Our hunting buddy, Brett, moved to Minnesota, and when he left Oregon we made a deal that we all would go hunting in Alaska some day. My friend Dave and I were at a Sportsmans Show and talked to a guide from Alaska that did drop camps for caribou, moose, and black bear. At another Sports Show, we talked with Shirley Woods who owns River Drifter Booking Service (1333 Bayview, North Bend OR 97459 - or - 541-756-6934). She told us she had just the hunt for us and showed us High Adventure Air Charter in Soldotna Alaska. These were the same guys that we had talked to at the first Sports Show. We decided to do it. There were 5 of us going on the trip, Dave, his dad Don, Brett, out other hunting partner, Dan and Myself. Dave, Brett and Me would be hunting with archery gear, while Don and Dan used rifles. We figured if needed, we could use the rifles the last couple of days. The day finally arrived for us to fly to Alaska. This was going to be a trip of a lifetime.
We arrived in Anchorage about 1:30 am and headed for out hotel. We rented a van to carry us and all of our gear to Soldotna. We woke up in the morning and had a great breakfast and headed off. What a scenic drive. I would recommend that drive to anyone. We arrived in Soldotna and checked in with High Adventure. After weighing in our equipment,(we could only take in 75 lbs of gear each, including food) we all went to the cabin we had reserved with High Adventure. We then all went out to eat our last hot meal for awhile and tried to get some sleep.
We drove to High Adventure's lodge at the lake and loaded everything into two float planes and took off. We crossed Cook Inlet and headed for Lake Clark Pass. This was some of the most beautiful country I have ever seen. The flight itself was worth the price of the trip. We came out of the pass over Lake Clark and headed off into the tundra to find some caribou. We started seeing caribou almost right away, but not the big herds. The two planes split up to search the country a little better with Dave, Don and myself in one plane with Mark Bell our pilot, and Brett and Dan in the other with Greg Bell, their pilot . We finally found the big herds in snow drifts up high. Some of the snow fields held hundreds of caribou all squeezed together in the middle. The pilots found a lake for us to camp along and set us down. We unloaded our gear and set to work pitching camp. After the planes took off we settled in to camp and started glassing for caribou. Since you can't hunt the same day as you fly in Alaska, we could only look and plan for tomorrow.
After eating some freeze dried scrambled eggs, which were pretty good, we headed off. We spotted some caibou along way off on a hill, so we headed in that direction. After about a mile or so, we decided to split up with Dave and Don going one direction and Brett, Dan and Myself going the other. We were seeing alot of caribou but all from a long way off. Suddenly, we heard a rifle shot, then another. Since Don said he wasn't going to shoot the first day unless it was a monster, we figured that Don had gotten a dandy. We then saw a fairly large herd heading our way. We spilt up along a line of low brush and hoped that they would come toward one of us for a shot. Dan, who was hunting with a rifle decided that none of the bulls were big enough for him to shoot on the first day, but Brett and I saw a couple that were big enough for a couple of archery hunters like us. The herd headed my direction and got so close I could hear them breathing. Also, their hooves make a clicking noise that I could hear quite well. The bull that I was trying to get a shot at kept himself surrounded by cows and when he did open up for a shot, cows were behind him and I didn't want a pass through arrow to hit one of the cows. He wouldn't open himself up for a shot so I watched as the herd walked off and started climbing a small hill. I found Brett and Dan and started after them when we all looked up the hill and saw an amazing sight. A huge herd of caribou was headed our direction. There must of been at least 500 of them in this one herd. We all spread out along the low hills and sparse brush and hoped that they would continue coming our way. I wasn't exactly sure where Brett was, but I knew his general area and the caribou were getting real close to him. Suddenly the herd split in two. They still didn't run, but I knew something had spooked them, probably Brett. I started running around a small knob, hoping to cut one of the herds off before it crossed a small saddle. I was just about to some brush to hide in when I could here them coming. I squatted down just in time to see about 30 caribou heads pop up about 30 yards from me. With no cover, they saw me right away and the herd split up again. One herd bolted and didn't stop, the other herd ran to a small pond and stopped, unsure of what had spooked them. With no cover for a stalk, I though of a crazy idea. I had read about a guy who held his bow over his head to simulate antlers. He had done this during the rut, and this wasn't the rut, but I thought I would try it anyway. I put my bow over my head and started toward the herd. They all just stood there and watched. 