I usually moose hunt with Kevin, but this year he drew the Healy Creek tag. A friend also drew the same tag so they planned a hunt together along with Kevin’s brother. I was alright with this since my freezers were going to be full and we still had plenty of bison left.
I had an acquaintance ask if I wanted to take BOB to a new
location north of the arctic circle to hunt an area he had success prior. I was
intrigued, and said I would try to make it happen. I was also able to ask a
friend to go with, so I decided to ask Wilbur if he wanted to come too. Well,
long story short, Drue bailed on us and it was just Wilbur and I left to
explore this new area.
I didn’t need meat so for me, it was a freezer filling trip for
Wilbur and exploration trip for me.
Day 1 (Sept 17)
We left Eagle River after Wilbur got to my house from work, around
7PM. On our way north, we stopped at the gas station for diesel and Subway. We
topped off at Fairbanks around midnight and drove about 20 more miles north
before we found a pullout to stay for the night. We could have slept in the
truck bed, but I didn’t feel like pulling everything out, so we simple reclined
our seats and slept in the truck (got down to 32 degrees overnight).
Day 2 (Sept 18)
It was a cold and uncomfortable night. We got up at 7:30AM
and hit the road again. We had about five hours left to drive. This was the
first time Wilbur was ever north of Cantwell, and my first time on the Haul
road. I have heard many horror stories about the Haul road, but really, it wasn’t
as bad as I thought it was going to be. I was actually surprised to see that
parts of it were paved.
One thing I did notice is that there was an abundance of
grouse on the side of the Haul road… too bad we weren’t targeting them or had a
bow. The rough road did jolt loose items in the trailer often. It also shot
many rocks, dirt, and snow into BOB’s hull, which was a pain to clean out
later.
We crossed the Yukon river midway up the Haul Road and man
that thing was impressive. I definitely need to check that out in the future. Thin
snow tipped many of the mountains and hills on the drive, otherwise, everything
was brown and in full fall mode.
We got to Fish Creek, our first possible boating waterway.
It looked doable, but fast with many sweepers likely. We opted to pass and
check on the next option up ahead a little bit, Bonanza Creek. These creeks
flowed to the west and met at a confluence. Bonanza was deeper and wider, but
it was also a longer trip to get to the confluence.
There were already five trucks parked at the launch area, meaning
hunters were in the field. There really wasn’t a good boat ramp, so Wilbur and
I had to carry to boat to the water. After we loaded it up, we set off downstream.
Whenever I launch for the first time after putting on the
motor, it takes a bit to get the hang of the needed amount of tilt and
position. Going downstream made this learning curve speed up more than I was
ready for. At our very first bend, the prop wasn’t biting like it should and
struggled to turn. This resulted in us floating into a large sweeper, which
luckily only took off the GPS and air filter cover of the motor. We pulled over
to assess the damage. Luckily the GPS mount was pushed back into the boat, but
the air filter cover was long gone. That’s alright, we didn’t need a cover as
long as it wasn’t raining… and the weather was gorgeous currently. We decided
to push on.
We had to walk many places as we traveled down stream. There
were plenty of shallow spots, followed by more sweepers, deep holes, and braids.
It was slow going and we essentially moved a little faster than the current to
allow for adequate turning near bends.
At one point we saw a large moose antler on the side of the
bank. We planned to get it on the way out, but we couldn’t remember where we
saw it. We also had a front seat to a falcon hunting a merganser, watching the
falcon dive bomb the merganser who stayed alive by escaping by inches by dropping
into the water multiple times.
The river was more difficult to maneuver and slower than
expected, so I knew we weren’t going to be able to get to the confluence we set
as our goal. At the very least, we needed to get in five miles away from the
road, which is the outside of the “corridor”, a five mile bumper only bow and
arrow hunters can hunt. Once we reached
the five mile mark (note, this as about 15 river miles), there was an old cabin
on the side of the river. A little beyond that was two boats and a tent on a
sandbar.
We knew the return trip up the fast current would be
difficult if we were heavy with a moose, so we decided to not go much past the
five mile marker. I decided to take a side creek that appeared to originate far
away from the river. It was about four feet wide, so no boats could travel it.
Once we got to the creek, we could tell nobody traveled it
because there were multiple trees that had fallen across it, preventing
navigation. We decided to cut our way through to get away from the other
hunters and river. Wilbur got out, and started doing what he likes to do most,
destroy trees. We spent the next couple hours cutting trees, moving logs, and
pushing/ pulling our canoe through the channel. The creek was weird having a
varying depth of a couple inches to four feet and widths barely wide enough for
the canoe to pass through.
