38 days Living with Boy George???

[squirrel]

Usually I wait a while after a grand adventure to write the story. This allows what was important to bubble to the surface and what may have seemed important (at the time) to recede away if it was more on the periphery of what mattered. There are a few other stories, on this site, I believe, that detail a few of my other trips over the years into the Needles after both sheep and goats. For anyone who wants more context for this story you should be able to search them up, they go back a ways.

This was my 6th goat tag and quite possibly my last, but that would be depressing to think about, hope you enjoy the read.

 

[squirrel]

Many times while sitting on top of the world taking in all the rocky mountains have to offer I have thought to myself that I hope I do not know when it is my last trip into the Needles. I would be trying to pack in too much nostalgia, taking too many trips down memory lane so-to-speak, to just sit there and take in the present. Too many trips with long dead dogs and recently dead people. Too much bloodshed, sweat, and no shortage of tears, both from the aforementioned bloodshed and those of celebration and relief. Celebration standing over a magnificent animal after weeks of pursuit, and relief, seeing that steam train round the bend and start to slow down!





Another chapter unfolded in my life-long love/hate relationship with the Needle mountains this past spring. While chasing turkeys and fishing in Arkansas this year I got an email that informed me of success in the CO mountain goat drawing… first choice G-5. Usually my diet it always going to start “tomorrow”, in this case it started TODAY! I had just made a terrible blunder and stepped on the scale before leaving for my leisurely trip of boating, eating , and drinking, and the scale had told me some very depressing news, a new personal record, and not one to be proud of. My goal was to have the first number be a “1” when I stepped on it, it was lofty goal of -53 pounds. But I knew from experience what the needles would do to a fat 60 yr old. I very well remember them spitting out chunks of bruised and bloody 26 year old skinny me.

These first pics are taken on the 14.5 mile hike to get to base camp.

 

[squirrel]

All summer salad became the new standard fare, no bread, no sugar, little fruit, no snacks of any tasty substance. Fortunately the Princess joined me and made it easier to stick with it and of course she made it into a competition. Whoever lost the most that week got to choose our Sunday menu on our “cheater” day, when we were allowed to eat something resembling real food. I spent the summer getting my pack llamas into some shape, with 22 it is difficult to rotate them all through and get them firmed up for the busy hunting season of rentals. Usually I just go up to a high lake maybe 5-6 miles fish a bit, drink a few adult beverages, and pack back down the next day to see what my royal PITA has on my ‘to do” list. Normally these trips have some sort of extravagant meal at tree line if the brookies aren’t sufficiently fried in butter, this summer the fare was a bit more bland, to say the least. Slowly but very surely the suffering paid off and the scale started to be more friendly to me every Sunday morning on “weigh in” day.





I really wanted to use my recurve bow for this hunt as it is in all likelihood my final goat tag if I killed a goat, given the reality of the 5 year wait and points required to draw vs the increased demand for these tags in our populous state. I left the crutch (compound) in the closet all summer and shot my recurve a lot, finally admitting how badly I sucked at it and put an old sight on it and proceeded to still suck badly, but not quite as terribly as without a sight. My belly was shrinking, my groups were shrinking, things were looking better, but the needles are a whole different game, and I knew this from experience.





I had a looming logistical problem. Long before the computer spit out my successful tag notice I had all my llamas booked solid for the hunting seasons of highest demand, which enveloped my goat season. I feed a field full of llamas all winter and was going to have to carry my own pack? WTF? Not only that but I was going to be busy sending out and receiving back all these rental groups at all hours of the day and night, it is the nature of the business, just the way it is. I called on my dear Princess to help me out honey… please please so pretty please DEAR??? I got an immediate “F@#$ Y%$ what part of sole proprietor (my llc’s tax status) do you NOT understand”?

These pics are the "death march" to 13K up the pig trail... another 4.5miles and 3K vertical.

