The month of September in Alaska carries a beautiful, yellow fall to the great expanse of land here. Quick on the heels of the changing hues is the clatter of hunters scrambling to capture a time of solace in the woods during the fall hunting seasons. Many hunters are successful and many are not in the chase of their game.
I, along with my dad and uncle, had the opportunity to join the ranks of hunters out in the field this fall, and thankfully, became a successful participant in the annual fall season of 2005.
In an effort to both capture the experience for the future and to describe it to others I have put together a story/journal of sorts that highlights much of the trip. I always think it difficult to describe an experience with words and pictures - nothing ever seems to do the reality of the experience justice. Thus, I would always recommend experiencing things for yourself if conditions permit, so go caribou hunting if what you see here is intriguing but just remember to expect the unexpected.
I must insert here that the following recounting of the experience is quite lengthy, longer then I had initially expected it would be (12 pages in a Word document - ah!). Additionally, if one is to continue reading I would recommend that they only do so if they agree with hunting. If a person doesn't agree with hunting then I would recommend they read no further. The account is not gruesome in detail but rather it is the principal of the matter I would suppose. No attempt will be made here to discuss the reasons for or against hunting.
Further, this version of the experience has not been passed by Gary or Dad for proofreading or input. Any growth or shrinking of the story on my part is due to my own recollection of the events at hand. I have attempted to describe everything as accurately as I recall, however, as they say, stories such as this tend to grow with time - thankfully it has only been a week or so...
Pictures of the trip have been added to the picture website that is maintained and can be visited by clicking here. I have tried to include those pictures that are the best suited and visualize aspects of the trip. Some are better than others. The pictures that include a date in the lower right corner were taken by Dad and the pictures which have no date are the pictures from my camera - it's roughly half and half for this collection.
The pictures have been arranged in a near chronological order. Each pictures caption includes a date indicating upon which day it was taken. I have included hyperlinks with the bold dates below that take you directly to the first picture included in the album of the corresponding date. Hopefully that works out for anyone who is interested.
And, so, let us begin...
Friday, 23 September 2005:
We departed Anchorage at the bright and early hour of 8 am, of course this meant leaving for the airport brighter and earlier as well, with Gary only running on a couple hours sleep having arrived from Oregon just after midnight that same morning.
In any case the flight to Dillingham put us there in time to re-pack and prepare to fly out with the air taxi, Bay Air. We were able to fly out a bit earlier than expected and arrived at our camp spot around 2 or 3 in the afternoon.
The decision on where to go was not made with a heavy knowledge of what might be there. It was more or less something that "sounds good" and actually turned out to be a wonderful spot... The air taxi was actually retrieving two hunters at this location and so was able to drop us and pick them up at the same time.
According to the previous hunters they hadn't seen any animals in the last couple of days, but had taken two cow caribou during their five day stay. In fact, they were basically weathered in for at least one day - no piece of information here that one would care to hear about their future hunting location...
We were located around an hour's flight northwest of Dillingham, Alaska (exact location will not be disclosed, but you could probably figure it out by looking at the geography...) and near the Togiak National Wildlife Refuge. The camp site was around 1800 feet above sea level, located next to a small lake, and surrounded by beautiful mountains.
The first day we spent much of the afternoon setting up camp (the tent and lean-to/kitchen), getting oriented, and examining the plentiful bear sign in the area. Dad was a bit paranoid about the bear sign, and probably rightly so with numerous locations of bear scat around and a bear-buried carcass around 70 yards to the south of camp. However, the departing hunters had no bear problems in camp but had seen a sow and cub on a hillside sometime during their stay. In any case it seemed reasonable to be aware of bears as is normally the case in the Alaska wilderness - thankfully we averted serious bear trouble but were not without a run-in with some bruins...
That evening Gary and I explored the bench and drainage above and to the northeast of camp. We were afforded a grand view of the lake and valley to the easterly direction in addition to a soft sunset streching over the mountains beyond the lake to the west.
Saturday, 24 September 2005:
Crawling out of the tent sometime after light, probably around 9 am or so, we were met with the first morning and full day of the hunt.
We decided to explore the valley to the slightly southeast of camp and thus, following breakfast and preparation, we set out. Before getting along too far we, as it became a normal practice, glassed the valley and surrounding hills from the bench above camp prior to getting too carried away. It was during one of these glassings that a large group of caribou were spotted on the opposite hills of the valley around a mile (or a bit more) away. The presence of caribou on the opposite side of the valley (opposite in the sense of across the valley floor, and, most importantly, across the sizable creek in the middle of the valley floor) became a recurring theme throughout the trip.
