Well, in 2025, I pulled the HD 680 Sheep tag with 6 points. 6 points. Yes—I caught a heap of good nature hell from lots and lots of people about my luck. I want to preface my recap by saying that as memorable (and short) as my hunt turned out to be, and as thrilled as I am with the ram I harvested, two big takeaways remain my hard earned lesson in humility, together with a healthy dose of appreciation for the folks that helped me out. That appreciation extends to some really kind members of this forum who reached out to me last summer and offered advice. With that out of the way…
Like most of you (I think), I had never hunted sheep before, and never thought I would. In addition to bothering people when and where I could, I spent some time scouting the unit in the summer. My efforts were interrupted by a more important event (my oldest son’s wedding) and inopportune (for me) rain up in the Breaks the times I’d planned on heading up to the area. I’ve spent enough time in the eastern MT to know better than to even think of driving those roads once they get wet. So, I scouted when I could, but I ultimately chose to to hunt the unit by jet boat as my primary option. I went into the season with two rules. Rule 1: my youngest son was going into his senior year here in Helena, and every Friday was spoken for to watch him play football. That was non-negotiable. Rule 2: I wanted to harvest a mature ram that I liked—simple as that. I had little interest in what it scored. No judgment on those who focus on that type of thing—particularly for a hunt like this—but that wasn’t super important to me.
The initial stretch of river I planned to scout/hunt in early September limits motorized boat use until the rifle opener. I was also hunting solo that first trip. So, with a couple of days left in archery, I loaded up the boat and effectively floated it downriver. Given the weight of my gear, inability to get the boat on plane because of the restrictions, the low water—well it was a circus making it to camp. Glassed that first evening and didn’t see anything. I took the bow for a walk the next day (last day of archery). Saw some super cool country, but no sheep. I had no idea what I was doing, but I was sheep hunting and I was having fun. The next day was the rifle opener, and the river’s motorized use opened up. I zipped downriver in the morning, and saw nothing near the water. I planned to breakdown camp, head back to my truck, and then scout/hunt another stretch of the unit. On the way back upriver, I saw a drainage that looked worthwhile. I parked the boat and grabbed my gear. I told myself I’d just hike up an old closed road to the top and glass for a bit. Wouldn’t be gone long (mistake). Once I crested the hill, I spotted 14-15 sheep that were a little over a mile away. After getting closer, I confirmed they were rams that had been feeding in a small, shallow drainage but were climbing up one side of the draw and headed towards the steeper, “breakier” stuff. Took me about an hour to scramble down one side and up the other to where they’d been feeding. When I topped out, they were no where to be seen. I hiked around for 30-40 minutes but couldn’t relocate them. At this point, I decided to turn back and head to the boat. It was getting warm and I didn’t bring a ton of water on my “glassing” trip. Shortly thereafter, I spotted the rams 3/4 of the way up a pretty steep draw. They were just hanging around doing sheep stuff, I guess. I was able to sit and watch them for quite some time-they are amazing animals. One ram in the group really stood out to me. I sat there and had the “this is opening day, you have several more weeks of season to go” vs. “these are surely the only rams in the whole unit and they could all leave this area never to be seen again" debate. Ultimately, I resolved the debate by returning to my one of my rule’s for the hunt (harvesting a ram I was happy with). I then spent some time analyzing whether I could: (1) get to the ram (post shot), and (2) get out of the canyon post recovery. #1 seemed pretty straightforward, as #2 did after looking at the terrain—I’d just hike back down the canyon floor to my boat. I saw no impediments (this is foreshadowing).
