In 2015 I found myself needing some serious adventure along with a change of pace and scenery. What happened and what follows isn't your typical hunting story. I did this story for PBS well over a year ago, so consider this a reprise with a few minor edits. I'll get it going today, and hopefully you'll enjoy it. KD
Looking forward to this! :coffee:
Bernie
Thank you Sir !
:coffee:
:campfire: :coffee:
Excited!! :campfire:
Awesome! Looking forward to this one Kevin
Awesome! Thanks Kevin.
:campfire: :coffee:
I'm in....... :campfire:
:clapper:
I'll preface this by telling you I wasn't planning to do a story about my 2015 trip to Alaska. I've had about 2 dozen emails and messages asking me about what happened...so here's the accounting. I'm not going to gloss it up or make it prettier than it was in reality. I'm also not much of a writer and I often find it hard to pull out the correct words needed to convey what's happening. My writing grammar probably needs work, but I write it the way I'd tell it. It's a story and it isn't perfect. It's pretty long, so up-front apology on that. It might take me a while to get it done...lots of images and such...so feel free to comment or question along the way. The time-frame is August, but the story really starts much earlier...back in late winter when I decided to challenge myself somehow. You can get a clue from the picture.
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I normally go for moose in September, but after much consideration I decided it was time for a new adventure. I wasn't exactly sure what that might be, but it seemed like a great opportunity to experience something unique and memorable. I spent much of last winter contemplating options and talking to people about ideas. I spoke to the pilot who usually flies me in for moose and told him of my thoughts. We had several rounds of conversation and I finally decided to go after caribou. He gave me plenty of data regarding locations and opportunities...enough that I felt completely confident I would see plenty of game and have my chances. I'm not a guy who usually worries much about getting right into animals, but it's nice to have the feeling you'll be seeing them. Head on straight...I'm going for it.
I initially considered a partner for this hunt but opted away from that fairly quickly. I really felt the need to do something unfamiliar and to challenge myself in ways not done before this hunt. I began to understand that I wanted to go alone and experience the Alaskan wilderness with only myself to rely on. I was concerned about Marilyn's feelings, and decided there was no way I would do this without her complete approval. We talked about it at length and explored every concern or question. I liked her final answer.
"You've spent your whole life hunting and fishing. You have more skills than most guys who go there. You've always been focused on staying safe, and I know that is how you think. I will worry some, but it helps to know you'll be in touch. I think you should go do it."
:campfire: :clapper:
So you'd logically think the next step is to plan the hunt, right? Correct....but I haven't told you about the other simultaneous plan we'd been hatching. Marilyn was champing at the bit to go see Alaska and we had a complete do-it-ourselves trip planned. The details of that trip are way too many and too involved to relate here, but priority number one was our trip. The lesser priority was my hunt. In the process we decided to pull a two week tour of Alaska totally on our own (not cruise folks by a mile) and see as much as we could. After that, she would fly home....I would stay another 12 days, hunting for 9 days on my own. That's a big bite right there...gone for most of a month and covering a lot of miles. Don't even ask me about the logistics and gear, between our vacation and the hunt. You wouldn't believe the planning this required to make it all work.
The day we flew out Columbus (Ohio) was a combo of excitement, relief and finality. A long summer of planning was over. There was nothing left to do now but execute all the plans.
The team:
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Our two weeks in Alaska was spectacular. Anchorage, Soldotna, Homer, Katchemak Bay, Iliamna, Redoubt, Kenai, Chugach, Seward, Whittier, Prince William Sound, Valdez, Richardson Hwy, Thompson Pass, Wrangells, Tok, Glenallen, Delta Junction, Fairbanks, Chena Hot Springs, Nenana, Healy, Denali, Talkeetna....and that is only a partial list of the places and names we visited. We were even in some tiny little burg named Moose Pass one day. (They sell some weird food there.) We burned miles and memories like nobody has ever done. Cabins, hotels, lodges, eateries, shops, harbors, glaciers, mountains, wildlife...all there to consume. I've done a lot of hunting and travel over the years, but this trip was definitely a major milestone. I don't need to recommend it...you already know you want to go.
Productive halibut day on the Homer Spit.
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Bull moose in fireweed. Photography by excited wife.
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The big volcano...Iliamna or Redoubt.
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Salmon pooled up below Russian River Falls. Big grizz area.
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Lilypad Lake on a 32 degree morning...Kenai Peninsula.
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On the 3.5 mile trail at Russian River in the Kenai region.
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Sneaky Bou
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Seward Harbor. You had to be there to appreciate it....trust me.
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Every day and every mile is a brand new adventure in Alaska. We made the most of it.
Flying through a high glaciated amphitheater.
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On Pika Glacier not far from Denali. If you've never done anything like this, I can't adequately describe the feeling it gives. This is special stuff.
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Turbine Otter on the glacier. Our landing defied the odds.
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A favorite image of mine.
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Well, your stories more than make up for any "not much of a writer" issue you think you have. I don't agree and I bet we'll all be following along pretty wrapt.
Just the thing for the start of a new year and a long winter. Thanks for taking the time to share.
