DAN SIMMONS Sportsman's Quest MORE COLUMNS Advertisement

As I hung onto a ledge and looked down at the beautiful white mountain goat, my thoughts screamed, "What am I doing here? I don't belong in this situation!"

It all started while guiding a German fellow on a moose, sheep and goat hunt in the extreme north of British Columbia, Canada. He was pleasant, could shoot well, and anxious for the adventure of a lifetime.

This was a pack trip, so we headed for the high country with two good trail horses and a big strong pack animal carrying our food, wall tent and "necessaries." We would be away from base camp for 10 days, set up a spike camp in a high valley and hunt from there. This would be hunting as it should be.

Our primary communication would be in Deutsch, for which I was prepared by an earlier life in Germany as an American biologist. Having also been a game warden in this region for several years, and now working with an outfitter who had excellent equipment, we were ready.

The moose was the first tag to be filled. We were just a couple of hours from base camp on a trail overlooking a meadow when we saw what we were looking for, a huge bodied giant, with massive head gear, crossing below us.

After dismounting and securing the horses we moved quietly to a ridge two hundred yards from the feeding moose and dropped him with my new friend's 7X64 Mauser Sportster. Being still close to camp, I was able to ride back and have the packers take care of the heavy work, dressing and getting the animal back to camp, and we were once again on our way to higher elevations in search of mountain goat and Stone sheep.

After setting up a comfortable spike camp on the edge of a small alpine lake, we began scouting. In the next days we counted many goats, sheep and caribou in the surrounding hills and adjacent valleys, but not the trophies we were after.

Then on the third day a huge, lone, billy goat worthy of our efforts came into view. He was feeding on a small plateau high above the valley with a sheer drop-off on one side, but a gentler slope on the other.

This was going to be easy. We would ride around the base of the mountain, come up the sloping side and catch him by surprise as he fed. We rode, then climbed just as planned, and came around a ridge only a hundred and fifty yards from the old gentleman. He had horn length and bases even greater than we had determined from the bottom of the mountain, didn't know we were there and offered the perfect shot.

Laying a daypack on a nearby rock offered a steady rest for the Mauser and the shot was well placed. The mountain goat fell in his tracks. The only problem was that his tracks led over the cliff, and over the edge he went. This is where it started being an "interesting" situation. As we hustled over to look down we could see he was stone dead, but hung up on a rock about 200 feet down the sheer cliff side, and that was our dilemma. The only answer was for the guide (me) to climb down and get him.

Now I'm not afraid of heights and in pretty good shape, but there was just not much to hold on to. Rappelling gear would have made it easier, but that wasn't happening, so I carefully made my way down, balancing on a goat trail, for which I was not evolutionarily prepared. Eventually reaching the goat, I looked down, and this was where our story began.

Balancing on a small ledge, the one that had stopped the animal's fall, I caped him using one hand for the knife and the other to hold on to the cliff. I put the hide and horns in my pack, but the only way of recovering the old billy's meat was to give him a shove and let the mountain finish its tenderizing job for the next several hundred feet.

I watched him drop and roll to the valley floor, carefully and slowly made my way back up the cliff with my pack, the trophy and a pounding heart as the adrenalin continued to flow. At the top I vowed, "This would be my last mountain goat hunt -- ever!" It wasn't, but that's another story.

It was an easy ride down the backside of the mountain and around to the fallen and tenderized meat. Another easy ride back to spike camp and we were both ready for a "camp day." The Stone sheep would have to wait.

When hunting, fishing or just hiking, you're challenging your skills against your quarry, the elements and situations that have challenged men from the earliest times. That's what draws us to confront nature and draws us to adventure. Sometimes nature wins. If we didn't have supermarkets and fast food restaurants, we would starve; our skills and equipment can shelter us from a harsh environment, but as we test the limits of our skills, we can go beyond them. We live for the test and glory in our successes, as it should be. We're human.

So, my hat is off to you. Get in shape, take care of your equipment, sharpen your skills, go where your dreams lead you, and live.

Events

*The Wildlife and Habitat Improvement Nevada banquet is June 14 at 5:30 p.m. in the Gold Coast Hotel & Casino banquet facilities. There will be door prizes, auctions, raffles and a special auction for Nevada Department of Wildlife Heritage Mule Deer Tag. For more information and advanced ticket orders call 702-432-6033 or 384-5006.

* The Fraternity of the Desert Bighorn banquet is July 12, at South Point Hotel & Casino. Doors open at 5 p.m. with dinner at 7: p.m. The auction will start at 7:30 p.m.. For more information go to the Web site, www.desertbighorn.com or call Paul Harris at 17-02-596-6849

*ICAST, International Convention of Allied Sportfishing Trades, will hold Follow your Instincts, the world's largest sport fishing tradeshow, July 16-18 at the Las Vegas Convention center.

Recipe of week

Here's a delicious recipe for camp-cooked lamb chops, but note the old fellow in our story could hardly be called lamb. It was good, but even the tenderizing didn't help; he ended up as burger and stew meat -- with lots of pepper and curry. He's remembered best for the trophy on my friend's wall, pelt on his couch and memories of a great hunt.

Blondie's Camp Fire Lamb Chops

Six 11/2 inch thick chops, with fat trimmed off; 3 tsp salt; 3 tsp ground black pepper; 2 tsp thyme; 3 Tbs white flour; 3 Tbs oil or lard; 2 large onions, thinly sliced; 6 potatoes, thinly sliced; 1 12-oz can of beer.

Trim the chops, season with a little salt and pepper and dredge in the flour; lightly sauté on both sides in a cast iron frying pan with the oil (lard); add the onions and potatoes in alternating layers, sprinkling with salt, pepper and thyme; add the beer, cover and simmer for approximately 30 minutes over medium heat.

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If you have an adventure, a story or a comment give me a call at 727-9777 or e-mail me at dansimmons@usa.net.