MTbowhunter84
Member
Congrats on an absolutely awesome bear!
Alaska Black Bear – Part III
- Thread starter Big Fin
- Start date
Joe Hulburt
Well-known member
Dandy bear! Congratulations on what looks to be an incredible hunt.
MinnesotaHunter
Well-known member
Awesome bear Randy! Great adventure to boot!
drahthaar
Active member
Great job Randy, Congrats on a huge bear!!!
Point Creep
Well-known member
That's exactly the bear I hope to see every time I head out to hunt, but have never found him yet. Congrats! Can't wait to see the footage you guys got.
Found some time to get most the details of the story typed up. Here goes.
Well, I guess I will take off from where I was at the time we made the decision to go fly out on Friday, even without all of our camera gear and with some of the camp gear missing for the camera guys. The weather forecast was great, and even with less than optimal filming equipment, none of us wanted to wait around any longer.
I was getting worried, as we had already lost one day on a five day hunt. Even if we got out on this day, we are looking at a four day hunt in a situation where I have elected to go with limited mobility in exchange for being in that one special place. I was willing to roll the dice that I had picked a spot that was loaded with bears, but knew that every day lost was going to make the odds much more difficult.
The new show format is to bring everything that happens, good or bad. I will admit, I am rather tired of the events that seemed to have occurred this season that seemed to always be getting in the way of progress. It gets old. And, when it happens as often as it happened this year, people are going to think we contrive this kind of drama. We have had more of that in this season than the previous four seasons of OYOA, combined.
With the decision made, we dashed down to the air taxi hangar, organized what we had, then made a list of essentials that did not make it. The air taxi guys were kind enough to swing by a store on the way to the sea plane harbor, allowing Brad to buy a sleeping bag. None of the camera essentials are available in Petersburg, so no need to search for that. Lucky for me, all my gear made it, so I was going to be comfortable. Camera guys comfort – questionable.
We were loaded and the Beaver was airborne in no time. The flight out was as scenic as it was uneventful. On our way in, we saw five bears, all sows with cubs. Not what you hope for, but given the mating season is starting the presence of sows is never a bad thing.
We unloaded our junk and while forming a camp, the skiff the camera guys had rented was delivered. They would have it easy. Me, well, it would be all Norse power for my small craft, an idea that turned out to be one of the best ideas in a long time. A small inflatable like that SOAR was the ticket. I only wish I had sprung for the motor bracket and rented a small outboard here in Pburg. Oh well, next time.
Knowing the full moon would bring the highest tides of the months, we could not set camp near the beach. The tide would come all the way to the tree line on Saturday and Sunday night. So, we took our tents and sleeping bags about a100 vertical feet up where Brad found a flat spot on the high mossy rocks and among the tall trees. Left the remainder of our gear on the first step above the high tide mark. No need to haul it all up to the tent location.
While the guys inventoried and readied what camera gear existed, I got busy inflating my raft. In no time, I had it out on the water, giving it the test ride. Seemed seaworthy to the extent these tide flats and back bays would require.
Well, I guess I will take off from where I was at the time we made the decision to go fly out on Friday, even without all of our camera gear and with some of the camp gear missing for the camera guys. The weather forecast was great, and even with less than optimal filming equipment, none of us wanted to wait around any longer.
I was getting worried, as we had already lost one day on a five day hunt. Even if we got out on this day, we are looking at a four day hunt in a situation where I have elected to go with limited mobility in exchange for being in that one special place. I was willing to roll the dice that I had picked a spot that was loaded with bears, but knew that every day lost was going to make the odds much more difficult.
The new show format is to bring everything that happens, good or bad. I will admit, I am rather tired of the events that seemed to have occurred this season that seemed to always be getting in the way of progress. It gets old. And, when it happens as often as it happened this year, people are going to think we contrive this kind of drama. We have had more of that in this season than the previous four seasons of OYOA, combined.
With the decision made, we dashed down to the air taxi hangar, organized what we had, then made a list of essentials that did not make it. The air taxi guys were kind enough to swing by a store on the way to the sea plane harbor, allowing Brad to buy a sleeping bag. None of the camera essentials are available in Petersburg, so no need to search for that. Lucky for me, all my gear made it, so I was going to be comfortable. Camera guys comfort – questionable.
