The 2023 hunt season was going to be an odd one. My work was expecting a huge survey in October which meant large preparation responsibilities months prior, me being on-call for deployment for the month of August, my mom already having tickets for early September to watch the kids while Danielle and I go on a sheep hunt, and then the fact that Danielle and I both drew good hunting tags (Copper River bison and Kodiak road system goat).
This was a mountain animal year because we got a moose last
year (a moose lasts our family two years so priority shifts depending on the
meat we have in the freezer). This is a reason our only hunting plans were the
sheep hunt… but those plans were blown up after the draw results came out. Because
of the goat and bison tag, we had to make those priority, which resulted in the
sheep hunt getting canceled and going for a goat during that time (next blog
entry goes in to more detail). This would be the first year in over a decade I
didn’t go on a sheep hunt! I couldn’t do a sheep hunt in early August because
Danielle wasn’t available, and my days of solo sheep hunting are likely over.
I can typically get the time off work for three hunts (early
August, Early September, and Late September), but with demands this year, only
the early August and early September hunt would be possible. This left a little
unclaimed time in August to be able to get after an animal. Kevin and I have
been wanting to take out BOB (my freighter canoe Ashton named, which we made
the acronym mean Blood On Board), and hunt the North Slope. Since Danielle and
the kids were planning to be back in Iowa from August 3 to 13, that worked out
great for planning a caribou hunt off the Haul Road.
Running up to the hunt, I talked to Shawn about our plans.
He was planning on going on a float fishing trip with his buddy (Ryan, also a
teacher) at that time, so I invited them to skip the float and come on the hunt
with us. This worked out great for timing because this is the only hunt you can
really dedicate a full 10 days of hunting to without the start of school
interrupting it (often seasons start August 10). I don’t think it took them
long to agree to ditching their float fishing trip because neither of them have
been to the Haul Road before and like the idea of getting to hunt before school
started. They were in! The start of the 2023 hunt season would be a caribou
hunt among us four, as far north as you can drive in Alaska.
DAY 1
The plan was for everyone to meet at my house at 9AM on the
morning of the hunt to load up and start the long drive north. At 8:30AM, I
received an email from our CEO about a major work issue that needed my
assistance. I quickly fielded the need and setup information collection process
to hold the hospital over until I returned in 10 days.
The guys arrived on time (always a good start to a hunt). It
took us an hour to consolidate all gear and load it into my truck and trailer.
It was a crowded affair, but we managed to make everything fit neatly. We were
on the road shortly after 10AM.
It would take us a total of 17 hours of driving, one way, to
get to Deadhorse. Driving isn’t too exciting to write about, but most notably
for the first day of driving, it got up to 83 degrees, we saw active forest
fires spreading, and we drove through many miles of smoke from those fires.
We didn’t have a desired place to stop for the night, so we
decided to drive until I got tired of driving. After fueling up in Fox, Alaska
(just north of Fairbanks), then eventually crossing the Yukon River (which is
absolutely massive by the way), we pulled over in a place called 5 Mile Campground
around 8PM. We knew nothing about it prior, but it was an excellent place to
stop for the night!
BLM has many campgrounds around Alaska. Unfortunately, BLM
isn’t the best planners for campgrounds and although many of them look great
and area maintained well, that doesn’t result in high utilization; 5 Mile
Campground is one of those places. Granted, we later found out this area used
to be bustling with activity, and even included a city of several hundred
people back when the pipeline was being built. Today, it’s maintained, but not
well known or used.
We were the only ones there when we arrived so we picked the
best spot available, a pull through with existing firewood, and a couple
offshoots into the woods for each of our tents. After setting up, we explored
the area a little. At the end of the road to the campground, we found what
would best be described as a combination of an old brothel/ hostel/ bar/
community center. It was an abandoned set of buildings that clearly was very
popular at one point and hosted many people to eat, sleep, and be merry. The
snow and weather was breaking everything down slowly over time, but most of the
area was preserved in a state of someone instantly closing the place down after
a night of active operations in the middle of the season. There were large
generators, outdoor decorations, locked doors, a gift shop, dining hall, motel,
money in cashier boxes, all possible residential living items, personal things
like pictures of loved ones and prescriptions, etc. It was surreal to see so
much usable stuff seemingly left here m to rot. We were shocked nobody robbed
the place or stripped it of all valuable belongings yet. We certainly were not
the people that were going to do this, however, I will admit, I took four
cozies from the gift shop since there were over 100 there and we wanted to
remember/honor the place.
It was getting late at this point, so we headed back to camp
to crash for the night. It was a nice night (once the sun set). Last time Ryan
and Shawn hunted together, Shawn gave Ryan Covid…. So because Shawn had a
cough, Ryan opted to sleep on the picnic table instead of a tent with Shawn.
We would finish our drive up tomorrow.
DAY 2
We were up at 7AM ready to go. Apparently, Ryan was up
sooner since he had a bird land on him not knowing we was in the sleeping bag
on the table 😊 We repositioned and repacked the truck and
were on our way shortly later.
The day was again filled with driving as far north as we
could get. The most frustrating part of the drive was the constant loosening of
the tires and wood we put on top of the ladder rack. No matter what we did, the
straps and stuff would loosen from the rough road travel. There were times I
swore it wouldn’t come loose, only to have the road prove me wrong. A note
about driving the road… I had to slow down to a near stop each time a semi
truck was coming at me. This was to prevent my windshield from shattering when
they tossed a rock our direction. One time, a huge rock was thrown at the
windshield during an oncoming exchange from a semi while I was creeping about 5
mph. It left a large chip and spider crack, but if I was moving regular speed,
that would have likely ended our hunt (that chip has now spread to many cracks
across the entire windshield).
We topped the tank
off at Coldfoot, the last place to get fuel before reaching Deadhorse. This was
the most expensive gas I have ever paid for at $7.50 a gallon (and this was on
the road system)! We didn’t see anything exciting until we got north of
Deadhorse.
