The Rocky Mountain Goat (oreamnos americanus) is actually not a goat at all, but a type of antelope. Its range in North America is restricted to certain steep and broken mountain ranges from the northwestern United States up through western Canada into many areas of Alaska and some Alaskan islands. He is a white, shaggy-coated and bearded animal with a shoulder hump, somewhat resembling a miniature buffalo. Awkward in build, the adult may weigh as little as 150 pounds or as much as 300 pounds depending on areas and food supply. Sexes are extremely difficult to differentiate; both billies and nannies have short, black, slightly curved horns of usually 6-10 inches in length. Billies are usually the lone goats, but nannies are normally found in groups or accompanied by at least one kid. Billies may also be slightly larger in size with somewhat larger horn bases. Mating occurs in November or December with a single kid typically born in May or June.
Because of their rugged habitat, predators are few, the greatest possibly being the eagle who often preys on the young. Habitat is not their only defense, for the wolf and grizzly have met death from the piercing horns of an aggressive adult goat. In spite of its aggression when threatened, the goat is an introvert. He is interested in himself and what goes on in his immediate surroundings, but even at that, he is not particularly wary. His senses are not overly developed, but his sense of smell is possibly his keenest. For the most part, he doesn’t even bother to look at whatever is way over there across the canyon. His instincts tell him that he can climb in places where no other living thing can. His safety is the horizon.
The mountain goat is also a phlegmatic animal that can withstand a tremendous amount of punishment without going down. Almost all experienced Rocky Mountain Goat hunters agree he is as hard to kill as a grizzly and harder to kill than the much heavier moose. In addition to being just plain difficult to anchor, the mountain goat is exhausting to harvest because of man’s lack of ability in negotiating his terrain.
Generally, goat meat is considered very tasty only from animals three years old or less. From a horn standpoint, this animal is not impressive when compared to most other game species. But from the standpoint of physical hardship, spectacular settings, trophy judging, and difficulty of terrain, the mountain goat presents a unique challenge. A very underrated and beautiful trophy!
My initiation to mountain goat hunting came by way of an unexpected phone call from my good friend, Phil Johnston, renowned handgunner/author from North Dakota. Phil explained in his call in the spring of ’93 that he wanted to write an article for a major magazine on hunting mountain goats with revolvers, and he wanted to do the hunt on Kodiak Island. He and I had spent plenty of time together over the previous years hunting, shooting, and just visiting, so he knew of my love for and ability with handguns, especially the Freedom Arms 454 Casull. Because of our close friendship and a "pay back" of sorts for a hog hunting trip I had taken him and friend Lones Wigger, Jr. on, he wanted me to accompany him on this hunt and be a part of the story. He stressed the fact that we had to draw a permit before the hunt could materialize, but if drawn, we could enjoy each other’s company and see Kodiak Island. Phil gave me a whole three days to think about it, for permits needed to be filled in less than a week. I guess most would have instantly said, "Yes!" but being well in my forties, from the flatland of northeast Texas, and having already experienced Alaska a couple of times, I really did have to give it some thought. I had told myself after my second trip to southern British Columbia a couple of years earlier that I was through hunting the extremely steep country. Famous last words…
I gave the hunt serious consideration for several days receiving the much needed advice from my mother and wife, Joyce. They were important in my decision because the previous two northern light adventures had both had considerable weather obstacles making the family more than a little hesitant about their support. With some uncertainty they did give their final approval. We certainly had to admit the price was right. Inquiries on the outfitter proved him well-known for his bear hunts and Russian adventures, but his access to good goats wasn’t widely spread news; one good article could fix that. After considering the matter for much of the allotted time given, I decided that I really did regret that I had never seen Kodiak Island and wouldn’t mind the possibility of being in a story found in a nice glossy front magazine. I accepted the invitation.
If we were issued permits, there was one concern: I would need to change my planned hunting schedule. I had booked another New Mexico muzzleloader elk hunt with friend Dick Ray of Lobo Outfitters. I felt I knew what Dick would say when I told him of my Kodiak hunt possibility; therefore, it didn’t surprise me that he said I shouldn’t pass up this opportunity. Like a true friend, he capped off his warm opinion by saying if I did not get drawn; call and he might still work me in. Otherwise, we would hunt together the following year.
