Success Times Two
(Dall Sheep hunt story)
By J. P. Owen Jr.
In March of 1982 my good friend J. O. Richard and I were sitting in my den visiting when I mentioned that I was interested in making a hunt for Dall Sheep. He told me that his Alaska Outfitter, Larry Rivers and his brother were in Lafayette, Louisiana, my hometown, and that he would arrange an appointment with them if I wished. I expressed a desire to do so and arrangements were made to meet the following morning.
The following day, over coffee, my wife and I were introduced to Larry and his brother, Rick. We discussed hunting and looked at pictures from his different areas. We liked what we heard and after listening to J.O.'s story of his hunt from the year before, we wrote Larry a check to confirm our hunt for the coming August.
My wife Lessleen and I have been avid hunting partners for the past 37 years. We have hunted together in Africa, South America, Spain, Portugal, Honduras and many times in Mexico, as well as across the U.S. Having been in all of the United States except Alaska, we eagerly planned this trip, deciding to tour the state about 10 days prior to the hunt. We flew to Anchorage on July 31st, starting our tour which carried us across the south central coastal part of the state, then up toward Fairbanks, with a stop over in Denali National Park, where we saw Mt. McKinley, along with beautiful scenery and abundant wildlife.
Arriving in Fairbanks, we picked up our hunting luggage,1 which we had sent in advance, and checked into our hotel. There we met John Turnbull and Bob Priest, of Oregon, who would also be on this hunt. The following morning we caught our flight out of Fairbanks on an Arctic Circle air service flight to Fort Yukon. About an hour later we caught our first look at "The Fort", located on the northern bank of the Yukon River, at its northern most point, about 8 miles above the Arctic Circle. Here we were to change planes, transferring our gear to a Cessna 207 for the last leg across the Yukon Flats and into the Brooks Range, about 320 miles north of Fairbanks. In Fort Yukon Larry Rivers and his family met us. They returning in his Cessna 206, from a trip to Fairbanks, where they had picked up additional supplies. As it turned out, bears had broken into their cache of supplies and so nearly everything had to be replaced. Departing Fort Yukon together, we flew north for another hour before setting up for landing at Larry’s main camp strip on the Chandalar River. This "strip" is an 1100’ stretch of gravel bar located on the riverbank beside camp. Meeting us in camp were Mike McCrary and Hawk Greenway, who were to guide and assist us throughout the hunt. Larry’s wife Naomi was soon at work in the cook tent and had a delicious dinner prepared. After supper and over a hot cup of camp coffee, we discussed the coming hunt. During the course of the conversation it developed that Hawk and I were second cousins! You can imagine my surprise at being introduced to a cousin 50 miles south of the Arctic Ocean in a remote hunting camp! It was certainly exciting.
The following morning Larry set about moving our spike camps out by air, while Lessleen went fishing with his son, Shane and his friend, Robert Sheldon. They caught a nice string of grayling and I was soon removing my gear from the super-cub in preparation for the first part of my hunt. When I arrived in spike camp, about 15 miles out from main camp, Mike had already set up camp and spotted a band of sheep on the mountain off to the west of our camp. Larry was soon off to move additional camps and we were left to discuss our plan of attack. Alaska regulations do not allow you to shoot game until after 3 a.m. following any day in which you are airborne. However, there was nothing to prevent us from using up some of the distance between us and the sheep during that period, so we lightened our packs for the climb and set off about 8 p.m. Since this was early August, it did not get completely dark at night and we were able to set a comfortable pace.
We climbed until 11 p.m. at which time we were on a ridge below our sheep and about a quarter of a mile away. Not wanting to take a chance in getting closer, we sat down, hoping to catch a little sleep. I did not rest well at first, as I was damp from the effort of climbing and so got chilled. However, after Mike wrapped a space blanket around me I was able to catch some sleep, while he monitored the sheep through his binoculars. At 2:30 a.m. we decided to get underway and began the climb necessary to get above them. The going was rocky and tiring, but the sheep ahead made the impossible, possible. While climbing we saw 4 excellent bull caribou grazing on the tundra below us, but they were secondary to the sheep at this point and we passed them up. At about 5 a.m. we were closing in on the sheep and spent about another 30 minutes getting into a favorable position for a shot. As we glassed the sheep, from about 300 yards, we were able to pick out 5 or 6 legal rams. Mike identified the ram with the best curl, about 39" in his estimation. As I tried to locate a good rest, the sheep sensed we were there and became nervous. I no longer had time to look for a rest and had to settle for a shot from sitting position. I was exhausted from the climb and breathing hard. That ram was all over the scope. Needless to say, I missed the shot and the two that followed. It made me sick to see that ram run out of sight and to think of all that climbing for nothing. We had climbed from 2500 feet to about 5500 or 6000 feet and now had nothing to do except set off for another mountain in search of other sheep.