Shortly after, we spotted two brown bears next to the road,
and we pulled over to watch them. They appeared to be younger siblings, out on
their own, a boar and a sow. They were slowly picking up blue berries as they
creeped closer toward us. It was open season for brown bears, and a bow hunt
only in this area. We likely could have put an arrow through one or both, but
we were in no hurry to do so knowing it was 85 degrees out and we had over a
week yet to spend hunting (making meat and hide care a near impossible task
before it spoiled prior to returning home). The bears got within 50 yards of
the truck, allowing us to take plenty of pictures before we decided to continue
driving.
Before we reached Atigun Pass, we had a wolf and moose cross
the road in front of us (at separate times). We were hoping to see sheep at some point, but
even Atigun Pass was void of the white creature. Shortly getting through
Atigun, we came to Pump 4 along the road. This is where Ryan’s dad was
stationed to work for the day. We planned to stop here and talk to Gordie about
possible caribou sightings. A fellow co-worker of his flies the helicopter
along the pipeline looking for security threats or anything abnormal. He was
going to let us know if he saw any herds and where they were likely going to
be. Unfortunately, the pilot was grounded recently from the weather and Gordie
had no intel for us. He let us know the pilot was flying today and would text
Ryan if any info was available. The only problem with that was the lack of
service we would likely have for the rest of the day. We also joked with Ryan
that the aerial intel was the only valuable contribution he was bringing to the
hunt, so without, he would be assigned all grunt work duties.
We finally saw our first caribou about 20 miles past Pump 4,
right in the middle of a construction pilot car escort. It wasn’t a bull, so
that didn’t matter much, but at least we got a glimpse of the animal we were up
here to pursue.
We decided to drive the entire road to Deadhorse, to assess
every pull out along the way, get a good idea of river access, and better
understand what the terrain was like to plan our days ahead. Along the way, we
encountered the following: 48 caribou (with only 2 pairs being the largest
group, and 1 bull being the only legal animal to shoot… which was seen in
Deadhorse, a protected area), over 30 muskox (which was a first for all of us
to see in the wild), 2 fox, ptarmigan, cranes, grouse, an arctic owl, and
uncountable numbers of water fowl species.
We got to Deadhorse around 9PM. With the Arctic Ocean in
view, we were shocked it was 81 degrees still. We had cell service and checked
in with Gordy. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to reach the pilot today, so we
had zero eagle eye info to use. That didn’t really matter though since we drove
the entire road and weren’t planning to walk too far in the nasty tussock
swamps.
On our way back south out of Deadhorse, we focused on
finding a boat launching spot. We knew coming up that there were gravel drives
every few miles that shot off the road and went to the river. What we didn’t
know was that each of them was gated and locked. If we knew this information,
we would have brought our boat carts with us, allowing us to walk BOB and
Shawn’s inflatable a long distance to launch. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the
cart, which meant we were restricted to launching somewhere we could drive the
trailer to. The only spot that fit this description was the single boat launch
area, which was crowded with guides, outfitters, and transporters. We would
check this out better the next day.
We were seeing caribou racks in the back of trucks along the
road. It was obvious, road hunting was the way to hunt the last 50 some miles
of this road. Road hunting was bow hunting only. A rifle cannot be used within
five miles of the road (to protect the pipeline supposedly). Many people were
simply camping at the pull outs, and driving the road until they saw a bull,
and then raced each other to get to it first. Kevin and I didn’t have bows, but
we were all for helping Ryan and Shawn if that situation presented itself.
It was getting late though, so we found a pull out that was
fairly private to setup for the night. It was still warm (above 80) and very
difficult to climb into the tent until the sun went down around 11. When that
happened, we all crashed hard. Ryan again slept outside to stay away from sick
Shawn!
DAY 3
We woke up from the sauna the sun created inside our tents.
It took us quick work to tear down camp since we were excited to get the boats
out.
It was a short drive to the boat launch we checked out
earlier. After walking the launch, we noticed the river dropped recently. It
wasn’t until we spoke with more people did we realize it dropped more than two
feet over the course of the last 24 hours!
We stopped to chat with three guys sitting by their gear on
the side of the river. They all worked on the Slope, but were out here hunting
for a week. They were a group of four, however, the fourth guy was currently
solo on the river. After digging further, we found out they brought up their
small aluminum 40hp jet boat to hunt the river with. Apparently, the first load
of weight and one hunter got to their hunting spot, but upon loading up a
second person and weight, the river caught them off guard by dropping a foot
since the previous trip, and ended up causing them to run aground on the way
out. They got trapped, and ruined something in their motor. They had to have a
fan boat assist with their rescue. This left three guys and most gear at the
launch and the single hunter in the field… since yesterday. The remaining guys
worked out a deal with the transporter to take them in just beyond the 5 mile
boundary, for a super cheap “resident” and “I feel bad for you” discount. This
worked out for the transporter because it was early hunting season and they
didn’t have a fully booked schedule. Even though the cost was about a tenth of
the typical transportation cost, it was still profitable for the transporter.
Hearing the river dropped significantly put us on edge, we
likely could still get to where we were wanting to hunt, but not knowing the
river added some anxiety. After discussing amongst ourselves, we were hoping
the deal these guys got could potentially be extended to us as well… but we
weren’t sure how to ask for it. We then sought out on a mission to gather more
intel and see if we could potentially get the super cheap “resident” and “I
feel bad for you” discount.
First up, Deadhorse Outfitters. We talked to a one-armed guy
named Jeff. Jeff had a super sweet, white beard that put Kevin’s to shame. Apparently
Jeff’s chin hair grows like weeds in an untamed flower bed in the Spring. Where
it took Kevin multiple years to get where he is, it took Jeff a few months (or
so he says). Jeff was extremely knowledgeable about the river. He was the
longest tenured outfitter running the river and knew every inch. He advised us adamantly
to avoid running the river with my surface drive and Shawn’s Jet Ranger. I know
some of what he said was true, but I could tell much of it was show and fear
mongering. I get it… he was responsible for rescuing people, so he didn’t want
to have to rescue us if we got into trouble.
