1993 Caribou Adventure!

[Stringwacker]

Looking back, the Alaskan trips I made in '93,'95, and '96 are without  doubt my most favorite hunts. I don't think I've ever dedicated a story to somebody, but this one goes to "Bob" our bush pilot. Being an old salt in his profession, his opinion on whether weather conditions allowed for safe travel through the treacherous Lake Clark mountain pass was sought by all his pilot peers. He was the first to tell me that in the Alaskan bush flying business that there is a saying, "There are old pilots and there are bold pilots...but there are no old, bold pilots". Ironically, Bob was killed tragically along with his hunters when his bush plane flew into a mountain; three days before I could make the next hunting trip with him. This is Alaska...it's not for the timid. I hope you enjoy the story which will be posted over several days

Alaska is the last frontier....
Alaska is over twice as large as Texas and would have land mass stretching from Florida all the way to California if placed over a US mainland map. It has the lowest population density of any state and well over 70% of the state is public land...most of it available for hunting for the cost of transportation and a license. The old west had its cowboys and modern Alaska has its bush pilots. The only real difference is one rode a horse and one flies a plane of rusted bolts....most being built over 40 years ago. Fresh paint and duct tape keeps the plane looking good and in the air.....at least that was my impression when I saw them. Bush pilots seem to live life like every day is the last one.


I'm not sure how I got the idea that I wanted to undertake a 'do it yourself' Alaskan hunt. In reality, it really hadn't started out that way. I had hunted caribou with bow and arrow in '91 out of Schefferville, Quebec with some great friends and killed a decent bull. The Quebec hunt was semi-outfitted in that the bush flight and the sleeping quarters were provided. A caretaker was also provided in the hunt package to cook and to provide assistance as needed. I suppose with this Quebec experience under my belt, I was intrigued to see if something similar could be done in Alaska.  In '93, I was looking through a hunt catalogue from a hunting consultant and saw something that perked my interest. The recommended outfitter would provide the bush plane, a tent, all food/gear for the hunt, and fly us out of their base operation in Soldotna Alaska. Basically, all the hunter had to do was to show up with a bow, clothing, pack, and sleeping bag. I called the consultant and booked the hunt for that coming fall.  We would hunt the Mulchatna caribou herd in south central Alaska which was at an all-time high during that time period. Non-residents were allowed two caribou tags and the outfitter fee was $1600 (including the flight in the bush plane) and I remember thinking that seemed to be a very good deal at the time.


I needed a hunting partner to go with and when I didn't exactly find anybody willing to do that sort of thing around Brandon MS where I lived. I decided to call my old bear hunting buddy, Gibbs, from Beaufort SC that I had met earlier on the Alberta bear hunt. I didn't get the question completely out before he said...count me in. The phrase "fools go where angels fear to tread" was in my mind as we made preparations for the hunt. Gibbs had also went with me on the Quebec hunt so we knew each other well and I looked forward to the hunt; though I wasn't really sure what I was getting myself into. Gibbs traveled to my house in Brandon and we both boarded the plane in Jackson together


It was a beautiful flight that travelled just off the pacific coastline all the way into Anchorage Alaska. As we got closer to Anchorage (our last stop before departing the plane for a ride in a "puddle jumper" for the last leg of our journey into Kenai), the clouds has thickened from the air. I got my first dose of Alaska as the plane broke clear of the pea soup of the clouds and I saw the horizontal rain driven by a vicious north wind. The large Alaskan Airlines plane was being side-slipped by the wind and had a hard time staying straight for the landing. I thought about the fact that I had just left the hot summer days of Mississippi a few hours earlier and was about to be thrust perhaps into a pretty hostile environment. For the first time, I felt some uneasiness about the trip. I remember thinking that I hoped the entire trip's weather wasn't like I was witnessing as I boarded the next plane for the final leg into Kenai.

(Story to be continued)

[Iowabowhunter]

Off to an awesome start, I'm tuned in!

[acolobowhunter]

I was up there about the same time, but in BC.  Had a good time, got a Caribou and Grizzly. Went back 3 years later and got a moose.  Glad I went not as the Caribou herds have dropped off the the prices are through the roof.

[Nomadstalker]

Can't wait to hear the story.  I so regret not being able to take advantage of the great eastern Canada 'bou hunts before they disappeared.  I remember seeing two-animal hunts advertised for 3K, what a bargain.  That hunt was described as the best big game trad hunt to be had when the migration was right.

[Stringwacker]

I appreciate the comments fellows! You have to keep in mind that 30 years ago the world was a great deal bigger...not yet being shrunk down by the ease of available information from the internet. I think the basis of the true meaning of an adventure is created through the element of exploration and surprise.

When I wrote this story many, many years ago, I was enamored with the thrill of adventure and discovery moreso than releasing the arrow and packing antlers home. Like many things in my distant past, my thoughts are somewhat dated to the time it happened.

The story may be a bit dated; but the thrill of the hunt and the memories seem like it happened just yesterday. I will release another segment tomorrw with additional pictures from 33 years ago.

I hope some of you enjoy the ride.

[Trenton G.]

Looking forward to reading the rest of this!

[TxSportsman]

I appreciate the comments fellows! You have to keep in mind that 30 years ago the world was a great deal bigger...not yet being shrunk down by the ease of available information from the internet. I think the basis of the true meaning of an adventure is created through the element of exploration and surprise.

When I wrote this story many, many years ago, I was enamored with the thrill of adventure and discovery moreso than releasing the arrow and packing antlers home. Like many things in my distant past, my thoughts are somewhat dated to the time it happened.

The story may be a bit dated; but the thrill of the hunt and the memories seem like it happened just yesterday. I will release another segment tomorrw with additional pictures from 33 years ago.