Your doing fine so far...... :thumbsup: Alaska is a magical place.
This is going to be good, it already is.
I'm in :campfire:
edit in progress....
There is a subtle message here. I took Tonya to Denali in May, rode the glass train, and cruised the inside passage. This year, I am going back to Moose hunt with a caribou and wolf tag in hand.
Kevin, that Moose Pass place is not very big, did you get to met its Mayor.
:campfire: I love your stories...thanks for taking us along!
Enjoying a sunny sidewalk café in Valdez...waiting on a beverage!
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I had spoken to my pilot about the possibility of getting Marilyn up in his Super Cub. On a warm and fine evening he called and said, "Let's get her up!" Here she is getting pre-flight safety instructions.
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Intrepid woman...first time in a Cub. I know I wasn't grinning like that the first time I buckled in.
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One of our favorite stops is Pike's Landing in Fairbanks. Eating on the patio was a sweet treat.
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Departure day for Marilyn was kind of a sad one. My partner was going home and I was staying on. It had been heaven. We celebrated our great trip with one last dinner at Pike's Landing, and then it was time. The airport goodbye was long and meaningful. I knew she was concerned and I didn't cover it up. It was hard to walk away. Fairbanks Airport is pretty small and I drove out to a neighboring business where I parked. Watching her Delta take wing, I nodded to myself that it was good, and my hunt was starting.
Back at my room I poured the final glass from a bottle we'd shared. I looked at my gear and knew I was ready. I quietly toasted the success of our trip. No matter what happened from this point...I was satisfied. I had a few hours to contemplate the hunt before sleep. Tomorrow it begins.
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What an incredible opportunity and experience, thanks for taking us along!
The Hunt
At 6:30 the next morning my pilot picked me up. We tossed my gear in his truck and ten minutes later we arrived at the hangar. I caught up with an old friend and chatted briefly as the Super Cub was fueled. I loaded my gear and we lofted up and away in no time. I rather enjoyed that flight...it was probably the finest bush flight I've ever experienced. Imagine two Super Cubs heading into the bush and low mountains of eastern Alaska...pilots talking back and forth...I was adding dumb commentary as required...and we flew steadily east by northeast into the rugged Fortymile region. The Cubs eventually separated and we began doing a reconnaissance of various caribou areas. We flew over domes and rugged cliffs, up and through passes, and soared above wild quiet expanses of alpine tundra. From the air we located a few bands of Dall sheep, one of which was watching a black bear navigate the steep slope below. We spotted multiple moose including a nice bull just coming out of velvet. The caribou were spotty, just as they should be in late August. They were scattered and holding high...the migration yet to begin.
After flying through and around many possible hunting areas it was time to make a decision. Based on visuals and feedback from my friend/pilot I made my choice. "Take me to Judith Pass". My friend and pilot told me I'd chosen well. I heard him say something about tricky winds and short takeoffs which could make for problems in unfavorable weather, but by then it was a moot point. The rocks and tundra were looming larger by the second and less than a minute later we were bouncing to a stop. I clipped out of my flight harness and stepped into my new world, surveying the terrain and surrounding mountains.
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Love it, I'll be refreshing often, great story so far. My inlaws surprised the family with an Alaskan cruise this summer, pretty jazzed about it.
Judith Pass is a treeless pass which separates the headwaters of two rivers. It is rough country. Think lots of rock, steep mountainsides, cascading streams, a few alders below, and far below is the black spruce taiga which holds moose. It is severely lonely country without a tree to rest against. The only sounds you'll hear are those of the wind, the fast water below and maybe a raven croaking somewhere above.
It took ten minutes to unload my gear and get the Cub away. I don't recall any particular feeling of aloneness or gravity as I watched him float away down-canyon toward the spruce below...I've been alone in Alaska many times. Besides, I had work to do: "Well....I decided on this, so I can only blame me". I wasn't going to camp where I landed. My campsite was to be farther up in the actual pass. That meant a backpack trip, and considering I had 75 pounds of gear it meant two backpack trips....I had to get working. I filled my pack with 40 pounds of gear and shouldered it. There's not much point trying to describe what it's like to be well over the double-nickel in age, while hammering up a big rough shale slide through alders and fighting for balance. In the end I climbed about 800 vertical feet and went a mile or two into the pass. On the way up I paused to shoot a picture or two. The tiny lake far below is about 3/4 miles away at this point, and I had started my trek near it. I noticed my shadow and struck a noble pose for the image.
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I was seeing caribou as I packed upward into the pass. The strategy was to camp above and within striking distance of the various benches and trails traversing the pass. From my camp I would watch for bulls and then drop down to intercept them. It was a simple plan but not as easy as it sounds.
I continued to advance in both elevation and distance until I was a good long ways from our landing strip. I liked what I could see and decided I needed to find a campsite. "Good lord....I forgot to bring a bulldozer." I found a bench which wasn't really level...more like 15-20 degrees angle...and looked for a place to pitch the Sawtooth tipi. Every spot was either wet or bulging with rocks. I finally compromised and selected the least rocky spot I could find. I dumped the pack and flopped on a flat rock. It was 11:30 and I needed a lunch snack. I cut a chunk of salami....you know that good Genoa stuff by Boar's Head.....and opened a granola bar. "This is pretty good. I'm sitting alone in Judith Pass eating lunch. There are caribou walking below me. The sun is warm. I have another load to haul, but I'll get it done."