We were loaded and the Beaver was airborne in no time. The flight out was as scenic as it was uneventful. On our way in, we saw five bears, all sows with cubs. Not what you hope for, but given the mating season is starting the presence of sows is never a bad thing.
We unloaded our junk and while forming a camp, the skiff the camera guys had rented was delivered. They would have it easy. Me, well, it would be all Norse power for my small craft, an idea that turned out to be one of the best ideas in a long time. A small inflatable like that SOAR was the ticket. I only wish I had sprung for the motor bracket and rented a small outboard here in Pburg. Oh well, next time.
Knowing the full moon would bring the highest tides of the months, we could not set camp near the beach. The tide would come all the way to the tree line on Saturday and Sunday night. So, we took our tents and sleeping bags about a100 vertical feet up where Brad found a flat spot on the high mossy rocks and among the tall trees. Left the remainder of our gear on the first step above the high tide mark. No need to haul it all up to the tent location.
While the guys inventoried and readied what camera gear existed, I got busy inflating my raft. In no time, I had it out on the water, giving it the test ride. Seemed seaworthy to the extent these tide flats and back bays would require.
Time to go and scout. Since we could not hunt the day we flew, the rest of the day was spent scouting, testing gear, and gathering our bearings about the landscape and what we would be up against when the tides started changing the landscape.
It was a beautiful evening, with darkness not really coming and it still being light enough to see without a lamp by the time I went to bed at 10:30. Before going to bed, we glassed all the shores we could from our camp spot. Nothing. Kind of cool to be able to glass a couple miles of prime shoreline while eating dinner on the beach. Not that a Mountain House of Teriyaki Chicken and Rice is anything fantastic, but the setting made up for it.
I was waken a few times during the night as the rain hit the roof of my tent. Didn’t seem to be much of a rain, so I went back to sleep without much worry of getting soaked. I did not sleep worth a crap. Too many tree roots under my tent spot. Even though I was the flattest spot in the area, it was far from flat. But, it was dry and the tall trees blocked any wind.
We woke that morning and glassed. It was best to wait until mid-morning, until the tide would allow us to beach the boat in a place where we could probably catch the tide later that evening after a day of hiking the back corners of the bays hidden by these tide flats.
Idea was for me to row over to the landing spot and the camera guys would motor over and meet up with me. Good in theory. Once I got over to the spot, I glassed back and could see the camera guys had not even left the camp beach and through the binos, I could see they were reefing on the outboard. After the experience on the Alaska moose hunt, my first thought was, “Not this again.”
I watched for a few more minutes and it became clear they were not making any progress on the situation. I turned my inflatable back into the wind and started the twenty-minute paddle back to camp. When I got there, the guys had pulled, reefed, pushed, and did most everything obvious to try get this outboard to cooperate.
In a fatherly, “get out of my way and let me have a look” manner, I beached my raft and walked over to their skiff.
Did you check the battery connections? “Yup.”
Did you pump the fuel line bulb? “Yup.”
Did you open the gas tank bleeder valve? “Yup.”
Ok, let me at this. Grabbed the channel locks and cranked on the battery contacts. “Matt, hit the start button.” No luck. Just more clicking. Time to pull off the cowling and get ready to hand start it.
With the cowling off, I ask Matt to keep hitting the start button. Damn starter won’t engage. Alright, gotta be something in one of these starter wires. Pull them off, polish them up, and put them back on. Nothing. Clicking continues.
Disconnect the wires from the relay switch to the starter. Hmm. No clicking. Could it be the starter? Hope not. Best to call the skiff renter and ask if this is a recurring problem.
Make the call. Answer – You need to beat the hell out of the battery terminals. For some reason, they are fickle and if it isn’t lined up perfectly, it won’t get enough juice.
Well, I already tried that and so did the camera guys. Grab the channel locks and twist the wires back and forth around the terminals until they were really loose. Then, hammered the wire brackets back down to the point they got on the battery posts again.
"Hit the switch Matt."
"Brrrrrrrrrrr" and away she goes.
