By Paul D. Atkins
As I pushed upwards to where the goat should be my legs were screaming. Each step was pure agony, especially after the long traverse through the rocks and boulders that lined the mountain side. My good friend and hunting partner Carri Ann was directly above me, coaxing me on as we started our vertical approach. I wanted to stop, but I knew deep in my soul that if I was ever going to get a goat, this would be it, and there probably wouldn’t be any more chances, ever.
For those that follow my writing or my social media pages or know me personally, should know that goat hunting and I haven’t faired to well over the many years I’ have been pursuing these incredible animals. They have been my Achilles heel if you will. I’m not ungrateful for those experiences, I have cherished them, and even though I came home empty handed, I learned something new, plus, I learned a great deal about myself. The adventure with friends and the memories we created on each of those hunts, can, and never will be replaced, but as the years passed and each hunt started and finished, I knew that time was about to catch up with me.
I’m over 50 now and the thought of climbing mountains, I mean real mountains, those that go up forever, those that make your body hurt just to look at them, are relentless on your physique, especially your knees, back and stamina. But if you want a mountain goat then it’s what you have to do and the places you have to go. The pain will be worth it in the end.
Like I have said before, goat hunting is both physical and mental, with heavy on the mental, particularly in my case. Getting your body in shape is really the easy part, but focusing on what it takes to traverse across slick slopes, monster boulders, all the while moving in a vertical direction is at a whole another level.
I’ll be honest, when I got the goat bug several years ago, I thought it would be easy. Get the right gear, work out a little bit and I was ready to go. I did not realize at the time I was way out of my league and the thought process I had, basically and ultimately meant failure.
Those first goat hunts were like that. Fly to wherever, meet up with a guide or fellow hunting partner and start the process up the mountain. It worked for a while then I either could not make it due to exhaustion or the terrain (like the second time) or a freak blizzard blows in just as you start your ascent (like the first time) and your hunt ends before it even starts.
All were learning curves and if I’m being honest, I am glad some of those things happened. Sometimes I think the thought of going on a goat hunt and actually booking or planning one was more important than actually going. I was wrong. But looking back I would not trade any of it for anything.
Anyway, that all intensified a couple of years ago when I realized, with the help of a friend, that I was on the verge of doing something that few have accomplished, and few have had the opportunity to do.
“You know Paul you only need one more animal to complete the Super Ten”.
“What’s that”? I asked.
“It’s when you take one specie of each big game animal in North America”, he said.
I never really thought about it, but as soon as those words left his mouth, I knew immediately which animal was missing from my list, a mountain goat. After that it became a goal or a dream or both I guess, but I knew in the back of my mind that time wasn’t on my side and if I was ever going to do this I had to do it now.
As a writer, I’ve been in the game for many years, but only seriously until I came to Alaska back in the 1990’s. The hunting was incredible and the multitude of story lines never seemed to stop. Deadline's came fast too and staying caught up was almost impossible at times, but it has been fun and over time I was able to have many experiences, but just as importantly I got to meet a lot of great people.
Luckily through those outdoor experiences I was allowed to meet a like minded person a couple of years ago who would eventually help me in achieving my lofty and what I thought almost impossible goal. Carrie Ann Pratt is that person and one of my close friends. She too is an avid hunter and for those that don’t know she and her beautiful goat were featured on the cover of the Fall Issue of Hunt Alaska Magazine. I was on that hunt with her and her husband Andy, and to say it was an incredible experience is an understatement. Kodiak in the springtime is tough and even though there were many ups and downs for me personally on that trip, it was encouraging. So, encouraging that as soon as we returned we immediately planned another hunt for the fall, shooting for early October.
As soon as I returned home that spring I fine-tuned my workout regime, trying to figure out the physical part the best I could. I ate right, I checked and re-checked gear and constantly thought about goats, mountains, and each painful step it would take to get within range. It became an obsession.
After a long summer of working out and getting prepared September finally arrived. Like many who hunt Kodiak we shipped all our gear down early, giving us plenty of time to focus on other aspects of the hunt. One thing I’ve learned about hunting Kodiak, it’s better to ship your gear before you arrive if you can. It makes things so much easier and it is not very expensive, plus it puts your mind at ease knowing that all your stuff will be waiting for you as soon as you get to the dock. Picking the right transporter and pilot is also important and should be done long before the hunt takes place. Upon arriving home from spring hunting, I immediately called Seahawk Air and booked with Roland, one of the best outfits on Kodiak Island. Selecting the right air service to drop you off and pick you up is one of the most important aspects to any hunt, but especially on Kodiak. Seahawk fits that aspect and then some.
