September 1982, myself, my brother and three others had the opportunity to hunt a lake near the Canadian border on Portland canal, it took two trips in the Cessna 180 and we all made it there with plenty of time to still climb the ridge…Johnny and his father Chester, chose to hunt the opposite side of the lake and my brother Chuck, my brother in law mike and myself took the other ridge…
I was 19 years old and in amazing shape, which became evident to Chuck and Mike as we climbed the slope and after about 45 minutes of climbing they suggested a break, stopping and shedding the packs for a minute felt good and my brother took the opportunity to suggest that I scout the trail ahead of us…
Thinking that a wise suggestion I followed the trail around some boulders up the hill a short way’s and then returned to my companions…My pack strings were askew? “hmm, thought I had secured those’ Mike and Chuck were ready to climb and so I shouldered my pack and led the way on the game trail I had just scouted…”damn, I must be getting out of shape, this pack feels heavy!” I thought as I climbed, and so we went, up the one game trail on the center of the ridge, steep slopes dropping hundreds of feet on either side, the lower elevations becoming more obscured as we climbed…
After about 4 hours of climbing we came to a terrace that extended towards the lake, green grass about 16 inches high covered all the level area visible to us, waving in the gentle breeze the glade presented a beautiful pristine picture much more attractive than the steep game trail we were following, nonetheless it was best to trust the residents of the mountain to show us the way up the ridge and so Mike and I went to the edge of the glade where the trail continued and started to assist each other up the short ledge that showed the continuation of the trail…our attention was called by my brother’s voice saying “I want to go that way!” pointing towards the edge of the glade that overlooked the lake, Mike and I looked at each other and replied “go ahead!” and off he went…
Mike and I continued up the hill on the trail, reaching the top about 45 minutes later and shed our packs to have a seat while we took in the panoramic view bestowed upon us by our efforts, a short later while my brother appeared below us even at 400 yards his frustration was evident, apparently the other route did not pan out and he was upset that we didn’t wait for him, after he rejoined us and vented with a couple of expletives, we smiled and asked how it went, he grinned and said ‘ I ended up hanging by my fingernails!’ So there we were, reached the top and still had a few hours of daylight left…So we started scouting the ridge and spotted a goat across a divide between us and the next peak, Mike saw it first but elected to pass on it, Myself having never taken one, was more than eager to give the 200 yard shot a try…It hit! Right behind the shoulder, the 30-06 round did not seem to have much effect and the goat with a visible wound continued walking the ledge unhampered! Steadily I fired, my second to last round hitting just as he entered a clump of dwarf hemlock and was obscured from our vision…
Mike watched the clump from our side while I climbed the other side to get close and finish the animal, I got there and yelled back to Mike “where is he?” having watched the whole time he said “he’s still there !” I was next to the hemlock and could see nothing in it…Then he leapt out! 15 feet from me and bleeding from 5 hits! Three where I wanted and 2 superficial wounds, a strong testimony to the mountain goat’s tenacity to life…It stood broadside to me 20 feet away, Waiting for his tormentor to end the encounter…I did…The shot picked the goat up and it fell off the edge he had stood by, somehow my brother found his way down by where the goat landed and announced its end…
I gutted the animal and left it where it was for the night intending to return the next morning and skin and butcher it, we then returned to our packs to establish camp and settle in for the night…I will never forget the sight that greeted my eyes as I opened my pack to see two large rocks approximately ten pounds apiece resting comfortably on top of my gear! It took a few seconds to absorb the fact that my own family had perpetrated this upon me, the realization quickly turned to a heartily uttered expletive as I grabbed a rock and hurled it towards my rapidly distancing brother and brother-in -law each in their own direction! Missiles thrown and rage expended I looked at them slack jawed as they returned laughing and asking “couldn’t you feel the difference?” To which I replied “I just thought I was out of shape!” Live and learn I guess!
We turned in for the night and slept well…Morning came to us and Mike and Chuck went looking for goats of their own, which left me behind to skin and butcher my animal…partly cloudy with enough breeze to keep the bugs off of me, and a 3260 foot view of southeast at it’s finest, I took a couple of pictures after I removed the hide and butchered the goat…finishing in time enough to be ready to descend the mountain upon Chuck and Mike’s return…There were no issues about them keeping up with me on the descent with the only mishap being we were separated as we neared the lake, At which I found myself alone at one point not far from our camp and misjudged a step in the dark, freefalling four feet on to the forest floor, my rifle having the good humor to come off of my pack and smack me squarely in the back of my head with the barrel!
Johnny and Chester had taken a beautiful Billy on their side of the lake and returned in good shape, we ate dinner and recounted our respective adventures before a welcome nights sleep, with everyone safe and off the mountain…