And with that, we are only delayed by a few hours. Other than now the tide has come in further and we don’t want to beach their boat at high tide. When you see pics of the tide flats, you will see why you want to beach on an incoming tide, and then catch your boat at the same depth on the outgoing tide. For my inflatable, it doesn’t matter. We just grab it and haul it up on the beach and if the tide is low, grab it and haul it back down to the water line.
It was a beautiful evening, with darkness not really coming and it still being light enough to see without a lamp by the time I went to bed at 10:30. Before going to bed, we glassed all the shores we could from our camp spot. Nothing. Kind of cool to be able to glass a couple miles of prime shoreline while eating dinner on the beach. Not that a Mountain House of Teriyaki Chicken and Rice is anything fantastic, but the setting made up for it.
I was waken a few times during the night as the rain hit the roof of my tent. Didn’t seem to be much of a rain, so I went back to sleep without much worry of getting soaked. I did not sleep worth a crap. Too many tree roots under my tent spot. Even though I was the flattest spot in the area, it was far from flat. But, it was dry and the tall trees blocked any wind.
We woke that morning and glassed. It was best to wait until mid-morning, until the tide would allow us to beach the boat in a place where we could probably catch the tide later that evening after a day of hiking the back corners of the bays hidden by these tide flats.
Idea was for me to row over to the landing spot and the camera guys would motor over and meet up with me. Good in theory. Once I got over to the spot, I glassed back and could see the camera guys had not even left the camp beach and through the binos, I could see they were reefing on the outboard. After the experience on the Alaska moose hunt, my first thought was, “Not this again.”
I watched for a few more minutes and it became clear they were not making any progress on the situation. I turned my inflatable back into the wind and started the twenty-minute paddle back to camp. When I got there, the guys had pulled, reefed, pushed, and did most everything obvious to try get this outboard to cooperate.
In a fatherly, “get out of my way and let me have a look” manner, I beached my raft and walked over to their skiff.
Did you check the battery connections? “Yup.”
Did you pump the fuel line bulb? “Yup.”
Did you open the gas tank bleeder valve? “Yup.”
Ok, let me at this. Grabbed the channel locks and cranked on the battery contacts. “Matt, hit the start button.” No luck. Just more clicking. Time to pull off the cowling and get ready to hand start it.
With the cowling off, I ask Matt to keep hitting the start button. Damn starter won’t engage. Alright, gotta be something in one of these starter wires. Pull them off, polish them up, and put them back on. Nothing. Clicking continues.
Disconnect the wires from the relay switch to the starter. Hmm. No clicking. Could it be the starter? Hope not. Best to call the skiff renter and ask if this is a recurring problem.
Make the call. Answer – You need to beat the hell out of the battery terminals. For some reason, they are fickle and if it isn’t lined up perfectly, it won’t get enough juice.
Well, I already tried that and so did the camera guys. Grab the channel locks and twist the wires back and forth around the terminals until they were really loose. Then, hammered the wire brackets back down to the point they got on the battery posts again.
"Hit the switch Matt."
"Brrrrrrrrrrr" and away she goes.
And with that, we are only delayed by a few hours. Other than now the tide has come in further and we don’t want to beach their boat at high tide. When you see pics of the tide flats, you will see why you want to beach on an incoming tide, and then catch your boat at the same depth on the outgoing tide. For my inflatable, it doesn’t matter. We just grab it and haul it up on the beach and if the tide is low, grab it and haul it back down to the water line.
It is now about 1pm. The good part of the first day is toast. If we hustle and get over there, we can beach now, before high tide, and push the camera guy’s skiff out to deeper water, cheating the incoming tide by a bit. We do that and load our packs for what will be six miles of hiking the tidal areas.
Perfect weather for a hunt. Sun setting in the west is lighting up the shorelines, making for great glassing. Bears here are all black, or at least every bear I have seen. In the sunlight, they stand out against the deep green of the shoreline grasses.
We hike and hike, trying to keep the wind in our favor, but it is not completely possible. We find a few good spots at the wide mouths for creek entrances and setup for some calling. Either my calling sucks or there were no bears in earshot. Probably my calling.