As we were chatting further, a lady named Amanda walked up
and chatted with us too. Amanda was Jeff’s new protégé, poised to take the
reigns one day after she learned everything in Jeff’s head. The interesting
thing about Amanda is that she just quit her job as ANMC’s only wound care
nurse in order to pursue her transporting career. I faintly recognized her, but
would be lying if I said I knew she worked at ANMC. We took a picture to send
to her old boss and friend of mine back at the hospital.
We got around to asking Jeff about the stranded party and
the deal they received. Jeff had no idea what I was talking about, and was
shocked when I told him the price we were looking for. He let us know there
were a couple other transporters running the river and to seek out Ryan with
North Star Outfitters. Apparently, Ryan and his wife are unique and stay on the
river most of the season while their daughter stays at the launch… all
coordinating trips out and back. We would have to wait to ask until they came
back to grab the guys for their trip into the field.
We spent the next four hours under the scorching sun,
waiting with the group of guys, for Ryan and Angela to return to the launch. In
the meantime, we chatted with Charity (their daughter) and helped around camp.
Charity gave us a look into their lives… they also guide for mountain lions
during the winter, have a plan for transporting hunters in different areas, own
many cabins throughout the state, practice taxidermy, and live Alaska life to
the fullest.
Ryan and Angela finally returned, each driving their own fan
boats (which were amazing looking). We helped them unload, load, and fill gas
tanks. As we chatted, we could tell they were super cool people. We let them
know we were also hoping to get the same deal the other hunters got, and they
were happy extend the deal to us as well. We were told to be back at the launch
tomorrow at 10AM to be picked up.
We now had the rest of the day to do whatever we wanted,
however, we had to head to Deadhorse to pick up the $1200 in cash to pay for
the fan boat transportation (this included the tip too). Split four ways, this
was an unreal deal that normal costs $3,8000 PER PERSON.
While in Deadhorse, we saw three large bulls who obviously
knew they were protected within city limits. After topping off the fuel, we
tried to get to the arctic ocean, but unfortunately, The North Slope Bureau
doesn’t allow people access unless they pay for the tour ☹.
We decided to try our luck at fishing. I brought four
collapsible poles and tackle to target grayling and possibly char. On our drive
back toward the rivers, we noticed there were less caribou along the road. It
was hot still and nothing was moving. We even saw a dead caribou a hundred
yards off the road. It may have been hit by a vehicle, but we joked it
collapsed from heat stroke and just laid there to cook. The first bird to poke
that extended belly was going to get a HUGE surprise.
We were a little early to catch the run of char into the
river, so we focused on grayling. I decided to stop at the pull out that would
have been perfect for BOB had we brought the cart. We walked a ways to the
river and found some descent fishing spots. The fishing wasn’t too hot, but I
ended up landing 3 grayling and the guys each caught some as well.
Around 5PM, and still 77 degrees, we decided to go back to
the same camp spot we were at the night prior. On our way to camp, we spotted a
few nice bulls a fair distance off the road. We weren’t interested in pursuing
caribou at this point since we had transportation into the field lined up for
tomorrow. If we shot something now, someone would miss out on the trip and have
to take care of meat the whole time. Of course, only Ryan and Shawn could kill
a caribou along the road anyway since they were the only ones able to hunt with
a bow. Not trying to shoot the bulls made Kevin upset since his kill switch
can’t be turned off and not pursuing a legal animal is sacrileges no matter
what the circumstances.
Back at camp, we gathered wood for a fire, put some beers in
the creek to cool, and took a plunge/bath in the river. The dip was a welcomed
refresher despite being a cold shock.
In the middle of us enjoying a nice night around the fire,
out of nowhere came a weather front with rain, and large gusts. We quickly
gathered our chairs and other items and threw them in the truck. We retreated
inside the truck to sit and wait the storm out. Really, the rain didn’t last
longer than a few minutes, but it was enough to soak everything.
After the rain let up, we spotted a medium sized bull
caribou coming across the river bed toward us. It paralleled a side creek for a
bit and then decided to cross, getting on the shore we were on about 200 yards
to the south of us. We got out of the truck and watched it disappear toward the
road.
About five minutes later, a pair of monster caribou were
trotting across the river bed, almost along the same path the earlier bull
took. They were in less of a hurry and easier to watch. Again, we weren’t
interested in pursuing them, but man did it make us feel conflicted. This pair
also slowly made their way toward the road. It was fun to watch all the camps
they passed and vehicles from the road spot them, try to figure out how to
intercept them, and attempt to shoot them with their bows. Four different hunting
groups failed to intercept either bull or get within shooting distance (which would
have been extremely close due to the howling winds). The bulls simply trotted
their way up (unpredictably zig-zagging the whole way) and across the road into
the never-ending tussocks where it was unreachable based on their current
path.
Kevin was boiling at this point seeing three more bull
caribou pass by us without even trying to drop them. Mother Nature has a sense
of humor because a few minutes after the pair of large bulls passed us, a
single large bull made its way directly to us from across the riverbed. Kevin
had enough by this point and set out to prove the bow hunters wrong and he
could get within shooting distance and easily kill the incoming bull if he had
certification and means to do so. I told Kevin I would give him $20 if he could
hit a caribou with a stone, which would prove he could get close enough to
shoot it with a bow.