As the raven flies we probably hiked back along the north side of the valley to near one and a half miles. It wasn't a significant distance and the walking was fairly simple along the lower flank of the mountains.
The gravest mistake of the day was not packing along our hip boots to cross the creek. We attempted to scout a number of what we thought may be possible crossing locations, however, we were not able to find a dry crossing (well, apart from stripping off the lower half and going for it...). Alas, all we could accomplish that day was a halfway reasonable glassing of the heard of animals across the valley floor. In this group of near 60 animals there were hints of a number of interesting bulls, however, further pursuit would have to wait until we could figure out how to cross the stream.
Returning to camp in late afternoon we were able to enjoy a meal and another gentle sunset over the distant mountains. However, the weather of the day was not as gentle as the sunset picture may let on. It was this day that we first experienced the on again, off again nature of the rain in this country. In addition to rain and the occasional hail/sleet, there was wind from the east and a hint of sunshine from time to time to warm up that 40-degree air. Let's just say that the weather seemingly constantly morphed in an effort to persuade those caught out in it - well, at least during the first few days.
Sunday, 25 September 2005:
Arising from the warm sleeping bags a bit earlier then yesterday we made a consolidated effort to leave camp a bit earlier as well - not exactly the crack of dawn but 10:30 am anyway.
After glassing from the bench above camp, and noting the caribou herd of yesterday had moved slightly west (towards camp) and down the hillside just a hint we were prompted to make an effort to ford the creek and pursue the game in their territory. Thus, with hip boots strapped to our packs we set off from the bench high along the side of the valley (lower flank of the mountain). However, we departed from Dad at the bench as he was to man camp that day due to a flare-up of a previously agitated heel.
As Gary and I approached one of many ribs that provide a topographical wave along the flank of the mountains a cow caribou approached below us around the bottom of the rib. She stood and stared for a minute at us and then turned back and retreated the other direction, however, not apparently spooked. As we were able to look over the rib we noted a small group of caribou that were now generally heading back up the valley away from us (we later thought that had we stayed put when the cow initially saw us the herd may have moved towards us).
As we approached the subsequent rib in pursuit of the ambling caribou a bull of appreciable size was noted within the group and we decided that I should try for him (Gary forced me into taking the first attempt!). We attempted to fashion a suitable rest with Gary's pack for what appeared to be a 250 yard shot, however, I did not quite feel comfortable with the quartering shot presented by the bull. So after readjusting and lining back up on the bull he presented two more opportunities quartering away from us at around 300 yards - I should have taken one of these two opportunities but did not. The bull sauntered over the next rib and with him the remainder of the small herd bringing any opportunity here to a close.
Thinking that the caribou may have just retreated over this next rib, out of site, we pursued, but did not find the caribou anywhere in view. After assessing the situation and surrounding clues it appeared the caribou had gone up a drainage heading north. So, in an effort to provide either pursuit or a failed tracking attempt we scrambled up the slight drainage to a saddle - a height we estimated at least 1,000 feet elevation from the valley floor. We made it to the saddle between two rounded peaks and glassed the area beyond, to the north and north east. Far off in the distance, across another deeper drainage, were a group of caribou - we couldn't be certain that they were the same group but if I were a betting man my money would be that it was the same group; laughing histerically, I am certain, at the hunters they had evaded.
Of course, there was a certain piece of information that I failed to share with Gary prior to the failed opportunities on this bull. I had never actually shot an animal before, large or small, and had never lined up on an animal which I was certain was legal (hey, the moose over the past couple of years couldn't grow that last brow tine they needed per the reg book). I think this caused a lack of confidence in setting up on this first bull and missing what was a very good shot opportunity as he was quartering away from us. Gary took the news in stride, or at least he appeared to, and from that point was able to provide a number of good pointers, thus insuring some level of confidence for any subsequent opportunity. Details, details, eh?!
Following our retreat from the saddle just after 1 pm we took a little while to eat lunch and glass the opposite side of the valley from our vantage up the lower flank of our side of the valley. The caribou we had noted earlier that morning were still present, having moved from their initial location to a couple dispersed groups in an area just beyond a concise ridged bowl. We decided that our next pursuit would be after this group. It was not clear from this distance if there were bulls present that piqued our interest, however, we agreed to approach the groups from the backside of a number of small ridgelines that ran up the valley floor and peruse the caribou from the ridge of the small ridged bowl just to the northwest.
