Finally, the second part of the story is finished! It took a lot more time to write this than I anticipated, but it’s finally here. It’s a long read, but I hope you enjoy reading part two as much as I enjoyed writing it.
For ‘Part 1’, click here
Day 7: One Last Day in the Mountains
It was the morning of August 14th, which also happened to be my 2-year wedding anniversary. I woke up and loaded my pack for one last hike up the ridge into sheep country. When I left camp that morning, in the back of my mind I already knew the hunt was over for. With the low number of sheep that year and us only seeing a few different rams that were now blown-out of the valley, I decided to give it one last chance and tried to stay positive while heading of the ridge one last time. I left Terry to his camp chores, and headed out alone.
As I climbed, lots of things ran through my mind. On one hand, I was ecstatic for Terry’s ram from the day before. I also thought about how I was out here in the mountains on my wedding anniversary, and reminisced about how my wife and I had actually first laid eyes on the sheep in this valley on our trip together three years prior. As I climbed alone, I thought about my solo trip into this valley three years ago and how hard I worked for that ram. I knew that we would have our work cut out for us even with two of us to carry Terry’s sheep.
To this day, I think of that solo trip into this valley and walking out alone with a sheep as one of my life’s greatest accomplishments. Seeing this valley again reminded me of how hard that trip actually was alone, and how quickly I was able to block the pain out of my memory after it was over. As I walked back in that morning for one last time, I was remembering it vividly.
I followed the same route Terry and I followed the day before, staying out of view of the main bowl where we expected the sheep to be. The wind from the night before had finally laid down, and the skies were partly cloudy with excellent visibility. As I looked back toward the highway, I could see the visibility was starting to improve in that direction as well.
There were mountains with great looking sheep habitat as far as I could see in every direction, the only thing missing were sheep. I worked my way up the ridge, periodically peeking back into the bowl where our rams had been hanging out. There was nothing there. I carefully glassed the ridges on all sides of me, again, nothing there. I continued up the ridge.
I passed the location where we spent the night under the tarp. I knew there was still a lot of country that could hide sheep ahead of me, so I carefully continued. I worked my way along the same route we had used to stalk in the clouds just a few days before, staying out of view from our ‘Ram Valley’. I was hoping maybe a few sheep had moved toward the close side of the bowl, which is why I was unable to find them. At this point, I was just trying to find things to be optimistic about, but I was starting to have a hard time finding such things. Without time to go explore a new area, I just enjoyed the mountains that morning and wanted to go observe the valley one last time.
Gazing into ‘Ram Valley’ for what I’m assuming would be one of the last times. Thankful it produced for us again, and happy to show this amazing place to Terry. I reflected on what was one of the best hunts of my life, even if I didn’t get a ram.
As I advanced up the ridge, It’s possible I was starting to get a little too sentimental and was being careless. I approached the next ridge without even dropping my pack and walked over and looked down the gully in front of me. To my surprise, I saw a set of dark horns and the back of a white sheep feeding just below the ridge! I immediately thought of the large, dark-horned ram from a few days before and dropped to the ground out of sight.
I could not see the entire body of the sheep, but I carefully pulled out the rangefinder and ranged some rocks just behind him. The sheep was within 85 yards. I backed away from the ridgetop and quietly loaded a cartridge into the chamber of my 6.5 PRC. If this was in fact the large dark-horned ram, I would know very quickly when I finally saw his whole body and I would have to be ready to shoot quickly. There was a good chance I would spook him when I crawled closer for a better view. The wind was not ideal either, with several gusts pushing my scent right in his direction.
I crawled back to the ridge top until I saw the back of the sheep again. I then inched forward until I saw the back of his dark horns. I moved a little farther, and the entire sheep came into view. To my disappointment, this was not the large dark-horned ram, but rather a very young dark-horned ram – maybe 4 years old. I watched him feed for a few minutes at this close range until a gust of wind carried my scent into the small depression he was in, and he spooked up the hillside. He did not go far. I watched him as he made it to an adjacent hillside, then continued feeding again.
