“Little brother, your chunky ass is not ready for sheep hunting. You don’t have what it takes to sheep hunt. Try applying for an area with easier terrain. It will take you longer to draw, but you are not physically capable of handling this type of hunt.” Strong and truthful words from my big brother Wes back in August 2018 after he successfully took his bighorn sheep. We all have our motivations, and mine were evident. At 36 years old, I was fat, lazy, and out of shape. I still had a couple years to draw a bighorn sheep permit, so I became mindful of my eating and exercise.
After two years of being close to drawing the permit by points, I knew it was a matter of time. By winter of 2020, I was exercising regularly and began training for trail running alongside my beautiful wife, Alysia. Finally in 2024, my fate was sealed. On May 9th, the Wyoming Game & Fish License draw was posted. I couldn’t comprehend the feeling of gratitude and excitement when I read “Resident Bighorn Sheep Successful.” I quicky took a screenshot and sent it to Wes. He called me immediately and said, “Congrats, little brother! You need to contact Blake of Chamley Outfitting.” With the draw of the same area Wes once hunted, he recommended Blake because of the remoteness, difficulty, and familiarity of the terrain.
August came quickly, and Alysia agreed on going on this high-country adventure with me. On August 13th, we met Blake at the trailhead and began our journey. Through rain, hail, sleet, and snow, we reached our camp. The morning of the 15th is when we established camp and acclimated to elevation. By that evening, we had scouted two groups of six rams. The biggest one appeared decent but was in the worst area of the whole landscape.
On day two, we hiked into an area that Blake referred to as the “HineHole” because six years prior, my brother had successfully claimed his full curl ram there. We slowly picked our way onto a rocky hillside on the face of the hole. The silence was suddenly broken by a throat chop from Blake as he reached back to stop me. He hit the ground, “There is a ram at the bottom of the hole!” he exclaimed. I was shaking as I drew my binos up and saw a ram bedded at the very bottom of the hole at 1,005 yards. We watched the ram for a while before Blake asked, “What do you want to do?” Unfortunately, I could not tell how big this ram was because he was bedded facing straight away from us. Gazing down into the hell hole, I knew in my heart we needed to get a closer look at the ram.
The three of us began scaling the rockface directly above him, noticing as we gained yardage there was a second ram with him, noticeably smaller. Cutting the distance to 736 yards, we set up the spotting scope, with Blake being the first to view the ram. His jaw dropped. A giant full curl ram with lamb tips and mass, he confirmed. Alysia and I were in awe of this beautiful ram. I didn’t have a shooting position due to the steep angle and boulders obstructing our view, so we forged on.
Before long, we crept around a large boulder with the sheep in full view. Blake looked back, smiling, and asked, “Can you make that shot?” I ranged the ram standing and feeding perfectly broadside. I could make this shot easy. Blake asked which rock I wanted to shoot from, but before I could answer, our attention shifted to a helicopter fast approaching. Panic set in as I scrambled for the rangefinder and frantically started ranging different exits as I knew the rams would stir. Blake and Alysia quickly focused on the rams as they decided to flee the basin. We watched both rams run further away until they reached the timber patch over a thousand yards away and disappeared. Minutes away from glory and it was gone in the blink of an eye.
As Blake and Alysia were trying to make sense of the events that had just unfolded, the only thing I could think of was to press on and get out of this hole. The time spent crawling out of this hole was not pleasant, but after a couple of hours, we reached our original position.
The next three days were filled with more brutal hikes and a lot of glassing. Rams weren’t moving around the area, and extreme weather shifted from good to bad. The end of day six, we spotted the original 12 rams from day one of the hunt and I was coming to terms with the fact I needed to try and take the bigger ram. He was a 3/4 ram with most of his lamb tips but was my only option at this point. We pushed hard with light fading fast to get in range of this ram but failed. Rams went from alert to calm as we lay in a boulder field watching the sun go down. On day seven, we decided to try and turn them back up with much success but poor timing as someone else found them and harvested one of the rams. It was a long and sobering hike back to camp that evening. Over dinner, we talked about our options. By this time, Alysia was dealing with horrible blisters and was going to stay in camp. We decided our best bet was to leave Alysia in camp to glass and have our wrangler, James, sit on the HineHole and glass while Blake and I would go on a long and arduous hike to glass cliff faces and cover ground as my hunt was going to end soon.
The morning came early, and Blake and I traversed difficult terrain like we were on a mission. We reached the edge of the world where we were cliffed out. We sat glassing for a couple of hours before we decided to start making the climb back towards the HineHole. After a while, Blake decided I would work my way up to a rocky outcrop and he was going to glass the cliffs and meet me up there to take a break. We parted ways, and Blake told me to be careful as I reached the outcrop because he had seen sheep there before. I took my time glassing and walking slowly. I reached the rocky point and slowly glassed the area. No sheep in sight. I was deflated but still optimistic.
As I turned around and started my way down, I could see my inReach flashing. A message from James said, “I have two rams in front of me in the bottom of the HineHole and one looks to be a full curl.” I messaged Blake, “You have five minutes and I’m making my way to the HineHole.” A couple minutes passed, and I could hear a whistle from below. It was Blake pointed in the direction we needed to go. Floating over boulders, I still had a chance. Two hours later, we approached the top rim of the HineHole where James was perched. “Dude, look at this,” James said. I peered through the spotter and saw the same ram the helicopter had spooked bedded down and basking in the sun 704 yards away.
Deliberation didn’t take long before Blake made the call that James and I would have to reposition. With the ram bedded 1,122 feet below us and the sun high, it gave us confidence we had more time to try and reach a position that gave me a better shot opportunity. Blake stayed back to keep an eye on the ram, and James and I slid down the boulder field to a cliff ledge. We peeked over the edge and the ram was up feeding in full view once again. James reported 362 yards and smiled with enthusiasm. I cuddled up to my 7 RUM and got tightly nestled in. James set up to spot for me. The ram was quartering away, and the angle was still steep. I placed my crosshairs far back on his ribs, drew a line to the vitals, and squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out. Shakily, I viewed the ram standing 10 yards away from where I had shot, looking straight up and starting to tip over.
I was in total disbelief after everything we had been through. The helicopter ram was mine. It took an hour to reach the ram, and as I approached, I could not believe how big he was. Picking his head up, I was amazed at how heavy it was. Blake pointed out it was only a couple hundred yards from here where Wes had shot his ram six years before. It took the whole team to make it happen, and I am very thankful for my team and their support. I need to thank my beautiful wife for her love and support. Thanks to Blake Chamley of Chamley Outfitters, his wrangler James, and finally, my brother Wes. Without his words, I know in my heart I wouldn’t have had what it took to go that far for my sheep.
Wyoming Sheep