My brain was in neutral...lulled by the comforts of sun and scenery. My legs were tired. The food tasted divine. "I think I see another caribou coming. Wait a second....uh oh."
I grabbed my binoculars and verified what my unaided eyes had seen:
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:coffee: :coffee:
This was the last in a long line of remote possibilities I envisioned. We had flown through the pass 3 times...no bear. It didn't matter....I had my very own camp grizzly sauntering my way at 250 yards and closing steadily. I grabbed the camera and snicked off several images.
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Big and blonde..."Jeez-o-pete...that sucker is big!" The wind was wrong; he was upwind and couldn't smell me. The situation was wrong: I had intelligently decided to leave my big handgun far below for the second trip. After all, bears don't usually find themselves attracted to airplanes and all that clatter. I had a can of pepper spray and a few minutes at most. I needed to make a decision, so I decided; I sat there and ate my salami and granola bar. "If this dude crosses that rocky slide and gets on my side he'll be at 125 yards or so. I'll give him until then. If he gets under 100 yards one of us is going to look bad."
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Well of course he didn't stop and when he hit the 100 yard marker I did something which is instinctively very difficult to do. I stood up, yelled some bad-bear talk his way, and I raised my arms high in an effort to look big and bear-proof. I swear I heard him say "You gotta be kidding"....and he just stared at me. I clicked the safety off the spray can (not comforted) and continued the propaganda assault. He took several steps my way and I suddenly realized that my two arms overhead might just happen to look like a Wilbur-sized bull caribou, so I pulled my arms down and curled them over my head. He started making steps in a sort of circling way, and I did the same hoping he would get my wind if this lasted long enough. "Hey bear!....Hey bear!.....Get outta here!." He dropped his head low and eyeballed me hard....I thought "Crap....here he comes!"...and then he lost it. He lost his nerve and bolted down the mountain and into the alders. I thought he looked bad doing that, but I wasn't laughing. I needed a drink for my dry mouth...I blamed the salami.
Excellent Kev! You have my full attention, great story telling for sure!
Got me hooked.
I know this story well but am enjoying reading it again. Takes me back to eerily similar times and places and helps keep the pilot lit for future adventures.
I had no choice except to beat it back to the landing strip for load number two. I wasn't thrilled about leaving my first load up there unattended with a snoopy bear around. I hoped he was too ashamed to show up again. I loaded the second load and stripped down to just my long johns for the big hike and climb. I know...not pretty...but it beat having a heat stroke and being a piece of paralyzed bear bait. I made it back up and nothing was disturbed. By dark I had camp established and my electric perimeter fence up. I even found a small source of spring-water which I improved by digging it out some and then rocking the lower side to dam it up. I was able to walk 30 yards from camp and dip cold spring-water which I never filtered. Such luxury is almost unheard of up there!
My camp, looking down into the drainage.
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The view up the mountain; image taken with 'dramatic' setting.
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Knowing the grizzly was up there gave me a few pauses as darkness fell. I knew the odds were against him coming back, but the odds were also against having him walk up on me two hours after landing. I adhered to my usual ritual of handgun readiness and placement for night use. I drifted off to sleep and hoped for a quiet night with no visitors.
Note to self.....carry at all times.
I opened my eyes as gray dawn infiltrated the tipi. No bear. No gun needed. I kept it close though...just in case...and that later proved to be a smart practice.
Hunting Day 1 was beautiful. Sunny and warm. Plenty of work to do around camp and time to hunt as well.
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I spotted several big bulls but none I could reach and then hope to pack out on my own. Two very large bachelor bulls actually fed lazily near the landing strip in the evening and I considered a move to kill one of them. The biggest problem was the massive amount of ugly shale boulders and alders I had to navigate. I went for it. Halfway to the bulls I rolled a rock and had them staring my way at 150 yards. It was over...their suspicion was obvious. I headed back to camp as a light misty rain started to fall.
Along the way I noticed plenty of evidence that the blueberries were as irresistible to the bears as they were to me.
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Hunting Day 2...the dream of it...was interrupted by the sound of steady rain and some wind in the night. Toward 4 am it rained hard and steadily. Not good. I slept in but the rain didn't quit. At 8 am I got up and looked outside. I was in a foggy cloud and couldn't see 30 yards. "Damn. Oh well; oatmeal is a good distraction." After breakfast I was working on some gear and generally occupying myself in the tipi, when I heard a peculiar sound. I knew it was an animal and it was approaching. I could hear a sort of repetitive whining sound, and I realized suddenly that it was already in camp. "Bear"...and I silently picked up the handgun laying nearby. I eased the hammer back and two-handed the gun toward the sound which had now stopped. "If I see the fabric bulge I'm going to ventilate that exact spot" was what I told myself. I would have, too...but in a few more seconds I heard a snuffling woof and then another as it departed. I carefully unzipped and checked outside just in time to see the rear bumper of my grizzly going beyond a rise and then out of sight in the fog. "Crap! I didn't come here to play whackamole with a bear in the fog." I suspect the electrified fence and wet conditions may have played a key part in the big bear's sudden departure....but I'll never know.