I started working my way up the ridge again and made it to the point where Terry and I dropped into the bowl under cloud cover a few days prior. With no clouds, any stalk in the bowl would have to occur on the near-side and would involve a lot of luck.
I crawled back up to the main ridge to give Ram Valley another look, and spot a single, young ram way up at the top of the mountain on the far side of the bowl. He was all alone and was a sheep I do not believe we had seen before. Just down from him, but still on the far side, were three sheep. It appeared to be the two smaller rams from our initial group of 4 along with a single Ewe. It was great to see there were still some sheep around, even if there were no legal rams. I watched these sheep for a couple hours, enjoying my final day in the sheep mountains. I turned around to view the adjacent ridge behind me and spot a ewe there as well, just above the young ram who continued to feed his way along the ridge while working away from me.
Although the mountains seemed unchanged since my previous trip three years prior, there was one small difference – cell phone service. I noticed as soon as we setup camp the first night that we had excellent cell phone service right from camp. Although it didn’t really matter to me to have cell phone service or not while on a sheep hunt, I thought it might be a cool opportunity to FaceTime my wife on our anniversary. She would not be expecting it, so it would be a surprise. I thought about it, and realized if I could make it a little closer to camp before it was dark, I’d have a great backdrop and great service to make a call. With no sheep in sight, I decided to slowly start working my way back toward camp.
I made it about a half mile toward camp when I spotted two sheep together on a ridge to my left. I initially blew it off as being the young ram and ewe that I assumed had finally met up with each other, and I almost didn’t give them another look as I continued walking down the ridge. Something told me to stop and take a better look, so I grabbed my binoculars and took a look at the two sheep. To my surprise, I was looking at two rams. These were two new rams that we had not seen yet this trip, and both appeared to be nearly legal. I instantly dropped to the ground and removed my pack to remove my spotting scope.
At some point during the trip, the weather seal on my spotting scope eyepiece was compromised and moisture had made its way inside. Although I could still see through the fog, it was very difficult to get a clear image. Despite the poor image, these rams appeared to be almost identical in age and size, and both appeared to be close to legal. They were feeding down a small finger ridge, slowly moving toward the bottom of the drainage. This was the opposite side of the ridge as Ram Valley, and I had never seen anything but young rams and ewes in that location before.
From my current distance of over 800 yards, it was hard to be completely certain, but one of these rams appeared that it would pass the stick test. I thought about moving to get a closer look when another sheep caught my eye coming from another ridge to the right. The ram, another similar size and age ram joins the two others. I estimated them all to be around 6 or 7 years old from what I could see. As they met, they would stare at each other and start butting heads. Sometimes aggressively. Then, they would go back to feeding. This new ram was pushed around easily by what appeared to be the largest of the three. At that point, I was fairly certain there was one sheep in this group that was legal. It was after 8:30 pm, but the mid-August sun allowed plenty of daylight and I knew I still had some time. Due to the issue with my spotting scope fogging-up, I knew I needed to get much closer to judge the sheep.
As the rams alternated between butting heads with each other and feeding, they were also slowly working their way down the ridge toward the drainage below. When I first saw the two rams, they were about 1/3 of the way down he mountain. Now, the three rams were over ½ way down as they continued to work their way lower. They disappeared out of sight below a small hill in front of me that obscured my view. I decide to move a couple hundred yards closer to continue to watch them. I grabbed my gear and moved closer to the sheep and to my surprise, when I peered over the next ridge there were two more rams that had joined the group. The small ram from earlier, along with another 6- or 7-year-old ram. Now there were 5 rams in the group.
A sixth ram enters the picture
I watched these 5 sheep for a while longer, and decided I just couldn’t be certain that any of them were legal. I believed the largest one was 7 years old, and possibly would pass the stick test, but I would need a much better view to be certain. They continued to spar with each other for dominance, then would go back to feeding, each time moving farther and farther down toward the drainage below. I studied the largest ram closely, waiting for him to give me a better angle to see if he was legal. At that point, the sheep were slightly below me, and I wanted to get closer still. As I pondered various courses of action, I was in disbelief as a sixth ram entered the picture.