 

[squirrel]

I knew from cold hard experience that the needles can shut down anytime after mid September, in the blink of an eye, they can be waist deep and deadly, especially up in the goat crags. Through some luck, some negotiation, and a cancellation due to injury I freed up a few short days in late September and had a friend who would provide some logistical support of his young llama string for at least my base camp situation. I had one llama from my herd available to help me get to that base camp. This was gonna be VERY tight as I had a property closing hard deadline looming at the back end of this time window October 1st.





On most of my extensive back country trips I end up with a song stuck in my head, it is generally the last one I heard playing on the radio before leaving the trailhead. On my first 38 day needles trip it was “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” playing in continuous loop for over a month. As I drove up the last 20 or so miles to the trailhead the radio was blaring out some very good music all the way, I can replay Pat Benatar for a month easy I was thinking, then, Ok Def Leopard will work…. Then as I slowed down for the parking lot, Boy George came on crooning “do you really want to hurt me?” OH NO! As I shut off the truck and went to packing llamas. “Do you really want to make me cry?”





Two hours later as I cold camped next to the river 4 miles up from the truck I did really want to ‘make him cry”. Next morning up before dawn and 10 more miles until I found Paul’s base camp, trying to evict Boy George with some Garth Brooks but Garth lost the battle. Next morning I left my wooly helper with Paul’s girls and put 4-5 more miles and 3000’ below me wearing my pack… with compound strapped to it. I had folded at the TH with only a 4 day actual hunt window I had reached for the “crutch” and left the recurve under the seat. Ii was trying to follow what amounted to a pig trail up the gulch I had chosen to hunt and lost it a bit before topping out above tree line. As I was bushwhacking my way up through the rocks I ran right into a nanny and a yearling billy at 25 yards. They were startled at seeing me and tore off up through the rocks, this was reassuring as now I was sure I was not going to be chasing tame goats… or so I thought at that moment. I re-located the “pig trail” and made it to my lakeside camp after about 4-1/2 hours of climbing. I was surprised to see another tent there but settled in to glass the incredible vastness that is the needles in all her glory.

Huffing and puffing finally arrived at goat elevation... Long ways from my truck door.

 

[squirrel]

After a couple hours some goats came into view, 7 nannies and kids and started to scamper over the rocks in my direction. I went to get closer to them and they had disappeared into a fold of the rocks, as I looked in vain for them in the valley below they suddenly popped up right beside me and trotted over to the other camp and started pestering the campers for free food… Oh NOOOO! The infamous Twinkie goats. I walked over and sure enough they were as tame as any barnyard goat, maybe more so. I took some pictures and upon my departure they followed me back to my camp just to make sure I hadn’t peed yet. This was bad. I had what I call my “condom” instead of a tent. It is a rubber bag that fits over your sleeping bag, army surplus from Vietnam era issue, very light. But the goats were so aggressive and fearless and fighting amongst themselves I was worried they would trample on me while I was rolled up inside my “condom”. Exhaustion is the best sleeping pill ever invented and I slept through any goat trampling that may have occurred.





At dawn, while humming “do you really want to make me cry” I spotted the snowy rectangle of a mature billy a mile or so away and was off immediately to get a better look. When I got over there he had disappeared and I was climbing all day on the cliffs looking for him. I found a huge billy on the further mountain across an incredible chasm basin that the 26 year old me would have dropped in and gone after but the 60 year old me declined. As Clint Eastwood would say, “a man’s got to know his limitations”. He spotted me even a mountain away and got up and just did what goats do, never hurried or ran but worked his way up and over an incredible rock face and put an additional mountain between us. I guess he couldn’t tell how old I was and was taking no chances. Or maybe he just wasn’t a fan of Boy George, who knows? I was back in camp by evening to be over-run by the girl gang again right at bed time, 14 this time.

Twinkie goats and the first day of chasing the "snowy rectangle". Felt sorry for them nowhere to hide where I couldn't stroll over and murder them if I chose.

 

[squirrel]

Gratuitous goat pics cause... I can. And they are just so COOL!

I know some folks shoot the Twinkie goats. I just never quite understood that. It is a lot lighter to carry them out inside of your camera, that is certain.

 

[squirrel]

And more, cause why not? It was pretty. The needles are incredible right up until they decide to kill you...

