On day one, I was all smiles while soaking in my first float plane ride inbound to our remote hunting area. Cam, our guide, and I had scoured FatMaps to find the best route from base camp to the summit in order to hunt goats. John, our hunter, touched down with the outfitter, Logan, about an hour after us and he was raring to go! John took a moment to align his bow while I loaded the remainder of his gear into my pack before embarking on the trek north. 

We tried taking a quick route up the mountain to camp while carrying 100+ pounds of equipment, only to turn around an hour into the climb. The three-hour uphill hike was the hardest I’d ever done, surpassing anything I’d accomplished in Australia or New Zealand. It was a hot day and the bugs were unbearable. At times we climbed hand over fist to get a few extra metres up the mountain, and I was surprised to see the enormous boot-sized piles of scat left behind by the bears as we climbed. 

The good weather was short lived as the heavens opened minutes after we set up camp. It was windy and awful for a few hours, but we were able to head off on an afternoon hunt. We saw one big billy goat through the spotting scope a few miles away in an inaccessible location. We also saw a giant black bear sauntering the hills. We hoped to run into him later in the trip if we couldn’t find another goat. We covered a lot of territory and glassed loads of good goat country to no avail.  

On day two, we were up and out by 7:00 a.m. Our breakfast was a coffee sachet and lunch was a cheese stick and a single muesli bar. Cam had a Garmin satellite receiver which gave us a daily weather forecast. Decent weather was inbound so we had to make the most of it. My legs felt great as I bounced up the hills. John didn’t have much “go”, so he poked along and stayed lower while Cam and I raced ahead to check and glass higher areas. We saw nine black bears throughout the day, one of which held our attention—a giant murderous shadow of a boar.  

We checked high and low for goats and glassed every conceivable spot. We found an old bed and some old dung, but no goats. We also found a pile of bones and fur, which belonged to a wolverine.  

We could see the weather coming in and after being hit sporadically with rain throughout the day, we knew it was setting in. A tough two-hour walk back in the rain brought us close to camp. I looked up, always checking for animals, and a decent boar was waltzing around the top of camp. We raced over to the tents to drop our gear as John began the stalk. Cam had the rifle ready as I followed with the camera. We crested the knoll just as the wind turned, and the bear smelled us and disappeared. This bit of excitement was exactly what John needed, a good sign for the hunt to come. 

I rose early to prepare the gear on day three. I dropped down to the lake to fill up the water bottles when I saw the sky-lined boar from last night. John and I then glassed him and hatched a plan. We had never stalked a black bear, so this was about to get our hearts pumping. We laced up our boots and closed the gap to 50 yards. Cam and John attempted one final dash when the bear caught movement. From my vantage point, I could see the bear retreat 20 yards before turning to look back. Cam and John were isolated and didn’t know they’d been seen. The bear remained curious and hadn’t run off. 

Suddenly, the bear lifted its front leg and began stalking back towards them. He dipped behind the undulating ground, out of sight, 30 yards from rising back into view. Hand signals weren’t going to work as communication between us, so I had to make a split-second decision. I sprinted the 30 yards to John and delivered his quiver undetected. I pointed and said three words, “Bear, draw, shoot.” Two seconds later, the bear crested as John drew and let an arrow fly. John’s arrow found its mark but just to be sure, Cam quickly followed up with the .308. 

Cam put me to work breaking down the boar. I stripped the meat as Cam worked the cape. Our backpacks were full, but the walk to camp was short and sweet. That was the most intense predator hunt I’d ever hunted! 

Days four and five were simply torture. Cam and I walked over 20kms, racing ahead of John to glass new spots he couldn’t access. There were bears everywhere but no goats. We found plenty of old goat signs: hoof tracks, a broken horn, old beds, etc…but no goats. We glassed literally everywhere, every bluff, overhang, shady/sunny patches, and icy/snowy patches. I was warned that hunting goats was the toughest in the world and now I know why. I gathered rocks to keep the bear meat out of the elements before closing up for the night on day five. 

We woke abruptly in the night to the sound of falling rocks. Cam and I sat bolt upright, wide-eyed. Without saying a word, Cam had the rifle as I unzipped the tent and shined the torch at the source. Nothing. Sleeping was tough knowing we were being stalked in the dark. The forecast was catastrophic with 50+mph winds and fog imminent. We had to get off the mountain while we could.  

My pack weighed 80+ pounds as we began our wet and foggy descent. We kept checking the Garmin map for the best route, but ended up almost going straight down on our butts. After a hellacious hour, we reached base camp before delivering the precious cargo. We passed fresh wolf and grizzly piles full of goat fur, which explained a lot. Logan couldn’t fly in that weather so we were stuck. I left the tent only four times over the next four days; it rained 24/7. And it was scary inside the tent. We didn’t know whether it was going to hold or not in the wind. Those were long and nerve racking days and nights.  

The rain finally stopped days later, so we attempted to find a grouse for dinner and pick some blueberries. As I was lacing up my boots, Cam said, “Matt, there’s a bear.” I hadn’t even noticed a black boar lurking on the rocks directly opposite our camp. We watched the bear circle us, perhaps looking for more fresh meat. Cam snatched up the rifle in preparation of what could happen. We tried to shoo the bear away, but he only saw us as competition. He turned, clacking his teeth and huffing through his nostrils. The bear was 40 yards from Cam when he stopped walking, turned, and stared Cam down.  

Then, the boar began closing the distance on Cam. After repeated efforts to thwart the bear, Cam aimed the rifle and fired, dropping the bear 35 yards from the tents and 20 yards in front of him. On approach, the boar was about 50 pounds bigger than John’s bear. His skull was a touch under 20 inches all round. Cam was stoked to fill his own bear tag. Hopefully, I’ll do it next season. A quick three hours later, we had the bear prepared and were back in our tents with the rifle held closely. We had only one final, terror-filled night on the mountain.  

On day 11 of our entire hunting trip, we were all up early in anticipation of being flown out. The lake was clear and the sun was out. No fog in sight on our end, but down by the bay fog was everywhere. I was the last to leave clutching the rifle until Logan returned to get me off the mountain. What a wild and memorable trip! Even though we didn’t find any goats, it was worth it because of our success in bringing home two beautiful bears.