He must have been hanging out in the bottom of the drainage, and decided to join the other rams as they moved down toward the bottom. I panned the spotting scope in his direction as he walked uphill toward the other sheep. Even through a fogged-up scope, I immediately could tell this sheep was of a different caliber than the rest. As he walked uphill, I could clearly see the tips of his horns flared far out to the side, and the horn tips appeared to be past-parallel to the ground. From the side view, I could see instantly that his right horn was well past a full curl. I knew this was a legal ram and that I needed to go on a stalk. In the waning hours of daylight on the final day, I was putting a plan together in my head.
I watched as this large mature ram interacted with the other sheep as he approached. While the other smaller rams continued to spar and butt heads with each other, this largest ram would walk up alongside the other sheep, stand with his chin resting on top of their neck, then put his front legs up on the other sheep, almost as if to mount them. I’m sure this behavior is common among sheep, however, it was the first time I had witnessed this. This behavior was repeated several times over the course of the next 20 minutes. I watched while continuing to look for a suitable stalk route.
The six rams stayed close together as they continued to drop further down the ridge toward the bottom of the drainage. I realized that if they dropped far enough down, there was a chance I could use a small nearby ridge as cover and attempt to meet them at the bottom of this drainage. They were now slightly below me, putting me at a slight advantage. I retreated from my glassing vantage, and crawled down until I was out of view of the sheep. About 300 yards behind me, a narrow finger ridge appeared to connect the main ridge behind me to the bottom of the drainage. I hustled to get on the opposite side of this finger ridge and use it as cover to descend into the drainage. The wind direction was still in my favor as a slight breeze from the south was still pushing my scent up to the ridge behind me.
After a couple hundred yards of paralleling the small ridge, I dropped my pack, and with rifle in hand crawled up to gain a vantage back onto the side where the rams should be visible. I expected to see them much closer to me at that point still working their way to the bottom of the drainage, but instead I found them still over 600 yards away still slowly working their way toward the bottom. I gathered my pack and continued down behind the ridge, this time picking up my pace significantly. It was 9:45 pm, and I knew I was running out of daylight and had to move quickly. After dropping a few hundred vertical feet after several hundred more yards, I hoped I was far enough to meet up with the rams and be in position for a shot. I crawled back over the ridge and worked my way to a vantage where I thought I would meet back up with them. To my surprise, they were nowhere to be found.
The wind now had shifted, and the thermal started coming down the mountain toward the valley where the rams were heading. My initial thought was that the rams had already caught my wind and I would find them high on the cliffs above. I looked there and still saw no sheep. The next thought was that they had dropped to the very bottom of the valley and were directly below me. The bottom of this drainage was very close, so I knew if they were still there, I needed to be ready for a close encounter.
I crested over my vantage and started heading down toward the drainage below, crab-walking and sliding on my butt to stay low. I moved 50 yards or more in this fashion, before the route became very steep. Finally in the drainage below, I spot the back of a sheep. It was one of the younger rams. As I watched him, I saw another come into view, then finally I could see the backs of all six of the sheep. The rams were directly below me, and I watched as they fed in the drainage, completely unaware of my presence. I believe they were close enough to me that my wind was being pushed over the top of their heads. They had no idea I was there.
I could see three of the rams clearly, and they started feeding around the ridge to my right side. I carefully pulled out my rangefinder and ranged the closest of the sheep at 80 yards. These three rams were sub-legal. With three sheep remaining toward the bottom of the drainage, I knew one had to be the large ram I was after. I could see only the backs of these sheep, and patiently waited for them to raise their heads. Finally, the closest sheep picked his head up. I could tell instantly that although he was probably legal, he was not the largest ram. This ram started to walk toward the other three around to my right side. The next sheep picked his head up, and I instantly knew he was the smallest of the group. He walked over to join the other four rams to my right side.