I was rather counting on their benevolence sleeping in my "condom". Probably tempting them more than was prudent singing Boy George everyday.

 

[squirrel]

The next morning I awoke to “do you really want to hurt me?” (yes, I did) I was determined to go in another direction and look into an entirely different drainage by going over a 13,100’ saddle and dropping down to a very high lake hanging onto the side of a 14,000’ peak. This very solid and workable plan was immediately scrapped when I glassed up what was probably the same billy from the day before just 2-300 yards from where he had given me the slip the day before. This time I knew the lay of the land a bit from the day before and I watched with some patience while he chose his day bed, then made my move in his direction. I knew better how to conceal my approach across the face of the mountain and when I got there he had vanished yet again. I ditched my excess gear and slowly began a check over every ledge, keeping the upwind drafts in my face, trying to find where his heat of the day bed was. As I peeked over a stone ledge he was right there at 10 yards lying in his dirt bed. He spotted me at the same instant as I ducked and knocked up an arrow. I eased my head up and he was gone, disappointment was short lived as I saw he was trying to circle me and climb the peak to escape. He didn’t see me as I scrambled to set up a 20 yard confrontation and was at full draw as he rounded a large boulder and we were eye to eye full frontal angle. I put the pin right below his chin and released and the arrow flew perfectly. He whirled and was gone in an instant but I knew the hit had been perfect, and the blood trail told me I was right.

Last pic is about as 'scenic" as something as ghastly as a blood trail can be I guess.

 

[squirrel]

I followed very cautiously and saw my large billy showing no signs of any wound just 30 yards below me. This made zero sense until I could see he was staring with all his might at a very dead and bloody goat 15 yards in front of him. I pulled the camera out as he spooked, Im not sure which of the two was bigger but I knew damn sure which one was deader. It was a beautiful day and spot for a butchering party and I got him all skinned and chunked in a couple hours time.





Leaving the meat on some rocks to cool I took all my gear and the rug back to camp and took a 65# load the 4-1/2 miles and 3000’ down to base camp. The next day was the hardest with sore muscles to start with and a round trip of 9 miles and 6000’ on the day’s schedule. This second and final trip was a 75# day, and I was feeling every bit of 60 birthdays upon arrival back at base camp. The following day with the wooly boys for help we did a 14-1/2 mile run down another 1600’ and the truck was a very welcome sight indeed.





We name all the mounted heads in our house and my Princess asked if he had a name yet, as sometimes it takes a while to come up with an appropriate choice, but this one was an easy one, he’s going to be Georgie Boy. Thank goodness that it was only 6 days of Boy George another 32 and it might have gotten ugly up there.


There you go. Now I must depart, llamas are all out for second rifle and a tree awaits my presence in KS.

 

[Idahoarcheryhunter]

Wonderful write up, congrats on the goat.

 

[Mtnhunter1]

Bravo Sir....Bravo!

The 20yd jugular shot sure did the trick. Well done, the feeling of getting it done just one more time is gratifying....but yeah, poor choice of songs.

Wonderful pics and write.

 

[Cheesehead]

Great write up and adventure

 

[Sask hunter]

Congrats!

 

[cedahm]

Im not sure which of the two was bigger but I knew damn sure which one was deader.

The quote above got me some funny looks on the train as I read it and lol’ed!

I’ve been waiting for this report since you drew, thanks for taking us with you.

 

[squirrel]

Bravo Sir....Bravo!

The 20yd jugular shot sure did the trick. Well done, the feeling of getting it done just one more time is gratifying....but yeah, poor choice of songs.

Wonderful pics and write.

Actually it was a through shot, end to end. Came out 3" from his tail. But your point is valid, it hit the most critical stuff upon entry, not exit!

 

[Big Fin]

Great story. Congratulations.

 

[ashersdad]

Excellent! Incredible adventure! I'm sure there will be another.

 

[duckhunt]

Great hunt

 

[Four22]

These huge write ups are epic!

Congrats!!

 

[marksjeep]

Outstanding! Thanks for sharing.