We had a lake in mind as a stopping destination, but after
.4 miles, a beaver damn stopped our progress. Normally a beaver damn isn’t an
issue, however, the damn was about two feet high above the water level. We
couldn’t jump it, but it would be possible to wench it over. I prepared the
chainsaw rope wench to do just this, but then I noticed there were multiple
other beaver dams beyond this one, and it was getting late… so we opted to call
it a night and setup camp here.
We tied up BOB on the north side of the creek, and unloaded gear
to the south side of the creek… it was only a couple inches deep in the creek here.
I setup the tent while Wilbur collected firewood and explored a little (he
found a couple descent moose sheds while looking around). The place we ended up
stopping was perfect for camping, but it wasn’t good at all for hunting.
Regardless, I called a bunch before dark to try and lure something in that may be
close by.
We were both pooped since we consumed very little food and
water all day. We knew that wherever we setup the tent the first night, that
would likely be the place we had to hunt out of because an early winter, “arctic
blast” was expected to hit the area. We weren’t too sure what to expect, but we
secured everything in preparation.
Day 3 (Sept 19)
It started to rain early morning, and didn’t stop spitting
all day. The rain eventually got heavier, as the temperature got colder. The
rain started to freeze on everything and then the rain turned to snow. We ended
up staying in the tent, warmed by the stove, drinking hot chocolate, and being
lazy. I was so thankful that I filtered a couple gallons of water the day
before (which by the way were from the nasty brown beaver creek) that we kept
stashed in the tent.
We consumed a lot of warm drinks which meant a handful of venturing
trips into the weather to relieve ourselves. During one such trip, we noticed
the rain and snow ended up collapsing the tarp we setup. A quick adjustment and
the tarp was functional again. We also noticed a few grouse hanging around the
gravel in front of the tent. I grabbed the .22 I brought with and we quickly
had three birds hanging for us to eat at some point [and we got soaked in the
process]. I didn’t know he was going to, but Wilbur brought a game cam. He
decided to set it up and pointed it at the three birds that were now begging
something to come by and eat them (spoiler… nothing did).
We hung out in the tent all day. By 8PM, it was a winter
wonderland and soft, fluffy snow started to fall. I brought my cell phone with
me on this hunt (something I rarely do), but we took full advantage of it. I
have a bunch of movies on the phone so we ate our dinner, stoked the stove, and
watched a movie before bed. We were fairly confident the snow would stop, but
were worried how cold it was going to get from this point on.
Day 4 (Sept 20)
It was super cold overnight, dropping to the teens. I had a
new military sleeping bag that I was trying for the first time, and it was
extremely comfortable. I’m definitely happy with that purchase.
It stopped snowing overnight. We were up early and calling,
hoping a nearby bull would hear us. You could tell the other hunters on the
river were also eager to get moving as the sound of jet boats was very common
this morning.
All the rain and snow the day prior resulted in the creek
raising a couple feet. Since we tied up BOB on the other side of the creek, we
could no longer get to the boat without putting on our waders… something
neither of us really wanted to do. We downed our breakfast and set out to call
in the small field in front of our tent. We had Bertha with us (a cow moose
decoy) and set her out in the middle to hopefully get a traveling bull’s
attention. We heard wolves howling like crazy a few miles west (we heard them on
a daily basis too). It was cold and
boring sitting and waiting in this weather, especially since we couldn’t see
too far (the field was only about 100 square yards), so we broke the main rule
of spot and stalk hunting… moving around. Wilbur kept asking to move and check
out close fields and a certain ridge, so I finally agreed and we decided to see
what the ridge across from the field held.
It was more of bush whacking hike than I thought it was
going to be. There really were no game trails or any good lookout positions.
The ridge didn’t turn out to be a ridge really, just a patch of trees that made
the ground appear a little higher than the neighboring ground. We did stumble across
a moose shed, but that’s about all we found while looking for a better glassing
spot.
We returned to the tent around mid-day. This is the time
moose aren’t really active, so often we spend this time around camp and not
spotting. We collected more firewood, organized our gear, swept the snow off
everything, and tried to secure the canoe better.
We ended up pulling BOB off its anchor role and accidently
had it turn into a bridge. This looked like a great idea so we wedged it into
the bank on the tent side and tied it to both banks. We now had the ability to
use it as a bridge to cross the creek without waders. I then spent the next
hour removing ice, snow, and water from BOB.
Now that we could get to the other side, we felt obligated
to go check it out! I put on my hip waders and Wilbur opted for his hiking
boots. I had a specific lake in mind I wanted to get to and glass around (the
same one I wanted to stop next to on the creek). Wilbur couldn’t walk through
shallow water areas and the backed-up beaver dams, so it took a little over an
hour to hike around everything without a water crossing.