By process of elimination, I knew the last sheep still feeding in the bottom of the drainage had to be the largest ram. I worked down the ridge a few more yards until I could see his entire body, just waiting for him to pick his head up to verify that he was in fact the large ram I was looking for.
While he still had his head down, I ranged the bottom of the drainage, and prepared for a 150-yard shot. The ram finally picked his head up and I knew instantly it was the big one. Due to my awkward body position, the only rest I could get for the rifle was off my unstable knee. I aimed and squeezed off the shot. The ram stepped forward and picked his head up, and remained standing broadside for a few seconds. Initially, I thought I missed, so I setup for a second shot, and squeezed off another. After standing still for a brief moment, the ram fell backward and out of sight.
The five rams that were working their way around to my right did a 180-degree turn and went back up into the cliffs where they came from. They all stopped after about 200 yards to look back in my direction. I could not locate a sixth sheep anywhere, so I was confident the one I shot remained down in the bottom of the drainage.
It was now after 10:00 pm, on the final day in sheep country, on my wedding anniversary. I was overwhelmed with emotion as I grabbed my pack and started toward the drainage to find the ram. Tears started to stream down my face as I descended into the drainage, thinking about all that had just unfolded. It was an incredible and unexpected turn of events, but over 10 years of hunting in Alaska has taught me to expect the unexpected.
Just an hour earlier, I was convinced the trip was over and there would be no more opportunities. Now, I was suddenly about to walk up on one of the largest rams I had ever seen. I approached the drainage, expecting to see the ram laying near where he had disappeared. To my disappointment, there was no ram to be found.
I spent several minutes walking up and down the river drainage, expecting to see him lying there. The other five rams remained in view on the cliffs high above me, so I was still confident the sixth had to be laying somewhere in the drainage where I was searching. The feeling of success was quickly replaced with doubt and worry. I started thinking maybe I made a bad shot, and I was now going to be spending the night searching for a wounded animal.
I looked back up the hill toward the position I shot from. I was relieved when I saw a ram horn sticking up above the grass on the steep hillside above. Depth perception in the mountains can be a tricky thing. The ram that appeared to be at the very bottom of the drainage was actually 45 yards closer to me on the same hill that I shot from. I then estimated the sheep’s distance to be only about 100 yards from where I shot. I approached the ram and immediately laid my hands on his massive horns.
Full curl and plenty more. I estimated the age of the ram at 8 or 9 years old in the field.
At 10:08 PM, I sent an InReach message to Terry that just said: ‘Ram down!!!’. He was still at camp and was starting to wonder where I was. In fact, just a few moments before I sent my message to him, he sent a message asking how I was doing. He immediately asked if I wanted him to come help. I thought about it for a moment, and initially was going to ask him to hold tight at camp and come help me the next morning. I then thought about Terry’s capabilities in the mountains and knew he would probably be able to make it to me in the dark if he wanted to try. I made sure he had my GPS coordinates, and he was on his way toward me shortly after.
I started processing the ram and already had him quartered by the time I saw a headlight on the ridge high above me. It was after midnight when I first saw the light from his headlamp, and it was nearly 1:00 am by the time he reached me. He was amazed when he saw the size of this sheep, and listened intently as I told him how the stalk unfolded.
Day 8: The Pack Out Begins
By the time we cleaned the carcass of all edible portions and finished caping the ram, it was after 3:00 AM. We carried the cape down to the drainage below us and rinsed off as much blood as we could. Finally, we were loaded and ready to make our way back to camp. With two heavy packs, we started heading up to the top of the ridge. From there, we had a long uphill climb, followed by a long slow descent back to our base camp. By 4:00 AM there was some daylight on the horizon, and we no longer needed our headlamps. A series of rain showers completely soaked us as we trudged along in the early morning hours. We were exhausted and soaked, but completely euphoric over the day’s events. We told stories, sang songs, and laughed our way through the miserable climb.
