One Heck Of A Ride

58 soon stopped the bleeding. The three of us packed the ram’s head, cape and meat to our little camp, and enjoyed fresh sheep back straps cooked over hot coals before turning in that night. North American Sheep Author’s first wild sheep, a Dall ram from Alaska’s Wrangell Mountains, 1983 My turn came next. Jim had seen an old ram with heavily “broomed” horns while scouting and wanted me to take that ram. When we found it, the ram was bedded a mile away. Most of the hillside he was on still had snow, but he had chosen a bare patch for its bed and he was a conspicuous spot of white, even at that distance. After selecting a route that would get us into range without alerting him, we eventually got to within 250 yards and I put the old warrior down. It still was early when we returned to our spike camp, so we decided to break camp and head back to our “box” for the night. I was skinning and boning my ram when Jim and Bob were ready to leave, so I told them I’d catch up to them at the box. Bob stuffed my tent into his backpack and Jim picked up my sleeping bag to lighten my load. Both men also had some of the boned meat from my ram in their packs. “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll follow you as soon as I finish.” The light was fading fast when I finally got the head, cape and the rest of the meat loaded and on my back. I hadn’t gone far before it was as dark as it gets before the moon comes up in Alaska, and I “became a bit misplaced.” I eventually found a boulder that gave me some protection from the wind and snow that was starting to fall. After thirty minutes or so, the moon provided some dim light, and I strapped on my pack again and started trudging in the direction I thought would take me to our box. I cannot describe how relieved I was to see a faint glimmer of light on the horizon. When I reached it, I learned Jim had placed a lantern on the box’s roof. I thanked him several times before eating something and crawling into my warm bag that night. It had been a long, but successful day. Another trip to Alaska with Lynn Castle out Wood River Lodge . I returned to Alaska in 1984 after trading carpeting for a twelve-day Dall sheep, Alaska- Yukon moose and barren-ground caribou hunt with Lynn Castle, another well-known Alaskan outfitter and master guide. Lynn said the guide he assigned me, a man named Max, had left Lynn’s Wood River Lodge with a string of horses a day before I arrived, heading for a cabin where several big bull moose were being seen. Until Max and I hooked up there, Note wound Bob George’s riflescope made above his right eye