I hope some of you enjoy the ride.

I think that is what will make this story great!

[Stringwacker]

Continued....

Arriving into Kenai, I was a little disappointed as I guess I thought I was going to see something along the lines like the old TV series "Northern Exposure," but instead, I found a thriving city complete with nice hotels, McDonald's and Burger King's, and even a K-Mart. We got our gear with no issues and a taxi cab to take us to the hotel that I had booked advance reservations with. The nasty weather was still as we found it in Anchorage. We checked in to find that the one star hotel didn't even have television, but that was of little concern. We could finally sleep and the outfitter would pick us up the next morning to get us started on the hunt portion of our grand Alaskan adventure! As one final activity before some needed sleep, we went outside to edge of Cook Inlet and watched the beluga whales roll in the bay; massive animals that constantly blew spray and created huge waves with each turn. Mount Redoubt, with its long history of volcanic eruptions, dominated the view across the bay. Redoubt had experienced a violent eruption just 4 years earlier, but it was quiet at the time we were there. As usual on these types of hunts, the events of the day made sleep elusive for me.


The outfitter was on time the following morning. Alaskan law dictates that you cannot hunt the same day that you are airborne so that meant that we would fly on the bush plane on Saturday  and hunt Sunday through the following Friday morning. We would then be picked up in time for our flight back via commercial airlines on Saturday. However, despite our best plans the weather was as bad; perhaps even worse, than it was the day before. The outfitter confirmed our fears that morning when he looked at the low hanging clouds on the bay and said that it would be too dangerous to fly through the mountains with the low visibility. I couldn't argue as the fog was terrible and you couldn't see 100 yards across the bay. He suggested that we ride with him to go get licenses. Along the way we could stop at his home to meet his wife, have some orientation discussion, and to sign some waivers. He was hopeful that later Saturday the skies might clear and allow a late flight through the pass. It might should be explained that the typical caribou adventure would start with a float plane flight from either Kenai or Soldotna (sister cities) off the bay or one of the numerous lakes that dotted the area and fly through Lake Clark Pass.

[Stringwacker]

Lake Clark Pass navigates through the massive Aleutian volcanic mountain range with some of the most rugged, beautiful, and dangerous terrain imaginable. After an hour or so of flying through the pass, the rugged mountains give way to the rolling low 1500 ft  mountains of the tundra. This is where the barren ground caribou call home. You land on one of the many small lakes via float plane and sent up home for the week.  The plan is always to hunt caribou and try to avoid the many brown (grizzly) bears that also call the area home.

[Stringwacker]

A vison off the right wing flying through the fabled Lake Clark pass...

[Stringwacker]

The outfitter dropped Gibbs and I off at a sporting goods store and we bought our hunting licenses. I noticed a book on sale at the counter named "Grizzly Attacks!-Volume 1." Hmmm....that uneasiness started to creep back in as I had thought of bear attacks as a rare event; yet somebody had written a book about them.... and this was just Volume 1? I put the thought aside and finished with the licenses, we got back in the truck and headed to the outfitters home.


The outfitters home was a small rustic affair. One of the things that caught our eye was that all the vases, pictures, and 'whatnot's' (that what my mother would call them) were anchored with putty on the boards on which they sat. Tremors are so common in the area that residents anchor down anything that can move. The young wife of the outfitter said that would feel a small tremor at least once a month in the area! The southern coastline of Alaska is geographically unstable, resting within the 'ring of fire' of the continental plate shift, so residents have learned to cope with the earthquakes it brings. Some of the largest earthquakes in recorded history have happened in this portion of the world.


The outfitter went into alarming detail of co-existing in brown bear country. Brown bears are the hyped up version of the interior silver tip grizzly.  Grizzly bears that reside within approximately 75 miles of the southern salt water of Alaska are often called brown bears. Their diet of abundant high protein fish makes them larger than their interior counterparts, and they have a more brownish color; though the colors can vary from bear to bear. The outfitter said that if we found a large fresh pile of dirt to quickly leave the area the way we came in; that this was the buried food of a brown bear. Like some dogs, they can be very protective of their food and will attack if they sense danger... or theft.

 When I asked the outfitter just how much danger (really) is involved in this trip, he explained it like this, "Back home if you're walking a sidewalk on a dark city street alone after midnight, 99 times out of 100 times another person being met on the same sidewalk will just nod his head and go along his way. However, on occasion the person you meet on the sidewalk will stick a knife in your back. Brown bear encounters are similar. Each bear has a different personality." Geez! That removed all the uneasiness I had and replaced it with solid and unabashed fear. The fear of the large bears kicked up quite a few notches on the things to fear over!

(The picture of the paw print is three yards from the back of the tent. It was a tough night!)

[Stringwacker]

After installing a dose of uncontrollable fear in us, the outfitter took us back to the hotel and said that we weren't going to make it out that day (Saturday). He then said that we would try it again on Wednesday. He explained that he worked at the oil refinery and he could not get off to fly again until then. When we explained that our hunt had to end on Friday (due to our commercial flight on Saturday) and given the laws of no hunting on the day you fly; this was only going to allow us 1.5 days to hunt on our dream vacation. He said not to worry as that would be more time than we would need to fill our licenses! He suggested that we rent a car and go to a nearby river system filled with spawning king salmon and hunt black bear until Wednesday. I asked if the area had brown bear and he said yes... but don't shoot them! We dismissed the idea pretty quickly as hunting around 1000 pound bears during the fish spawn was likely going to be more danger than we wanted to tackle at this point. (How this all unfolded will be covered tomorrow as the real adventure starts!)

[Maclean]

Great pictures, excellent writing. I'm hooked, can't wait for the rest of the story! Thanks for sharing.