Packed up, heading back to the top of the ridge before a slow descent back to our base camp.
We finally crested the ridge top and were able to start heading back down toward camp. I took one last look into Ram Valley, then began to descend the from the ridge. Several more rain showers drenched us in the early morning hours. All our gear was thoroughly soaked. We finally arrived back at camp at 7:00 AM and were now awake for nearly 24 hours. We found a few extra rocks, and set my meat and cape on them to dry under the ultralight tarp alongside Terry’s. We finally crawled into the tent and took a quick ‘nap’ around 8:00 AM.
At 11:50 AM, we crawled out of the tent. We were pleased to see sunshine, and we took advantage of it to dry some of our gear out while we began deboning my meat. We worked as quickly as we could, but it was after 4:00 PM by the time we were ready to start breaking down our camp. We took a few last photographs of our campsite and loaded everything into our packs. Now with two sheep, we both knew this was going to be a rough pack out.
We descended the steep hillside, using roughly the same route we used to climb a few days earlier. It felt much steeper this time around, probably due to the huge loads we were each carrying. I don’t know how heavy our packs were at that point, but I knew they were each well over 100 lbs. Very carefully, we worked our way back to the creek bottom where we planned to take a break to refill water bottles and have some snacks before continuing.
When we finally reached the creek at the bottom, I tried to remove my pack, but lost my balance in the process. For a moment, I had all of my weight on my trekking pole, and it snapped in half and I fell to the ground. Luckily, I landed on a gentle, soft uphill slope and was ok. That was when I realized just how much weight we were carrying. We were very thankful to have two sheep, but the extra weight we were carrying changed the dynamic of the pack out significantly. Now, each of us was going to be subjected to nearly the same amount of work as if we were each on our own solo sheep hunt.
We walked slowly down the drainage, picking our footsteps carefully on the large loose rocks, and worked our way onto the gravel bar. We finally found an area that would be suitable for a campsite, and didn’t waste any time before dropping our massive packs and starting to setup camp. We first set the ultralight tarp up and got the meat laid out under it to keep it cool and dry. Proper meat care remained the priority throughout the entire process. When we finally had our tent setup, it was nearly 10:00 pm. As bad as we wanted to sleep, we knew that to keep on schedule, we would had to go collect our pack rafts from their stash site that night so we could start down the river first thing the next morning.
From our campsite, we were over 2 miles from our rafts, and we knew it was going to be a while before we returned to camp that night. We set out with two nearly empty packs and started toward the raft stash. After several hours of hiking and bushwhacking through wet brush, we found our rafts where we left them, loaded up and started heading back to camp. We walked through the dark, and finally made it back to our campsite at around 2:00 AM. We could finally relax a little, so with all our gear in one place we finally got some rest.
Day 9
We awoke to our alarm at 10:00 AM to the sound of more rain on the tent. The rain made us unmotivated to get out of the sleeping bag that morning, and we moved very slowly as we dressed in our wet rain gear. After breakfast, we tended to the meat under the tarp outside and rotated it to make sure it was getting cooled evenly on all sides. At that point, I believe the only thing that was dry was our meat.
After finally breaking camp, we took our first load down to the river. The river was fast and silty, but the water level was not too high and we were optimistic about our float. From previous experience, I knew the perfect water level for this river could ride a fine line between too much water and too little. In a previous float, I put over a dozen holes in the bottom of my raft floor from abruptly hitting sharp rocks in shallow spots. The silty brown color of the water made reading the river very challenging. With too much water, the river was scary and fast. We were now willing to sacrifice dry hunting boots, so I stuffed the booties of my breathable waders inside my hunting boots so I could get in or out of the raft comfortably at any time.