We get to the far end of this flat area around 8:00 pm. It has taken a long time to get here, as I spent a lot of it scouting, looking for sign, and setting up for calling. Discouraging to have hiked this far, covering so much bear country, and especially so in areas where I have seen a lot of bears in the past. Not much I can do about it. GPS says it is three miles as the crow flies to get back to where we beached. Ahead of us lies another two miles of great beach and flats that looks like serious bear ground.
Hmmm, what to do?
Brad has been with me for over a year now. He looks at me and says, “I know what you’re thinking?” I smile, as he knows exactly what I am thinking. That being my idea to continue hiking until dark, hoping to cover the next two miles of visible shoreline. We could make our way to the boats by headlamp.
Given we have to cross some muddy, ugly spots, and some spots that might be deeper with the incoming tide, better judgment prevails. I turn and tell the guys that we will get back here tomorrow, earlier in the day, and cover those remaining two miles with ample time to get back before dark.
We get back to the beached boats in about an hour and a half, keeping a brisk pace as my mind is wondering where the bears could be. My last two trips were two weeks earlier than this, do they leave the beaches by now, heading to the hills? Have many other hunters been here, which would amaze me, and their pressure has the bears moved off the beaches? Is it just hunting luck, where things don’t often go how you draw it up on the whiteboard?
Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter. We are now down to three days. It is still another hour before the guy’s skiff will be floating, so they decide they will skirt the tide pool coming into the bay and add another mile and half to their already long hike. We will load all the gear in my raft and I will row the three quarter mile across the bay, back to camp and meet them there.
As I row back to camp, my mind is convinced that I just need to be patient. Today was a super warm day by Southeast AK standards, so the bears probably did not want to be out in the sun on a day of these temps. At least that is an answer that gives me some comfort, even though it is just a wild ass guess as to why the bears were not in places I have seen them in the past.
I arrive a few minutes before them, haul the gear up to the tree line, and get ready to serve a dinner of Mountain House. We are all starving, so MH sounds good to us. In short order, we have the boats tied up, gear stowed, and we head up the rocks to our tents.
I set my alarm for 4:30. It is when the sun first starts providing enough light to glass.
That alarm comes way too soon. I don’t want to get out of the tent, but I know we have very little time to get this done. We have to be hunting from daylight to dark.
Perfect weather for a hunt. Sun setting in the west is lighting up the shorelines, making for great glassing. Bears here are all black, or at least every bear I have seen. In the sunlight, they stand out against the deep green of the shoreline grasses.
We hike and hike, trying to keep the wind in our favor, but it is not completely possible. We find a few good spots at the wide mouths for creek entrances and setup for some calling. Either my calling sucks or there were no bears in earshot. Probably my calling.
We get to the far end of this flat area around 8:00 pm. It has taken a long time to get here, as I spent a lot of it scouting, looking for sign, and setting up for calling. Discouraging to have hiked this far, covering so much bear country, and especially so in areas where I have seen a lot of bears in the past. Not much I can do about it. GPS says it is three miles as the crow flies to get back to where we beached. Ahead of us lies another two miles of great beach and flats that looks like serious bear ground.
Hmmm, what to do?
Brad has been with me for over a year now. He looks at me and says, “I know what you’re thinking?” I smile, as he knows exactly what I am thinking. That being my idea to continue hiking until dark, hoping to cover the next two miles of visible shoreline. We could make our way to the boats by headlamp.
Given we have to cross some muddy, ugly spots, and some spots that might be deeper with the incoming tide, better judgment prevails. I turn and tell the guys that we will get back here tomorrow, earlier in the day, and cover those remaining two miles with ample time to get back before dark.
We get back to the beached boats in about an hour and a half, keeping a brisk pace as my mind is wondering where the bears could be. My last two trips were two weeks earlier than this, do they leave the beaches by now, heading to the hills? Have many other hunters been here, which would amaze me, and their pressure has the bears moved off the beaches? Is it just hunting luck, where things don’t often go how you draw it up on the whiteboard?
Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter. We are now down to three days. It is still another hour before the guy’s skiff will be floating, so they decide they will skirt the tide pool coming into the bay and add another mile and half to their already long hike. We will load all the gear in my raft and I will row the three quarter mile across the bay, back to camp and meet them there.