Once we finally crossed everything, Wilbur got a taste of
what tussocks are. The trees and brush cleared and made way for the worst
hiking terrain imaginable. tussocks are horrible, and now Wilbur understood
exactly why… he HATED them. We had to walk about a quarter mile in tussocks
before we got to the large lake. I found a spruce tree we could use as partial
cover and that’s where we went to hang out for the next couple hours. In this
spot, we could see many miles in various directions. We called and raked for
hours, but only saw waterfowl. We weren’t really planning to come back here,
but we figured if our calls reached a bull, and it came to that spot days
later, it would then be within hearing distance from our field calling spot and
could easily transition to there.
With no luck, we turned back having plans to call out of our
tent field for the sunset hours. On our way back, we came across a neat little
hill that over looked a couple small ponds. There was a good game trail that
passed by the hill with many moose rubs. Unfortunately, there was no fresh
tracks or fresh rubs. We decided this may be a good place to sit and call the
next day.
We got back to the tent and spent a couple hours in the
field out front calling. When the sun started to set, we retreated to the tent
for dinner and warmth.
Day 5 (Sept 21)
It was a cold night again, dropping to single digits. The
stove we had doesn’t stay hot long and if it isn’t tended to every 30 minutes, will
go out fairly quick. This means there is no way to keep the tent warm all
night, so we just cuddled up in our bags and stayed warm that way.
We did the early AM moose calling in the field, but again…
no sign of moose anywhere. After four hours of calling and waiting, we headed back
to camp for the noon time lull.
We noticed the water level was dropping now… and fast since
the temps were not getting above freezing. We also noticed that we were now out
of water. It was difficult thawing out the gravity filter and tubes, but I
eventually got it working and nine more liters stored in the tent. We then
jumped in the tent for lunch and warmth.
We decided we would check out the hill on the other side
after lunch. This is when I told Wilbur that if we don’t see any sign (a moose,
tracks, poop) or hear a moose today, I’m going to call the hunt early and
declare this place void of moose. Wilbur agreed, and we set out for the hill.
This was a pretty good spot, with food, drink, and cover for
moose. The game trail and rubs made it obvious moose frequented the area often,
but for some reason, they were nowhere around currently. We called for about
four hours and nothing responded. The clouds cleared and we gave up at 7:30PM,
heading back to our tent. We called at the tent a couple times and threw the towel
in for the hunt.
The rest of the night was spent drinking hot drinks, eating
all the food we wanted, and watching another movie. It was going to be a very
cold night since the sky was clear and a high pressure system rolled in. We would
start packing up the next day, unless a we saw anything that resembled a living
moose in the area… even a cow.
Day 6 (Sept 22)
The thermometer said it dropped below 5 degrees overnight,
and again, I never got cold… I loved that new sleeping bag. Both Wilbur and I were
sleeping on the ground too (no insulation) since both of our sleeping pads popped.
The river continued to drop overnight and it was now the same depth as the day
we traveled in. If it dropped any lower, it was going to be very difficult
getting out.
It was single digits outside when we started to pack up all
of gear. It took us a couple hours and we were frozen by the time we were done.
We then needed to put on our waders, which were frozen and like cardboard, so
we could jump in the water and push BOB out.
The water was warmer than the air, so being in it wasn’t bad…
the bad part was all the snow dumping on top of us as we cruised through the
channel. It only took us about 20 minutes to push out of the channel since we
were going with the current and not needing to cut trees.
The run up river was slow, only moving about eight miles per
hour, but it was a lot safer since sweepers are only an issue going with the
current. Wilbur had to jump out and stop us about a dozen times so the prop
didn’t get damaged on the rocks and we didn’t float somewhere dangerous (he was
a beast and very helpful at this). I did a pretty good job of navigating and
avoiding many of the shallow areas. The river was fairly easy to read most of
the times, but when it wasn’t, Wilbur was there to bail me out.
It took us about five hours to get to the truck. We then
loaded it up and secured everything. We stopped at the Arctic Circle sign to do
the tourist thing just because that was the first time either of us were that
far north. We were fairly far away from our house and around midnightish, we
drove by the same place we slept the initial night on our way in. I was disappointed
in the lack of moose, handful of other hunters, and the weather so I was over
this trip. I told Wilbur that I was driving straight through and not stopping;
I downed a couple energy drinks and hammered out the rest of the drive. We got
home as the sun was raising.
….
This was a pretty cool area, but not a place I will go back
to late moose hunting season. It’s also not a place I will take BOB again. That
was definitely mini jet boat country so if I ever know someone with one of those,
I will try to convince them to check out that area in early September. I call
the trip a success though. Exploring a new area can be productive, even if
there are no animals there. I now know BOB probably shouldn’t go there and what
to possibly do if I ever went back.
Also, I left notes on the trucks in the parking lot of the
river launch. A couple of them called me and I was able to speak with a handful
of people who were hunting the river when we were there. It sounds like this
year was an anomaly for moose and that success back there is often near 100%. Unfortunately
for us, we were there when no moose were.