Terry’s raft was still holding air, but one of the tubes still had a slow leak. We lashed everything to the rafts extremely well and attempted to keep our gear dry by double-wrapping in contractor bags. We attached our gear as if we were planning to flip the rafts over on the float out. The ram horns were double tied to several parts of the raft. The meat was inside our packs, which were secured in many places to the boat as well. We were both loaded-down and very heavy before we pushed the boats out into the current. Terry led the way, and I watched as he took off in the fast-moving current. I got in the river just behind him and we were on our way.
Loading up for the big float. Floating this section of river will save us over 10 miles of walking, but having done this before, I’m a little nervous about the river conditions.
We only planned to float as far as our initial river crossing spot, even though the river flows all the way back to the highway. The issue is that there is a very dangerous river canyon that winds for a few miles halfway between us and the highway. Depending on the amount of flow, there are class 4 and 5 rapids in the canyon, which makes it far too risky to attempt a float. Because of the wildfire, portaging around the canyon would force us into unknown territory through fresh-burned forest. We decided the safest way to make it out would be to stick with the known trail and take out our rafts at the trail where we first met the river.
We made it about a mile when I saw Terry pull out on a gravel bar ahead of me. He signaled that he was OK, and I joined him a few moments later. The current was ripping hard, and he was able to reach out and catch me and help me to shore before I went any farther down the river. The 1-2’ standing waves we were going through filled his raft with water, and he needed to put some more air in his leaky pontoon. I realized I had a lot of water in my boat as well, so we helped each other tip our rafts over to get the water out. Each of our rafts was holding over 5 gallons of water, with Terry’s probably closer to 10 gallons. We were both soaked, both from the splashing river water and the intermittent rain, but were making excellent time as we continued down the river.
We repeated the process a few more times before making it to our take-out spot. The GPS distance from where we started our float to the take-out spot was over 8 miles, and we covered this distance in only a couple hours. We were relieved when we pulled our rafts out of the water for the last time. We carried our gear to a flat bench away from the river where we could once again setup our tarp to attempt to dry some things out. Between the rain, the water taken over the side of the boat, and the high humidity of the air in the bottom of the river valley, we were very wet and cold when we finished our float. The cold rain continued to fall while we took pictures and unpacked our rafts. There was also a brisk wind coming off the glacier at the same time, which made it feel even colder.
We took some time to heat water to make some freeze-dried meals while we huddled under the ultralight tarp to keep from getting more wet. It took us a couple hours to organize our gear, moving especially slow because we were so uncomfortable. The hunting boots that we used as wader boots needed to be dried as much as possible before putting them back on, so we prioritized getting airflow into them. The “dry bag” I stashed some extra gear in in the bottom of my raft was filled with water as well. Everything was still quite wet, but we got things as dry as possible.
Around 7 PM, we were ready to hang a gear stash in a tree along the river, before reaching the burned area. We stashed our pack rafts, spotting scope, and other non-essential gear into a stash bag and hoisted into a couple different trees. Our packs were much lighter than before, but still over 100 lbs at that point. We followed our same trail that we used on the way in, navigating hundreds of deadfall trees through the burned forest. The heavy winds we experienced over the last week caused many more trees to fall since we were there last, creating even more obstacles to navigate on our hike out.
We finally reached the bicycles in the middle of the swamp, unchained them from the tree, and reluctantly started walking with them along the swamp bottom. The trail in the middle of the swamp had a few short sections I was able to ride, but the excessive pack weight made it very difficult to balance. Terry had no interest in riding at all, or even trying. I could tell he was starting to fade as we continued walking into the night. Our breaks become more frequent, and we ate most of the snacks we were carrying. Terry had already finished his snacks, and luckily I had enough to share. Short breaks, even 5-10 minutes at a time to eat snacks and drink water made a huge difference with both our energy and morale.
