We slogged through more alders, finally making it to the river; it looked very swift and had about as much water as I thought we could comfortably cross. The only saving grace is the fact that there was zero slime on the rocks, footing was excellent. I made the crossing first, and found it to be do-able, then T followed. We had about 700 vertical to go to the sheep from this point.
Did I mention the alders? The next 1000 yards was brutal, wet and frustrating, but we finally managed to reach a small bench which I hoped we could shoot from. The clouds were low, and visibility was decreasing. I hoped that the rams were still in the same place we'd seen them nearly 3 hours earlier.
We crested a small rise and I spotted the 'crony' bedded above a cliff. If they went much higher they'd be out of T's comfort range, and inaccessible. We were prepared to wait it out if we had too. We inched a little closer and spotted the big dude about 30 yards below his buddy, feeding.
The range was about 300 yards, slightly uphill. I got T set up for the shot, then the waiting game for the perfect broadside shot. After what seemed like forever he turned showing his ribs, T fired he reared, took a nose dive and a couple tumbles. I thought it was all over, but to our disbelief he got up and stood there, looking rather sick.
As she quickly chambered another round, but the magazine jammed. The 'window' box in her Rem700 300wsm caused the case to jam, half in and half out of the action port. Oh CRAP. I quickly scrambled through my pack, digging out a knife and started jamming and cramming, finally freeing the case.
The ram was still standing, head down thinking what his next move should be. I handed the now functioning rifle back to T. She lined up and put another good shoot into him, and off the mountain he dove face first into a steep ravine. We watched for a bit making sure he was done, then proceeded to climb up the cliff and scree.
We'd been hearing massive rock slides all night and into the morning, we were a little scared to crawl into the chute he was resting in, but made quick work of it and kicked him down the steep slope until we reached a flatter surface to work on him.
Hell of a ram! I’m not sure who was more excited between the two of us!
We (I should say I) got to work preparing for the pack back to camp. The sheep was dead by noon, and we made it back to camp around dinner time. The rain stopped and it looked as it would clear up a bit.
We got back to camp and were completely soaked after the last crossing. Luckily it had stopped raining and looked like it would clear up for a day or so. We dried out and cooked up a couple pieces of steak. It was delicious!
I took a short hike up the canyon the next day spotting a few more rams. Awesome country and an place I hope to draw a tag for one day. In all we saw 5 other legal rams... one similar in size and on our side of the river. We slogged back to the strip the following day and were picked up early the next morning. What to do with an extra week of vacation? Fill my caribou tag and maybe chase sheep? I think so…