Mountain goat hunt

Now the hard work begins! 

"Blankety-blank", *&^$@# - god damn, friggin' root!!!!

I was pissed.

I was mad at the root that someone had cut off at calf-height...that hit me at calf height! Damn. Then, a few steps later,  I slipped on muck-covered rock as I took a measured step several feet down. More swear words. "I'm not swearing at you," I threw out apologetically to my three companions. "It's these (blankety blank)... roots and rocks and mud and...)!"

I was at my limit. After hours of trudging slowing down a ridgeline, then through steep, brush-laden slopes, then through muskegs, my last slip put my rear end (conveniently) on another root, so I sat for a few seconds before steadying myself, then hefting myself up again to move forward. With 60 to 70 pounds on my back, I was at a half-stoop and each foot and hand placement was crucial to keep me from buckling or pitching forward down the trail. I think I had a kind of a loose mantra going through my head: " Right foot down, plant hiking pole in front and below, swivel left hip and left foot down, down...okay, foot planted...ooooh, crud..." (as the weight of my pack tipped me too far to the left and I almost went crashing into the brush.) I pushed myself back up to my half-crouch; my pack swung back somewhat to a center point, and I moved on.

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Early that October morning, headlamp on, I'd headed up a brushed trail, no inkling that it would be more than 15 hours later before I was back at my car - completely spent, but with a mountain goat! and its hide! And perhaps, most important, no injuries to either me or my 3 amazing companions. 

For the second time in 3 years, I'd drawn a tag for one of two goat-hunting areas accessible off our local road system. These mountain goats had proliferated after a transplant in the late '80s, and Alaska Department of Fish and Game had started a permit hunt for the ungulate about 10 years ago. The specific area* I could hunt was the smallest of the draw areas both in size and the number of available tags of which there were only 4. With some 400 applications submitted, I was extremely lucky to have been drawn (and for the second time!)  Although the hunt opened in early August, I'd  decided to wait until at least October, even though the weather would be more iffy then, to see if I could get a billy with a nice wintry hide. (I didn't keep the hide on my first mountain goat, which I shot in early September). So, when good weather was forecast one weekend in early October, the hunt was on. The two men on this hunt had also been with me on my first goat hunt (referring to them by their initials in this blog) (I valued, and needed, their hunting expertise, as well as their ability to help pack out a goat if I was successful.)  The other woman was a hiking friend who was a not a hunter, but who had asked to come along, her interest piqued after hearing us talk about the pending hunt. 

Due to the area's accessibility from town, mine was a tame hunt compared to much of the terrain that other Alaska mountain goat hunts in Alaska can occur in. The mountain we climbed up was less than 3,000 feet, and I had the advantage of being able to hunt and get back home all in one day. (Albeit a long day as it turned out.)  Compare this to the typical mountain goat hunts in Southeast where hunters fly into a high lake and set up a base camp, and hike into terrain much steeper than I had to deal with.  Hunters can be weathered in for days in a wet, cold tent and/or can expect to hunt in fog, driving rain or snow.

It was a several hours-long hike through muskeg, brush and timber, before the terrain opened up a bit leading to the ridgeline at the top. After we got higher and closer to the ridgeline, we'd had glimpses of goats on the surrounding hillsides a couple miles away.  If we didn't encounter any close goats before topping the ridge, we figured we'd spy some below us on the opposite side of the ridge. 

*There is a 3rd draw area, but it is not accessible by the road system on Revillagigedo - only by boat and/or plane.

As we climbed up through rock and brush toward the ridgeline, we spied two good-sized goats (perhaps billies) in an open bowl to our right (northeast). We dropped low and snuck closer for a better look, using some brushy knobs as cover. Both goats, feeding a bit apart from each other, were of impressive size, but we’d run out of cover.  We opted to  continue climbing to the top of the ridge, follow it along its northeast line and find a point to get down above the goats and hope the breeze wouldn’t blow our scent to them.

