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In January 2009, I lost my dad to a heart attack. He was 57. There were plenty of things in life that he wanted to do but never did, for whatever reason. No time, no one to go with, didn’t have the money, whatever. That’s why in February of that year, I told my wife that I was going to spend a ridiculous amount of money and book a Dall sheep hunt for that fall, and that was that. Call it a 30th birthday present from my dad to me. And this is where my story begins…
One evening, I was on the Internet looking at Dall sheep outfitters in the N.W.T. and Yukon. I was already leaning towards the Lancaster’s and Nahanni Butte Outfitters, so I decided to give Jim a call and book with him for September of that year. I informed him that my wife and I were expecting our second child the last week in August so I might be a little bit late getting up there. He didn’t have a problem with that, as he and his wife were expecting a baby about the same time. Talk about lousy timing!
Now the wait was to begin, and the training to get into sheep shape.
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| The Nahanni region of the McKenzie Mountains. |
Fast forward a few months to August and I was sitting on my porch celebrating my 30th birthday with a bunch of friends when my Uncle Richard called and informed me that the helicopter that Nahanni Butte used had crashed in the N.W.T., killing a hunter, the guide and critically injuring the pilot. What a shock! I talked to Jim a couple weeks later and he said they were going back in and I said that I’d be up there on the scheduled date. Then our second child decided that she’d rather not show up on time and was born a couple of weeks late. Well, after waiting around worrying myself sick, our second baby girl, Isabella, was born on September 10th. I left for the N.W.T. and my sheep hunt on the 11th—did I mention that I have the best wife in the world?
The first leg of my trip took me to Valleyview, Alberta where I stayed at my cousin Robbie’s for the night before heading to Blackstone Landing in the Territories. I was up early and on the road getting to Fort Nelson, B.C. about 3 p.m. I called base camp at Nahanni and talked to Clay Lancaster, as Jim had to head home because his wife was about to have their baby—talk about lousy timing again. Clay said to head on up, as I was only a couple hours away and he’d send someone with the river boat to pick me up.
I made it up to the river landing on the Liard River and met Opee, who was to be my guide on the ensuing sheep hunt, Ryley, who was guiding also, and a hunter from Illinois who had just finished his caribou hunt. We made it back to camp, and I got myself situated, met everyone in camp and visited for a bit before I turned in.
The following day consisted of hanging out at camp and getting geared up to head out that night to the mountain range that we were hunting. Opee and I flew out that night—my first ride in a helicopter—to where we were to hunt and got camp set up in what was a slight breeze for the Mackenzie Mountains. Being from southern Alberta, I’m used to lousy, howling, hurricane-type wind.
After setting up the tent, we went out searching for water and bumped into a hog of a ram. Probably a 41-incher, and being that you can’t hunt in the N.W.T. for 12 hours after flying, all we could do was watch him run away. Oh well, maybe in the morning.
Opee and I spent the next day searching for a ram that would meet our expectations. We saw 10-12 rams that day, and got up on a group of three but none were what I was looking for. That night, Clay decided to move us to a different range a few miles away.
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| Ryan poses with his Dall sheep. |
When we woke up, we were greeted with fog so thick you couldn’t see more than 50 metres or so. By about 10 a.m., it had cleared up enough that we decided to start looking for the two rams that called this particular mountain home. We searched and glassed, and at about 4 p.m. we found the rams that we were after. It took us about two hours to get into shooting position. We crawled up on a ridge above them, but every time we were almost in shooting position, one of the rams would almost bust us. They didn’t see us or hear us, but they knew something was up. We were crawling along trying to get a different angle on them when we noticed that they were up on the ridge in front of us, trying to take the “back door”. They made the mistake of stopping and looking back at us. I heard Opee say, “Take the lead ram.” I shot him as he was about to run over the ledge, disappearing into the rocks below.
We sprinted over to where the ram was when I’d shot, found a blood trail and after looking for a few more seconds, found the ram lying below in the rocks. After the usual hooting and hollering and jumping up and down that signifies a sheep down, we had to get down to business. Opee called base camp and I remember him saying, “Ram down.”
After taking some pictures, we quartered and skinned him out, and then made it up to the top of the ridge to try to meet the chopper to pick us up. Unfortunately, between the fog coming in on us and the ensuing nightfall, Greg couldn’t see us. So we headed back to camp using my GPS and flashlights. We made it back about 1 a.m., tired but happy with the day’s outcome.
We awoke the next morning to more fog. About noon, Opee called Clay on the satellite phone and Clay said that below us it was clear and he’d send Greg in to pick us up there. Just as we had everything packed up and were ready to head down the mountain, Greg landed at camp. After we loaded the chopper, we waited for about an hour for the fog to clear a little bit more so Greg could get us off the mountain and back to camp.
A couple of days after the successful sheep hunt, I was sitting in the main lodge and Clay came in and said that they had just seen a huge bull moose in the “Moose Patch”. This got my interest since I had a moose tag. After talking to Clay and working out the details, we put a plan in motion to go moose hunting. My guide on this hunt would be Shawn, since Opee had to take off farther north for a caribou hunt for himself. Clay got us rigged up and Gregg took us out to the spot we were to be hunting.
After we landed and got camp set up, Shawn checked in and I overheard Clay tell him that Gregg had seen a Grizzly with a cub in the area we were camped. Not something you want to hear before you go to bed at night!
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| Ryan with his big NWT Moose. |
The next morning we awoke and hadn’t been eaten by a mean old momma bear. It was fairly clear with not much fog so we headed out to where the moose had been the previous few days. After hiking for about an hour, we made our way to a hilltop where we could see the valley quite well. Shawn started to call. The only thing we were able to get to come in was a small bull; I’d say about 40-inches wide. Not the big brute that ruled the valley.
We went over a couple more ridges and had no luck finding him. As we were walking along I noticed a tree stump broken off about 300 yards away, I kept walking. Then Shawn asked if that was a broken stump and I said yes. He then informed me that it was gone, and couldn’t be a stump. It happened to be the front shovel of one of the moose’s antlers.
We got ourselves into position for a shot. Shawn ranged him at 244 yards. He broke off a small tree to use as a rifle rest, and then started to call to get him out of the trees for a clear shot. When the bull walked out giving me a clear shot, instead of taking it, I started to hyperventilate and the moose walked back into the trees. This was the biggest moose I’d ever seen and I was getting a little shaky. Shawn told me to calm down and breathe. He kept calling and eventually the bull walked out again. After sending two 180-grain Winchester XP3’s his way, I had a huge Alaskan/Yukon moose down in the bush.
We walked across to where we thought he was and couldn’t find him. We searched for about an hour and still couldn’t find him. The worst thoughts went through my head—he must have got up and ran off and now we had a wounded moose. But, after getting our bearings and looking in the right spot, I found him laying dead in the trees. Shawn called the Cavalry to come pick us up as we started to skin and quarter my moose. Greg came in and with two trips took the moose back to camp and then came back and picked us up.
When we landed back at base camp, all the guides were waiting for us in front of the main lodge. Each one came up and congratulated me on taking a fine trophy, something that I’ll never forget.
I hope one day I can go back and hunt with these fine individuals at Nahanni Butte. The Lancaster’s run a fine operation. This truly was a dream hunt, and a wonderful 30th birthday present. And one day, I’ll share it with my dad who made it possible. ■
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