As I row back to camp, my mind is convinced that I just need to be patient. Today was a super warm day by Southeast AK standards, so the bears probably did not want to be out in the sun on a day of these temps. At least that is an answer that gives me some comfort, even though it is just a wild ass guess as to why the bears were not in places I have seen them in the past.
I arrive a few minutes before them, haul the gear up to the tree line, and get ready to serve a dinner of Mountain House. We are all starving, so MH sounds good to us. In short order, we have the boats tied up, gear stowed, and we head up the rocks to our tents.
I set my alarm for 4:30. It is when the sun first starts providing enough light to glass.
That alarm comes way too soon. I don’t want to get out of the tent, but I know we have very little time to get this done. We have to be hunting from daylight to dark.
I climb out, take some meds, brush my teeth, and head down to the beach where the tide has peaked a couple hours prior and is now on its way back out. I set up the spotter, looking into the back corners of the many bays that are visible from our camp spot. I could just as well be glassing from the motel in Pburg. Nothing.
I stay there for over an hour. I walk around the point where I can see further to the north. I glass there for a half hour. Same result.
I am so tired; I can hardly keep my eyes open. I pack up the spotter, put it in the dry bag, headed back to the tent, in hopes of getting couple hours of much needed rest. I zip the bag up to my chin and I am sleeping before another thought enters my mind.
I am awaken by Brad standing outside my tent telling me there is a bear out across the bay at one of the creek deltas. He and Matt got up sometime during my morning nap and took over the glassing details. I scramble to get organized, slipping and sliding down the mossing rocks and trees in my hurry to get to the little open spot on the beach where we glass and spend most our time when the tide allows.
Matt points to where he saw the bear come out and quickly dodge back into the spruce. A place I have seen bears in the past. He explains he did not get a good look at it, but it was alone, making me think it is a boar.
We grab our gear and head off, hiking along the tide pool perimeter, trying our best to keep the southwest wind from messing up our plan. It is almost a mile east to the back end of this bay where the creek dumps in. As we get closer, the wind is getting worse and worse, almost straight from the west. We get to within 250 yards and I am not comfortable going any further. To close more distance will send our scent straight into the corridor of spruce that skirts this creek bank, right to where the bear disappeared.
I plop us down on a little berm of grass with some alders at our back. The plan is to let things quiet down and I will call, hoping to get the bear to make an appearance and possibly provide a shot. I look at my watch and it is 11:00am. I will give it ten minutes, and then start the calling session.
I look over at Brad to give him the signs of what my plan is. He nods, his hunting knowledge needing no explanation as to why I have stopped. He and Matt are getting the one big camera we do have, and a GoPro, ready ready for action, in the event the bear pokes his head out to look around.
I stay there for over an hour. I walk around the point where I can see further to the north. I glass there for a half hour. Same result.
I am so tired; I can hardly keep my eyes open. I pack up the spotter, put it in the dry bag, headed back to the tent, in hopes of getting couple hours of much needed rest. I zip the bag up to my chin and I am sleeping before another thought enters my mind.
I am awaken by Brad standing outside my tent telling me there is a bear out across the bay at one of the creek deltas. He and Matt got up sometime during my morning nap and took over the glassing details. I scramble to get organized, slipping and sliding down the mossing rocks and trees in my hurry to get to the little open spot on the beach where we glass and spend most our time when the tide allows.
Matt points to where he saw the bear come out and quickly dodge back into the spruce. A place I have seen bears in the past. He explains he did not get a good look at it, but it was alone, making me think it is a boar.
We grab our gear and head off, hiking along the tide pool perimeter, trying our best to keep the southwest wind from messing up our plan. It is almost a mile east to the back end of this bay where the creek dumps in. As we get closer, the wind is getting worse and worse, almost straight from the west. We get to within 250 yards and I am not comfortable going any further. To close more distance will send our scent straight into the corridor of spruce that skirts this creek bank, right to where the bear disappeared.
