An Unforgettable Mountain Goat Hunt in Northern British Columbia

Over the past several decades, I’ve been fortunate to hunt in some of the most remote places North America has to offer, and for the most part I’ve been able to do this while living out of my backpack with a bow in hand. Some of the areas I’ve hunted have been much more remote than others, but the area where I recently killed a mountain goat was as remote as I’ve ever seen. I can’t say for sure, but there’s a good possibility that no human had ever set foot on some of the mountain passes, peaks, and goat trails on which we traveled. But I can say with absolute certainty that it was one of the greatest adventures I’ve ever had…and I can’t wait to go back!

I booked my goat hunt through North River Outfitters, operated by Ron and Maria Nemetchek, in northern British Columbia. While I had worked with North River for a few years through Kifaru and had been friends with Ron and Maria’s daughter, Miguela, for even longer, I had never hunted with them. I was excited to see that country and within a few minutes of the bush plane touching down at base camp, I knew this place could easily become my second home.

All outfitters in the various hunting areas in the North Country operate a little differently. Some use horses or Argos; some use helicopters; and others use bush planes. North River uses a couple different bush planes — equipped with either floats or large tundra tires — to land on lakes or on the tundra. These planes are capable of landing in some very tight spaces, but without a good pilot your options will be limited on how remote of an area you can actually get to.

Lucky for me, and anyone else who hunts with North River, Ron is a gangster behind the wheel and has been flying bush planes for over 40 years. I even ended up staying with North River for several weeks after my hunt to hang out and help where I could, so I was able to see firsthand what a skilled pilot can do in various situations.

On my goat hunt, we ended up landing on a pond that was so small that Ron could not come back and pick us up in the same location because he wouldn’t be able to take off with the additional weight of passengers and gear. That wasn’t a problem, however, because our plan was to hike several miles away from the lake to get to the area where I’d be hunting goats.

Because my friend and guide Bart Lancaster and I had landed late in the afternoon, we camped beside the pond that night and started our journey the next morning. The scenery on the hike was nothing short of breathtaking. Somewhere around mile four, we hit a saddle that was basically the starting point of “goat country” and would put us in a great position to glass multiple locations.

When we arrived at the saddle, we dropped our packs and slowly crept to a spot where we could then start picking apart the mountainside. As luck would have it, I spotted multiple mountain goats in one area, and two giant bodies bedded on the edge of a bluff.

I went back and grabbed my pack, and then pulled out my spotting scope to get a better look at what we had in front of us. It didn’t take more than a few seconds to see we were looking at a couple of monster billies that had the potential of surpassing the magical 50-inch mark. Still, we needed to get a closer look, so we gathered our gear and planned a route to close the distance by several hundred yards.

After closing the distance, Bart and I found the flattest spot on which to set up our spike camp for the next couple of days. We positioned ourselves just below the goats in a large patch of jack pines that afforded us a decent amount of cover, so we wouldn’t spook any of the goats.

Weather was moving in quickly, so we popped up our tents, put on our raingear, and got behind our spotters to see exactly what we had to work with. As luck would have it, both billies we’d spotted looked to be over 10 inches in length and would score over 50 P&Y-style inches. The goat I wanted was much wider than any goat I’d seen earlier, but not quite as long as his buddy. It didn’t really matter, as both were giants that would exceed what I was hoping to accomplish — at least 10 years old, 10-inches long, and 50 inches in total score.

It was the first day of the hunt, and to a certain degree, I was in disbelief that I was already starting a stalk on two of the largest mountain goats I’d ever seen, but Ron had told me he had lots of big goats. I should have taken him at his word.

When bowhunting mountain goats, it is always best to approach them from above, so we planned a route to keep the wind in our favor and to avoid exposing ourselves. It took some time and was a bit tricky at certain points, but over the course of a couple hours I was finally above the goats.

The terrain we were looking at for the stalk was about as perfect as you could find for a bowhunter: terraced, with large boulders for cover, and moss everywhere to keep foot noise to a minimum. As much as I hate rain and wind, I was happy that another storm had blown in when I started my approach, because it would only help to further muffle any noise I might make while trying to get within bow range.

With the terrain I had to work with, the 10–15 mph wind, and the moderate rain, my stalk ended up needing the technical skill equivalent to someone walking into a Walmart. I, of course, had to make sure not to expose myself, but overall, the stalk was one of the easiest I’d ever had, and in a few short minutes I was at the marker/boulder that would put me right above the two big goats.

If the goats were still in the same position as when I started the stalk — and it definitely looked like they were — that would put the wider of the two billies right below me. I slowly peeked over the boulder, scanning the bench below me, and I immediately spotted the wide goat that I was hoping to get a shot at.

I scanned for another 30–45 seconds but couldn’t find the other billy. I guess that was a sign to shoot the billy I wanted in the first place, so I got a good range on him and adjusted my sight.

The range was 67 yards — a distance I’m very comfortable with — but the goat was bedded and basically lying flat with his back facing me. I’m not against shooting animals in their bed and have had great success with that shot, but not in the position this goat was in. I wasn’t too worried about it, since the wind wasn’t swirling and the big billy was sawing logs, so I repositioned a little and got ready for him to stand up.

My wait wasn’t long, and when the billy stood to stretch his legs and back like a dog, he offered me the perfect shot.

When I hit my anchor, I was pretty calm, and the shot felt great. I heard an impact, but the rain had increased greatly in the last few minutes, so I wasn’t exactly sure where I’d hit the goat. Although he did react to the shot/impact, it wasn’t the reaction of a goat that had just been “pinwheeled.” I wasn’t panicking yet, but I reloaded just in case and took another reading with my rangefinder.

The goat was walking away toward the cliff edge, which did make me a little nervous. I have shot a few goats over the years, and in 2017, I had a great billy fall off a 2,000-foot cliff…something I didn’t want to happen again.

I released another arrow — it was a solid hit — but he was still walking, so I did a rinse and repeat and hit him a third time. I was still unsure of where my first arrow had hit him, but I knew my second and third shots were lethal, and the goat went down quickly after my last shot.

While all of this was going on, the other goat finally stood up just 28 yards from my position, and he had no idea what the heck was going on. He was a giant goat, pushing 11 inches in length, and it was amazing to see such a magnificent specimen at such close range.

At this point, I was in a bit of disbelief that we had pulled this off on the first day. I had dropped my raingear for the stalk, so I was now soaked to the bone. But I didn’t care at this point, because all I wanted to do was put my hands on the goat I had just killed.

I maneuvered my way down the cliffs, replaying the last 60 seconds in my mind. When I walked up to this amazing animal, I quickly realized he was a little bigger than I had guessed. His horns were well over 10 inches in length, with bases just under six inches in circumference, and he scored well over 50 inches.

Taking a mature, quality animal is always something you dream about, and it was very satisfying to reach my goal. But the best part of this trip was the people I was surrounded by, the amazing scenery that is goat country, and the pure remoteness my mind truly needed.

The author is a wilderness survival expert and serious bowhunter. He’s also President/CEO of Kifaru International.

Author’s Note

On this hunt, I used an Elite Ethos bow, Easton Pro Comp arrows, Sevr and Swhacker broadheads, Kifaru Ark Frame and KU Bag, Crispi Briksdal boots, Born Primitive clothing, Swarovski binos and spotting scope, Leupold rangefinder, and Spartan Forge mapping software.

---