After a couple moments figuring out where best to cross the creek a suitable location was found and the first crossing of the creek made during our hunt (certainly not our last). We managed to approach the group without being spotted (it was close - a cow had stuck her head up and over a ridge - but we don't think we were spotted) and crept up and over the eastern point of the bowl to a vantage point of probably 40 or so caribou in the immediate area. I think we reached this vantage point sometime a little after 3 pm.
The weather was off and on during this time frame, as it had been yesterday. The glassing of this group was straught with rain, wind and even a bit of hail/sleet. We probably glassed for around a half-hour or a bit more and then backed off for a little while to warm-up, consider the options at hand, and wait out the current bought of nasty weather.
In this group of caribou, the immediate group as there was actually a group above and beyond probably another 1000 yards out to the southeast, around five bulls were identified all with varying features. The best of the group appeared, with the aid of Gary's spotting scope, to be a bull laying down around 300 yards to the east of our position on this small ridge of the bowl. We decided that this might be the best opportunity for me to take a bull caribou (Gary was quite gracious in this) and so we begin to set up a rest in a suitable position for the bull of interest.
As I was settling in to the make shift rest there emerged a small group of caribou from a lower drainage to the south of where we were - a group that we could previously not see from our lookout. In this group was a bull of more appreciable stature then any we had seen yet. In one of those near split-second (but obvious) decisions we decided that I would go after this newly appeared bull.
The first shot was placed at a distance of nearly 280 yards (give or take) towards this bull that was slightly quartering away from us and took out the right rear ankle of the bull - a bad shot. A second shot was fired at a little greater distance - a shot that we figured never made contact! At this point the bull was hobbling off and the rest of the herd had figured that something was up and continued moving away from the awful noise, some quicker than others. The bull hobbled along the flank of a smaller ridge and I had a third opportunity, again with a slight quartering shot - however, in my rush to load the third round I failed to bring the bolt back far enough to engage the round from the magazine - thus the third attempt was not a shot at all.
At this point I was pretty unhappy with myself and hated to see that I had failed to make a clean kill on a now injured animal - my confidence was fading fast. I then quickly made certain the third round was in the chamber and set up again on the bull who was now just over 300 yards in the distance. Using Gary's advice I sighted in high (on the bull's backbone just down from above the right shoulder) and took the third shot - a shot that proved to be the last. This dropped the bull and appeared to be the final shot - most thankfully! Gary later found the bullet from the third shot while skinning out the left side of the bull - the bullet had entered the right side of the bull, to the rear of the shoulder and taking out a lung and part of a vertebrate. Upon approaching the bull we confirmed that the third shot had done what was intended much to my relief and begun the work of taking the meat off the animal - after a number of pictures of course.
Just as we completed the pictures and started in on skinning the animal a rainbow appeared to the north of us spanning the valley floor from east to west. We tried to get a few pictures with the rainbow, but I failed to get the camera exposure to agree with a top quality picture. I suppose that more importantly the rainbow signified to me that God had blessed us with a safe hunt and a wonderful bull caribou. Additionally, I think that third shot was more then I could have done on my own and certainly was more than lucky - the first two shots proved my confidence was lacking - and I don't believe in luck.
It was around a quarter to five in the afternoon when the final kill shot was made. After some pictures we remained at the kill site separating the head and taking the meat off the animal until around 7:30 pm. Following placement of the meat around 75 yards to the south and crosswind of the kill site we departed for camp, arriving to a hot meal by the resident chef just after 9 pm. It was excellent to crawl into the sleeping bag that night.
Monday, 26 September 2005:
Monday morning the job at hand was to head back to the kill site and pack out the remaining meat and antlers (Gary had taken a load of meat the previous night and I had our day packs on my packboard).
To this end we left camp in the late morning and set out lightly packed with food and water. The hike to the kill site was around an hour and a half if kept in motion. We weren't exactly in a hurry but I think the general consensus is that it would be good to get the meat and antlers packed out and then focus on getting Gary a caribou.
The day turned out to be rather nice for this part of the country and at this time of year - at least notably more pleasant then previous days. The sun even peeked out from behind the high cloud cover and graced us with its welcome presence. However, there was a constant wind this day rolling down the valley, as was typically the case during the trip - a wind that could chill to the bone if not prepared for its stiffness. We were essentially hiking upwind heading towards the kill site and so the return, with the wind at our backs, was especially nice.