100 yards, 75 yards, 50 yards, 40 yards, they suddenly started to walk off and I saw my chance. I scrambled to a small creek that they had to cross and took a position along side of it. I got there just as the first of the herd started across. They were moving so fast and were packed together so tight, I couldn't get a clear shot. I notice three large bulls coming next that didn't have any others around them. What happened next, I not real proud of, but that's hunting. I tried to pull my bow back but the arm I use to pull the string back was the arm I used to hold the bow over my head. My arm was to weak to pull the sting back straight. When I cocked the bow up to pull the string back, the three bulls, which by this time were in the creek 15 yards away, saw me move and bolted away with the rest of the herd in tow. I decided I had better find Dan and Brett, so I headed off to find them. As I was cresting a little knob, I noticed a big caribou bull laying down looking real sick with Dan and Brett creeping in closer. The bull finally just fell over with Brett's arrow in its side. Brett had the whole herd come down on him and split up about 20 yard away when he drew his bow back. The herd opened up and this bull was standing all by itself in the middle of the two herds. Brett put an arrow in its lungs and watched as it started walking away with the rest of the herd. He suddenly stopped an layed down and didn't get back up. The bull scored in the 370's, enough to put it in the Pope and Young record books. We caped and boned the critter and began the long pack back to camp about 5 miles away. We wondered what Don had shot at earlier. When we got back to camp, Don and Dave were there waiting for us and told us Don's story. They were walking along and saw a large herd in front of them. Dave saw a true monster and told his Don to take him. Don said that it was to small. Dave insisted that it was close to a record book animal. Don insisted that it was to small. Dave finally talked his dad into shooting. Don fired and said, "I hit him". Dave said "no you didn't he's running away". Don said,"no he's not, he's standing right there". They then both realized that they were talking about two different bulls. Don finnished the smaller bull and they watched the big herd run off. We went and helped them pack the bull back to camp and it wasn't a very small caribou at that. We all slept like rocks that night, excited about the next day.
We woke up and headed in the same direction. We were seeing a few scattered herds and we decided to try a stalk on 3 big bulls that were together. I belly crawled to within 30 yards, but the caribou saw me as I was attempting to come to a shooting position. He ran across from me, staying about 30 yards away. I came to full draw and released an arrow as he was standing broadside. A flat miss! The bull found his two partners and took off. After a day of chasing bulls around we headed back to camp and slept.
The caribou seemed to leave the area this day. We didn't see very many and the ones we did see were a long way off. We went back to camp and watched a brown bear sow with cubs eating an old dead caribou carcass about a mile from camp. Another large brownie came up and tried to muscle in on the meal. The sow smacked him in the head and chased him away. What a site! We didn't sleep as sound this night, knowing that a few brown bears were in the area.
This day we decided to go a different direction when we saw a small herd of bulls bedded about a mile from camp. Fog came in as we tried to stalk in closer and we lost sight of them. The fog lifted as we came to the crest of a ridge and we saw a herd with a couple of nice bulls about a mile away. The archery options were limited due to the flat, barren terrain, so we tried to get Dan set up for a rifle shot. We almost ran the mile to get to a spot where we could cut them off. Dan and Brett snuck over a ridge and saw the two bulls about 100 yards away. They noticed that one was a double shovel, so Dan fired at that one. Dan's caribou was a dandy! Massive horns and a double shovel. We caped and boned the meat and headed back to camp.
Dave grabbed the rifle and I decided to try one more day with the bow and then spend the last day with the rifle. We headed in a different direction and we were not seeing much. I had gone slightly ahead of the group when I heard a gunshot. I looked back to see Dave's caribou drop. It seems this bull came out of a draw behind us and was heading away from us when they saw him. Dave quickly decided he wanted this one, so he took the shot. We did the normal routine of cape and bone and headed back to camp. That evening we again saw the sow and cubs. We stalked in closer to get some pictures. We were about 100 yards away but that old sow heard our camera shutters clicking and she stood up to try to see us. We snapped a few parting shots and rolled off the hill and ran back to camp. She didn't look very happy at having her dinner disrupted.
The last day and I hadn't gotten one yet. The weather had turned windy and rainy, but we saw a large herd a long way off. We headed in that direction at a fast clip. I came up over a little rise and there they were; all cows. I was becoming desperate. We noticed another small bunch of caribou a ways off so we headed towards them. They were a band of small bulls. I got to within range and was trying to decide which one to shoot, when I noticed on the far ridge a massive set of antlers comming over the top. His rack was easily the biggest I had seen yet. The wind was perfect for me to move in, so I took off after him. I realized the wind would blow from the big bull, to me, and then to the small bulls, but I figured they would run away from the man smell, right? Wrong! The little bulls smelled me and came running right at me toward the big one on the hill. The big one was also turning to run realizing something wasn't right. I quickly decided if one of the small ones would stop long enough for a shot, I would take him. The biggest of the small ones stopped, I looked up on the hill at the big one and said to myself, "I'll be back for you". I then found the young bull and dropped him. The weather was getting worse and we were getting a long way from camp and it was the last day, so for a last minute caribou, he was a dandy in my book. The next day the plane would come in to pick us up and fly us back to reality, but we had had an awesome trip!