The weather remained in various stages of semi-terrible most of the day. There was a mid-afternoon break and I got out for about two hours. I spotted some good bulls but too far for a try. I also spotted a large band of 22 Dall sheep on the opposite mountainside at my elevation.
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I took the sight of the sheep as a good omen...I knew I was in a very special place in which many species overlap. Caribou, grizzly, black bear, Dall sheep, moose....all could expect to be seen at any moment in time.
The cloud ceiling was very low most of the day, making it tough to see anything beyond 100 yards most of the time. The weather was acting weird and I opted to remain fairly close to camp...within a half-mile. The rain cranked up again just at dark and I hit the bedroll after a good meal.
It got wild in the night. The wind speed picked up and the tipi was noisy. Fabric was flapping and actually making snapping sounds as wind gusts hit. I guessed it was at 30 or 40 mph and remember thinking that it was a hard blow. I had no idea what was coming. By 3 am the wind was roaring and the tipi was rocking. The center pole was bending and flexing like crazy...bad enough that I had an arm out of the bag so I could grab the pole and brace it during gusts. I thought the whole shebang would fail at some point, as this went on for hours and hours. At daylight things settled for a bit and I stepped out. The world up there looked decidedly dramatic and dangerous. Clouds were scudding over the mountains and wild fog banks were swirling up and down the drainages. The two streams I could see were roaring with cascading falls and wild whitewater runs. Water glistened on everything in existence, and every rock was shiny black. The sound of the wind overhead was ominous....you could just sense that this wasn't over. It was a reprieve and there was more ahead...a lot more.
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It was about this time that I began to think in terms of my own safety and security instead of hunting constantly. I knew the weather had me isolated and I needed to be careful. Knowing there was a persistent grizzly about the area made me keep my senses on alert. Planes can't fly in weather like that, and a guy is on his own in a solo camp.
Hunting day 3 was mostly a lost cause. I spent most of the day sitting in the tipi while the weather raged off and on. Whenever it stopped I would pop outside and glass if possible. All of the photos were taken during the extremely short breaks in the storm. It wasn't bad for 30 minutes and then clouds and heavy rain would occlude everything around me. I took a couple short walks and munched on a mixture of crow berries, low bush cranberries and blueberries. I snapped a few pictures and evaluated a nice bull. He was all the way across the canyon and climbing the opposite mountainside.
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I watched him with plenty of envy. He was big and he was safe from my desires. He bedded down at dusk and so did I.
It rained all night and a wind gust slapped the tipi hard enough to jolt me upright at 2am. I sat there and listened. I felt vulnerable and momentarily stupid for doing this trip alone. I wished I wasn't having to endure the wild weather, and I knew none of it was within my sphere of control. Whatever would happen would happen, and I had to endure. Before I could develop those feelings further I thought I heard a low growl outside camp. It made me shudder and I reached for the gun. I heard it again, closer....then farther away. I strained my ears but all I heard was the howling wind. Maybe I imagined it...maybe not. Crazy weather and stress will do funny things to a guy. I slumped down and into a fitful sleep filled with crazy dreams unrelated to anything I was experiencing.
Hunting Day 4 did give me a 3 hour opportunity to get away from camp. It happened just after noon. I decided to swing around the mountain and look into a different drainage. I geared up and headed out, but first I repaired my electric fence which had taken a wild ass-whipping from the freaky wind gusts. I was hiking up and around the mountainside gaining elevation when it happened. I looked up and ahead to pick my route and magically there were two very immense caribou racks bobbing above the rocks. One was in chocolate velvet and the other had just shed...his antlers were a very striking blood-stained tan color. They were at least 200' higher up the mountain and feeding my way. I made a quick calculation of speed, distance, elevation and likelihood.... then ignored it and went for it. I did a pretty good job. I ended up gassed and positioned below a rock clump as they approached.
It was so steep that I was inclined against the rocks on my left side and had my right boot dug in to keep from sliding down the mountain. I was probably 1500 vertical feet above the landing strip and could barely maintain footing up there. I didn't have much time to decide. I thought about it and I knew it would be a foolish risk to kill a large bull so high up...and alone. I found my answer as they arrived. The bow was up and cleared the rocks. Two of the biggest bull caribou I've ever seen fed past me at 20 yards and my arrow stayed on the bow. Yes...it was a hard decision. Yes...it stung to watch their rumps feed away. Yes...I made the right call. You'll see why in a bit. I munched some of the abundant blueberries and glassed the Dall sheep opposite my perch. I thought about my hunting life and the decisions I've made. I thought about Marilyn who would be disappointed for me to come so close. I rolled a rock off the hill and headed back to camp.
The country is far rougher and steeper than it appears.
