Redemption Ram

Ram hunting is a test of endurance, patience, and determination, pushing hunters to their physical and mental limits in some of the most rugged terrain imaginable. This hunt was more than just a pursuit; it was a journey of perseverance and redemption. Read on to see how it all unfolded.

A Tough Beginning

My mind goes blank as I stare down at my numb feet, exhausted from countless creek crossings. The sting of another alder branch hitting my face brings me back to reality. I ask myself what has been going through my mind these last couple of hours being in a strange state of autopilot. Oh yeah, my pack is “light”—just under fifty pounds, much lighter than I had hoped for. I look up and catch a glimpse of the incoming bush plane, which, in my mind’s eye, just looks like flying dollar signs. I hang my head, my body soaked, aching, and just plain beat up. As sweat rolls down my face, I mutter to myself, “I don’t know if I’ll ever do this again.”

Not the most glamorous ending to my first sheep hunt, but it’s a good way to start the story of my first successful sheep hunt. It’s the classic, “Why do I do this, or I’ll never do that again,” moment. It lingers, at least for some. I thought about that hunt constantly for over a year. Now it’s redemption time, I think to myself as I’m boated up the river with my hunting partner, Richard Calkins. We are about to be dropped off to float out on our own on a Dall sheep hunt.

Learning the Hard Way

So, if you were to pick the worst thing to wear to hike up into sheep country, what would you pick? Well, if you picked neoprene waders, you’d be right. Why, you ask? I can’t really defend myself here, but at the time, my thinking was that crossing the stream is cold, and I can wear them on the way out. Lesson learned. It was the worst choice, but I made it six miles up, with 20 crossings and a full pack. I made it to where we would establish base camp.

I believe that having an optimistic attitude is a fantastic way to begin a hunt, especially when it comes to sheep hunting. Personally, I can’t help but imagine the possibility of spotting a ram behind every rock, around every corner, and just in the next drainage. Once base camp is established, we strategically planned what drainage to explore and possibly stay a night or two in a spike camp, each spike camp trip being a little hunt of its own. We left behind some heavy items. However, I couldn’t help but notice that all the heavy items we took ended up in my pack for the hike in—pots, fuel canisters, tarp, extra food. Looking at my hunting partner, Rich, I jokingly remark, “Nothing heavy, huh?”

He responds, “I put the heavy stuff in your pack. This old-timer has used up most of his overloaded packing days.”

The Grind of the Hunt

Recounting a moment from a sheep hunt is a challenging task. It’s difficult to capture the true essence and evoke the emotions felt in that particular moment with just words. However, there are moments in life that are truly extraordinary. We quickly fall into a routine of grueling hikes, venturing into areas where we can cover ground and glass for sheep. With each passing day, we push ourselves further and further. Even when the sheep I’m seeing are not legal, I can’t help but enjoy the exhilaration of glassing for sheep. After seeing no legal ram in the area we covered, we decided that on the next morning, we would pack up spike camp and head back to base camp to chart a different course entirely.

A Morning to Remember

That morning, we woke from our spike camp to a unique experience that will always stand out in my mind. As I slowly emerged from the tent, I found myself in a state of awe. I couldn’t help but whisper to Rich, urging him to look at the incredible sight before us. There we were, heads peeking out of the tent, like two curious children peering through the stair banisters on Christmas morning, marveling at the scene in front of us.

It was as if the small group of ewes and lambs were the gift we had been eagerly waiting for. They were scattered around us, grazing peacefully, just a few feet away. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as we became intimately acquainted with the day-to-day lives of these majestic creatures. The simplicity of their existence, focused solely on finding sustenance, became a profound and extraordinary experience for me.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from them, feeling completely immersed in the moment. It was a sight that I knew would be forever etched in my memory. But like all moments, it eventually came to an end. The sheep moved on, continuing their journey through the wilderness. As the moment faded, I was left with the bittersweet task of trying to capture every detail and emotion, desperately trying to etch it into my mind.

The Turning Point

We pack up and begin glassing back towards base camp before we head that direction to what, unfortunately, will be starting over. “Rams.” Just the phrase from Rich sends an electric shock down my spine. We cannot tell the quality from this distance but just past our base camp across the creek bed and up a drainage are rams, and we must make our move now as the weather is turning foul quickly. Despite the rain and the rough terrain ahead, the sight of the rams uplifts our spirits. It’s amazing what the sight of rams can do to tired legs.

We navigate our way out of there with a sense of determination. If there’s one piece of advice I now follow, it’s to return the same way you came if your path allows for it. It’s amusing how hindsight tells us that it would have been the smarter choice, especially as we battle through new thickets of alders. However, with thoughts of rams occupying our minds, we convince ourselves that it’s not so bad and press on for base camp.

A Harsh Welcome Back

Upon reaching base camp, our focus shifts. The weather has transformed the creek into a roaring river, creating an obstacle that prevents us from crossing. Seeking refuge under the protective canopy of a towering spruce tree, we huddle together for warmth and shelter as to not be stuck in the tent for the remainder of the day. Picture this: I stand at a height of 6’4″ and weigh 220 pounds, while my companion, Rich, is the same height but 250 pounds. Together, we find ourselves confined within a so-called “two-man” tent. However, I vehemently dispute this label, for “cramped” more accurately captures the reality of our situation.