I plop us down on a little berm of grass with some alders at our back. The plan is to let things quiet down and I will call, hoping to get the bear to make an appearance and possibly provide a shot. I look at my watch and it is 11:00am. I will give it ten minutes, and then start the calling session.
I look over at Brad to give him the signs of what my plan is. He nods, his hunting knowledge needing no explanation as to why I have stopped. He and Matt are getting the one big camera we do have, and a GoPro, ready ready for action, in the event the bear pokes his head out to look around.
While waiting for time to pass, I decide to glass the north shore of the bay. I look over where we beached the boats last night, and where their skiff is still beached, and I see an object I have not seen before. I pull up the new Leupold binos and focus. Damn, there is a bear walking the beach from the west, heading east to where we tied off yesterday.
He is feeding in tall grass, so it is hard to tell his size. I point him out to Brad and Matt. They both look at me with the “What are the odds of that” look. I keep looking, making sure there are no cubs. It is probably a mile away, so at that distance, small cubs could probably hide in the grass without me seeing them.
The bear is now grazing next to a rock we walked past yesterday. If I remember correctly, that rock was pretty big, so using some relative comparison, my mind quickly calculates that the bear is probably big, also, given how high up the rock his back was when he walked by. I can tell for sure that there is no daylight between his belly and the grass, even when he looks to be in the shorter grass.
I tell the guys that we have to pack up and make a move. This bear is travelling downwind, a setup you only dream off. If he keeps on his current path and we can get there fast enough, we will come over the little rise where I beached my boat last night and he should be in range. They nod and we are now hustling across the noisy slop of dead kelp, boot sucking silt mud, intermixed with rock flats of clam shells. Thank God the wind is in our favor with this noise.
We get to within 200 yards of where I tied my boat the prior night and I worry the bear could be just over the lip, causing us to have an eye-to-eye at close range, possibly spooking him before getting a good look. I ease up as fast as I can quietly go. I check the wind and it is still perfect. Something is afoul – stalks never go this well.
I get to the crest of the berm and pull up my binos. I glass the inside corner of this little notch of shoreline, thinking he should be right there. Nope. I glass again. Nothing.
I glass along where the sea grass meets the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of him in the alders. Jackpot. There is his rump sticking out of a clump of trees as he mows down some succulent plant. I range it. 340 yards and lots of brush.
I whisper to Brad to get ready. We are going to move up to a big dead spruce that has fallen onto the beach, probably 100 yards ahead. From there, if the bear steps out into the beach grass, we should have a broadside shot, assuming this is a boar and worth shooting.
We move forward and the wind remains our best ally. When we get to the tree, I drop my pack. The bear has again disappeared. I glass and can see parts of him back in the alders. I start ranging, knowing I will have to size him up quick and will probably have to be ready to shoot as soon as Brad gives the signal. It is 240 to where he was feeding. 215 to the little rise of grass in front.
I am now loaded and ready. I set the CDS dials to 250. All we need now is for him to come out where I can get a good look. I whisper to Brad and Matt to keep an eye for cubs. As much as I am pretty certain a bear this size is a boar, I still have yet to get a good look at him from a decent range.
He is feeding in tall grass, so it is hard to tell his size. I point him out to Brad and Matt. They both look at me with the “What are the odds of that” look. I keep looking, making sure there are no cubs. It is probably a mile away, so at that distance, small cubs could probably hide in the grass without me seeing them.
The bear is now grazing next to a rock we walked past yesterday. If I remember correctly, that rock was pretty big, so using some relative comparison, my mind quickly calculates that the bear is probably big, also, given how high up the rock his back was when he walked by. I can tell for sure that there is no daylight between his belly and the grass, even when he looks to be in the shorter grass.
I tell the guys that we have to pack up and make a move. This bear is travelling downwind, a setup you only dream off. If he keeps on his current path and we can get there fast enough, we will come over the little rise where I beached my boat last night and he should be in range. They nod and we are now hustling across the noisy slop of dead kelp, boot sucking silt mud, intermixed with rock flats of clam shells. Thank God the wind is in our favor with this noise.
We get to within 200 yards of where I tied my boat the prior night and I worry the bear could be just over the lip, causing us to have an eye-to-eye at close range, possibly spooking him before getting a good look. I ease up as fast as I can quietly go. I check the wind and it is still perfect. Something is afoul – stalks never go this well.