The bull came to shore 100 yards north of us, not knowing we
were there. Kevin took off into the brush with rocks in his hand, trying to get
as close as he could without being seen. Well, the caribou saw him fairly
quickly during one of Kevin’s take-a-peek sessions, and it didn’t really care
too much. It kept its distance (outside of bow range, but well within rifle
range). It was fun watching Kevin try to get close, but it ended up without a
simulated bow kill. This caribou also made its way slowly and unpredictably up
and across the road, eluding all hunters that attempted to take it out before
it made it to open tundra.
Shortly after that excitement, the skies started drop water
again. We decided it was time to call it a night so we put everything away and
jumped in our tents. It wasn’t 10 minutes later a truck came driving down the gravel
side road to where we were at; they obviously knew we were there. Despite us
camping in this spot already, they decided to park right next to our truck, and
setup their tent right on the road. We didn’t have energy to argue with them
and nobody wanted to go out in the weather to scare them off… so they ended up
camping with us.
DAY 4
At 2AM, we were waken up by two diesel trucks idling next to
the tent. We didn’t know if these were the other guys’ buddies or what was
going on. We were literally at the end of this side road, at the river, and now
we had two trucks acting like they couldn’t get somewhere. The people in the
truck got out and were being loud, all while it sounded like they were driving
in circles and revving their engines. After one of them honked, I had enough
and got out to see what was going on.
What started as a discussion quickly turned into an argument
between me and a short, pudgy, mouthy know it all. Apparently, the end of this
particular gravel road (keep in mind these roads shoot to the river just about
every 2 miles along the Dalton) is a makeshift boat launch for fan boats. The
guy was super pissed because “we” were blocking him from launching, at 2AM. He
kept saying, “you know how it is… we have to launch now.” I told him that this
place was a terrible place to launch and to go launch at the actual boat launch
5 miles south. He told me this place was way better than the outfitters’ spot
and that he launches here every year. Regardless, he finely backtracked a
little when he realized the truck and tent in their way wasn’t even with us… he
went from being a super huge ass-hat, to just a huge ass-hat.
They then proceeded to harass the tent and truck by driving
fast and closely around them, and cursing the entire time. Somehow, the guys in
the tent stayed put, likely because they were scared what would happen if they
came out. At one point, the truck drove so close to the tent trying to turn
around it, that the truck ran over the guy lines and clipped the tent. Luckily
nobody was harmed.
Well I had enough of this guy’s BS and their party’s stupid
behavior, so I went to bed to try to get some rest before getting up early for
our transportation into the field the next day. The chaos outside the tent
continued for a good 30 more minutes, until they finally decided to pack up and
leave. And that’s when I was finally able to get back to sleep.
The next morning, we could see that the fan boat guys tried
to launch in the river, but the water level was too low and the ground was too
soft, resulting in their inability to get the trailer far enough into the
water. Man, I wish I was there when they pulled out so I could tell the grumpy marshmallow
man that I told him so.
Excited to get the day going, we collapsed everything as
fast as we could. The neighbors emerged in the middle of tear down so I filled
them in on what happened. They acted like they didn’t hear anything though (NOT
POSSIBLE). They said they were headed across the river looking to hike 5 miles
to harvest something. We wished them luck, and parted ways.
At the launch, we packed up everything we needed to take
with us and walked it down to the side of the river bank where the boats come
in. We helped out around camp with anything needed while we waited. Around
noon, Ryan and Angela arrived. We helped them unpack caribou racks and meat,
while also assisting with fueling up the boats. We were still in their debts
for giving us such a good deal, so we were more than happy to help any way we
could. We also loaded all our gear on the fan boat, which I guess they
typically do for the hunters too. The ability to take all 4 of us, and all of
our gear on the boat was extremely impressive.
It took about 2 minutes of us riding for me to realize that
I want a fan boat! This thing was amazing! It went in a few inches of water and
didn’t struggle at all. It even went to places that had no water and easily
slid over the rocks… it was crazy effective at navigating shallow water. We saw
3 different bulls on the ride in. After 40 minutes, we arrived at our hunting
spot, 6.5 miles away from the road (BOB would have likely struggled all day to
get where we went, if it could have gotten there at all). The other hunters
they were transporting in were dropped 20 some more miles up the river, but
that would have cost us a lot more. Regardless, this area looked great! It was
on a point of the river where we could see miles up and down the shore, there
was a creek dumping water into the river, ridges paralleling the river bank to
walk, no camps up river from us for at least 5 miles, winter trails just behind
the creek, grayling swimming out front,
and a large, perfectly flat plateau of grass, begging us to put our
tents there (which we happily obliged). Ryan actually told us that his son shot
a big bull in this exact spot a couple years prior. All of this added up to us
being very optimistic about our drop off spot.
We unloaded our gear on the side of the river and bid
farewell to Ryan. We then proceeded to carry everything up to the grassy
plateau to setup camp. But before we setup, we stripped to our underwear! It…
was… hot! The sun was at its highest point of the day. There was no cloud in
site, no breeze at all, and zero shade anywhere; I was miserable. We decided to
eat some food and hydrate before establishing our campsite.
We eventually decided to unpack and put our tents up. In the
middle of getting organized, we looked up and saw someone on the ridge behind
us, with a packraft, hiking up river. This caught us by surprise because first
off, it was ridiculously hot and hiking seemed impossible. Secondly, it didn’t
look like he had a gun or was even hunting. Finally, he never acknowledged us
and made zero effort to check-in or chat. Personally, I make an effort to talk
to everyone I see in the field to make sure we aren’t stepping on each other,
and you never know when you’re needed for help or need help yourself. I tried
to get his attention to talk, but he kept walking. I did however spook 10
ptarmigan on my way back to camp (their season opened in 4 days).
One thing I noticed was that I was the only one without camp
crocs. My camp shoes were extra tuffs. On a day like today, I was super jealous
of them. I decided to go barefoot instead, which happened to work well on this
grass plateau.
It was so hot that I started to feel ill. I think I was
beginning to get heat exhaustion, so I had to cool off. I decided to go for a
swim in the stream next to camp. It was cold, but worth it! I was instantly
cold, but it felt great and refreshing. Kevin then setup his tarp next to the
tent which gave us a little shade to lay in.