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I hoped the storm was over, but it was again raining before darkness fell. I had braced every tent peg with big rocks and done all I could to secure the camp. By 11pm the winds were again roaring and at midnight the worst of it arrived. The tipi fabric was shuddering and popping in huge wind gusts. The noise was almost deafening. The fabric flap which covers the stove jack was holding securely, but the speed of the wind had it buzzing like a kazoo in the night. The center pole was bowing and bending like it might collapse at any moment. I fought it for hours, doing everything I could to save things. I realized that this had gone beyond an irritating inconvenience. If my shelter was lost I would be on my own to manage until someone could finally get to me, and that wasn't going to happen until the weather improved. If the worst happened I would need to activate my PLB and await some sort of rescue...not what this guy wanted to see happen. Somewhere toward 3am I think I just reconciled that things were now up to a power beyond myself. I couldn't control the storm or Alaska. The tipi had survived everything to this point. My fatigue was extreme. I offered a quick prayer for my safety, and then I pulled my beanie over my ears and slipped completely into my bag. My last thought was something like "I'm going to sleep. If it blows down, I will deal with it then." I slept like I was dead.
Somewhere in the predawn I woke to fabric draping my face and realized the tipi had failed. I roused myself and slowly understood I was still deep in my down bag and it was only the inner lining I was feeling over my face. The tent was up...the wind had slackened to maybe 20 mph...and I gratefully closed my eyes.
Hunting Day 5, I woke at dawn to a broken sky and the mountains looked forbiddingly dark. The wind had settled down to a mere 10-20 mph. I was still exhausted. I hadn't had any opportunity to bathe or any of that since my arrival, so I felt...grubby. I would do that today if possible. I thought about the caribou from yesterday and what would have happened if I'd shot one. Glad I didn't have that to worry with. I felt simultaneously strong and weak. I had toughed it out so far and I knew my capabilities, but this cooped-up-in-camp routine wasn't helping me physically. I decided to eat breakfast and maybe call my pilot for a weather report. Hot granola with blueberries is a mood-altering meal, and I felt pretty good as I fired up the satellite phone.
Me: "Hey what's going on in town?"
Him: "It's been just awful down here. You wouldn't believe the weather."
Me: " Whatever you've had is a cakewalk compared to Judith Pass. What's the forecast?"
Him: "More of the same for at least 2 days. Then it turns cold and nasty. They say the wind will blow."
Me: "I'm still up on the mountain. The wind has beaten me to a pulp."
Him: "You probably ought to get off there and get down low. Maybe hole up in the spruce for a couple days. I'll get you out when this is over."
Imagine that. Two more days to endure....it felt like a sentence to hard time. I needed to act. I looked at the sky and it wasn't that bad. A critical decision; as fast as possible I sorted my gear into need-it and need-it-less piles. I broke camp loading my pack with the need-it pile. Everything else I bundled and covered with a tyvek tarp which I securely rocked. I left the weary and battered electric fence in place to guard the cache until I could get back. I shouldered the heavy load and headed down.
On the way around the mountain I suddenly realized I just might not ever get back up there. My gear cache might have to be lost if I couldn't catch a break from Ma Nature. I snapped a quick photo...
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Once off the mountain I realized the spruce were still a long way below me. Reaching the edge of them wouldn't help much; they were small and sparse at first. I would need to drop another quarter to half mile into them to find true shelter. "This is it. I'm camping here." I went to a low place off the landing strip and into some light brush. I put the tipi up and was basically getting things adjusted when the mist turned to rain and the wind started. The first gust yanked 3 stakes and almost parachuted the Sawtooth into the Yukon. I stomped them down immediately and started looking for stones. I ended up having to carry 16 stones an average distance of 50 yards each. If you do the math I covered 1600 yards of walking to amass enough big stones to secure my tipi. It pounded rain and wind
the whole time. Once inside I had some lunch and a nap.
This picture has little meaning to anyone except those who understand how the smallest things can be so appreciated.
(http://i52.photobucket.com/albums/g13/dillbilly/AK%202015%20060.jpg) (http://s52.photobucket.com/user/dillbilly/media/AK%202015%20060.jpg.html)
My brain wasn't processing things accurately, but I could tell the wind was getting crazy. You could hear it moaning and roaring up in the pass and heading downward. I knew it was going to be a day and night of hell, but I wasn't out of tricks yet. I felt pretty sure the rocks would hold. The fabric had no issues....none. That left me to worry about the center pole. I grabbed my arrow case and removed 3 shafts. Using 550 paracord I tightly bound the shafts to the weakest area of the aluminum pole. It worked, and the pole had noticeably less flex after that mod.
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All throughout the previous 3 days the temperature had remained relatively decent. In fact, it felt almost warmish-tropical at one point in the storm. Now I noticed the temperature was declining and quickly. My breath was evident inside. Much of my gear was now damp, though not wet as I'd taken pains to be careful through the weather. I fixed myself a cup of coffee and thought about my situation.
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So I was secure, but half my gear remained up in the pass. I had no choice, as going after it would have been suicidal. I used the satellite phone to let Marilyn and Bryan know my situation, She was well aware of the weather and living with the constant wonder of how I was doing. I told her I really had no choice except to be tougher than a Marine, because even the Marines weren't going to come get me in this weather. I had zero shot at rescue if needed. I'm not much into self-images, but I popped off a couple shots as I sat in my rain gear in the tipi. My eyes tell the story better than words.