Kodiak can vary weather wise, but we arrived with sunshine and clear skies, something pretty rare, especially in October. We knew however that a storm was blowing in that evening and some pretty nasty days were in the forecast for part of our adventure. Either way our hunt was finally here, back to the place that looked quite different than it did 6 months ago! The four of us, Carri Ann, Andy, Carri Ann’s cousin Jordan and myself were eager to get to camp, set-up and start glassing. I was even more anxious, especially once we got in the air and all those steep jagged mountains started appearing below me. Yes, I had doubt and a bit of anxiety, but I knew this time it would be different. Mentally and physically I was ready, plus I knew that we would be flying into a mountain lake and where hunting goats would be closer to eye level, making it a bit easier, or so I kept telling myself.
As rain hit the windshield of Roland’s plane we cut through the mountains with ease. Like most things on Kodiak our plan changed with the incoming storm. The area we wanted to hunt would be a nightmare, especially with 70 mph winds, so we quickly decided to go elsewhere. We flew a few passes looking for a suitable site, something higher with a lake, but more importantly something with goats. As the rain came harder and options getting fewer we rounded a corner and saw goats, lots of goats, plus a lake. Roland said he could land there and within minutes were standing on the lake shore.
The camp spot was occupied however, but after visiting the guys there, who were actually flying out that day, we decided to stay. They had taken a couple of super nice Billy’s during the week and told us there were many more. From the air, we could see they were telling the truth. Getting camp set-up in the rain and mud took a while, but eventually we were in and lucky for us, just in time. The big storm showed up about the time we hammered the last tent peg in. Big wind and pouring rain pounded our tents, but we were safe and sound until the next day or so we hoped.
The next day arrived, but it wasn’t ideal. Rain and clouds made glassing difficult, so we decided to make a move up through the alder and see how far we could go. It was slow going, but we made a trail though the thickest stuff getting to the mountain valley. It was a beautiful sight. Rocks covered in green moss, void of alders and devils club, plus several places to glass the jagged peaks above. We couldn’t see much, but we knew the storm was scheduled to end the next day and it was supposed to be much better. The weatherman was right and the next day up was much clearer.
Making it back to the valley, where the wind was still brutal, we found a rock that provided a comfortable spot to glass from. All four of us were peering through our binoculars when unexpectedly, and to our right, three goats appeared in the rocks above us. They looked like nannies and after a closer observation, we could tell they were. Nannies without kids are legal, so we immediately decided to make a move. The climb up wasn’t to tough, but crossing the cuts and washed out ravines was. At that angle we couldn’t see the goats anymore, so we got into a position the best we could or so we thought. Andy who was above us peered over the top and to his and our surprise the goats had moved down and were below us! Carri Ann and I made a mad dash down and within seconds a goat appeared in front of us at ten yards. She was a lone nannie and looked small, but I knew this might be my only chance. The goat turned left and was going away. I shot and missed clearly, but Andy who was above and had a clear shot, he didn’t miss. One goat to carry back to camp.
Jordan who had been glassing the far reaches of the valley earlier thought he saw a goat bedded in the open. I thought it was a rock, but after this initial climb we could see that it was indeed a goat. A lone Billy had perched his self in the steep rocks, perusing all that lay before him. He didn’t move or even twitch, making it hard to tell exactly how big or small he was. It was then we decided to make another move. Traversing the rim of the valley, high above sea level we made the long exhausting trek towards him. It was excruciating on the ankles, but finally we were out of his line of sight and below him.
It was then that Carri Ann and I decided to leave our hunting group and make the vertical climb. We knew we were at least 5 miles from camp and the vertical rise would only add to the total. We dropped our packs and climbed. I was on the verge of giving in but knew that if I was ever going to get my goat and if he was still there, then this was it. With the help of my friend I pushed on finally reaching a place where we needed to be.
With no goat in sight we carefully made our way across the rocks. Big rocks more like boulders the size of small cars lay between us and the place where the goat should be. Tension was high as I unslung the rifle from my shoulder. I had no less than got it to my side and had turned down the scope when two horns appeared above the rocks. There he was! He saw me as soon as I saw him and the race was on. He began to run and ascend the cliff when I felt the recoil from the rifle. I missed again, but immediately chambered another round and this time I did not. One more to make sure and the goat was down. My goat. I was elated and a feeling of relief and accomplishment came over me. I had my super ten, but more importantly I had my goat, conquered my fear of the mountain and fulfilling a lifelong dream with good friends.
Goat hunting is hard, and if somebody tells you otherwise they’re wrong. It is definitely a physical and mental challenge, especially if father time isn’t on your side. Memories are priceless here in Alaska, especially on Kodiak and this one will live on forever.