I get to the crest of the berm and pull up my binos. I glass the inside corner of this little notch of shoreline, thinking he should be right there. Nope. I glass again. Nothing.
I glass along where the sea grass meets the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of him in the alders. Jackpot. There is his rump sticking out of a clump of trees as he mows down some succulent plant. I range it. 340 yards and lots of brush.
I whisper to Brad to get ready. We are going to move up to a big dead spruce that has fallen onto the beach, probably 100 yards ahead. From there, if the bear steps out into the beach grass, we should have a broadside shot, assuming this is a boar and worth shooting.
We move forward and the wind remains our best ally. When we get to the tree, I drop my pack. The bear has again disappeared. I glass and can see parts of him back in the alders. I start ranging, knowing I will have to size him up quick and will probably have to be ready to shoot as soon as Brad gives the signal. It is 240 to where he was feeding. 215 to the little rise of grass in front.
I am now loaded and ready. I set the CDS dials to 250. All we need now is for him to come out where I can get a good look. I whisper to Brad and Matt to keep an eye for cubs. As much as I am pretty certain a bear this size is a boar, I still have yet to get a good look at him from a decent range.
It seems like I watched him for five minutes, but it was probably only thirty seconds, before he turned and walked out of the alders onto bank of tall grass that sloped down to the tideline. Even in this tall grass, he looked tall. Still not sure.
Finally, he turned and walked straight toward me, giving me a perfect view of his head. His ears were far apart. His front shoulders were broad and wide. Two steps later, he cleared the tall grass, coming our way, and stepped into some short grass. As I hastily put my binos back into their pouch, I am sure I whispered “Holy &^*!” or some similar word. For Brad, that was code word that I would be shooting at the first command.
I got ready, but found myself not having a good rest. After the mess I created the last time I was here, I was not shooting without a rock solid rest. I moved to my right, finding a very stout limb protruding from this horizontal spruce. Perfect. Brad told me to shoot as soon as the bear turned.
Brad kept whispering, “I’m good. I’m good. I’m good.” All the while, I am holding the crosshairs on a bear with the front half of his body back in the alders. I wait while Brad continues his recital.
My mind is battling the events of two years ago with my confidence that I could sneak a bullet into the last rib as he quarters slightly away from me. Nope, not doing it. I wait.
As if resisting temptation was my reward, the bear did a one-eighty and is now walking away from the alders, in taller grass. He is broadside. The crosshairs are on him, low in the chest, perfect hold.
Brad whispers, “I’m g……. BOOM.” Without having to think about the deliberate act of pulling the trigger, a Trophy Bonded Tip rolls the bear off the small berm, down into a little depression. I can see the top of his back above the grass as he lays there. I look at the camera and really don’t know what to say.
Brad tells me to get ready in case the bear gets up. I tell him, if the bear even moves, I am drilling him for good measure. No more than the thought crosses my mind and the bear somehow gets to his feet and quarters toward me. I put the crosshairs under his left armpit. I squeeze, and before I can regain my sight picture, the bear is completely prone, as if hit by lightning. He is on the tideline, in the wide open. I stay on him, ready to prevent any possible escape and need for tracking. He is done.
I can’t believe what just happened. I look at my watch and it is exactly noon. I ask Brad what we need. He tells me all he needs is what I am thinking. I give some long winded, helter skelter, drivel before grabbing my pack and heading over to make sure this bear is not going to move.
Finally, he turned and walked straight toward me, giving me a perfect view of his head. His ears were far apart. His front shoulders were broad and wide. Two steps later, he cleared the tall grass, coming our way, and stepped into some short grass. As I hastily put my binos back into their pouch, I am sure I whispered “Holy &^*!” or some similar word. For Brad, that was code word that I would be shooting at the first command.
I got ready, but found myself not having a good rest. After the mess I created the last time I was here, I was not shooting without a rock solid rest. I moved to my right, finding a very stout limb protruding from this horizontal spruce. Perfect. Brad told me to shoot as soon as the bear turned.
