Ethan Ruby

Mountain Goat Quest Part 3: The Harvest

We woke up the first morning to light rain and a wicked amount of condensation in the tent. We crawled out into the darkness to a chilly crisp morning. Upwell before daylight, we made our breakfast with a small amount of rationed water. Before breakfast, I had less than a bottle. My hunting partner; the same. Stubbornly we had pushed to camp without taking the proper care to think of the days ahead. We weren't going to last the day at this rate. Anyhow, we pushed into the morning hunt. We planned to scale the top side of the mountain and descend down onto the goats that we glassed the morning before.

Once we were at the top of the ridge we dropped pack and started sneaking our way down through the sparse timber. We quickly ran into a problem though. The steep angle of the mountain paired with the convex curve made it almost impossible to glass down. It made it almost impossible to get on the goats. We were completely blind. This resulted in white flashes heading through the timber around us. We had completely bumped the goats and ruined our morning efforts, but it was still early. We tucked tail and turned back uphill, rethinking our plans. As we scaled the edge, a sheer drop off mind you, we could smell them. Confused, we stood there hearing rocks falling and echoing off the hillside. A group of six nannies with a kid in tow, 50 feet below us, scaling a literal 90 degree drop off. We watched from a 100 yards off as they moved around the bend.

It was now about 9;30 and the water shortage had to be addressed. The dry mouth and body aches were becoming too much. We made it back to camp, and emptied the packs to the absolute minimum and started down off the mountain. We pushed down towards a drainage and quickly reached the bottom, but alas no water. Pain started to set in. Leaving the area would waste the day, and would change the entirety of the trip. So we pushed lower, following the natural lay of the land until we found the smallest stream, it was beautiful at that moment. We stayed and relished in it before filling a 10-litre bag and making our way back to camp. It was well worth the 2-hour detour.

Replenished back at camp, we brainstormed how our afternoon would go. We knew the goats were in this range and realistically couldn't leave without us getting eyes on them. We settled on watching a big open rock shelf that we could access if the goats made their way there. The afternoon before we had seen them cross this exact spot, and hoped they wouldn't be far. Quickly, an hour or so had passed. No goats to be seen anywhere. We combed the nearby peaks and rock bluffs, but no luck. The only thing we could see was the weather kicking up in the distance. The wind had started to howl and the sky darkened. Together, we decided to move in once again on the spot from the morning, but we would wrap around from the adjacent side. With the wind in our favour, and also a great cover for our sound we went for it.

As we moved through this new territory, we hit a fairly good trail, covered in goat sign. We slowly snuck around the bend and into the rock. With no visibility below us, we made the descent, inch by inch, careful not to knock any rocks down. The wind was hallowing so it covered our scent and sound beautifully. After a few hundred yards I gained a good line of sight and peered down. There, directly below me, laid a lone goat. The Billie was completely unaware, scanning below him, chewing his morning cud. It couldn’t get better than this. With the odds stacked in our favour, he didn’t seem real. Something that felt so unattainable for so long was right there, within shooting distance to boot.

We went over our mental checklist and had fair enough reason to believe it was a mature Billie. We then tried to settle in for a shot, but the steep angle through me off my game. I tried to move lower in the rocks for a nice flat position that would have me shooting more across the mountain rather than straight down. My partner on the other hand opted for the first spot, looking straight down upon the goat. As I moved to my desired spot I realized I wouldn't have the line of sight. I scrambled for a rest that I was confident in but I was out of time. I heard my partner from my left; “He's standing, I’m going to take him” preceded by the crack of his rifle. A few shots later for good measure, we had a big Billie on the ground. With the weather flowing in, and quite the pack out to make, we hurried to make the most of this incredible experience.

The following night and morning resulted in periods of heavy rain, with the peaks turning to snow. The pack out ultimately felt harder and more miserable than the sunny walk in but it only motivated us to get out, and we did so in considerably less time. This trip made us leave our comfort zones and resulted in many firsts for both of us, but if I can say one thing for sure, mountain hunting will change your life for the better.