After crossing the large open swamp, we made it back into the maze of deadfall that once was a trail. Although much of the fresh-burned area was still smoldering, we didn’t encounter any active fire on the trail. The reality set in that we were going to have to carry both these bicycles and incredibly heavy packs uphill through the deadfall. Most of the burned trees had fallen over already, so we were truly earning every step. It became brutal in a hurry. We both experience outbursts of frustration and anger, saying things we aren’t proud of and don’t care to remember. It had officially become a grind, made more difficult by our decision to carry those bicycles with us that far. Now in the dark, we kept grinding it out. One step at a time.
Day 10: Packing through the night
As we continued down the trail, we were thankful for Terry’s recorded track on OnX maps to help us navigate. It was often extremely hard to distinguish the trail from the rest of the surrounding forest in the burned areas, especially in the dark. At times, we were able to travel 100-200 yards unobstructed, then we would run into another patch of downed trees. By 12:30 am we were running on very little sleep, water and food. Our boots were still wet, and clothes soaked through to our base layers. The rain and wind letup for us once we entered the trees, which was helping us dry very slowly. We were both damp and cold, and shivering slightly whenever we would stop for more than a few minutes. It was our queue to keep moving.
We took a short break at our water-filling pond which marks approximately 8 miles from the vehicles (gps distance, many more miles of trail to cover). My hips and butt were on fire at that point, and I was starting to fade quickly. We try to motivate each other and stay positive, but that is becoming difficult. After slugging through the night, we do finally reach an area where I’m able to get on the bike and ride for short stretches. The generally downhill trail allowed me to get on the bike and coast downhill for a short distance before ending at the bottom of a mud puddle or swamp. Then a short uphill walk with the bike was required before riding another, often navigating a small puddle or swamp in between the areas of higher ground. This up-and-down cycle went on for several miles. Terry still had not worked up the courage to ride any of these short sections, so he continued pushing the bike on foot.
Although riding the bicycle on the short sections made for fast travel, it was also somewhat dangerous in the dark. The trail was littered with grapefruit sized rocks and smaller downed trees which I usually couldn’t see in time to avoid. I hit one of these rocks particularly hard and was thrown off the bicycle, crashing hard into the ground. Terry saw me fall and was concerned, but I was able to shake it off and get back on the bike. I fell hard, but luckily didn’t hurt myself. I could tell I was starting to lose strength, and a short time later I fell again.
I decided to walk the bike until the trail opened up to a gravel road again, which lasts about the final 3-4 miles. Those last few miles are the only easy biking of the entire journey, so I wanted to save my strength for that. When we reached that section, I got back on the bike and was able to pedal comfortably for a short distance.
It wasn’t long, however, before more problems developed. I’m not sure exactly when the damage occurred, but at some point, one of the cables that controls my rear derailer on my bicycle broke, causing the chain to fall off on each revolution of the pedals. I found that if I only pedaled ½ way around, then backpedaled ½ way back and then forward again, that the chain would stay on. If I went more than ½ way, the chain would fall off. After putting my chain back on several times, I decided just to ride the bike with this ½ pedal cadence for the rest of the trip. I didn’t move fast, but at least on this flat gravel road I was able to maintain balance and make ground much faster than walking, and with much less effort.
My feet were really starting to bother me, partially from the huge load, but mainly from being wet for this many miles. Blisters aren’t usually a problem for me, but I could feel several hot-spots forming. Getting on the bike was a great relief for my feet, and I didn’t want to stop pedaling once I started. I remember telling Terry that if I gained any momentum I was just going to keep going. Now we were on the final home stretch, motivated by being in the final three miles. We now knew we were going to make it out and it gave us strength to keep pushing forward. The generally downhill slope to the road was helping as well, and my ½ pedaling technique was working great. Once I got moving, I didn’t look back. I was so determined to make it back to the truck I forgot to check on Terry behind me. I didn’t know how far behind he was. As I found out later, he broke his bicycle and ended up walking the remainder of the three miles on foot. Ouch.
I was relieved when I pulled into the parking lot and saw the truck again. My legs were on fire and my feet were in rough shape, badly blistered and chaffed from being wet for so long under such extreme loads. I was sore but thrilled to finish this first huge milestone — getting the sheep out of the field!
