I posted a picture of my packraft loaded down with a dall sheep in the rafting forum, and was promptly corrected for not posting a write up along with it .
So here's how my sheep season went:
Friday August 13th:
I picked up my buddy at 0200 and we headed down the road, it was exciting to finally be on our way to sheep country. I had made a couple of scouting trips earlier in the year and was looking forward to the hunt.
It took us an hour to get everything across the river, then we shouldered packs and headed up valley. We passed two other hunters on their way out, each with rams, the sight of which quickened our steps and seemed to lighten our packs.
We stopped to glass as we moved up the valley, spotting sheep here and there, but still too distant to determine if they were legal rams.
Finding a flat spot behind a lateral moraine, we set up camp for the night. My buddy was tired and decided to rest up for the next day, and I decided to climb the mountain behind camp to get on top of some sheep we had spotted. I climbed over the mountain, fighting through muscle cramps as I summitted, watching rock slides from this living mountain tumble down the chute to my left.
As I stared down the fingers of this mountain, trying to decide which one to take down in order to get on top of the rams I had spotted earlier, a small group of sheep suddenly appeared. There were two rams among them.
I worked my way down toward them, and after a long stare through the spotting scope, I didn't feel comfortable with the legality of the ram, and so I passed.
On my way down the other side of the mountain, I looked up...where I had recently been...and saw a nice ram. I dropped my pack and with every ounce of string cheese I had, hustled up the mountain after him. It didn't work out though, so I ended up on the other side of the mountain, this time without my pack, but that was alright, I would get it in the morning. I made my way back to camp in the dark, drank some water, and crashed for a few hours....