Kevin, Shawn, and I were all laying under the tarp staying
cool while Ryan was down at the beach next to the river, hanging out. While
sitting at the beach, Ryan noticed movement a mile down river. He ran back to
camp to get a better look… it was a bull! He let us know he saw a caribou, and
asked, “Kevin, you want to shoot a bull caribou?” We all thought it was a joke
at first, but soon realized it was truthful. Kevin then popped up faster than
my kids’ excitement when asking if they want tablet time.
In t-shirt, underwear, and crocs, Kevin grabbed his rifle
and asked for directions. The bull was sprinting toward us along the river
bank, so Kevin had to quickly close the gap through the brush between camp and
river edge. As Kevin was still getting to the edge of the river, the bull
passed in front of camp… Kevin wasn’t ready yet. For some reason, the bull
suddenly stopped about 50 yards up from camp and looked back toward the
direction it ran from. Bad news for the caribou because at this point, Kevin already
made it to the edge of the river and was getting ready… BOOM. The bull didn’t
even flinch and continued his run up river. It didn’t look like it was hit, but
you could see blood spraying as it ran. The bull then turned to run across the
river and Kevin let another bullet fly. It was a tough shot, but he drilled it
in the head, dropping the caribou instantly, and before it could run out of
site or go for a swim.
We had our first bull down, and it was only 4 hours after we
got dropped off! This was both good and bad news. On the negative side, it was
80 degrees out and we had 5 days to try and make sure the meat didn’t spoil.
Because of the sun and heat, we had to be quick getting the
meat out. Shawn took the packraft to the caribou while Ryan and Kevin followed.
I stayed behind since I didn’t have crocs for water crossing. The guys then
gutted the caribou and rafted it back directly in front of camp where all 4 of
us broke it down as quick as possible. This was the first time any of us saw a
North Slope caribou and we were all shocked to see the caribou up here were
substantially smaller bodied compared to the caribou we are used to shooting
closer to home.
As we were finishing up field dressing the caribou, the pack
raft guy came floating down the river. This time, he stopped to chat with us.
Apparently, he and his buddy (who stayed at camp) hiked in three days ago. His
buddy was in bad shape and still recovering from the hike in. They were leaving
tomorrow and he wanted to try a hail Mary to possibly see a bull, but
unfortunately, we intercepted the bull that ran in front of their camp (buddy
could have shot) and was going to cross his path once it got passed us.
We finished cutting
up the caribou and placed it on top of bushes next to the river bank. We then
covered it with a tarp, praying for lower temperatures and wind to keep the
meat from spoiling. We could submerge the meat in the river if we needed to,
but to our surprise, the water wasn’t as cold as we expected. Kevin sprayed the
meat with citric acid to prevent bacteria, but other than that, there was
nothing else we could do. We left the meat, cooled off in the stream, and went
back to hanging out in the shade.
A few hours later, I went down to the river bank with Ryan
to check on the meat. The meat looked good, but something caught our eye down
river near the same spot the bull came from. It was a small caribou, slowly
grazing along the river edge. We watched it for a while and suddenly another
caribou came running out of the brush behind it. Both caribou scared each other
and they sprinted in opposite directions. The small caribou began running up
river toward us. It disappeared from sight, because of the many bushes between
us, but I knew it was going to come barreling by close to us. Ryan and I were
standing on a dried up side stream that I was a perfect corridor for caribou,
and I thought this little guy may come running straight through it. I told Ryan
to hide because I thought it would likely take this path… at which point both
us got out of the dried-up stream and ducked into the bushes on each side of it
(about 5 feet apart). Remembering the
rock deal I made with Kevin, I picked up a small rock and got ready for the
caribou to hopefully come running up this path.
Incredibly, this was the exact route the caribou was headed;
we could hear it running right toward us. When it finally spilt Ryan and I,
softly tossed the rock at its butt (I could have easily just touched it) and
then yelled BOOOO! The caribou freaked out and nearly had a heart attack,
almost jumping/ running over Ryan on the other side of the path. I then stood
up and yelled at Kevin, “You owe me $10 Kevin!” The poor caribou then circled
around us, stopped in the river, looked toward our camp, and trotted off
thankful we weren’t going to eat it. It was a very cool and funny experience.
The rest of the day was spent simply waiting for the sun to
go away and for it cool off a bit. This didn’t happen until 10ish though, at
which point we ate some dinner and planned to really glass the area. One thing
we noticed when eating was the seagulls eating on the caribou carcass. Instead
of Ravens,Jays, and Eagles to clean a kill site, the scavenger birds up here
were seagulls. We later realized when we saw a few of them together on the side
of a hill, it meant something died there.
We decided to split
up for the evening. Ryan and Shawn would stay close to camp, glassing from the
point, and Kevin and I would walk along the ridge upriver to a good lookout
spot. At our spot, we saw 5 different caribou, all along the other side of the river.
They were too far away to know their sex and close to other hunters, so they
weren’t worth pursuing. After sitting there for an hour, I decided to split off
from Kevin and go explore by myself. I chose a route further up the river, and
looped around deep behind camp, and then paralleled back to Kevin. It was about
a 2-mile loop where I saw the following at some point or another: 5 different
camps along the river, 4 muskox, 50 ptarmigan, an old runway, the remains of an
airplane crash, horseshoe prints, trapped 4 inch minnows (20 feet above the
closest water stream), and zero caribou. I did however confirm there was no
other hunters up river on our side for at least 5 more miles.
The bugs were starting to come out now and nothing was
moving, so we headed back to camp. It wasn’t getting fully dark at night, and
the current temperatures meant it wouldn’t get too cold either. We were hoping
caribou would take advantage of the cooler weather and move more at that time.
