1993 Caribou Adventure!

[Stringwacker]

We ate our last full bag of freeze dried lasagna that Wednesday afternoon.  It was a miserable night that followed. We found out later that the winds were estimated at 65 mph resulting in some of the worst weather the locals said they had seen in 50 years in September. Our tent was in extreme danger of collapsing as the tent poles had inverted inward. We had to get out with a flashlight in the driving sleet and high winds late that night to fasten a guy line into the exterior tent poles; so that we could pull them out against the brute force of the wind. This accomplished, we went back inside only to have the top portion of the roof of the tent to be constantly pushed down to smack us every few minutes with a gust of wind...after which; the top would spring load right back up. Gibbs and I discussed what the plan might be if the poles eventually broke under the force of the extreme wind. We reasoned that the only thing we could do would be to stake the four corners and try to get under the tent (on the ground) if the tent was demolished. Thankfully, the small discount tent held up throughout the night with the help of the bracing line we put up. However, it wasn't going to stand up to much more abuse and the wind was still gale force. We found the next morning that the tents fabric was ripping and that only the brown tarp that had been given to us as a ground signal.... was keeping us dry in one corner of the tent.

(This picture was taken in late evening before the heavy storm night. It looks calm...but look how tight the tarp is being pushed against the tent inside...you can see the center hub and poles imprinted from the interior tent on the brown tarp. It got much, much, worse that night)

[Stringwacker]

That Thursday morning our mood had changed from enjoying a great adventure to more of a survivalist posture.


The winds, while still high, had thankfully subsided somewhat. The clouds were extremely low and threatening. We did manage to hunt a bit further out in some new areas in the spitting rain; but the caribou had for the most part, migrated away from the area. I did have an opportunity to shoot a small bull late in the day, but decided to pass given the return bush flight that was scheduled for the next day. Gibbs and I both met back up for lunch and we began our half rations of the last bags of freeze dried food. We had both lost some weight and the half rations weren't going to help. We both were became painfully aware that we could no longer hear the drone of overhead passing float planes as they shuttled other hunters. We were hopeful that the weather would improve by tomorrow (Friday) for our pilot Bob to pick us up. That afternoon, we spent as much time on all fours picking blueberries as we did hunting. It would have been comical to watch; but was necessary given our predicament.


We finished our last 1/2 bag of freeze dried food that evening. With caribou hunting no longer the goal of the hunt, we turned in very early. The winds had picked back up but still nothing like it had been the night before. Sometime in the middle of the night, I became conscious of Gibbs elbowing me in the side. I heard him say. "Mark, wake up...listen!" As I went from a slumber to wide awake in 2.3 seconds, I could easily hear the heavy breathing of a bear just outside the tent next to me. About that time, I could hear a can tip over (later we discovered it was our Coleman fuel). Gibbs had brought an abbreviated version of a double barreled shotgun with four rounds. Gibbs immediately loaded the gun in the dark, unzipped the front of the tent and fired a round up into the darkness away from the bear. The shot was ear splitting and it rang off the mountains around us for quite some time. Thankfully, the panting was gone when the ringing stopped and we had no more trouble that night; though sleep wasn't really possible. I was glad the caribou meat was gone as I didn't want to contend with the bear for the balance of the trip.

(A re-post of the bear footprint picture...this time in the proper context. This was taken right up against the the rear of the tent)

[Stringwacker]

The next morning was our pick up day (Friday) and though the visibility was still low, we were hopeful that the plane could make it back to pick us up. We packed up most of our gear, except our bows and tent, in case the plane appeared. Throughout the course of the day, we stayed around camp and ate blueberries in hopes for a plane...that never came. We still didn't hear the sound any planes in the skies above the clouds; indicating the fact that the bush planes were being delayed again. We knew from past experience that when this happens, the trips become backlogged and it takes a while for them to catch up. The lack of evidence of air travel just meant the delay was going to be longer...even when they resumed flying. Nothing in Alaska runs on time. We spent that day doing very little and the only thing working overtime was our digestive tracts trying to handle all the blueberries we were ingesting. This created special problems that can be left to your imagination. Let's just say that toilet paper was like gold; and that too eventually ran out.....

(The last freeze dried meal from the day before)

[Stringwacker]

Saturday morning the weather was worse and it was raining again. Neither of us got out of the tent that morning and we spent our time talking about how much (and what) we were going to eat when we got back. I found out that in my mentally exaggerated state of starvation that I really wanted a Kentucky Fried Chicken ham breakfast biscuit more than anything in life at that moment; though I couldn't remember really having thought they were anything special in the past. It's funny how the mind works.


We both passed jokes about how our Alaskan Airlines flight was boarding and how we might not make it�. I did have serious concerns about my wife having plans to meet us at the plane in Jackson that evening...and for us not be on it. I also thought about the fact that I wouldn't be showing up for work Monday and what would my employer think. Also discussed was whether the airlines would honor our missed flight and not require us buy another ticket home. The day passed slowly and our concerns lengthened with the growing shadows of the afternoon. It was a long day of solitude.


