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- Jan 28, 2003
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Last year before it was time to put in for the Colorado hunt draw I had the good fortune to speak with a very experienced friend who mentioned that if you really wanted to hunt Mt Goat to put in for a nanny tag. Most guys, he said, have some macho aversion to putting in for the nanny only tag but wind up shooting a nanny anyway on their either sex tag. The risk with a nanny tag is that goats are not easy to sex in the field so if you have a nanny only tag you have to be super careful and not shoot a billy. I followed his advice and sure enough I drew a nanny tag after 10 years of applying in Colorado I was going goat hunting in the high country.
Myself, my daughters, and my wife spent all summer scouting my area and looking at goats. We had them patterned and by summer’s end we could all fairly reliably identify a nanny from a billy. Finally after much anticipation the big day came, I was all packed, ready, and launching out from the trail head to do a solo goat hunt in the high country.
My wife volunteered to help pack me into my base camp. It was about a three hour hike which over the course of several miles gains about 1500 vertical feet. Laboring under heavy packs we set out on the trail with two guard terrorist terrier dogs along for “protection”.
Leaving the trailhead.(Man do I ever love that lady!) Not only a great person but a Sherpa too!!
About an hour into the hike we took our first water break. The dogs had been off lead since we started up the trail and our male “Nitro” had disappeared. After a bit of calling he came back to us and the little terrorist had been up to no good. He had a face and mouth full of porcupine quills. He seemed very proud of himself as if to say “look guys I just whopped some serious quilled critter butt , but uhhhmm, could you please remove these spikes from my face now…”. In any case My Sherpa, veterinarian wife went to work and after a bit of a struggle including having to tie the dogs mouth open with a bandana to get the quills out of the back of his throat we were on our way again. Of course now we were about an hour later than we wanted to be.
First break.
Mrs. H&Hhunter /Sherpa Woman cuts off the main trail and starts up to our base camp site. Base camp was on a ridge well above tree line in fact at over 13,000 feet alt.
We set up camp in a small depression which provided a natural wind break. The wind was howling over the ridge but in our low spot it was calm. You could take twenty steps up either side and the gusts were ripping by at over 40 MPH. Something to keep in mind if get into trouble in the country folks find a low spot and you’ll be out of the freezing wind. Many a mountaineer has survived the night in a howling blizzard by doing just this.
Home sweet home at goat hunt central!
Kim my soul mate and best friend helped me set up camp and we had a quiet meal and sat together holding hands for an hour or so delaying the inevitable for as long as possible. Finally it was time for her to solo back down the mountain. She gave me one last hug and a kiss, called the dogs and started down the trail. I sat on the ridge line being buffeted by the frigid wind and watched her lonely form get smaller as she made tracks down the mountain. Finally she turned the last switchback out of sight and disappeared.
I suddenly felt very alone and isolated. I didn’t expect that, but for about an hour I had a sense of foreboding and loneliness that was almost overwhelming. I went back to the tent grabbed my spotting scope climbed high and started to glass the peaks and the cirques and the valleys and the snow fields. That put me back into a solid frame of mind and I got down to the business at hand of looking for a goat.
That night I was treated to a most spectacular sunset. It seemed to me that it was a sign that everything was going to be alright and that I was exactly where I wanted to be. It soothed my soul and was a lovely companion for the brief time that it glowed from brilliant orange to dull blue and then turned to the inky black of night.
Sunset night one, my savior.
05:00 the next morning after a solid night sleep the alarm awoke me to a frigid morning. I could hear the wind howling over my protected little nook. I stayed in my sleeping bag unzipped the tent and started a pot of water boiling. A ptarmigan was just off in the darkness chirping out his eerie morning call and a thick frost covered the outside of my tent. In preparation for the day I wolfed down a packet of instant oatmeal some Carnation breakfast mix and a cup of coffee. I also chugged a liter of cold water despite the morning chill. Hydration is the key to good health at high altitude. Make sure and drink enough water even if it is freezing cold outside. After slurping down breakfast I climbed into my pants and layered my body in fleece and topped it all off with a Sitka Stormfront, Gore Tex shell and a pair of KUIU Mountain attack pants. If you are going to hunt the high country in the fall folks DO NOT skimp on your gear. More on that later….
Breakfast at the Goat Camp Grill..
The first official day of goat season I started by walking the rim of the bowl that we had seen goats in all summer long. Every time we’d been up scouting we’d seen large concentrations of goats on either side of this bowl. I watched the sun rise and with excited anticipation started to carefully glass. Much to my dismay the area that had a short time ago been a goat rich paradise was barren there wasn’t a living
thing to be seen. By 11:30 I had glassed every nook and cranny of my honey hole and it was empty. A bit dejected I trudged back to camp made myself some lunch and passed out in a deep slumber for about an hour. After waking up I went to the west for about three miles and glassed several more areas that looked likely to hold goats. Once again I came up with nothing. I sat and watched the sun set taking in the beauty of it all and was treated just before dark to a herd of elk grazing far below in a meadow and just above them was herd of five bighorn sheep. I watched them until they faded into darkness and hiked home via the light of a headlamp.
