At first, Keith and I tried to talk above the bumblebee drone of the plane but ended up gaping in silence at the wild panorama below. As we flew over incredibly rugged terrain, I was reminded that the Rocky Mountain goat is one of the most underrated animals on our continent. This slab-sided, snow-white creature inhabits the steepest parts of North America, perching precariously on pinnacles from Colorado to southern Alaska. A mature goat might not have impressive headgear, but a goat's rugged habitat, beautiful coat, and razor-keen eyesight make him worthwhile to hunt.

Guide Keith Holmes and I glassed for goats from the shore of the lake near camp. Good optics -- and good physical condition -- form the foundation for goat hunting.

Much of the best goat country can be reached only by floatplane. Hunters set down on lakes and climb from cool valleys to icy goat terrain. The odds of crashing a bush plane are slim in good weather, but we breathed a sigh of relief when we landed on a kidney-shaped body of water. The pilot told us this was Murky Lake, our temporary home. He promised to return in a few days to see how we were doing. He roared down the lake and out of sight.

After setting up backpack tents and sorting gear, Keith and I turned to the all-important task of scanning peaks for goats. We could see for miles in the gin-clear mountain air.

A quick look showed nothing at all, but Keith insisted this was great goat country. The animals were simply bedded under ledges, in caves, or otherwise out of sight. We lounged and talked for a few minutes, and then I glanced back at the mountains. Oh my gosh! Two white dots were moving above camp.

Our eyes were glued to spotting scope and binoculars as more and more goats popped out. The evening feeding period had begun. During the next two hours, dozens of goats appeared high above us. Most were on the mountain directly behind camp. Several were large, but exactly how large was tough to tell in the rapidly failing light.

Goat hunting is not for the faint of heart. Those rocks are not only vertical but also slick!

AT DAYLIGHT, KEITH and I spotted the giant goat mentioned earlier and assaulted the mountain. The country got steeper as we climbed. In places, we clawed up 45-degree slopes on hands and knees. A snow squall settled around our ears. It was miserable.

The wind was whirling aimlessly as we approached the billy -- the worst possible thing during a stalk. Goats have keen noses and trust them without question. Goats also have sharp eyes, but they don't always run at the first sight of danger.

As we scanned the terrain where the goat ought to be, we realized the wind was the least of our worries. To reach stable ground and set up a shot, we'd have to cross 20 yards of near-vertical mud. Below the mud was a sheer cliff at least l00 feet high.

We made it across on toes, fingers, and nerves. I grabbed solid rock and struggled to my knees. No goat was visible in front of us. I stood up, eased ahead, and looked beyond a boulder. Still nothing.