When I arrived back at the vehicle it was already starting to get light out, probably close to 6:00AM. The smell of the smoke from the fire was strong again, and a haze lingered just above the trees in the morning air. The only two vehichles parked in the lot were ours, and some equipment from the firefighters. The fire appeared to spread closer to the highway while we were out, but luckily did not put our vehicles in danger. A sign was setup along the road stating that the road was closed due to firefighting crews in the area, and danger from falling trees. The signs were not there when we first went in 10 days prior. I sat and removed my boots while I waited for Terry. I started to get a little worried, but at about 6:45 he hobbled into the parking lot. He arrived on foot, and told me the story of what happened to his bicycle.
We decided to pack up our sheep into the vehicles and head directly to the Delta Junction Fish and Game office. A pull-off on the highway just before the office made a good place to get a couple hours of sleep while we waited for the office to open. We were greeted with laughter as we hobbled into the office. “You must be sheep hunters”, said the lady who greeted us at the front desk, based on the way we were walking. We had our sheep sealed and measured. Mine measured at 40” and was 8 years old. Terry’s measured 36.5” and was 7.
After leaving fish and game, we went back to the parking area to get a little more sleep. I told Terry I intended to go back for my stash that afternoon and that I really needed to get back home the following day. He was not as enthused, and with more time to spare than me, he decided to rest his body for a day before going back for his gear. After a couple hours of sleep, I drove back to the parking area and started biking in once again.
Before heading back for my gear stash, I was able to use a few tools in my truck to fix my bicycle – at least enough to get me through another day on the trail. I was able to get the chain to stay on as long as I didn’t shift any gears. I cruised back in with an empty pack and stashed the bicycle at the 4-mile mark. Although still a long walk, with an empty pack I was able to make it to the stash site in the daylight. I loaded up quickly and turned back around to head out. My goal was to make it through the worst burn sections in the daylight, and by about 10:00 PM I was through the worst areas. Although my body was sore, I caught a second wind knowing each step was one step closer to being finished. I pushed on. I started recognizing landmarks and knew I was making great time, stopping to take periodic breaks and eat snacks as I went. I re-loaded with snacks before this final trip, so I had a lot more fuel to work with and it made a huge difference.
By 3:30 AM I made it to the bicycle and was riding the road out. I made great time and rolled into the parking lot about 4:30 AM. Terry’s truck was now parked next to mine, so I tried to be quiet as I packed the truck. I put on some clean clothes and just sat on the tailgate to relax. In that moment, being back at the truck with all of my gear and sheep was one of the most satisfying things I could imagine. It was a true accomplishment to pull that off, and it was done
Terry heard me rustling around and poked his head out from his camper shell to say hello. He got out and we chatted for a little bit before I was ready to start heading home. We said our goodbyes and I took off down the highway. The final leg of the journey was a 10 hour drive home, but I was relaxed knowing I didn’t have to walk for a while. I checked back in with Terry that evening and he was able to make it in to his stash and back out again in the same day. Finally, the trip was over.
Overall, I estimated our non-motorized travel to be around 70 miles on this trip. An incredible expedition, and I would do it again in a heartbeat.
Absolutely fantastic! I smiled like a fool the entire time I read this, even the section regarding the bicycles ( for anyone interested I repaired that bicycle and sold it the very next day haha ) I very much appreciate the opportunity to read from your perspective!
I’m so thankful you created this platform to share such experiences! Thank you, and thank you so much for the experience of several lifetimes !!!
Glad you enjoyed it! It was such a great experience, glad to finally put it in writing. Hope we can repeat something similar soon (minus the bicycles haha).
Crashing on a bike (twice) with a hundred-pound pack would have had me down for the count! I could probably do 10 miles with a 30# pack. Haha.
Glad no broken bones….just broken bikes.
Amazing # of sheep seen that last day…..
Looking forward to being with Alex and D in July on a fishing adventure in AK. Not too much “packing out” to do then!