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willow ptarmigan seemed to flood our ears from every direction. I was happy to be hunting the infamous white sheep once again. Two years ago I had come to the very same mountain range, but wasn’t fortunate enough to connect with a sheep. My father had harvested a ram that year, and now I was back to try again. It wasn’t long before we spotted our first ram, but he wasn’t a full-curl, so we gladly let him pass. The wind was sharp and out of the south, making it hard to keep my binoculars steady during the hours of glassing that followed. When we reached the first high summit, we gained a better vantage point and looked down into the next canyon. We found the same lone three-quarter curl ram feeding right to us. I was told

to get my gun ready and be waiting, in case a legal ram showed up behind him. No such luck. Nothing appeared besides the lonely five-year-old ram. We worked our way back around the mountain and up to the summit again where we could see miles of wilderness in every direction. Austin and Eric were able to do some quality glassing and they spotted numerous sheep below us, scattered all over and feasting on the emerald green scrub grass. Among the numerous sheep below us, Eric judged one to be full curl. We had planned to allow Joaquin to take the first legal ram, so Austin and I moved down to look for other rams. We spotted five more rams wisely bedded on a near-vertical slope 400 feet above us. The comfort those steep rocks brought them was obviously enough to keep them there for most of the day. Austin wisely chose to play the waiting game. Snacks, short naps, stretching excercises, cramps, and shivers were all part of waiting for the sheep to make the next move. We lay in the wash for almost three hours before the bigger ram finally got up and started down the mountain. Luckily, he was walking back toward where Eric and Joaquin were set up. If he would’ve moved up the canyon, we might not have been able to get within range until the next day. When he moved out of sight, Austin and I started our climb back up toward Eric and Joaquin. Not even 100 yards later, Austin waved me to stop. He told me to get my gun ready and lay low. On the other side of the wash, the other large ram appeared. He had climbed out of the ravine and was walking on the other side of the mountain toward us less than 400 yards away. Now that he was closer, it was more apparent he was definitely a full-curl trophy. We were still watching him through the glass when we heard the sudden report of a rifle above us. The sheep suddenly dropped within our view; Joaquin had shot his ram! With that sheep spo-ken for and the report of the rifle echoing through the canyon, I knew we had to move in order to get within range of the other one. We raced back up and met with the other two guys and quickly congratulated Joaquin on his one-shot kill. We had Joaquin stay put and then climbed straight up the black shale mountain. One more ridge over and farther up the mountainside, we expected to see the rams making their way up

the mountain where we could possibly get a shot across the river like Joaquin had just done. As we rounded the corner, we couldn’t see them on the other side and thought they might have spooked. Austin was maybe ten feet higher than me and I suddenly heard him say, “There they are! Don’t move!” The rams had crossed over the river and were on our side of the mountain. Again we had a perfect setup of a jagged rock boulder protruding out of the mountain face. I knelt behind it and rested my Winchester Model 70 .270 on top of the boulder. The rams were grazing right toward us; Austin had put me in a perfect position. One by one, each of the five rams came out from behind the rocks at 90 yards. Austin whispered to me and gave me the green light. “Take the last ram; it’s him.” I waited until he turned and gave me a clean broadside shot. As I squeezed off a round, I knew it was the moment I had waited two years for! The bullet flew true and the large ram flipped onto his back, with his legs straight up in the air. I had done it! I had finally taken a Dall’s ram. Relief flooded over me and the smile on

aking up at 4:00 a.m. turned out to be the easiest thing I did on opening day of my Dall’s sheep hunt. After a quick break-fast, I strapped my large pack on my back, accompanied by three other people – my guide, Austin Atkinson, hunter Joaquin Lagos from Mexico City, and guide Eric Lee. We headed up the mountain in the direction of rams we had spotted two days before the hunt. The sun had barely crested over the horizon when we reached the first ridge above camp. The wind was sharp at times and a light mist fell from the sky, creating a bright rainbow to the west. What a marvelous morning in the Alaska Range! There’s nothing quite like hiking through thick brush, natural spring ponds, and alongside of mountain streams. The sounds of

W— By Richard Stock —

The author (left) and guide Austin Atkinson enjoy the moment.

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my face expressed how satisfied I felt. What a rush it was to have executed a perfect stalk on such a beautiful animal. It seemed as if I was running down the mountain to see the ram up close and get my hands on him. Wow – we had just taken two Dall’s rams just 30 minutes apart! After many pictures were taken, Austin did a great job of skinning and quartering him. The bases on my ram were a little over 13 inches and his left horn measured 36" (his right was broomed off shorter). We guessed him at ten years old – what a trophy it was for me! We stuffed our packs with the meat, cape, and horns and then methodically made our way down to the main wash, where we

met with Eric and Joaquin. All four of us were loaded down heavy as we started our trek back to base camp. We knew with nearly 80-100 pounds on our backs, we had a strenuous and painstaking journey. I didn’t seem to mind the hike as much this time, know-ing I had taken my ram. Our legs were cramping, our shoulders were burning, and we had to stop numerous times to rest, but we eventually made it to the bottom of the last mountain, which was the first one we climbed that day. At the bottom, I couldn’t help but let out a triumphant yell! What an accomplishment; what an experience. We arrived at base camp at 12:30 a.m. and I dropped my pack. From Austin’s GPS, we found out we had climbed over 4,000 ver-tical feet and over six miles horizontally, all in one day. About half of that was done with heavy packs strapped on our backs. It was a one-day miracle. It was all worth the trouble, especially when I think back to being curled behind a boulder with a monster ram in my crosshairs! Austin, Eric, and Mont of Alaska Dall Sheep Guides made my dreams come true and helped to start my sheep slam on the Last Frontier. p

My dream of Dall’s sheep hunting in Alaska became a reality.

Joaquin Lagos harvested his Dall’s sheep within thirty minutes of the author.