as though it thought we might be chasing it. It glanced over its shoulder, then slowed and walked parallel to the creek. When it was about 60 yards away it lowered it's head and began to feed. It moved slowly away and uphill. It was feeding eagerly and had made almost a quarter circle around us. At this point I told Renee to screw the lid on the bear vault, and I wondered where my camera was.

The wind had died suddenly and the mosquitos began to swarm(Renee corrected me. According to her the wind had stopped the moment we saw the bear. She should know as she had a mosquito caught in her eye when the bear first charged). Renee and I exchanged a few words. She looked towards the willows that lined the creek and deadpanned, "Well that nixes THAT camping spot."

The bear was almost about 80 yards away, and slightly above us when it stopped feeding and half rose on its hind feet. It immediately dropped on all fours and made a very obvious bluff, followed by another. Neither brought it closer than about 70 yards. Again I was shouting and waving an arm while trying to keep it in the scope.

For the final time the bear turned and fed into the stunted willows. The bear had appeared mangy when I first saw it, but now I realized that it had a dark undercoat with beautiful silver guard hairs on its head, back and shoulders. I took a few photos and asked Renee if she was scared when the bear had charged. She said "No, I knew that you knew how to handle it, but I kept waiting for you to shoot. I can't stop shaking though, and I think that's why I need to pee." I'm not sure why she felt like I knew how to handle it. After a bit of coaxing she was able to relieve herself. Then I did the same.

We were able to watch it feed away for almost half an hour, before it disappeared into the willows near the creek for the final time. All of my photos of the bear were poor, as were all of the photos I took of the sun setting behind the high peaks. It was an unforgettable sunset.

I loaded our packs and we headed out into the open tundra. We pitched the tent and Renee was fast asleep in minutes. She had several bad dreams during the night but otherwise slept soundly. That far north the sun never fully sets in early August. I was able to witness this first hand...

The adrenaline must not have worn off when we had hiked into the open the night before, because we had a long walk back to the bear vaults in the morning. We found that the bear had returned during the night, scratched and chewed on the containers, crushed my titanium pot and tore up a couple of carry mesh bags. There was still saliva on a few items, but we never saw the bear again.

There were no more sheep and the rest of the trip went smoothly. We were concerned about being caught in an incoming storm. but we got out just in time. We were surprised and pleased when a Beaver landed on the lake to pick us up, instead of the Cessna that we had expected. Renee and I have wanted to fly in a beaver ever since our first trip to Alaska when we watched them on the Nushagak River while fishing with Scott King.

This was the trip of a lifetime, sheep or no sheep. And one that we will always remember.

Renee and I talked sheep and sheep hunting a lot before we left, but while we were out there she caught a case of sheep fever. Now any time she sees a picture of a sheep, or a mount, she is counting rings and judging the curl and mumbling, "yep! Definitely legal!" or "darn, not quite there. Maybe another year...."

I would love to do it again, but the truth is that the sheep in the Brooks Range are in bad shape. During our hunt, an acquaintance who has a ton of sheep hunting experience was hunting with his young daughter about a hundred miles to the East. They only saw 4 sheep during the five days they were out. He said that he has never seen it so bad.

So if anyone has a line on a good transporter in a different range, please drop me a PM. Renee and I are already dreaming of next year.

What a great adventure!

Nothing like hunting with ones children.

Nice telling of your adventure, the good and the bad. THANKS.

Great story. Except for the lack of sheep I'm glad it worked out well for you.

Nicely written. Enjoyed it much!

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Great write up. Thank you ! And well done to you and Renee !

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Excellent!

A great write up on your excellent adventure. You are livng large, my friend.

Did she take the 700 SA youth stock I gave her??
Good story!!

quote:

Originally posted by tsturm:
Did she take the 700 SA youth stock I gave her??
Good story!!

Yes, she has gotten a lot of use out of that stock! Thank you again!

quote:

Originally posted by JBrown:

quote:

Originally posted by tsturm:
Did she take the 700 SA youth stock I gave her??
Good story!!

Yes, she has gotten a lot of use out of that stock! Thank you again!

Wonderful thank you.

Thank you for the well written story, it was nice to meet you and your daughter when I bought some items from you.

That was an excellent read and really bought you into the picture. Tell me was it not worth letting off a shot over its head?

Jason:

Enjoyed the read, nothing like thrills is there?

She'll get her sheep yet. IF you're lucky, you'll
be there then too.

George