I shot the ram from 163 yards. One shot, clean kill. He did what I suspected—tumbled just about all the way down his side of the draw. I packed up my gear and headed down, thinking (wrongly) that the slope’s composition would be the same as the last draw I’d climbed down earlier in the morning. I was wrong. It was like hiking down steep ass concrete impeded with sharp rocks. It was too steep for me to hike, so I had to semi-slide. The best way I can describe it is the Die Hard scene when Bruce Willis is sliding down the skyscraper. At least Bruce had a fire hose to arrest his descent. My efforts ended up breaking my phone’s screen, tearing some holes in my pants and shirt, and up opening a gash in my wrist that commenced bleeding pretty steadily. Once I got the wound mostly closed, I finally reached the bottom. It didn’t take much time to get to the ram (who decided to expire in a crevasse). After I got him broken down, I was pretty tired and out of water. My wrist was still bleeding and pretty dirty. But, I was done—smooth sailing to the boat where I had more supplies. Turns out walking down the canyon wasn’t in the cards—I got cliffed out roughly 50 yards into my hike. From my vantage up top, I couldn't see that spot in the canyon. Profanities uttered. Back up the canyon I went. I unloaded some stuff, but try as I might, I could not get any purchase to climb up and out the way I came/slid down. More profanities. Now I had a decision. I could scout up canyon, but I knew it ended in private property. I also didn’t know if I’d just waste more energy and get cliffed out in that direction too. So I sat and pondered. Cussed myself out a fair bit. Thought about my lack of water and the multiple peanut butter sandwiches I packed. After some time, I hit the “come save my ass” button on my InReach. I’ll spare some of those details, but suffice it to say, the Blaine County guys that showed up were top f’n notch. Brought some ropes, a harness and a lot of water and got me out. FWP’s wardens were also terrific. Got me permission to access the canyon from the top via the private property. I can’t say enough good things about all of them. By this point, I was pretty embarrassed by the ordeal and they kept my spirits up. They also convinced me that I needed to go experience Havre’s emergency room in the middle of the night to get my wrist cleaned and stitched. The next couple of days were a bit of blur—day #2 was spent wandering around the Havre Walmart in several days old, blood stained clothes waiting for my oldest son to drive up and then driving a few hours to recover the ram. Day #3 was more driving and hiking to eventually get my boat. If that thing had been gone, my wife would have ensured I would not be around to recount any of this.
As I wrap this up, I am still pretty sore about the mistakes I made. Lots of second guessing. Yes, I am thankful I was smart enough to carry an InReach and smarter to use it. I am incredibly thankful for the Blaine County and FWP personnel who came out in the dark to get my butt out of that hole. In spite of the time I spent trying to decide whether to take shot versus backing out, I am still kicking myself for not seeing (or even recognizing the possibility) that the route out the canyon’s bottom was a no-go. I’m still pissed about not bringing more than a single Nalgene full of water. That was dumb. I’m sure there other screw-ups I could agitate over, but those stick out months later.
I’ve included a couple of pictures of my ram. Think he was aged at either 7 1/2 or 8 1/2 years old; FWP also scored him at 174 6/8. Regardless of score, he’s exactly what I was hoping to harvest, and I couldn’t be happier.
I appreciate anyone who made it this far—this forum is pretty damn great, and I hope this write-up is viewed as a positive contribution to the community. Anyone who pulls this tag in the future—please reach out if you have any questions.
Like most of you (I think), I had never hunted sheep before, and never thought I would. In addition to bothering people when and where I could, I spent some time scouting the unit in the summer. My efforts were interrupted by a more important event (my oldest son’s wedding) and inopportune (for me) rain up in the Breaks the times I’d planned on heading up to the area. I’ve spent enough time in the eastern MT to know better than to even think of driving those roads once they get wet. So, I scouted when I could, but I ultimately chose to to hunt the unit by jet boat as my primary option. I went into the season with two rules. Rule 1: my youngest son was going into his senior year here in Helena, and every Friday was spoken for to watch him play football. That was non-negotiable. Rule 2: I wanted to harvest a mature ram that I liked—simple as that. I had little interest in what it scored. No judgment on those who focus on that type of thing—particularly for a hunt like this—but that wasn’t super important to me.
The initial stretch of river I planned to scout/hunt in early September limits motorized boat use until the rifle opener. I was also hunting solo that first trip. So, with a couple of days left in archery, I loaded up the boat and effectively floated it downriver. Given the weight of my gear, inability to get the boat on plane because of the restrictions, the low water—well it was a circus making it to camp. Glassed that first evening and didn’t see anything. I took the bow for a walk the next day (last day of archery). Saw some super cool country, but no sheep. I had no idea what I was doing, but I was sheep hunting and I was having fun. The next day was the rifle opener, and the river’s motorized use opened up. I zipped downriver in the morning, and saw nothing near the water. I planned to breakdown camp, head back to my truck, and then scout/hunt another stretch of the unit. On the way back upriver, I saw a drainage that looked worthwhile. I parked the boat and grabbed my gear. I told myself I’d just hike up an old closed road to the top and glass for a bit. Wouldn’t be gone long (mistake). Once I crested the hill, I spotted 14-15 sheep that were a little over a mile away. After getting closer, I confirmed they were rams that had been feeding in a small, shallow drainage but were climbing up one side of the draw and headed towards the steeper, “breakier” stuff. Took me about an hour to scramble down one side and up the other to where they’d been feeding. When I topped out, they were no where to be seen. I hiked around for 30-40 minutes but couldn’t relocate them. At this point, I decided to turn back and head to the boat. It was getting warm and I didn’t bring a ton of water on my “glassing” trip. Shortly thereafter, I spotted the rams 3/4 of the way up a pretty steep draw. They were just hanging around doing sheep stuff, I guess. I was able to sit and watch them for quite some time-they are amazing animals. One ram in the group really stood out to me. I sat there and had the “this is opening day, you have several more weeks of season to go” vs. “these are surely the only rams in the whole unit and they could all leave this area never to be seen again" debate. Ultimately, I resolved the debate by returning to my one of my rule’s for the hunt (harvesting a ram I was happy with). I then spent some time analyzing whether I could: (1) get to the ram (post shot), and (2) get out of the canyon post recovery. #1 seemed pretty straightforward, as #2 did after looking at the terrain—I’d just hike back down the canyon floor to my boat. I saw no impediments (this is foreshadowing).