Stories by the Fire

We build a modest fire, careful to use only twigs no larger than two inches in thickness and a foot in length. As we wait out the inclement weather, the passing time is marked by Rich’s captivating tales of sheep hunts of the past. Despite our weariness and the dampness that clings to our clothes, our spirits remain resolute. We have caught a glimpse of the rams. Whether they remain there or not, we saw them, and seeing them fuels our determination to pursue them. We vow to overcome any obstacle that stands in our way and to go after them the following morning with an agreed-upon saying that fits the moment: “Come hell or high water.”

The Final Ascent

The next morning brings clear skies, and the once-raging river reverts to a crossable creek. We are reminded that nature’s whims are as fleeting as they are unpredictable. Finally, the opportunity to cross the creek presents itself, and we seize it without hesitation. However, our relief is short-lived as the path ahead abruptly transforms into a vertical ascent.

It is at this moment that the consequence of my insufficient physical preparation becomes painfully obvious to me, as Rich surges ahead, leaving me in his wake. Determined not to succumb to the overwhelming fatigue that threatens to consume me, I summon a newfound resolve. Each step becomes a mantra, a declaration of my unwavering determination. The pain becomes irrelevant, my weariness inconsequential, and the distance of the journey does not matter. I refuse to yield, to complain, or to entertain the notion of surrender.

As I laboriously ascend, one foot painstakingly placed before the other, I eventually reach a small plateau. There, I find Rich patiently awaiting my arrival. His face adorned with a knowing grin, he begins to unleash a barrage of preloaded comments, playfully taunting me about his age compared to my youth. I accept these jabs with good-natured resilience, fully aware that I have earned them. Grateful for his decision to wait, I shake off any lingering irritation, understanding that he could have easily abandoned me to pursue the rams without me.

The Shot That Counted

Pushing ourselves a little further, we find ourselves face-to-face with the band of rams. Seven or eight of them, bedded down near the ridge at the summit of the drainage, their presence sending a surge of adrenaline through our veins. This is the moment we’ve been relentlessly pursuing throughout the entire trip, and now we find ourselves pinned down by the very creatures we’ve been tracking. Minutes feel like hours as we remain motionless, held hostage by the watchful gaze of these rams. Patience becomes an obstacle of its own, as the urge to take action and make a move becomes almost unbearable.

We engage in whispered conversations, strategizing our next move and contemplating how long we can maintain this precarious position. The rams, positioned about 800 yards away, sit in a tight-knit group, their keen binocular vision on high alert, ready to detect any hint of movement. They are poised to bolt up and over the ridge, disappearing into the next drainage and beyond. Time seems to stretch before us, and though it is still early in the day, we are acutely aware that the minutes are slipping away.

As the rams stand to graze, there was a fear that they would disappear over the ridge and be lost forever. In a last-ditch effort, we quickly put on white Tyvek suits, hoping to confuse, buy some time, and get closer to the rams. It works! With the rams just under 400 yards away and straight uphill, we had to act swiftly.

A Final Chance at the Ram

One particular ram stands out, a mature one with a slightly broomed horn on one side. Against the black shale backdrop, he appeared stark white. I took aim through the scope. The ram stopped momentarily and I fired, much too hastily. Rich calls out that the shot was too high. In a rush, the ram started moving. The realization that my chances were slipping away hit me hard, and a flood of emotions washed over me. I refocused, aimed low, and took another shot. This time the ram froze. Rich says, “I don’t know, didn’t see it.” I had just one last shot opportunity. I took a deep breath, fired, and the ram stumbled, fell and tumbled to within ten yards of us.

Reflection and Respect

The hunt was as thrilling and intense as I could ask for, with moments of uncertainty and pressure. In all honesty, I was apprehensive about highlighting my shooting shortcomings on this hunt, but I believe true hunters will know the reality of a situation like this. It is only really curbed with experience and practice.

In the end, with Rich’s help, we were able to bring down the ram and achieve our goal. With overwhelming joy, we hug and pump our fists. I can only imagine to an onlooker how silly we must have looked, but in that moment, I felt truly happy. Taking an animal while hunting can evoke a unique mix of emotions for hunters. I’m not going to go into the importance of conservation and proper techniques and practices along with a lifestyle where you choose your part in the food chain. I know hunters will understand and others have done a better job of making the case better than I can.

The Weight of the Moment

There is a noticeable shift from initial joy to a sense of melancholy or even remorse when coming face to face with the animal whose life you just took. This transition reflects a deep respect for the animal’s life and the acknowledgement of the hunter’s role. Conservation plays a crucial role in the hunting experience. By following conservation guidelines, hunters contribute to the preservation of wildlife populations. My act will immortalize the animal, in a way. The meat obtained from the hunt also serves a practical purpose by feeding my family. This is completion of the full circle, where hunters immerse themselves in the food chain.

Capturing the Experience

While photographs can capture the essence of the moment, they often fall short in truly capturing the depth of emotions experienced during the hunt. However, they hold significant value as they serve as a tangible reminder of the memorable moments. Looking back at these photos can transport the hunter back to the raw and powerful emotions felt in that moment. All this is reflected on as we methodically cape and butcher the animal, taking great care to gather ever bit of salvageable meat, safely packing it away, keeping it clean and cool, for the pack ahead.

Thomas Kelly is a lifelong Alaskan who began hunting after high school. Over the years, he’s learned many valuable lessons on hunts and has developed a deep passion for the outdoors and the conservation efforts that protect Alaska’s natural beauty. He wants to share his hunting stories with you as if we were all gathered around the campfire, enjoying the camaraderie of the great outdoors.

Looking for more great reads like this ram hunting story? Explore the big game blog archive for more epic hunts.