I wasn’t very tired, so I volunteered to take the night shift. The plan was for
me to stay up until 4AM, at which time Ryan would relieve me.
DAY 5
The guys were sleeping, and I had the river and surrounding
area to myself. The sun was set, but it kept the sky plenty lit since it stayed
closely below the horizon as it looped around getting ready to raise again.
There was so much daylight still that I could easily see through my binoculars
and spotting scope. I spent the entire time on the point, looking everywhere
for a caribou; unfortunately, I never saw one. What I did see puzzled me. When
glancing along the river, I saw a flash of white along the ground, directly
next to where the meat was hanging. I don’t think I dreamt it, but I never saw
the white again, and I’m still not sure what it was, however, I have settled on
it likely being an ermine (whatever it was, it didn’t bother the meat).
Around 4AM, fog started to appear. Clouds began raising out
of the ground from all areas of the tundra around me. Right when the fog was
getting thicker, Ryan showed up to take over. I don’t think he thought I was
going to be able to stay awake that whole time, but it wasn’t too difficult
since I’m such a night owl anyway. I retreated to my tent to get some rest,
while Ryan battled the fog. I’m not sure he lasted too long since it was
pointless to sit in fog without the ability to see much.
Back at the tent, I tried, but couldn’t sleep because of the
freight train coming out of Kevin’s nose. I would poke or yell at him, but that
only worked until he fell back asleep, which was pretty much instantly.
Sometimes when he rolled over it gave me enough time to conk out before the
snoring thunderstorm happened again and eventually woke me up. This battle for
sleep continued every night for the rest of the hunt (I’m not sure why the
snoring wasn’t too bad the prior nights). I typically only need 4-5 hours of
sleep a night and I’m good for the day, but if that sleeping period is
interrupted, I’m miserable and sluggish the next day… and that’s how my days
felt while on the river during the hunting trip ☹
I’m not sure when Kevin got up, but I slept in until 10AM,
when the sun was baking me in the tent. The guys said they saw no caribou
during the AM, but caught glimpse of a fox running around in front of camp,
near the meat.
It was another hot day and I asked Kevin if I could
experiment with a quarter by putting it in a contractor bag and leaving it
submerged underwater. Well, long story short, that pretty much failed. The
river wasn’t as cold as we wanted, and submersion made the meat sweat, thus
ruining the dry external layer.
There wasn’t much going on around camp. Kevin wasn’t feeling
too hot and proceeded to sleep most of the day. It did cool off in the early
afternoon though, so we thought this would make the caribou move… however, the
one thing we learned on this hunt is that the caribou here don’t do anything
remotely logical or close to what would be beneficial or typical of big game in
other areas.
Instead of sitting around, we decided to try to hike to make
something happen. Ryan and Shawn hiked the tundra behind camp to walk along
some small hills paralleling the river downstream. Meanwhile, I hiked the ridge
along the river downstream a little over a mile and setup there to glass for
animals. I found a great spot with good views out of the wind. It was so
comfortable I ended up taking a long nap.
I woke up from my nap, and looked behind me to see Ryan and
Shawn a few hundred yards away. Apparently, Ryan thought he heard me shoot so
they both came to help… only to find me sleeping. I stayed put for a few more
hours, seeing a couple cow caribou. I also got to see an arctic fox hunting
mice, and doing so successfully.
I came across an old camp close to my glassing spot. There
was a small stack of firewood under some brush, much of it waterlogged from
sitting in the moss for so long. However, there were 4-5 cut pieces that were
still good, so I put those in my pack before heading back to camp.
The rest of the night was spent taking care of the meat,
make a huge fire, cooking the loins over an open flame, and destroying the
vodka Shawn brought (my new favorite thing is adding vodka to my hydration
powder mix… but that kind of defeats the purpose I guess). As we ran out of
fuel for the fire, we decided to crash for the night. Ryan was still in hunt
mode so he was going to stay up late. It started to get foggy before bed, so
again, I’m sure he didn’t stay out too long (maybe the fog likes him).
DAY 6
It sprinkled a little over night, soaking everything. In the
morning it was cooler (still warm though) and cloudy. It was a slow morning for
hunting without any caribou being seen. We didn’t really want to hike in the
Tundra due to the wet brush and the potential to get soaked. Instead, I decided
to head back to my spot from the day prior, but took the river bed as my path.
I got comfortable in my nook, and spent hours hoping a
caribou would show itself. I could see a new kill site was across the river
since a group of seagulls were blanketing the ground. It was probably just the
fact that we could see more area on that side, but it seemed like everything
was actually located behind that bank.
A couple fan boats whizzed by my point heading up river, so
I kept a close eye on them as they passed my point hoping they would spoke a
caribou. When they passed, I returned to gazing at the Tundra for caribou. To
my surprise, I saw a black silhouette sticking out on top of a ridge in front
of me. At first I thought it was a black bear, then I thought it was a dark
caribou, and after it moved a little, I finally knew I was staring at a black
wolf! He was less than a mile away and moving erratically. It took me a while
to realize it, but he was sniffing out and hunting for ptarmigan. He spooked a
large group ptarmigan that flew my direction. Immediately, the wolf started
sprinting toward me, disappearing in the valley and brush on his way. I had no
idea where it would pop out at, nor how far away it would be, but I got myself
ready for a shot if the wolf came out and gave me the opportunity to take it.
The wolf came running along a hillside, and stopped for a
brief second with it’s lower half covered by brush. I had no idea how far it
was, but I let off a shot assuming it was about 200 yards away… I missed! The
wolf instantly got spooked and ran the other direction. I was able to watch him
run and I attempted another shot as he was running… missed again. He then
proceeded to stop at what I’m assuming was more than 500 yards away, with just
the tip of his back showing. Again, I fired; and again, I missed. I have no
idea how bad I missed because I have no idea how far he was. I didn’t have time
to use my range finder and the endless vast of tundra is very confusing for
judging yards; it plays tricks on your mind when it comes to distances. I later
found out Shawn was deep in the Tundra and the wolf eventually ran his
direction. Shawn also tried to drop him with long distance running shots, but
also didn’t connect.