Arriving near the kill site we approached cautiously, glassing the area on the lookout for predators of the big and brown variety. Finding only ravens after peeking out from around the corner of a ridgeline we approached the site.
Following the mandatory additional pictures and viewing of the outstanding butchering work (w/o gutting the animal) that Gary had performed the day previous (I did help, but certainly felt little but an observer) we set about removing the skull cap with antlers from the head that had been separated the previous evening.
While I was finishing up cleaning what I could from the skull cap (you don't really want to know...) Gary and Dad were figuring out the distribution of the meat for the pack out. It was about this time that I looked up from my work for what I think was simply a scan of the surrounding low slung ridges. There was a slight movement on the crest of a ridge somewhere over 200 yards to our south accompanied by a raven - this noted next to a rather brown rock - or what appeared to be a rock. It felt like a full minute as I starred at that dark brown hue of a rock, though it must have only been a handful of seconds, then time seemingly slowed down as the rock began to move.
"Hey guys, bear!" I said in a voice that surprised me in its calmness. Then the action begin - Dad and Gary spun around from arranging the meat for the packs and after some discussion on what to do - something that I really don't remember except it was now clear that there was not just one bear but a sow with three cubs - we all three consolidated closer to one another and moved slightly towards the bear waving our arms and yelling, loudly. The sow took a few steps towards us, and continued looking towards us as her cubs milled around uncertain of what was next - just as we were. I don't know how long she starred towards us, I think it was just a handful of seconds, but whatever it was she eventually decided that we were not worth her time and turned with her cubs ambling off over the crest of the ridge.
That was the last we saw of that family of grizzlies and remains our only bear story for the trip - thankfully. We supposed that she probably was back at the kill site later that evening in order to fatten up her clan on the caribou buffet, with our compliments of course. The amazing part is that had we arrived at the kill site an hour later then what we had, there would have been no chance at retrieving the meat or the antlers. Thus, we were mighty thankful that such an event, if to occur at all, would take place in such a blessed encounter.
Needless to say that following the action with the grizzlies our exit from the area was exponentially hurried and we just kept moving for at least a good forty-five minutes until we reached the stream crossing and our hip boots. It was there we sat and ate some lunch and enjoyed the nice day - with the wind at our back.
We arrived back at camp around 4:30 pm and set about storing the meat. Thanks to Dad's efforts of the previous day, storage of the meat with adequate ventilation and rain cover proved to be rather quick and easy.
As we recouped from the day's events, I unloaded my wet day back and other items that had been nicely saturated, and went about laying them out in the breezy, but sunny, conditions - optimistically hoping for some drying action. During the day Gary had talked about going out in the late afternoon if we had not crossed paths with caribou earlier in the day (we did see some during our packing out but at quite a distance I believe) - he was serious and moving about camp in preparation to head back out while I casually laid out my stinky, wet items. Having already left camp that morning prepared to take another caribou I don't think there was much else for Gary to throw in his pack - he sure didn't waste time in any case.
Gary left camp just after 5:30 pm on a course due south, across the marsh where the creek of the valley opened up and dumped into the lake. I told him that I would keep an eye on where he was heading and follow when I was ready. Gary pushed nearly straight across the marsh to our south and then angled his way up the side of a hill - heading roughly west on the face of a ridge that ran east to west. We kept track of his movements with binoculars and he eventually crested the ridgeline around a quarter-mile to the west of where he had first set out angling up the side of the hill.
I finally struck out for the marsh a quarter after 6 pm that evening. It didn't take long to reach the main body of stream, however, the crossing of the stream was not as quick and easy as Gary's crossing had seemingly been. I spent a solid half-hour walking up and down the bank of the not-so-shallow stream looking for a spot to cross. I had no idea how Gary got across in relatively quick fashion as I could not seem to find a safe crossing that was not over my hips boots.
I was considering giving up and now that Gary was not in sight up on the ridgeline (he had been silhouetted from time to time) I didn't think it necessary to continue as I was certain Gary was only up there for scouting purposes. One thing I didn't mention earlier is that I was tired from the efforts of the previous day and today and my two wimpy legs were beginning to get that jell-o feeling. So, I was really just attempting to talk myself out of additional exercise that day in a not-so-rational way.
It was then, while dwelling in my self-pity and tiredness, that I heard a shot followed by a number of cow caribou running along the crest of the ridge directly to the south of my location near the stream. There was another shot and a small figure visible up on the ridge near where the cow caribou had been spotted seconds earlier. This occurred just a few minutes after seven - an hour and a half since Gary had left camp.
