Thursday Morning:

Last night was a tough one. As any hunter knows. Johnnie and I were up at the crack of dawn and sat down to a breakfast. We discussed the previous day and while I remained positive and not overly gloomy, I was down. In my heart I wanted to go back up there and try the trail again. We had looked into alternate routes from the bottom but that area, like many here in this region, will never see a human footprint simply because it was completely inaccessible. That goat had enough wits to get himself in an area that will never see anything except goats and birds. Johnnie felt as bad as I did about the loss, he comforted me with his words on how everything lives off everything else in this country. Nothing is ever wasted here in Alaska and while I may not be taking home that trophy billy, something may make it through to next spring because of that goat. Words I had used to comfort other bowhunters whom had lost game and were in the pits. His words to me were no less true. It was time to move on.

We decided it was time to get serious and start hunting harder. It was time for a spike! We divided up the gear we would use and lightened up our loads for one hell of a pack ahead of us - straight to the top to an area we called the alpine lake.

The trek took hours, through jungle, muskeg and then several hundred feet of 60 degree terrain. Finally we were there. To give you an idea of just where we were, check out this panorama of our spike camp.

Johnnie found a branch and made a makeshift pole for our lean-to. Just like the old Fred Bear Videos, this was hunting at its very best. By the time we were set up it was late afternoon but the weather was beautiful and the goats were out in force, including a band that was only about a 1/2 mile away. So as exhausted as we were, we set out for a quick evening hunt. Little did I know!

Late Thursday Afternoon

We got within a few hundred yards of the feeding goats and spotted them for a while. There was a good billy in the bunch and some nannies with kids. It was later than usual but because of our spike we had a good 90 minutes before we needed to be back at camp. Johnnie asked me if I wanted to give it a go and of course I said yes. We studied the position of the goats carefully. Any chance of the goats heading into no-man's land would mean no shot. But these goats were in a great spot for recovery and a difficult position to stalk but I felt I could do it. With a good luck tap, we split up and I headed across the back side of the mountain to a gully which would bring me to the goats.

There were some tough spots getting there including one heck of a steep slope that sucked the wind out of me. I had to catch my breath for a few seconds then I continued. I got to the area where I was sure the goats were and dropped my backpack, binocs, and boots. I was back in sock mode again.

As I moved closer I felt uneasy and looked up. A goat was staring at me about 100 yards away. I froze and after a few minutes the goat disappeared. It was time to crawl. I bellied along the ground with my bow being slid up behind me every couple of feet. Finally I reached a gully and inched quietly along the bottom until I found my landmark - a dug out goat bed. I pulled myself up into the goat bed, still on my stomach, and took a peek. I was face to face with the billy not twenty yards away! The billy was not sure what I was as I had never been more than a few inches off the ground. His head disappeared and I got on my knees and quickly nocked an arrow. Within a few moments, the billy appeared again and climbed up on a rock to get a better look. He seemed to be about twenty yards away - and in a hard quartering away position. A good shot.

I lifted my bow and drew smoothly to my anchor. My middle finger touched my lip and I continued to focus hard on a tuft of hair whipping violently in the wind. The billy turned away giving me a butt shot so I let the string back quietly. He was still looking but unsure of what to do. Cmon, turn, turn. I said to myself. Then he did. I drew again to firm anchor and held for a few seconds as the goat's body turned back to a hard quartering away angle. I was on target, relaxed, and the goat was in a good position. I let my fingers slip and in that split second knew the goat was mine as the arrow was in a perfect line to the goat.

Then it veered to the right, just missing the goat. Huh!

I couldn't believe it. The gusting wind had pushed my arrow off target missing the goat clean. He turned around to look at me with those deep black eyes. He was safe, and he knew it. I just chuckled and watched as the goat disappeared down the grassy slope. I was not upset in the least - in fact I was in some way happy. This goat had beat me from the start.

Wanting to simply catch a glimpse of the billy as he worked his way down the hillside I got up and ran to the edge. To my surprise, and hers, there was another goat, directly below me. Not Ten Feet Away! It was a Nanny with what I guessed would be 11 or 12" horns. Book material. She just stood there as I slipped an arrow on the string, picked a spot and pulled back to anchor. Then I let the string back. I had no intention of shooting this goat, I was just seeing if the theories were true. You see this goat had twin kids, one clung to each hip and staring at me. I had read about Nannies not leaving their kids in a dangerous situation and it was true. She held her ground to protect her two newborns who were nervous and not quite sure what I was. I smiled and said to myself "I'm not gonna hurt you" then backed away slowly to give her time to get them down from there safely.

It was a feeling that was indescribable. I was so close to those goats that I could touch them with the end of my recurve. And I did not care that I missed the billy in the wind either. I guess that's why they call us hunters and not killers.

I jogged back to gather my gear and talk to Johnnie. But when I hit a steep slope my socks became skis again only this time I cracked my left knee solidly into a boulder at the bottom of a ditch. Oh no! The pain was unbearable as I lay on the ground. The knee swelled up and I spent about ten minutes on the ground. This was not good. I got up and began walking but with each step there was a sharp pain. I hoped for a bruised or fractured knee cap - if it was ligament damage I would be in real trouble. I hobbled back to Johnnie and was able to make it back to camp without the leg giving out. That was a good sign.

Even with my leg stiffening up, I was still pumped about my close encounter - this hunt was a real test. The only sobering thought was the memory of that downed billy which still haunted me. We ate in the dark and settled into our lean-to for the night.