As we hit the top of the ridge, we first decided to check out the opposite side of the ridgeline, away from the goats we’d spotted and towards Deer Mountain. Geez, more goats down below us! Almost as soon as we saw them, they were off - throwing up dust and dirt as they careened downhill and into tree line hundreds of feet below.  Darn. But, just minutes later, K. gestured to A. and I. There, in the brush in the opposite direction was another goat, looking directly at us. A. and I started quietly making our way towards the spot, with our two other companions holding back. I wasn't surprised when we reached the brush where it'd been to find the goat nowhere in sight. As I'd read and witnessed, mountain goats, well aware they'd been spotted, will often look (to our eyes) as unconcerned, while they slowly stroll away.  Then, with some cover between the goat and human, the ungulate takes off like a blur through brush, down cliffs and out of sight, an apparition.

Could it be? Yes, there was yet another goat even farther below on this southwest ridge.  A. asked if I wanted to go for it or not, cautioning that he’d pulled deer off the same slope below us and that it was no picnic bringing the weight back up.  We decided to go for it; me thinking that there wasn't much of a chance of packing a goat back up. It would also be long gone by the time we got down to it.   

Achilles Mountain. Our hike up was on opposite side.

Photo of the page from 2014-2015 Alaska state hunting regulations showing my 2013 goat.  

Part II - Goat hunt continued

We dropped our packs and started down the ridgeline, just carrying our rifles, using as much brush for cover as we could and making our way to where we thought the goat had been. There was a small gully now to our right. A rocky area and brush sat on top of the gully. A. figured if I slunk quietly through the gully, then up to the brush, the goat would be within feet on the other side. I snuck to the spot as quietly as a could, expecting at any moment to spy the goat. No goat! I shook my head at Al and shrugged my shoulders. Then, I crept a bit further into the trees, looked below where we thought the goat would be...and saw, not one goat but 3 goats! About 40 yards away, lay 3 goats on the rocks. I gestured for A. to join me.  The goats were not yet aware of us - the brush and trees were our cover, the wind was not carrying our scent yet.  The two further goats looked to be nannies, but the horns on the closest goat indicated it was a billy. A. and I got to that conclusion with a few words whispered between us.  He asked if I wanted to try for it. "Yes," I whispered excitedly. "Okay, then," he pointed to a slim tree just a few steps in front of me that I could brace against. "As soon as you step forward, you'll be seen - so be ready to shoot." 

That was exactly what happened. I stepped forward, and braced against the tree, raised the rifle, the billy looked directly at me, stood up, I took a breath and fired.  The billy went down with out ever taking a step; the other goats stood up too, seeming confused, then took off out of sight. 

First ice pool swim of 2016 !

My first "dip" into an alpine pool for 2016 has been achieved! The outlook hadn't been promising that morning when three of us hikers started the 13 to 15 mile alpine traverse that we call " the traverse." (Higher mileage is that recorded by a GPS, but 13 miles is what Forest Service signage states.) We were in an out of foggy conditions, but finally as we finally got near my favorite pool - 8 to 10 miles in on the trail - the fog was gone. The temperature hadn't been high enough to make us desperate to cool down as is usually the case for  our "swims" in the alpine, so initially I was just wading in to "ice" my knees. But, I knew I would regret not dipping my whole body in, so took a shallow dive and challenged buddy "A."  This video is our second "dive."

This side of the pool is not usually where I "swim" but every time I'd been here previously, this side had been covered with snow! So, it was a pleasant surprise to discover this sandy, shallow area for "dipping."

Since I wrote the above, I've now done several other "dips" : one on a solo hike to Blue Lake in which the only person challenging me to wade into very cold water was myself. Misjudging the 10-second self-timer on my camera, it took me several tries to capture proof of myself in the lake to send to my hiking buddies. I kept setting the timer, jumping down from the rock it was on, taking 5 or 6 quick steps into the lake to get into my waist or higher, then out again to look at the camera only to find a photo of my back or nothing. The goats on the other side of the lake didn't seem fazed, but the one other hiker in the area probably wondered what in the heck I was doing. (Although I don't think he could see me.) Finally, I did get this one of me squinting at the camera. As I hiked back out of the lake, I found some great blueberries and am remembering that spot for next year. I took another "selfie" to mark the beautiful day, after hiking out of the lake.