In the next several weeks I continued to research the outfitter, Rocky Morgan of Kodiak Adventures, and tried to learn more about the island itself. All information seemed to add up to an interesting hunt, if drawn. However, the game department only gave us a 25% chance at best. Not being so lucky in draws in the past, I figured I had better not get my hopes up too high. A phone call in July from Rocky relieved any negative thoughts; we had permits #1 and #2.
In mid-August I began spending more time with my 7.5" 454 and increased my summer exercise program. I bumped the sessions to 3-4 mile jogs on alternating days with a good gym workout on leg machines and the stepper. Six weeks was going to pass very slowly.
I knew I needed to change from my whitetail load of a 250XTP/1600fps to one of much more muzzle energy. With the ease in which a Freedom Arms revolver can settle into a decent load, it did not take long to come up with a package both suitable for goat or a possible charging brown bear. I stayed with the Hodgdon 110 powder and Federal 205M primers but loaded the cases with 36 grains and sealed with the excellent 260-grain heavy jacket, flat point FA bullet. The Oehler 35P revealed standard deviation in the mid to low twenties while churning up some 1850 fps. Plenty of horse power with a significant handful of recoil to get my attention.
After trying two variable scopes and finding them to be KO’ed from the recoil, I settled on the 4X Leupold EER scope in the superb SSK 3-ring mount. I was putting in range time every day firing at a white 18" steel disc at 100 yards with occasional shots at 140 and 180-yard distances. I kept the Dillon busy as well as Freedom Arms; seemed I constantly ran out of bullets, but the troop at FA was as always, eager and willing to quickly meet my needs.
I did not want to carry the big Casull by its present sling system because of climbing with frame pack in Kodiak weather. For an alternative in carrying, I chose the Uncle Mike’s Bandolier holster whose flap doubled as a soft case. By the middle of September gun, scope, mount, and loads all seemed to be tailored to near perfection, and with two more weeks to go.
October 3rd finally arrived. I flew out of DFW at 11:15 AM arriving Anchorage at 4:30 PM. Phil and I were to meet there then catch a 9:00 PM flight to Kodiak. Just as planned, Phil was right there and with a surprise to boot. We were to spend the next few hours at the home of former NRA official Wayne Ross and family. The visit in their beautiful home overlooking Cook Inlet was memorable, as was the serving of delicious caribou burgers by Barbara, Wayne’s wife. This stop over provided a perfect resting period before Wayne took us back to the airport for our Kodiak flight.
Monday morning we met Rocky for breakfast and discussed details of the hunt. The weather wasn’t looking too great at the time, but the fog was predicted to lift by afternoon. We checked in at the game department and were ready for the next step, the flight to Rocky’s Kiliuda Bay lodge on the central east side of the island overlooking our hunt area in unit 476.
The plan was for Rocky, Phil, and some gear to fly out in a Cessna 206, followed by myself and more gear in a Supercub. The Supercub would then be used to shuttle each member of the hunting party to a lake at about 2200 feet elevation, right in the heart of trophy goat country. Once there, all we would have to do is set up a spike camp and hunt the cliffs and slopes around the lake without long strenuous climbs. The only other option was to boat across the bay and climb from sea level up the dense, steep terrain to a camp site at around 1000 feet elevation. Hunting would then be made in another steeper area in the Alpines another 1000-1500 feet above. No one ever said mountain goat hunting was easy.
By 1:30 PM on Monday the 4th, the ceiling of fog had lifted some at Kodiak, but not in the lake area in the mountains around our destination. We decided that getting us as far as the lodge in one flight would be the best plan under the current weather conditions. Our air service was the excellent Seahawk Air, and besides a couple of Cessna 206 float planes, they happened to have a beautiful DeHavilland Beaver that seemed to be calling Phil and me. We had earlier discussed how we would love to fly in one of these magnificent floating aircraft; we jumped at the opportunity to use it. With this fine transport, we could fly together with plenty of spare room for gear and supplies. We were not disappointed for the flight in this bird was fantastic. What a plane.. What a pilot.. And I don’t generally like flying in aircraft smaller that a 747.