I shot the ram from 163 yards. One shot, clean kill. He did what I suspected—tumbled just about all the way down his side of the draw. I packed up my gear and headed down, thinking (wrongly) that the slope’s composition would be the same as the last draw I’d climbed down earlier in the morning. I was wrong. It was like hiking down steep ass concrete impeded with sharp rocks. It was too steep for me to hike, so I had to semi-slide. The best way I can describe it is the Die Hard scene when Bruce Willis is sliding down the skyscraper. At least Bruce had a fire hose to arrest his descent. My efforts ended up breaking my phone’s screen, tearing some holes in my pants and shirt, and up opening a gash in my wrist that commenced bleeding pretty steadily. Once I got the wound mostly closed, I finally reached the bottom. It didn’t take much time to get to the ram (who decided to expire in a crevasse). After I got him broken down, I was pretty tired and out of water. My wrist was still bleeding and pretty dirty. But, I was done—smooth sailing to the boat where I had more supplies. Turns out walking down the canyon wasn’t in the cards—I got cliffed out roughly 50 yards into my hike. From my vantage up top, I couldn't see that spot in the canyon. Profanities uttered. Back up the canyon I went. I unloaded some stuff, but try as I might, I could not get any purchase to climb up and out the way I came/slid down. More profanities. Now I had a decision. I could scout up canyon, but I knew it ended in private property. I also didn’t know if I’d just waste more energy and get cliffed out in that direction too. So I sat and pondered. Cussed myself out a fair bit. Thought about my lack of water and the multiple peanut butter sandwiches I packed. After some time, I hit the “come save my ass” button on my InReach. I’ll spare some of those details, but suffice it to say, the Blaine County guys that showed up were top f’n notch. Brought some ropes, a harness and a lot of water and got me out. FWP’s wardens were also terrific. Got me permission to access the canyon from the top via the private property. I can’t say enough good things about all of them. By this point, I was pretty embarrassed by the ordeal and they kept my spirits up. They also convinced me that I needed to go experience Havre’s emergency room in the middle of the night to get my wrist cleaned and stitched. The next couple of days were a bit of blur—day #2 was spent wandering around the Havre Walmart in several days old, blood stained clothes waiting for my oldest son to drive up and then driving a few hours to recover the ram. Day #3 was more driving and hiking to eventually get my boat. If that thing had been gone, my wife would have ensured I would not be around to recount any of this.
As I wrap this up, I am still pretty sore about the mistakes I made. Lots of second guessing. Yes, I am thankful I was smart enough to carry an InReach and smarter to use it. I am incredibly thankful for the Blaine County and FWP personnel who came out in the dark to get my butt out of that hole. In spite of the time I spent trying to decide whether to take shot versus backing out, I am still kicking myself for not seeing (or even recognizing the possibility) that the route out the canyon’s bottom was a no-go. I’m still pissed about not bringing more than a single Nalgene full of water. That was dumb. I’m sure there other screw-ups I could agitate over, but those stick out months later.
I’ve included a couple of pictures of my ram. Think he was aged at either 7 1/2 or 8 1/2 years old; FWP also scored him at 174 6/8. Regardless of score, he’s exactly what I was hoping to harvest, and I couldn’t be happier.
I appreciate anyone who made it this far—this forum is pretty damn great, and I hope this write-up is viewed as a positive contribution to the community. Anyone who pulls this tag in the future—please reach out if you have any questions.
