Mountain Goats, One of the Hardest Earned Trophies in North America

This was supposed to be an easy day - NOT! Glassing for mountain goats, Alaskan hunter Steve Neff, scanning the mountain ridges.

It was supposed to be a day to take it easy. Two weeks ago my Alaskan hunting partner, Steve Neff, and I had just backpacked a total of 12 miles through the Ayakulik River Valley with camp and a caribou on our backs. From base camp on Grant's Lagoon we were supposed to take it easy the following day and glass the Kodiak foothills for black-tail deer. Steve had two deer tags and we had seen several decent bucks while pursuing caribou the previous 2 days. After rolling out of our sleeping bags at first light we suited up and cooked breakfast. Freeze-dried breakfast again, just add hot water and - mmm, mmm, good! When you are over 85 miles from the nearest store, road, or any semblance of civilization, you would be surprised how tasty freeze-dried food actually is! After breakfast we prepared our backpacks with food and water necessary for the day of hunting - brunch peanuts, lunch peanuts, snack peanuts, dinner peanuts, dessert peanuts, and granola bars. Until you hunt with Steve you really have no idea all the variety of peanuts that exist! I am now a connoisseur of hunting peanuts and their mysterious nutritional value while in the bush. And it's a good thing they have all that nutritional value because a quarter mile out of camp we spotted 2 mountain goats sunning and feeding on the east side of a distant mountain and black-tail deer hunting went out the door! So much for an easy day in the foothills.

Taking a break 1/2 way up the south ridge, the One-Eyed Hillbilly, Greg Stephens, with Grant's Lagoon and the Pacific Ocean in the background.

Steve looked at me and asked, "Are you up for it?" It was 2000 feet to the ridge above the critters. There was no guarantee that they would still be there when we got there. But hey, I didn't travel all the way from Missouri to miss a chance at witnessing the harvest of one of the most coveted hunting trophies in North America. "Let's go," I said. And away, and up, we went.

Mountain goats are a truly magnificent game animal. They have beautiful, thick white fur for enduring the brutal weather at the top of the world. They climb to staggering heights and stand and nap on shear cliffs thousands of feet high. Compared to deer they have larger and more powerful front shoulders for climbing. Similar to deer they have a nose that warns them of approaching danger in the shifting mountain winds. Due to the extreme heights that they inhabit the animal has a tendency to look horizontally and down from their perches on mountain cliffs but, unless traveling up, they seldom look up. So, the trick is to get above them and that is usually easier said than done. But we had a game plan - as fast as possible get to the top of the mountain ridge to the south of where the goats were feeding and hopefully round the summit just above their location. It sounded good in theory anyway.

Finally on top of the Ridge! Steve prepares to skirt the summit and peek over the top from above the goats last known position.

Now 2000 feet isn't all that high when it comes to mountains in Alaska. But after a mile hike up the foothills through alder thickets, salmon berry brier patches, and marshy creek drainages, only to be hit with a mountain so steep you have to sidetrack to climb, 2000 feet is more than you want. I've scaled some pretty formidable ridges in these Ozark Hills but this was ridiculous! The entire ascent up the mountain was so steep you could stand upright and reach out with your inside arm and hold the ground in front of you! With a 25 pound backpack and a 7 pound gun the task was even more challenging. If you made a wrong step you would literally roll a 1000 feet with no way to stop. Needless to say, we watched every step. It took us approximately an hour to scale the 2000 foot mountain. After a brief rest we hustled around the back side of the summit and cautiously peeked over the ridge and...no goats! They had bugged out while we were scaling the mountain.

Hung on a wing and a prayer in the last alder patch, Steve Neff with his trophy mountain goat above the cliff dropping to the Pacific.

As we scanned the horizon and all escape routes from the mountain top trying to decipher the goats escape path and trying to decide if we could continue the pursuit, we caught a glimpse of a goat just walking over the crest of a peak 2 mountains further up the ridge. It was another mile further and now daylight and the gathering mist was our main concern. In order to avoid the extreme danger of being caught on the mountain and trying to descend after dark we would have to race the clock and weather. Again, we decided we hadn't come all this way for nothing. The pursuit was on!

Bugging out for the 2nd time, after Steve's shot the lone remaining Billy heads over the cliff to safer hiding places.

Another hour of climbing put us on the break in the ridge where we had seen the goat disappear earlier. As we cautiously crested the ridge there was a hump in the mountain 70 yards in front of us. At 30 yards from the hump, 2 pairs of black horns and white fur-covered ears popped up from just on the other side of the hump. The game was up! Steve quickly raised the Squaw Mountain customized Model 700 Remington .308, took aim, and fired. Much to our initial joy and subsequent concern, a direct hit through the chest cavity sent our quarry tumbling down the mountain toward a sheer bluff that fell 1000 feet to the Pacific Ocean below. The same alders that we had cursed on the way up the mountain we were now placing all our hopes on as our trophy headed for the last alder patch before going over the cliff. In the end the hunting Gods were watching over us because the alders stopped our goat.

Greg posing with the prize. The culmination of a hunting trip of a lifetime.

After an hour of racing nightfall and the impending weather and fighting the extremely steep conditions while processing and deboning the carcass, our backpacks were filled to capacity and we were headed 2½ miles down the mountain ridge to the beach line and back to camp. Now this sounds incredible but I’m here to tell you that going up a mountain with a 25 pound load is as easy as or easier than coming down a mountain with a 65 pound load. You’ll have to trust me on this or try it yourself. Coming down a mountain employs a whole different set of muscles that you hadn’t used going up. We finally made it back to camp just after dark. We were exhausted under the weight of our packs and were ready for bed. I’ve never slept so soundly on a patch of beach rocks in my life. It was a fitting culmination to a hunting trip of a lifetime. Earning hunting trophies in Alaska is rite of passage in the Great Outdoors. I hope you get to experience it yourself one day. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.