Flower time

Dang! I'd scrapped an invitation to a weekend at a river cabin to be available to hike the "traverse." I was supposed to help out in introducing several women to the "through" hike who had only done portions. The 13 to 15  mile hike affords beautiful scenery, best seen when it can be seen.  However, this morning brought rain and fog.  The call from the hike ringleader came a few minutes later to state the traverse was off; the weather didn't look like it would clear. But, since we were all up, we'd hike up Deer Mountain anyway. 

It was a good hike, as usual; but now several hours after I've come down, I'm sitting on the deck in shorts, clear sky all around, and I'm frustrated not to be sitting up in the alpine, maybe even dipping my feet in an ice cold (& probably ice covered) pool. Oh, well, next time. 

Below are a few photos I took when I hiked Deer Mountain solo on the Fourth of July, preferring a quiet get away to hordes of people. (Four cruise ships were in that day.) The colors are not brilliant and the photos are just mediocre, but I'm trying to learn.

Copperbush

Lupine on back side of Deer Mountain.

Two shades of lupine.

I escaped! Looking down on busy Ketchikan.

Foggy, damp, but still a great day in the woods!

Sometimes, it takes fresh eyes to remind me of how blessed I am to live in Southeast Alaska. Although it might be another day of rain and fog, with no views to reward the hiker, there is still beauty to be seen. It was just such a day, a few Sundays ago, that provided me with that reminder.

 Fog covered Deer Mountain down to about the 1000 ft. level and occasional sprinkles added to the cool and dampness of the air.  The weather didn't matter to me - I was focused on getting some exercise, so I headed up the trail. I passed many cruise ship passengers on the lower part of the trail, heading back down.  There wasn't much talk - just a quick greeting as we passed, but most seemed to be enjoying their rainforest experience.

But, it was several encounters I had with non-cruise ship visitors that set the tone for the rest of my day. The first was a trio, which I guessed as a couple in their late 40s and their 20-something year old daughter. They had stepped aside for me to pass them, going up the trail.  When I ran into them again perhaps 20 minutes later right after I'd turned around,  they expressed surprise to see me coming down so soon. "Did you already make it to the summit?" the man asked. I explained that I hike the mountain a lot, so the summit (about 1/2 mile away) hadn't been my goal that day; I was just out for exercise. I was a bit surprised that they would so focused on the summit when it was obvious from the dense fog surrounding us they would not to be rewarded with any "top of the mountain" view. But, the man looked around him at the dripping trees, bushes, and ferns, and exclaimed on how beautiful it was. I immediately warmed to them, and after finding out they were there for several more days and had no cruise ship to catch, suggested they spend some time in the alpine below the summit, knowing they'd be enchanted. I headed on down the trail, almost skipping, thinking: "It is so cool to share this mountain with visitors who appreciate it when they don't even get a view!"

Around a couple more corners, a young man blazing up the trail greeted me enthusiastically: "How's it going?" "Great," I responded.  "Every day in the woods is a great day!"

And then the experience was topped off when I was almost back to the trailhead. I had stopped for a quick break near an animal trail that intersected the man-made trail, when the young man came around the corner, stopping when he saw me. After I answered his question about where the deer trail went, he realized I was a local and his words come out in tumbling rush. "This is the first time I've seen snow-capped peaks. I want to move here! I'm going to call my gal and get her to come up."  Whoa, I thought, but asked: "Do you have a job?" Oh, yes, he affirmed, just as enthusiastically, he was going to be working on a seiner.  He introduced himself, shook my hand, told me he was from West Virginia and this was the first time he'd been west of Tennessee. He looked around at his surroundings almost in reverence, and described it as fantastical.  I told Maurice how cool it was to meet people who were so appreciative of their surroundings,  even when it was foggy and a little drizzly. He kind of looked at me as if "how could I not be blown away?;" then in another rush of words,  he rattled off what had occurred to him in his first 24  hours in Alaska. In addition to the snow-capped peaks, which he noted again, he'd watched an eagle swoop down and "snatch a fish from the water right in front of me!" and saw "a seal pop up right beside the boat dock just feet away!!"