Frantically, in excitement and curiosity, I dug through my pack looking for the two-way radio that had been shoved into the depths just an hour previous. Finding it and turning it on I found that Dad and Gary were already in discussion over the events just minutes prior. Gary had taken a bull up on the ridge!
In the ensuing, broken, two-way radio conversation Gary declined aid in butchering the animal (something that I should have pushed on to help him with we later thought!) and, piecing together the story from this conversation and later that evening it was clear that he had been in the right spot at the right time.
After cresting the ridge around a quarter-mile to the west he had continued back up the sloping ridge in a easterly direction while glassing the backside of the ridge from around the crest. As he approached a flat area prior to where the ridge continued up to the peak of the mountain at a much greater incline he could hear the sound of hoofs on rock. Streching out from around a rock he spotted a couple of cow caribou, who, at this point or just a little later spooked. It was at this point he noted a large bull in the rear of the cows who soon began to run as well. Gary made a split-second decision and took an initial shot at the bull, which dropped him, and followed up with a kill shot to the head moments later.
It sounds as though Gary was as surprised about the opportunity with this group of caribou as I was surprised that he took an animal. Gary had said that he is not certain from which direction the caribou had approached as he had previously glassed the entire ridgeline and backside of the ridge (which was more of a flat plateau) and had not seen any sign of this group of caribou. It was after continuing towards the flatter portion of the top of the ridge he was walking that the caribou appeared to approach from the frontside of the ridge and in any case were just as much a surprise as anything. Gary ended up with a beautiful bull caribou - pleased with his decision to go in search of an animal that evening.
The real work begins after taking an animal - and so it began for Gary this night just a bit after 7 pm. He was working on separating the meat and the head until nearly 9:30 pm. Dad and I could watch him silhouetted on the ridge while we prepared and ate dinner back at camp (that just sounds wrong doesn't it?!). Complete darkness set in just a bit after 9 pm, as the weather begin to roll in. We were in radio contact with Gary and were aware of his movement and condition (he did have a small flashlight that weaved about across the darkness of the marsh as well). It took just under two hours to make it back to camp safely that night, hampered by the stream crossing in the dark, but he did find his way and appeared around a quarter after eleven. Thankfully a change of dry clothes and a hot meal awaited Gary in camp, as did the ears of two hunters anxious to hear his story of the hunt.
The sleeping bags felt great to all of us that night, and rightly so I suppose. However our ears were attune to the more harrowing aspect of the heavy rain and wind that attacked the tent that night. Not only that but thoughts of what might be happening to the meat that sat upon the ridge to the south. Hopefully the day to follow would not be as ugly as the night sounded.
Tuesday, 27 September 2005:
Tuesday morning we awoke in hopes of finding a day that would limit dryer weather than the night had. We soon found that the day would become quite nice and probably the most pleasant day of the trip - to everyone's relief I think.
We sat out in the late morning, as was our custom (hey it didn't get completely light until near 9 am), and directed our sights on the ridge to the south. All told the trip to the top was probably a good hour and a half if not a bit more as we took our time to establish a safe spot to cross the creek and marked it for the return trip.
Upon cresting just above and to the west of the snowfield (look at the picture) we approached the kill site (from downwind actually) cautiously, as the bear incident of yesterday was still fresh in our minds, and found only ravens, thankfully.
Gary had done a great job of butchering out the bull by himself and the meat remain untouched 50 yards upwind from the carcass - granted the meat was a bit wet from the previous night as Gary's older space blanket could not handle the wind. We set about taking as many pictures as patience would allow and then began the task of distributing meat to packs and removing the antlers from the head.
From the vantage point of this low ridge (it was something like 750 feet above the valley) were some beautiful views of the surrounding country - excellent backdrops for pictures of Gary and his caribou - Dad and I snuck into a few pictures as well.
Our route down the hill was more direct then our ascent and along the way we stopped for a few more pictures of Dad and his bull - check it out. The descent was a welcome walk back to camp with a couple of happy hunters.
We stopped and took a break where we had stashed our hip boots and ate some needed lunch while we found that a decent sized group of caribou had found their way over to the side of the valley upon which our camp lay. Initially the were at a point probably a third of a mile up the valley from camp and were slowly feeding their way down the valley towards us. We continued to watch them for some time but eventually figured that it would be good to get the meat back to camp and get it drying.