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I went to bed damp, tired, grubby and feeling a bit subhuman. In the night I finally noticed the wind had abated some, but I also noticed a new noise. It was the sound of snow sliding on siliconized nylon fabric. "zzzzzit......zzzzzit". I slept in a sort of hallucinatory dream state from time to time...losing track of time and feeling disconnected from reality.
Hunting Day 6: Of course I woke to a different world. It was late August and snow was everywhere. Termination dust at 5,000 feet. I rubbed my bearded face and took stock of the mountains around me. I could hear the wind up high but somehow it sounded less threatening. Curtains of snow showers floated through the pass and between the rocky mountainsides.
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I knocked it off the tipi and checked my shelter.
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100% good to go. "Heck yeah...this is better than Hurricane Judith" and I enjoyed a breakfast to the sound of snow showers pinging on the tipi. I wanted to go get my remaining gear, but the clouds and weather kept closing the door. I needed a window of time and weather. I got it at 1pm and sent a message out "Going for gear. Have faith."
I slipped into my empty pack, grabbed my bow and headed up the mountain one last time.
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This is a great read. I'm looking forward to the rest of the adventure.
I was 50 yards from camp when I spotted the tracks.
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I knew they were fresh as snow had fallen only an hour earlier. I followed them a ways and then remarkably spotted their maker. A black wolf was standing up on the mountainside watching me...watching him. Such a cool moment. He trotted into the alders and I later found his tracks up that way. I also determined there were a couple other wolves with him, though I never spotted them.
I found my gear cache as I left it, though covered with 4 inches of snow and ice at the higher elevation. The fence was in tatters and knocked askew by the monster winds...but the charger was still clicking away and doing its job. I hurriedly cleaned up everything...packed up everything...and made the long downhill carry to my low camp. I was back with everything intact. My gut and the sky told me the worst was over....there was a bit of alpenglow washing the evening landscape, and the snow just enhanced the effect. I was feeling nothing but relief and appreciation to be over the hump. Yes...the storm was finished.
Although no mention has been made of it, I had the knowledge of this day driving me onward through the tough weather. All through the trip I had carried and protected a memento from the elements. I had felt some degree of guilt for being gone during our anniversary, but had also been assured it was good, and there would be a payback required anyway. It was time:
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Wow awesome story! Thanks for taking the time to post this!
Hunting Day 7: Picture a snow-covered world of mountains, tundra and brush. Far below, the snow line cuts off somewhere down in the spruce forests. It's cold for August...in the 20s. Everything is silent.
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I ate a big breakfast and grabbed my bow for a walk. It was just the two of us. The snow told the tale; the caribou were gone. The storm, winds and snow pushed them out of the pass and into the first part of their annual journey south and east. I explored the area well, but there was not a track to be found. I felt a little sad to be alone...the animals had at least been a type of company when I could get outside. I returned to camp and decided to cook a hot lunch. That's when it happened...I had company again.
I was propping my bow up against a willow when something made me look up. Standing at the forward end of the landing strip...and not more than 50 yards from me...was a Dall sheep. No horns...a lamb. I recall how she stood there calmly and regarded me. In a minute she moved my way to get a better look and I was surprised at her calm curiosity. "A white lamb...my sign...I'm safe....I'm going home." Just like that I felt all the tension of the past many days melt away, and just like that the Dall lamb turned away and went back to the mountains. I thought about that all afternoon as I hiked and photographed and rock-hounded.
(http://i52.photobucket.com/albums/g13/dillbilly/AK%202015%20116.jpg) (http://s52.photobucket.com/user/dillbilly/media/AK%202015%20116.jpg.html)
(http://i52.photobucket.com/albums/g13/dillbilly/AK%202015%20054.jpg) (http://s52.photobucket.com/user/dillbilly/media/AK%202015%20054.jpg.html)
(http://i52.photobucket.com/albums/g13/dillbilly/AK%202015%20125.jpg) (http://s52.photobucket.com/user/dillbilly/media/AK%202015%20125.jpg.html)
(http://i52.photobucket.com/albums/g13/dillbilly/AK%202015%20126.jpg) (http://s52.photobucket.com/user/dillbilly/media/AK%202015%20126.jpg.html)
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Though I watched carefully I never saw the lamb again, nor did I see a single other sheep. The caribou were no more than a wish now. This pass would be the domain of the grizzly and wolf until next summer.
As the day moved along, the snow melted nicely in my low camp. The afternoon was beautiful, and the rugged mountains seemed spiritual...caught in transition between summer and autumn.
(http://i52.photobucket.com/albums/g13/dillbilly/AK%202015%20113.jpg) (http://s52.photobucket.com/user/dillbilly/media/AK%202015%20113.jpg.html)
Just as afternoon was blending into evening I faintly heard that old familiar sound which I'm never quite ready for, but always somehow appreciate. Floating through Judith Pass was my angel: a familiar Super Cub with the evening sun glinting off her glass. My heart skipped a beat as I realized my difficult and very priceless adventure was coming to a close. Even though I'd been through so much bad weather and hardship, I still wasn't ready to leave the mountains. I guess I felt like I'd endured hell, and now had earned the right to hunt and maybe kill something. It didn't really matter though. In my heart I knew it was time to call it a hunt...pack it in...and count my blessings in ways other than meat and antler.