At the Kiliuda Bay Lodge we were met by our guide Blaine, a young packer named Mikal, and two resident hunters Doug and Warren. Marina, Natasha, and Victor, Rock’s lodge staff completed our entourage. Blaine and Mikal were ready to travel, but the weather report suggested we hold out until morning to see what a nearby storm was going to do. At the present we could not get air lifted to the alpine lake anyway. Phil and I unpacked some things and enjoyed Rocky’s comfortable bunkhouse and luxurious (by Kodiak Island standards) lodge. We retrieved our 454s from their cases and checked to see that they made the journey entacked. Phil commented as to how dependable his 7 ½" with 2X Leupold scope had been for him on so many hunts. "Total confidence" I believe were his words. With guns in hand and the desire to get in a quick sighter shot, we took a stroll on the beach. As we rounded a bend placing the lodge out of sight, we noticed a chunk of wood floating out in the bay some 50-60 yards. Phil asked me to spot his shot as he took position across a tree limb. My 10x50 Swarovski binoculars focused in on the target as Phil splintered it. Thankfully, I saved embarrassment and nailed it also. SEND IN THE GOATS!!
Next morning, both marine and local television predicted no fly conditions for possibly several days. Since by law you can’t hunt and fly on the same day, waiting could mean no hunting for four or five days. What a bummer, so the best option was the least wanted and most difficult—packing in the complete camp on our backs from zero altitude.
The next morning, Victor boated us across the bay where we unloaded our bulging packs and had a farewell/good luck handshake with Victor, a Russian who spoke very little English.
It was only a few yards until we were walking on bear tracks. BIG bear tracks, but then what would one expect? It’s Kodiak Island, home of the huge browns. The tracks led into the tall grass that grows in the low lands often for 30-40 yards before the incline of rolling hills and mountain starts towering upward. In this salmon-spawning season, much of this tall grass is beaten flat along the drainage ditches and cluttered with fish bones, just another indication of the many bears that lived in the area soon to be our campgrounds. We had not even cleared the low lands when we spotted our first of the local furry giants. We gave the Brown plenty of room and time to move on away from us to void any unwanted encounter. At the edge of the flats, we paused to change from our hip boots into our hiking shoes. My seasoned Vasque Sundowners felt good on my feet as we started our climb into the thick alders, sticker-type weeds like salmonberry and devil’s club, the now slippery skunk cabbage, and other mixes of native grasses, scrubs, and weeds. The humidity was terrible, even to a guy from humid northeast Texas. Bugs (no-see-ums, black flies and the like) were attacking us like they were after their last meal. Repellant only helped until the sweat washed it off. With joy we made the hike from sea level to about 1000 feet in relatively good time and with only two bear sightings.
At an open area near a stream, we set camp consisting of two small two man tents. Phil and I relaxed a while, having some tea and a candy bar as Blaine and Mikal took a hike. Blaine was back in just a few minutes all excited, asking Phil if he wanted pictures of a "killer bear." With no hesitation we sprang up and followed Blaine to a mound overlooking a draw where stood an absolutely gorgeous Kodiak Brown bear of 8-9 foot variety. The bear was unaware of our presence, which enabled Phil to capture numerous shots with his 300-mm lens. Evening was closing so we left the bear undisturbed and settled in for the evening in our new home. Skies were still overcast and becoming foggy as darkness fell. I slipped into the North Face bag and fell into peaceful sleep.
Morning came with rain. We were prepared; out came the books. Reading became an all day pastime for it was rainy and foggy the whole day. Blaine and Mikal had their tent spaced about 30 feet from ours. Our Mountain House freeze-dried food and candy bars were set a short distance away--close enough to watch, yet far enough a bear could have it without too much argument from us. Heavy rains continued as nightfall came. Next morning was a carbon copy of the previous morning. We were not as well prepared as we thought, and it was quite obvious that more food, more books, and a weather forecast were going to be needed soon. We armed our energetic 21 year-old packer Mikal and sent him descending back down to the beach to signal for transportation back to the lodge. Mikal returned late in the afternoon with plenty extra supplies and an "iffy" forecast. Just after his arrival around 5:00 PM, the fog lifted enough to spot goats in the cliffs above.