Nature was calling after the failed wolf hunt, so I found
some tall brush nearby to lose some weight. Lucky for me, the bushes I was
hanging on to were hiding a nice caribou shed. I was thrilled, and I would have
never found the shed if I didn’t go poop. It was close to 7PM, so I strapped
the poop shed to my pack, and headed back to camp along the river bed. I was
slow getting back to camp because I was mesmerized by all the cool rocks in the
river bed… fossils galore! I stashed a few to take back to the kids.
Back at camp, I was glad to have my XtraTuffs to change in
to. My feet were soaked from my boots and it didn’t stop spitting rain all
day. It was also at this time that I
realized I didn’t bring my rainfly cover for my hunting pack! After a long day
in cloudy, damp weather, it was nice to have a warm meal and more vodka
electrolytes 😊
We only had one full day left to hunt, so the next day
needed to produce if we wanted to leave with more than one caribou.
DAY 7
I was woken up by Kevin in the morning exclaiming that they
had eyes on 5 caribou and were headed after them, toward my point down river.
It was another cloudy, windy, spitting morning, so they headed out in their
rain gear. I got up and met Shawn on the ridge to watch their approach. As they
got closer, we could tell they weren’t planning on shooting the caribou,
meaning it was a group of cows and calves. Kevin decided to venture further
away from camp to explore, while Ryan returned to camp. Kevin strolled in a few
hours later, with destroyed rain gear from the friction of hiking (good thing
it wasn’t really dumping). That was his first hike in tussocks, and was a good
introduction to the butt kicking fun they provide.
After regrouping and watching a ton of boats shoot the river
for a while, we decided to all split up again. Ryan would return to the point
down river, Shawn headed toward the ridge behind camp, and Kevin went up river
to his prior look out area. This left me holding down camp and watching over
everything in between. I could see both Kevin and Ryan, but Shawn would
disappear on the other side of the ridge. He told me he planned to be back for
a late lunch.
It was another slow day with little going on except lots of
river activity. In addition to many boats, rafters were drifting down the river
today too. Transporters were dropping off clients and picking them up left and
right. Ryan was the first to return, bummed from the inactivity. He stood with
me at our camp overlook for a while, and then 15 ptarmigan flew by and landed
in the grass behind our camp. Ptarmigan were now legal to shoot, but we didn’t
have the right gun… I was bored and decided I needed to make up for my poor
shooting a few days prior, so I took aim at the grazing birds, intent on
shooting off their head and not completely blasting their chest with a large
caliber rifle. I asked Ryan for a range… “90 yards”. I shot at one, and missed.
I forgot my gun was 2” high at 100 yards, so I adjust, took aim again, and
dropped a ptarmigan. This had the rest of the flock spooked, so they started
moving a bit. I found another with just it’s head poking out, took aim, and
also dropped it as well. Unsure of where I was hitting them, I decided not to
shoot anymore incase I was destroying them beyond eating.
Ryan and I went to retrieve the birds, and struggled to find
them for bit, spooking the flock in the process. After recovering both, we saw
one was hit in the neck and the other the upper tip of the chest. These were
good, minimally damaging shots. I wish I would have shot more; however, it
restored my marksmanship confidence, but it left me still wondering how far
away that wolf really was when I missed.
Kevin heard my shots, but didn’t think we really shot a
caribou. He came back to see what was going on anyway. It was about 4PM at this
time, and I realized, Shawn wasn’t back yet. This was past “late lunch” time. I
told the guys I’m going looking for him since he’s overdue. I gave Kevin a
radio, turned mine on, and high tailed it toward the ridge behind camp.
This was the first time I went this direction and I was
surprised to see what I thought was a ridge was just an accumulation of rolling
hills. I had no idea which direction Shawn went so I simply started hiking
further away from where camp was, trying to think where caribou would go that
he may have chased. I came close to a lake and a was able to look down into a
small valley from a creek. I could see a few miles in every direction, so I
stopped for a while, looking through my binoculars. Miraculously, I found
Shawn, perfectly camouflaged in the Tundra, about a mile away in the exact
direction I was hiking. He was bent over cleaning a caribou! I didn’t know what
the situation was, so I climbed back to an unobstructed line of site and radioed
back to Kevin and Ryan that I found him, and likely need a hand with the
caribou. I later realized I failed to tell them where we were, not realizing
the radio wouldn’t work were the caribou was killed.
I made my way back toward Shawn. As I got closer, I realized
I would have to cross a creek. However, this creek was so deep you couldn’t see
the bottom. It wasn’t skinny enough to cross anywhere, and it took me a good 10
minutes of walking it to find a spot I decided to try to jump. It was wider
than I was comfortable jumping, but I gave it my best shot… falling down on the
landing and nearly falling backwards into the deep water. Luckily, I escaped
with only a single soaked leg.
By the time I got to Shawn, he was already done cutting up
the caribou; I felt bad I didn’t come looking for him sooner. Regardless, I was
there to help him pack out the meat. While we packed everything up, he told me
about the kill. He was up on the hill/ridge and spotted two bulls together a
few miles away. He spent a good amount of time getting as close as he could in
completely open terrain, and had to also cross the crazy river without the
caribou seeing him. After what seemed like hours, he got close enough to shoot.
He dropped one bull and went to shoot the other one, but by the time he had a
good shot, the second one was out of range. The living bull also didn’t stick
around long so one bull is all that hit the turf.