The descent down the mountain was uneventful until we were about 200 feet above the stream level. There we stopped to rest, looking across the stream at the black shale covered cliff. In contrast to our slope, which was covered in vegetation, the opposite slope did not have a blade of grass on it. As I gazed at the mountain, a dirty spot of white caught my eye. I pointed it out to Mike and he quickly identified it as another ram. At this point I did not want to shoot, as I was so tired I was afraid I would not be able to hit him. Mike directed me to sit and rest while he moved across the slope for a better look and possible improvement in position. I sat and watched him move carefully across the hill. In a few minutes he motioned for me to follow, which I carefully did. He told me that the ram had a nice curl and would indeed make a nice trophy. After looking at him, I decided that I would go ahead and try for the ram, as there was a boulder about 30 yards closer that I could use for a rest. I moved very slowly into position where I could rest my rifle on the rock. Estimating the distance to again be over 300 years, I held my aim high on his shoulder and squeezed off a shot. Even at that range I could hear the impact. The ram turned slowly and then fell about 100 feet down the cliff, nearly into the creek, and out of sight. My heart was pounding. We moved quickly down the hill until we could see the sheep. He was dead, lying against a shrub of a bush near the bottom of the canyon. Mike waded across the stream and recovered my trophy. We took pictures and caped it out. Leaving the meat to cool, we packed the head and cape the half mile down stream to our camp. It was now about 8:30 a.m. and we were exhausted, we laid down for a rest, after which Mike returned and packed in the sheep. We were so tired that we did not eat that night. I slept for 13 hours.
We spent the next day in and around camp. We glassed a lot and saw wolf, caribou, sheep and eagles. The temperature in the day was in the 40’s to 60’s and it dropped to about 30 degrees at night. That evening Larry flew in to check on our progress and deciding we could do better for caribou in another area, we packed up and flew back to main camp. The following morning we had sheep back strap and French toast for breakfast. It was excellent, as were all the meals that Naomi prepared in main camp. Later that same afternoon, Mike and Larry flew out and set up a camp high on a mountain ridge, overlooking about 3 or 4 miles of valley containing grazing caribou. Larry flew me out a short time later. Mike and I arranged camp and turned in. About 4 a.m., the following morning, we broke camp and moved our equipment down to a flat spot where Larry was to pick us up when he returned. He had not landed us there originally, as the caribou were actually on the strip at the time we flew in. In this high valley we traveled down and parallel to the stream. The walking was much easier here and we were able to move much more quickly.
We had walked about 2 miles when we spotted several caribou coming over a ridge toward us. They were about 1500 feet away and were intent on grazing. We crept down a draw and climbed a rocky outcrop, where we waited about an hour. Finally a total of 16 bulls came into view, feeding in our direction. Eventually they moved into range and selecting the one I liked best, I fired. The 165 gr. Nosler, fired from a 7mm. Ruger #1 Sporter, hit him solid in the shoulder and dropped him. The range was about 110 yards. We took a lot of pictures and Mike performed the customary surgery. I took part of the load and he packed the head, cape, and meat the two miles back to spike camp. This fine caribou had a double shovel and 30 points. It is indeed a respectful trophy. While Mike was working on the cape, two more bulls, with even larger racks, walked within easy shooting range of us. Mike had previously told me that this could happen. Knowing the number of caribou in the area, Larry decided to check on us that evening, thinking correctly that we would probably be done. The weather at this altitude (6000’) was rapidly deteriorating and we were happy to fly back into main camp. Back in camp we met John Turnbull and Bob Priest, who had returned from their hunt further up the valley. Both of them had been successful on sheep, John taking a fine 39" Dall and Bob with a heavy-based 38" ram. Bob had also taken a nice caribou bull. John had taken a caribou here a couple years previous and elected not to shoot another this year. With everyone successful, we each decided that we had things at home to attend to, so Larry loaded up his 206 and flew us back to Fort Yukon, where we caught a Wien flight back to Fairbanks.
In conclusion: I am 60 years old with a heart condition and high blood pressure. I have been jogging and walking to keep in shape and was able to make this trip without undue physical discomfort. The scenery was beautiful beyond belief, the fellowship excellent. My sweet little wife did not complain about being left in camp, which I really appreciate. Larry Rivers did an excellent job seeing that we were successful in getting our trophies. He is a good outfitter and very safety minded. I highly recommend him and his crew and hope to hunt with him again.
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