We hurriedly gathered some gear for a grueling last minute climb. It was our first huntable time, and we wanted to make the best of it. At about 2000 feet elevation, we decided there would not be sufficient daylight to continue and be able to safely return to tents. There were just too many dangers, the steep incline not to mention the big bears. Darkness was on us in an hour just as we made it to camp. Back to the general pattern of Mountain House gourmet, hot tea, then back in the sack; however, we did have one new bit of delicacy for such a camp, Mikal had the Russian cooks make a small birthday cake for Phil whose celebration event was the next day. We all slid into the bags hoping that it would be just that, a special, CLEAR day.
Birthday Friday was clear as a bell. We hastily repeated the previous evening’s climb. We paused at a slope where most vegetation had stopped; from there we spotted one lone goat. It was high in the steep cliffs, but possibly approachable. Blaine set up the spotting scope as Phil and I peered through our 10x50s. Blaine estimated this loner as an 8-8.5 inch billy. Since it was Phil’s special day, I suggested the first goat option to be his. He took a serious look and passed on the bachelor. I did the same. Blaine climbed higher as a storm looked to be brewing in the southwest. Within minutes Blaine had spotted another goat. We continued the climb for a better look at an acceptable goat estimated with horn around 10 inches. Ball was back in Phil’s court and he, of course, chose to stalk this one. Phil slipped into one of our goat disguises (white clothing) and started toward the goat that was watching from the far side of a boulder slide some 800-1000 yards away. The rest of us made ourselves noticeable to distract the goat’s attention. Phil’s stalk placed him within 50 yards of his target. His audience watched as he checked the goat’s size one final time with binoculars then rested his Casull for a shot. The big revolver let out a loud bellow as the 300-grain Golden Bear slug at 1700 fps hit its mark in the shoulder. Phil and I were well aware of how hard these animals are to anchor; we weren’t surprised as it rose only to catch another round. Phil was slamming slugs into the goat in the same manner he accurately rags holes in test targets. When the goat tumbles with it’s last breath, we started our dash across the slide to see Phil’s trophy. As we approach Phil’s prize, we noticed our previously spotted goat had moved off the ledge and was now watching from about 200 yards up the slope. The storm was obviously moving in now as patches of fog rolled between the goat and us. Many thoughts began rushing though my mind as I kept observing the new entry. I thought about another climb to make IF the coming storm passed anytime during the next couple of days. I realized Phil’s adventure was finished as for as having a story, and I considered that a goat taken with a handgun was better than possibly no goat at all, even if it was smaller than I had hoped for. Decision time; I told Blaine I would go for a shot at the goat up the slope. Without questioning the distance, Blaine immediately placed his freighter pack onto a large rock for me to shot from. I caught a much-needed breath and shed my pack frame and slipped my revolver from my holster all in one motion. I was still trying to slow the heart rate as I laid the gun across Blaine big pack. The FA was sighted in four inches high at 100 yards, so I placed the duplex reticle near the top of the animal’s back and took a decent disciplined squeeze and follow through. Blaine called a hit, but the goat stayed on its feet. However, it did not seem to be able to climb. Instead it started scampering down the slope. I put another 260 in the vital zone. Then the scenario that all goat hunters dread began to unfold. The goat’s down hill run turned to a tumble, then a giant fall from the slope's ledge, plunging to the rocks below. I had my goat, a little broken up…from end to end, but regardless, I had just handgunned a mountain goat on Kodiak Island. The feeling was breath taking.
After plenty of shutter snapping, caping, and boning the meat, we started down the mountain, trying to beat the approaching storm. We hoped to make the beach by dark, and without an encounter with a bear. The smell of two deceased goats would be tempting. We successfully made it to the beach without incident, but there the rain became much harder. Blaine and Mikal recovered the hidden skiff, and we made our rather dangerous boat run across the white capping bay finally reaching shelter and a hot meal of something beside freeze-dried food.
The storm continued for another day making us exceedingly glad we had taken the two goats, even if they were not the record book trophies that we had expected. In the day and a half that followed, we dried clothes, relaxed, and ate well. We were fed fresh Dungeouness crabs from the crab pots set in the bay. By Sunday afternoon, we were able to fly from Kiliuda Bay. The Seahawk pilot flew us over the camp we had left. There Blain, Warren, and Doug were waving good-bye as they searched for another Kodiak antelope. The flight back to Seahawk Harbor at Kodiak was bittersweet, but we had experienced a great handgunning adventure.