The crossing of the marsh had increased difficulty with the additional pack weight that each of us carried, however, the crossing was intriguing under the eye of the caribou just a quarter-mile or less to the east. The caribou never spooked and I don't even know that they really noted our presence. Regardless we did make it back to camp and set about getting the meat stored properly.
By this point in the day it was after mid-afternoon and we then considered our options while keeping an eye on the caribou herd that was within easy sight of the bench just behind camp. There were probably no less than sixty animals in this group - a group that Gary and I were certain were present the day that I took my bull on Sunday. In amongst the caribou were the thoughts of leaving a day early. Thanks to the satellite phone Dad was able to contact the air taxi and secure an probable pick-up time of 10 am or so on Wednesday morning.
Thus, our attention focused on readying for departure in the morning, however, an eye or two were kept on the unknowing caribou group that so easily presented itself close to camp. In fact, one cow essentially walked around the corner of the bench and practically into camp at only 70 yards from the tent or so. Certainly one of the highlights was the opportunity to watch these caribou closely - they are an amazing and majestic animal.
We enjoyed our first dinner out from under the tarp that evening and with a sunset over the lake.
Wednesday, 28 September 2005:
Wednesday morning we awoke to fog and slight mist. Actually, lots of fog. After slower morning then what a sunny clear day would prompt us for and after a few calls to the air taxi we set about packing things up. In spite of the weather the air taxi would attempt a pickup a little later in the morning.
The thought of returning home for a nice hot shower was very pleasant - though a little ways off and many questions to be answered. Additionally, as wonderful as the hunt had been I think Gary was looking forward to having a couple extra days to explore Alaska with my Aunt. So, while we were not scurrying around camp there was a certain determination to get packed in spite of the fact that the fog seemingly had no intentions of lifting.
During the morning of packing and readying ourselves a small herd of caribou emerged from the hills above the bench behind camp, ambling down from parts unknown. They literally passed within 20 yards above our tent and kitchen area and Gary was able to watch from a close distance on the edge of the bench. In amongst their group were a number of cows and a bull. One of the cows found her way down around the corner of the bench and right near camp, much as the cow had the day previous. Again, it was another opportunity to glance at these animals up close.
After having been packed and ready for a little bit we sat under the tarp, out of the fog and mist, and ate as much food as possible - we were nearly at our max payload heading into camp and even with the forced eating that Gary and I did by Dad's aggressive supervision we were still uncertain if the air taxi would have to make an additional trip.
The fog began to lift sometime just after half past eleven or so and as we walked up to the bench to check on the small herd of caribou that had been watched by us (or them watching us?) earlier that morning. As we were standing there admiring the country and the fog that had lifted to a ceiling of around 500 feet or so we heard the distinct rumble of a rotary engine from a De Haviland Beaver. Following what sounded as a couple of circles up in the valley above the fog the Beaver came roaring out of the fog from the southern portion of the valley and headed right for us - Bay Air had returned for us much to our surprise and relief.
We were able to make the payload weight and, perhaps more importantly, were able to fit all of our stuff into the plane (it was tight, just ask Dad and Gary who got to share the backseat with Gary's drybag). Indeed the flight back to Dillingham was beautiful and certainly another highlight of the trip.
Back in Dillingham we repacked our numerous bags and boxes and set off to see about shipping the meat and cargo and gathering ourselves onto a flight back to Anchorage. As it turned out we were blessed to obtain seats on a flight later that evening and had plenty of time to see that the meat, antlers and other cargo was arranged for shipment on a flight the following day.
I think we were all glad to return to Anchorage that evening (I think at least my Mom and Aunt were relieved), though we relish opportunity which we shared out in the Alaska wilderness. The hot shower was very welcome that evening.
It is not often that I have had an opportunity to spend such time in the wilds of Alaska. Getting out around Anchorage and Fairbanks is certainly venturing into the wilderness, however, it is a different wilderness - one accessible to the road system and to the many amentities and convieniences such brings with it. As I noted earlier it is very difficult to summarize the experience with simple words and pictures - such just don't do the experience proper justice. A time in the wilderness, whether it is hunting or not, is certainly an opportunity to cherish, enjoy, and remember for life.
Our trip was certainly a blessed experience I feel and I am very glad that God was watching out for us as we did very much enjoy the opportunity and hunting experienced in God's Country. The geography, location, hunting and companionship exceeded expectations.
Thanks to Dad for putting many of the details together over many hours and to Gary for his heavy involvement in aiding my efforts towards my first caribou. We had a grand time.