I broke camp and 30 minutes later we were winging out of the mountains. Mixed emotions chased me for the first 50 miles, then came the full peace of knowing I was a lucky man to see this place even once. Home was waiting, and I wanted nothing more than to be there.
Last word: According to the meteorological data the area received between 4 and 6 inches of rain in those days. Nobody knows how hard the wind really blew up in the Judith, but I estimated the gusts were hitting 70mph. I ended this hunt early due to a forecast of more bad weather. The caribou were gone. I just had this internal voice telling me to call it...the same voice that told me not to shoot one of the bulls up on the mountain. Hours later I was in a hotel room completely showered and shaved and feeling very human again.
I thought much about the last 2 animals of that trip. A black wolf who visited my camp and left me just as the storm blew away. A white lamb who visited my camp and left me just before the sun shone and my adventure ended. That's hard to ignore...I smile when I think of it.
I have a number of people in my life who should be thanked, but obviously the main one is my wife who trusts me to be safe and allows me the freedom to enjoy the wilderness. I am that lucky.
Here's to finding our adventure....
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A great read, well written, and good pictures to go along with it. Thanks for taking me along in sharing this.
Just outstanding.......thank you!
Just fantastic! I thoroughly enjoyed your post. :thumbsup:
wonderfully written, Kevin. Thanks for taking us along on another grand adventure. I could feel the wind blowing as I was reading this. Thanks for being smart enough to survive it so we could read more hunting adventures.
Great read. Thanks for taking the time and effort to share. Had me hooked from the start .
Thank you very much for taking us along via your words and pictures. Wonderful story, awesome adventure. Have a happy new year.
Super story! Thanks for taking us along! I was in a storm like that one night on the Flattops in Colo. and it lasted thru the night, but seemed like a week. Broke the poles on one end of my tent.
Damn you Kevin, lol, your wind gusts just fanned that tiny spark in me to a burning flame! I have to get to Alaska!
Wow, what marvelous presentation of a majestic and treacherous place! Thanks for taking the time to present it to us as you have! Alaska is a dream hunt for me, I sincerely long to go.
What a wonderful story.
What a great story! I have only camped in conditions that bad one time when a tornado blew through. It was scary, but I was not alone in a wild, wild place without rescue at hand. I can only imagine what a tough "camping trip" you had. That is a great read. Thanks for sharing your thrilling adventure.
This was as good as I knew it would be! Thanks for sharing your adventure with us! :clapper:
Bernie
enjoyed your story, your excellent photos really helped highlight the adventure.
Great experience. Great story. My bro spent just about his whole grizzly hunt in his tent a few years ago. He did get a wolf during a weather break. Thanks Kevin.
And once again.....amazing. I could read these all day and night. Thanks for your time spent doing this.
Thanks for the Post Kevin! What an adventure!
Kevin,
Thanks for taking the time to share your adventure, great story and excellent pictures.
Thanks for sharing your hunt with us Kevin, what a great adventure. Love reading your stories and you do a great job telling them along with very nice photos.
Incredible adventure and reflection :notworthy: A precious gift in the revelation He provided with the Black Wolf & the White Lamb... Amazing Grace & Incredible Adventure :clapper:
Well so much for your "I'm not much of a writer" comment.
That was a fantastic tale very well told.
You are a very lucky man on many levels, particularly the support from your wife.
Thanks for this, very inspirational.
:thumbsup: :thumbsup:
Thanks for sharing! I am happy you are able to share great adventures like that.
Nicely done, thanks for taking the time to share your adventure!
Helluva story, Kevin. Thanks for sharing. :thumbsup: :thumbsup:
Kevin,
Nice telling of a important story. People don't understand that when hunting AK you are one or two mistakes from being a statistic. Having the where with all to endure and the skills to make it happen are often the difference between life and death.
That may have been the same year that John experienced the 114 mph winds while on the moose ridge.
I'm glad it turned out well for both of you.
Mike
Thanks for the comments. I always just hope any story I write is entertaining. If it inspires someone to pursue a dream, then all the better.
Yes I'm definitely both lucky and blessed. Today I'm doing what I really enjoy most, which is spending a day hanging out and having fun with my wife.
You prefaced your story with the claim of not being a good writer, but I respectfully disagree. An excellent writeup of a story. I almost felt I was there with you. Very well done.
Also, a good outlook on a hunt that may not have been what you hoped for, but was a testing experience.
Thanks for sharing the story. Definitely an incredible adventure.
I had a few nights like that on Kodiak. It's hard to believe how hard that wind can blow!I'm glad your tent was up to the challenge. You don't have to release an arrow to have a great hunt.
Thanks for the take along Kevin. I spent a year up there and your story reminded me why I went in the first place.