We split the weight, got our bearings, and started to head
back to camp. Within a hundred yards of starting out, I noticed antler shed
points sticking out of the ground. I kicked them and they didn’t budge. I
started to kick them harder, and still they were solid. I then started to pull
on them as hard as I could when I realized, I needed to dig! This shed was
pretty ancient, having tussocks grown on and around it, and roots down more
than a foot deep. I had to drop my pack to really dig it out. Surprisingly, the
shed was in amazing shape, with the brush that grew over it, protecting it from
the elements. The tips were the most weathered part of the shed, since they
were exposed. I latched it to the back of my pack and we set back out to hike.
This is when I realized how disorienting the Tundra can be
without a point of reference, especially with the fog rolling in preventing
views of items in the horizon. I thought I was going toward camp, but we soon
realized we were walking the completely opposite direction. We decided we
shouldn’t hike back before Ryan came and found us anyway, or else we risked not
seeing him on the way back and then him possibly getting lost while
unsuccessfully trying to locate us. So we waited.
We eventually saw him and began our hike in his direction.
He met us at the creek, at which point we again struggled to find a good place
to cross to Ryan’s side. We eventually found a non-jumping spot and crossed
without getting wet. Ryan offered to take some weight, but we were already in a
groove with quarters packed deep, so we didn’t share. I felt bad having him
meet us and not needing him, but I wasn’t sure what to expect prior to talking
to Shawn first.
We then went toward what we thought was camp. I eventually
looked at my GPS only to find that we were going in the wrong direction again.
At this point, I kept my GPS handy since it was so easy to get lost. At this
point, we were deep in a thin cloud, with mist everywhere and a slight sprinkle
starting. It was a cold and very wet hike back to camp which took much longer
than a 2-mile hike should take since every other step felt like wet, spongy
bowling balls in a swamp.
Back at camp, we set the meat in the packraft and covered it
to protect it from the precipitation. We had plans to cook steak and birds over
a fire that night, but the weather was too nasty. We all ended up retreating to
our tents to eat hot food and warm up. I got out for a bit to clean the two
birds, but returned shortly after since it was too miserable to stay out or
hunt in. As a result, we all stayed in our tents and crashed early that night.
At least it wasn’t snowing out!
Tomorrow our ride was going to pick us up around 10AM. The
plan would be to sleep in, wake up, pack, and wait. Hunting wasn’t really on
the task list, but who knows, a crazy bull caribou could come running through
camp and present an opportunity.
DAY 8
We got up to a cloudy/ windy, but not rainy day (thank
goodness) at about 8AM. Not much went on that morning except tearing down camp
and sitting around waiting to be picked up. They were an hour and half behind
so we weren’t picked up until 11:30AM. It was another awesome fan boat ride…
super smooth and surprisingly amazing how shallow the boat traveled.
Back at the launch, we helped with the routine chores,
thanked everyone, emptied the back of the truck into BOB and the trailer,
loaded the meat on the bunk racks, and got ready for the long trip home. We
setup the air conditioner and generator only to find out it didn’t have a low
or high setting (only a thermometer-based setting), so we couldn’t cool the
meat since it was less than 61 degrees out, but barely… and we couldn’t open
the windows due to the dust. We then talked about the concern for the meat, being
in the field for a while and no way to get it further cooled, so we decided to
book it all the way home, without stopping.
About a hundred miles into our trip home, the TPMS sensor
came on signaling a loss in tire pressure. I pulled over and got out, and were
hit with the unmistaken hiss of an active tire puncture. I was SOOOOOO mad
about this. I just put brand new tires on the truck, that were the only F rated
tires that fit the truck, which were supposed to be thicker, more durable, and basically
puncture proof along the Dalton… NOPE! A rock punctured this highly durable and
dependable tire I had my parents drive to Alaska! It took three plugs in that
single hole for it to stop leaking air.
We got to Atigun Pass, climbed high into the clouds, and
then came out on the other side in a different world! From 50 degrees, cloudy,
windy, and occasionally wet for hundreds of miles until Atigan Pass, to
absolutely clear skies, beaming sun, and blistering heat. The temperature
quickly climbed to 70+ degrees, at which point we pulled over to turn the air
conditioner on. Unfortunately, the generator was underpowered to run the air-conditioner.
Even though we tested it successfully before leaving, it wasn’t working when we
needed it most. We were now stuck without a way to cool the meat in this crazy
heat. We left the generator and AC fan going, but only helped with air
circulation. Our only hope was to get home as fast as possible. We eventually
opted to open the windows and hope it didn’t get too dusty in the back.
At Deadhorse, I finally relinquished driving to Dale Earnheart,
I mean Kevin who had an affinity for speed and bumps. Shawn eventually took
over during the night shift. I stayed up to keep him company while Kevin and
Ryan slept in the back. Sometime in the middle of the night and before
Fairbanks, the DEF fluid light came on, giving us 500 miles until the truck
would go in to limp mode. No place was open in Fairbanks that sold Def fluid so
we had to push on, hoping we could get something in Talkeetna.
DAY 9
Ryan took the AM shift as the sun was coming up. We saw a
couple foxes (Black\silver and a cross) and lots of smoke. My body was starting
to crash and I was falling in and out of sleep. Unfortunately, I was snoozing
when we drove through Talkeetna and I forgot to remind Ryan to stop to get DEF
fluid. The truck was telling us we didn’t have enough to get home, or even get
to the Wasilla, so we had to pray Willow had a store open that sold DEF fluid.
Luck would have it, the gas station we stopped at had DEF Fluid! Good thing too
because we were at 2 miles until the DEF fluid was empty!
We made it home around 9AM where we proceeded to unload and
sort everything. Meat was split, and I quickly put mine in the freezer to get
it cold. The guys went home to crash and I started working on the long process
recovering from the hunt. I fully unpacked the trailer, power washed
everything, and completed maintenance and repairs on the abused gears/ items. I
didn’t get done wrapping everything up until it was close to the kids’ bedtime.
I happily crashed at their early bedtime, happy to be home and in my bed again
without someone snoring in my ears 😊