The weather looked a little better Sunday and we were hopeful the plane would come get us. We could hear an occasional flight overhead through the clouds and our spirits were good despite being terribly hungry and wet. In an odd twist of fate, when I was shooting my bow with Judo's to pass the time, I stumbled upon a ptarmigan sitting on a rock; the first I had seen on the trip. Let me state with absolute clarity that an Alaskan grouse that is big as a bantee hen looks like the holy grail of all foods after eating blueberries (only) for a few days! I eased as close as I dared to the bird and took what seemed like the most important shot of my life. I shot a bit high but the judo smacked the poor bird in the head and I finally had a meal to eat. Gibbs and I were ecstatic and I told him that I shot for the head to save the meat. I think he actually bought into it. We boiled the bird in lake water, with no seasoning, but it was the best meal I had that week. We even drank the water it boiled in. It sure tasted better than lake water by itself!


We expected to spend another night as the afternoon wore on. The weather was still cloudy and the wind was anything but calm. However, I was the first to hear a drone in the distance and both Gibbs and I stopped talking to intently listen. Soon Bob came flying low across the tundra and made a couple of passes around the lake, set his wings in the wind like a mallard and glided into the lake. I can't remember what he said when he pulled up, but he obviously needed us to load fast as light was fading. We loaded up as fast as possible and when we landed in the bay back at Kenai, darkness had already taken over the landscape. It was a close call to having to fly the passes in the dark or sit down on a lake for the night. We eventually were taken to the hotel where we re-set our flight reservations for the earliest flight out. (3am the next morning!) We then called a taxi and went to the local seafood restaurant and spent money like drunken sailors!


As final commentary on the hunt, we both lost a lot of weight on that trip. I had lost about 12 pounds...and Gibbs had lost much more; somewhere around 15 if memory serves me. It was a very tough hunt but I vowed next year to return with a better tent and gear designed for that type of element. After all, the booking agent owed me a hunt as I didn't kill a caribou! The booking agent honored his word and I went on his dime the next year. Maybe I can write a story on that trip at another time......

[Stringwacker]

Though the story has  reached its end (I wrote a story about most of my hunts thinking one day I might try to write a book...that never happened) I should briefly tell you about the air crash as relayed to me by the pilot of the new taxi service (Talon Air) we used on the following trip.

Bob appeared to be likely in his early 60's at the time he flew us in on this hunt. Just before our arrival the following year, Bob had dropped off a new group of hunters.  As Bob usually did, he ran a quick meat check on a group of three other hunters before heading back to the taxi service operation. When he landed, he found that one hunter had injured (or perhaps it was just hurting) his leg and wanted to be flown back. The other two hunters continued the hunt...and that is the only part of the remaining flight events that are actually known.

On the way back, Bob's plane few straight into the side of a mountain. Other pilots assumed Bob had a heart attack...but nobody truly knows. As my hunting buddy and I flew to our new destination with the new flight service, the pilot pointed off his left side and said that was where Bob crashed. The burn marks were evident and clearly marked the ill fated spot.

Alaska is not for the timid.....

[Maclean]

Fantastic story Mark. Would love to read any others you'd like to share.

Thanks for taking us along.

[Stringwacker]

Fantastic story Mark. Would love to read any others you'd like to share.

Thanks for taking us along.

Thank you. It makes writing/posting fun when you get some feedback. I know you followed each day!

Like I said, I have several stories saved to a computer. Almost all have never been shared on any media platform; save a few on a local (sparingly visited) MS forum a few years ago. I enjoy going back and reading them; it helps an aging mind to remember:)

Perhaps I will do some more in the future. Thank you for your comments. I really appreciate it!

[Ryan Rothhaar]

This is really a cool story! I need to reread in detail. I bet you were dreaming of the caribou quarters you sent out on that plane 😆

I've been fortunate in 8 fly in hunting trips to Alaska I've always made it out on the planned extraction day. Last year was close. Man, there is no sound in the world like that floatplane when you aren't sure if hes gonna make it to you!

R

[Iowabowhunter]

Great story, thank you for sharing!

[elkken]

Excellent story, Caribou are the best spot and stalk animal there is to hunt. I have hunted them a few times back when you could hunt McKay Lake in the NW Territories.Thanks so much for taking the time to type and tell a great adventure !!

[mnbwhtr]

Ryan 8 trips, that is fortunate. I made one trip to BC and was 2 days late, One trip to Quebec and was 5 days late and 2 trips to Kodiak and was 1 day late the first time and 3 days the second.

[Stringwacker]

This is really a cool story! I need to reread in detail. I bet you were dreaming of the caribou quarters you sent out on that plane 😆

I've been fortunate in 8 fly in hunting trips to Alaska I've always made it out on the planned extraction day. Last year was close. Man, there is no sound in the world like that floatplane when you aren't sure if hes gonna make it to you!

R

I've been questioned many times when I tell the story about why didn't we keep some of the meat? I honestly don't know except we both had a heightened concern about bears; so maybe we were relieved to see it go. It was Gibb's decision regardless as it was his 'bou.

You are right about the hearing the drone of a float plane as it gets closer on extraction day! There is nothing like it. Burger King, fresh sheets, and no bear concerns causes a guy to overlook that the hunt is ending:)

[Clarkansas]

Great story! You should write that book.