Myself, my daughters, and my wife spent all summer scouting my area and looking at goats. We had them patterned and by summer’s end we could all fairly reliably identify a nanny from a billy. Finally after much anticipation the big day came, I was all packed, ready, and launching out from the trail head to do a solo goat hunt in the high country.
My wife volunteered to help pack me into my base camp. It was about a three hour hike which over the course of several miles gains about 1500 vertical feet. Laboring under heavy packs we set out on the trail with two guard terrorist terrier dogs along for “protection”.
Leaving the trailhead.(Man do I ever love that lady!) Not only a great person but a Sherpa too!!
About an hour into the hike we took our first water break. The dogs had been off lead since we started up the trail and our male “Nitro” had disappeared. After a bit of calling he came back to us and the little terrorist had been up to no good. He had a face and mouth full of porcupine quills. He seemed very proud of himself as if to say “look guys I just whopped some serious quilled critter butt , but uhhhmm, could you please remove these spikes from my face now…”. In any case My Sherpa, veterinarian wife went to work and after a bit of a struggle including having to tie the dogs mouth open with a bandana to get the quills out of the back of his throat we were on our way again. Of course now we were about an hour later than we wanted to be.
First break.
Mrs. H&Hhunter /Sherpa Woman cuts off the main trail and starts up to our base camp site. Base camp was on a ridge well above tree line in fact at over 13,000 feet alt.
We set up camp in a small depression which provided a natural wind break. The wind was howling over the ridge but in our low spot it was calm. You could take twenty steps up either side and the gusts were ripping by at over 40 MPH. Something to keep in mind if get into trouble in the country folks find a low spot and you’ll be out of the freezing wind. Many a mountaineer has survived the night in a howling blizzard by doing just this.
Home sweet home at goat hunt central!
Kim my soul mate and best friend helped me set up camp and we had a quiet meal and sat together holding hands for an hour or so delaying the inevitable for as long as possible. Finally it was time for her to solo back down the mountain. She gave me one last hug and a kiss, called the dogs and started down the trail. I sat on the ridge line being buffeted by the frigid wind and watched her lonely form get smaller as she made tracks down the mountain. Finally she turned the last switchback out of sight and disappeared.
I suddenly felt very alone and isolated. I didn’t expect that, but for about an hour I had a sense of foreboding and loneliness that was almost overwhelming. I went back to the tent grabbed my spotting scope climbed high and started to glass the peaks and the cirques and the valleys and the snow fields. That put me back into a solid frame of mind and I got down to the business at hand of looking for a goat.
That night I was treated to a most spectacular sunset. It seemed to me that it was a sign that everything was going to be alright and that I was exactly where I wanted to be. It soothed my soul and was a lovely companion for the brief time that it glowed from brilliant orange to dull blue and then turned to the inky black of night.
Sunset night one, my savior.
05:00 the next morning after a solid night sleep the alarm awoke me to a frigid morning. I could hear the wind howling over my protected little nook. I stayed in my sleeping bag unzipped the tent and started a pot of water boiling. A ptarmigan was just off in the darkness chirping out his eerie morning call and a thick frost covered the outside of my tent. In preparation for the day I wolfed down a packet of instant oatmeal some Carnation breakfast mix and a cup of coffee. I also chugged a liter of cold water despite the morning chill. Hydration is the key to good health at high altitude. Make sure and drink enough water even if it is freezing cold outside. After slurping down breakfast I climbed into my pants and layered my body in fleece and topped it all off with a Sitka Stormfront, Gore Tex shell and a pair of KUIU Mountain attack pants. If you are going to hunt the high country in the fall folks DO NOT skimp on your gear. More on that later….
Breakfast at the Goat Camp Grill..
The first official day of goat season I started by walking the rim of the bowl that we had seen goats in all summer long. Every time we’d been up scouting we’d seen large concentrations of goats on either side of this bowl. I watched the sun rise and with excited anticipation started to carefully glass. Much to my dismay the area that had a short time ago been a goat rich paradise was barren there wasn’t a living
thing to be seen. By 11:30 I had glassed every nook and cranny of my honey hole and it was empty. A bit dejected I trudged back to camp made myself some lunch and passed out in a deep slumber for about an hour. After waking up I went to the west for about three miles and glassed several more areas that looked likely to hold goats. Once again I came up with nothing. I sat and watched the sun set taking in the beauty of it all and was treated just before dark to a herd of elk grazing far below in a meadow and just above them was herd of five bighorn sheep. I watched them until they faded into darkness and hiked home via the light of a headlamp.
