A steady drizzle had moved in, and we took shelter under a rock overhang to rest and eat an early dinner before starting the trek back to camp. We were crossing a steep shale slide when Eric went into a crouch. The pair of rams we thought we'd lost had somehow gotten high above us. We hunkered down until the next fog bank hid us, then legged it as fast as we could to the crest of the ridge. When Eric figured we'd pushed as far as we dared, we settled in to wait for better visibility.

It turned out to be a long wait. The temperature started dropping, and after close to an hour I began to shiver. Half an hour later I noticed that it had gotten considerably brighter, and I was about to mention that to Wayne when the cloud bank abruptly parted and the sun shone down upon us. And that was unfortunate.

A little over 300 yards above us, a mature Dall ram peered down, his smaller buddy off to the right. Not only did he have the elevation advantage, he was standing smack dab on the saddle we had to cross to get back to camp. Our choices were limited: We couldn't advance; we couldn't flank; we couldn't retreat. We had to either take the shot or spook the ram.

I was carrying a Ruger M77 Ultralight Synthetic in .270 Win. topped with a Leupold 2.5-8X VX III scope, and although I'd spent a lot of time at the range with it, the 315 yards that separated me from the sheep of my dreams now seemed awfully far. But I'd ended every practice session by launching several 140-grain Hornady Light Magnums at a 300-yard steel gong from field shooting positions, and I'd rung it every time.

The sheep seemed oddly unalarmed by our presence, so I crawled around to Eric's left, wrapped my arm tightly into the sling and got into a prone position. Eric pushed a rock under my left hand for added stability, and I shouldered the rifle and put the scope on the sheep.

"OK," I whispered. "I can do this, but he's going to have to give us a broadside shot."

The author had dreamed of hunting sheep for more than 30 years, and the experience did not disappoint. After missing a chance on a ram the day before, the payoff came for the author, guide Jaydee Kirby and guide/outfitter Eric Umphenour.

Eric continued to study the ram through his binoculars. "When he's about to turn, I'll give you guys enough warning so Jed can get the camera rolling."

Long minutes ticked by as I stared at the sheep through the scope, shivering now with cold and excitement, and the crosshairs were shaking. Finally, the ram began to turn broadside, and I flicked off the safety.

"Do you have him, Jed?" I asked our cameraman, pleadingly.

"No, wait just a second," came the reply, and just as he finished the sentence the ram bedded down.

An audible moan went up from the crew, and I put the safety back on and took the rifle off my shoulder. At first I thought this was going to be another disappointing missed opportunity. The ram could wait us out indefinitely, and there was still that little detail of him lying on our only path home. But after studying the situation, I realized that even though the sheep was bedded, I could see his neck and his entire chest. It was doable--not ideal but doable.

"I can make that shot," I said. "Jed, start rolling."

"I'm ready when you are," he replied.