Well done
Deno
Not a writer? Seemed pretty well written to me! When you read a story and feel you're experiencing it just as the writer did I'd say it's pretty well written! No better reading than what you get on this site in my opinion. Great story
Nick
What a fantastic account, I felt like I was looking over your shoulder the whole time. It's your stories that have pushed me to hunt the mountains of New Zealand, next year when funds allow. So thanks!
WOW
Thank you for taking us along!
Thanks for sharing that, and doing it so well!
Kevin thanks for taking the time to write this story. I enjoyed reading it and yes it was very inspiring. Much appreciation Craig
Wow, what a story. Sounds like you had a real adventure. :thumbsup:
Wow, what a story. Sounds like you had a real adventure. :thumbsup:
Interesting to say the least! Great adventure and storytelling. Thank you for sharing.
:clapper: :clapper: :clapper: :clapper:
It felt like I was right there helping you hold your tipi together!
Awsome adventure, thanks for sharing with us!
Thnaks for sharing. What a adventure.
Thanks for sharing.
Bravo Sir, I thoroughly enjoyed every second of this story. Thanks for sharing.
That was fantastic. I don't care what you say, you are one heck of a writer! Thanks for sharing!
Plenty of guys have what it takes to do a diy trip, and just never take the leap. All I did was take it. But...you need to know yourself well and understand your capabilities. It's important to know some bushcraft and have good survival skills. An obvious concern is how you'll react to being completely and utterly alone in the wilderness with nobody to help you or talk to. When everything goes great it's a cakewalk. When things spiral out of control as they did for me, you can be challenged in ways you never imagined. If my shelter had blown down in the first couple days of the storm I would have been struggling to survive. Wet gear...makeshift shelter...and toughing it out for days. Nobody could fly in that weather except for certain brief periods. It goes without saying you can take average gear and do it, but average gear would have been a disaster on my trip.
I will be honest here: There were moments...several of them...where I had to fight back some despair. When you're 100 miles from any road and the wind is savaging your tent for the third straight night, you're being tested. Five consecutive days of it will find your weaknesses if you have them. It helps to be either dumb or tough...I haven't fully decided on which is better.
I do recall (easily) that my desire to be hunting was strong, but it faded to an afterthought by around day 5. My focus was on self and security by then until the storm abated. As soon as the weather settled I was ready to hit it, but the opportunity was gone. That's Alaska and that's hunting. The unknown is part of what drives some of us onward.
Again...thanks for reading.
Well said........
Kevin I've spent up to 8 days in the wilderness with no food or water,( my choice, my own crazy survival sorties)..But where I felt with you the most is that card from Marilyn..My wife stashes them every time I go off alone..Every time it puts my head where it needs to be.... Focusing on just making it back home...
Pat...I always tell my wife I am never really alone on any hunt.
QuoteOriginally posted by Kevin Dill:
This picture has little meaning to anyone except those who understand how the smallest things can be so appreciated.
(http://i52.photobucket.com/albums/g13/dillbilly/AK%202015%20060.jpg) (http://s52.photobucket.com/user/dillbilly/media/AK%202015%20060.jpg.html)
i completely understand the significance of this. nothing like a sweet piece of dried morale.
I agree, you're not much of a writer.
You're an excellent writer. A most excellent story too...
Thank you.
Kevin, I wonder how many people you have inspired to follow their dreams to Alaska? Speaking for myself, this story inspired me to plan a 2-week adventure with my wife and kids last summer, just driving an RV all over the state. We hit many of the same areas you mentioned, and I recognize some of the scrnes in your photos. It was our best family vacation yet! I was NOT able to add on a solo hunt afterwards, but will get in two Alaskan bowhunts this fall. Well done sir, thanks for showing us how it's done!
Awesome story!!! Maybe one day i will get to experience an adventure like this!
:thumbsup: :thumbsup: Hope you are well Kevin.
Awesome... this is probably the second best story I read on the internet, the first was his story a month or two ago when hunting for moose..
Kevin,
You got your adventure! Thank you for sharing it with us.
You don't even realize how much we enjoy reading tales like this!
Wow! What a story! I love adventure, but I'm the first to admit I would have been 100% miserable there in the weather. I'll have to hunt the hills and hollers of KY! Thanks for sharing!!!
KyRidgeRunner, allow me to quote myself:
"It helps to be either dumb or tough...I haven't fully decided on which is better." ;)
Thanks for the nice comments everyone. Not every worthy adventure ends with a dead animal...but that's part of Bowhunting 101.
Thank you Kevin. That made for a great read again.
As for me, I'm just the opposite...I'm both dumb and tough, I don't know which one is worse. ;)
Great story. Thanks for allowing me/us to tag along. :notworthy:
Thanks for sharing your adventure with us. You gained an awful lot of memories and made it back safely. Sounds like a successful hunt to me.
Thanks for sharing agian Kevin...like always "AWESOME IN ALL REGARDS". I like your rock hounding, I always seem to have time for this and have some weight in my pack contributed to bring some rocks out.
Mountian hunts are always successfull even when animals dont cooperate.
Fantastic story of adventure Kevin! Thanks for taking us along. I really enjoy reading your stories :thumbsup:
Steve Jr