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Wow! What an attitude! I hoped he'd be just as enthusiastic in several weeks...

but somehow I think he will be. 

(At my turn-around point that day on a face of Deer Mountain, I spent a few minutes trying to capture some flowers and bushes with the fog in the background.)

Rain droplets on new lupine blossoms.

Included to show the dense fog surrounding me.

I'm too old for this! (Actually, I'm just a wuss...)

 I'm a weenie sometimes. An intrepid hiking buddy (A.) had invited me to go on the "traverse" along with he and his son-in-law. We do this 15 mile hike every summer...summer being the operative word for me.  It is a beautiful trek "traversing" the alpine ridgeline from Deer Mountain to the Silvis Lake area.  However, I'd noticed the snow remaining on the ridge line extending east of Deer Mountain, and was worried about one particular part of the Traverse.  We call it "the gap." In summer, that section never used to really intimidate me, but as I get older, I just want to get it over with. It is a steep portion with a rope that hikers can use to rappel down a short rock face, and then to hold onto for extra security as the trail drops down around a large tree.  On one side of that tree,  a shift of weight and a slip could mean continuing down, down, down....a long way down. And on the other side, there was no route-it was steep rock. I knew that at this time of year, the entire "gap" area was likely to be covered with snow, rope included. My hiking buddies weren't too worried: bring your ice axe and we'll just "walk down." (Yah, right, I thought.)

My favorite "swimming pool." It will be awhile...

But, I also didn't want to miss out on this hike, so I went. Sure enough the gap was covered in snow. Luckily, it was soft snow and a third member of our group walked down digging his heels in. It was suggested that the others of us should go down backwards, stepping into his footprints and using our ice axes to hold onto. I made it with one person above me and one below to talk me down, but it seemed to take forever. I had a hard time seeing if I was stepping into the other person's footprints and some were a long reach for me (having a shorter stride.) Of course, A. pointed out that if I would stand up straighter and not practically hug the snow face, I would be able to see the foot holds.  No way!

A bit farther down, we turned and heeled it in the rest of the way.

Normally, trail and rope go in a narrow band of trees on the cliff at left. To our right, the slope is "sloped" and a slip could take a person on a long ride....something I decidedly didn't want. The upper slope where our tracks were evident was a breeze in comparison, I "skied" down on my boot heels.

73 degrees! Headed for the snow!

Ketchikan has had a very rainy spring, so 2 days of temperatures apparently reaching 72/73 is amazing! And now it's the weekend. So, I'm headed for the mountain ridges and snow to cool off. Joining my friend Al and perhaps some others for a 5 a.m. start up Deer Mountain. If it was later in the year (& with less snow), we'd be headed for my favorite spot and "swimming pools," pictured below. The second photo is unrelated and on a different ridge (after swimming in my 2nd favorite pool.)  But I put this photo in to show the "recliner" made of rocks.  They are two separate pieces of rock, so someone at some point put them together, I think, to form the seat and back, but it's kind of fun. My friends that day refused to pose, which is why I'm the poser. If I get good photos tomorrow, I'll post.

Neighborhood hike

The muskeg bowl. Headed to the small bump on ridgeline.

After days of rain and strong winds, the weather turned overnight and Saturday was beautiful. My resolve to tackle a long-list of "to-dos" at home crumbled late in the afternoon. I headed just a few blocks from my apartment to a trailhead which leads up to a small lake. The trail continues around the lake and up into a muskeg bowl.  Longer hikes can be made east or west out of the bowl.  The hike to the bowl itself is quick (an hour at a steady pace), so it's great for part of a day as I had. But, I wanted to push on to the ridge line, about another 20 minutes. I carried snowshoes all the way, but didn't need them as the photos attest. This is an area where a few goats have been spotted, but I saw none today. Only tracks from a busy ptarmigan scurrying along the ridge.

Top of the ridge

More of ridgeline

Looking down to Carlanna Lake and across to  Gravina Island ("Nowhere", as in the Bridge to Nowhere)

Juno Mountain. One can extend their hike by going over this ridge and down to the Ward Lake area. (see my next posting) Goats can sometimes be seen on this cliff.