The Goat Hunt
A quick word from Joel:
The beginning of something is always special and not altogether clear. This Goat Hunt marks the first official hunt and pilot episode of the Finding Nowhere Project; however, a hilariously failed Bear hunt, and a nearly fatal Goat hunt (that included my going hypothermic), as well as a friendly all-night jaunt down a Grizzly-Bear infested mountain in a thunderstorm the previous fall all transpired before the “official” hunt. So maybe that’s where this all starts?
What’s the point being made here? To meet ourselves where we are, and not try to be, or compare ourselves to, what we’re not…yet.
So, where are Ryan and I on our hunting and wilderness survivability now? Ryan Primus, cousin and co-host on this project, has been an avid hunter and outdoorsman all his life. I have not. In fact, “I have not” hardly encompasses just how “not” a hunter and outdoorsman I am. Not all that long ago, I loathed hunters and had a Ross Geller and Rachel Green from FRIENDS on-again-off-again relationship with vegetarianism.
So, as I sit atop a mountain, 8000 feet higher than my normal sea-level dwelling, holding a rifle, and Goat draw tag safely stowed away in my pocket, the absurdity is not lost.
What on Earth am I doing here?
Would it be enough to say my curious nature beckons me through whatever interesting doors open in my life? Probably not. This is hunting, not wandering down a back alley marketplace in Bangkok. Although, this did all begin with 5 years of prodding requests from my dear cousin to join him on a hunt – all met with kind rejection and mild self-righteous disgust, except for the aforementioned.
The curiosity seems to stem from an ancient longing resurging in a much-too-modern world. It’s not a question of new hobbies, but of old traditions. A yearning to learn the ability to live off the land – to hunt, fish, forage, grow and build on so that one may be able to re-wild a heart and nourish a soul.
This question and desire have sparked exploration of the survivability of 8 distinct regions in Canada’s wildest and most mountainous province: British Columbia. Alongside this quest to find the perfect place to build a remote wilderness cabin, is an education on how to hunt, fish, forage, and grow food as well as a discovery of the potential myriad of health and lifestyle benefits of re-wilding.
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Winding up Hwy 97 through British Columbia’s interior will ignite the adventurer in anyone with eyes and a beating heart. You’ll drive through ancient rainforest, cascading mountain ranges, raging rivers and rolling, sage-covered deserts that transform into forests of Douglas fir, spruce, cottonwood and pine trees. Above the treeline, are endless grand peaks, frigid lakes and wild animals.
Unquestionably harsh and rugged landscapes. Vistas so beautiful that I can’t find the words to sufficiently describe them.
If one continues past the quaint roadside towns of Hope, Cache Creek, 100 Mile House, Williams Lake and Prince George (the latter not so quaint anymore), you’ll be heading up the Hart Highway into the True North. Here, frontiers still exist for those not faint of heart, with visions of adventures as vast and wild as the land itself.
From here onward, in the thin air caught between jagged peaks and blowing through alpine meadows, are Mountain Goats. Of the roughly 110,000 Mountain Goats in the world, approximately 50,000 live in British Columbia. A population strictly managed by British Columbia’s Ministry of Conservation and only huntable with a very limited entry draw each year.
Some 14 hours of rubber, tarmac and a roadside greasy-spoon meal behind us, we are there.
Maybe this is the beginning, maybe just not yet. A quick stop in Dawson Creek, entrance to the Alaska Highway, to connect with friends at Corlane Sporting Goods. Our visit turns into a multi-night affair when we are stalled by province-wide road closures due to raging forest fires – an increasing occurrence in British Columbia.
Weather changes constantly in the mountains, and we hope that 6 months of planning does not go up in flames. Hope and patience are the paramount virtues every hunter must carry with them. We are all at the mercy of the Great Mother and that is often never more apparent than when deep in the wild.
The fires burn themselves out more quickly than expected, and looming rains are welcomed.
Once the road is open, it is not long before the march into the brush (an inviting combination of devil’s club and deadfall) commences, and straight up the mountain we go.
There is no trail to follow – only the memory and instincts of Ryan and the towering ridgeline to guide us to the top.
In the last pocket of trees before the alpine and steep cliffs extend, still upward before us, we camp for the night.
Rain pounds and the wind howls through the night; the morning greets us likewise. The silver lining – lower fire risk.
Finding a reliable water source for the rest of the hunt is the first priority. Once found, in the form of a nearly-dried-up mud puddle (another sign of the cruel dry summer), we know we can sustain ourselves in proximity to this spot for at least a few days, or until another, fresher source is discovered.
As quickly as the storms closed in on us, and tested the man-made fibres of our gear, the Great Mother shifts mood again and the sun comes out.
This cues silence amongst our group, and the hunt begins.
Ridges stretch 10kms (6miles) on either side, providing endless glassing (to look through binoculars or a spotting scope at the hillside) along the nooks and crannies of the death
-defying rock faces.
To hunt is to sit, wait and do nothing but look and listen – a secret gift to be cherished. For when else are we afforded the grace to sit, look and listen without fidgeting and reaching for our phones?
Often on Goat hunts, and all hunts, there is endless waiting - days with seeing nothing followed by moments of heart-bursting action when an animal is spotted. Maintaining hope and patience is a constant practice. As luck would have it, this was not one of those hunts.
Within the hour, Goats are spotted by Ryan scaling the face of a cliff a day's walk away. Before deciding to don our heavy loads and traverse the ridges to their location (wherever they may be when we get there), a quick look at the cliff just behind us proves we are directly above a giant Billy Goat.
This feeling seems to harken back to our ancient ancestors and our evolution as a species. Whether you agree with hunting or not, some paleontologists say it is through the dance of the hunt that we evolved to where we are today.
We invite you to follow along and experience, with us, the dramas that ensue on these dangerous and spectacular Northern cliffs in our episode: “Beginnings.”