Brad kept whispering, “I’m good. I’m good. I’m good.” All the while, I am holding the crosshairs on a bear with the front half of his body back in the alders. I wait while Brad continues his recital.
My mind is battling the events of two years ago with my confidence that I could sneak a bullet into the last rib as he quarters slightly away from me. Nope, not doing it. I wait.
As if resisting temptation was my reward, the bear did a one-eighty and is now walking away from the alders, in taller grass. He is broadside. The crosshairs are on him, low in the chest, perfect hold.
Brad whispers, “I’m g……. BOOM.” Without having to think about the deliberate act of pulling the trigger, a Trophy Bonded Tip rolls the bear off the small berm, down into a little depression. I can see the top of his back above the grass as he lays there. I look at the camera and really don’t know what to say.
Brad tells me to get ready in case the bear gets up. I tell him, if the bear even moves, I am drilling him for good measure. No more than the thought crosses my mind and the bear somehow gets to his feet and quarters toward me. I put the crosshairs under his left armpit. I squeeze, and before I can regain my sight picture, the bear is completely prone, as if hit by lightning. He is on the tideline, in the wide open. I stay on him, ready to prevent any possible escape and need for tracking. He is done.
I can’t believe what just happened. I look at my watch and it is exactly noon. I ask Brad what we need. He tells me all he needs is what I am thinking. I give some long winded, helter skelter, drivel before grabbing my pack and heading over to make sure this bear is not going to move.
In the two hundred or so yards, I start wondering if I was too rambunctious. Was I just excited to get a shot at a bear and I made him into the bruiser his wasn’t? Was he just a smaller bear that looked big in optics at that close range? Could he really be as big as I sized him up to be in the one really good face-on glimpse I got?
In less than a minute, all those questions were answered. Laying there was the kind of bear I had come to Alaska for. The kind of bear I was looking for on my first trip when I passed on smaller bears. The kind of bear I was looking for on my second trip, even though I screwed up and hit the bear high in the shoulder, only to eventually lose him.
And now, coming back to this spot; a place where I have always seen big old bears but had never figured out how to get to them, I surely did not expect the first bear I found to be the one I had dreamed about. But hey, I will take luck any day. If we hunt long enough, put in the hard miles even when our body doesn’t want to, I guess sooner or later we will get lucky.
I stood over the bear, giving my prayer of thanks that I give all animals, big or small. It seemed almost like I had dreamed this before. Almost exactly as I had day dreamed ever since drawing this tag over a year ago. It seemed as if I really had not worked hard enough on this hunt to deserve a bear like this.
We took pictures and celebrated our great fortune. The entire crew was ecstatic. After so many hard breaks this season, we caught an amazing break on this hunt and we were happy to be the recipients of this great fortune.
By the time we finished pics and such, the tide was getting higher. The guys’ boat was now afloat in the higher water. While I took care of the bear, the guys motored most their gear back to camp. We left in such a hurry, some of the things I needed for the business work were left there. Matt offered to ride back to camp with Brad, and then row my boat over with my dry bag of goodies.
They went to camp while I stayed there, punching my tag and admiring the bear. Thinking about how cool it is to live in a country where we can do this kind of stuff. Where we have amazing public lands like the Tongass National Forest that is home to more bears per square mile than any place I have ever hunted.
In less than a minute, all those questions were answered. Laying there was the kind of bear I had come to Alaska for. The kind of bear I was looking for on my first trip when I passed on smaller bears. The kind of bear I was looking for on my second trip, even though I screwed up and hit the bear high in the shoulder, only to eventually lose him.
And now, coming back to this spot; a place where I have always seen big old bears but had never figured out how to get to them, I surely did not expect the first bear I found to be the one I had dreamed about. But hey, I will take luck any day. If we hunt long enough, put in the hard miles even when our body doesn’t want to, I guess sooner or later we will get lucky.
I stood over the bear, giving my prayer of thanks that I give all animals, big or small. It seemed almost like I had dreamed this before. Almost exactly as I had day dreamed ever since drawing this tag over a year ago. It seemed as if I really had not worked hard enough on this hunt to deserve a bear like this.
We took pictures and celebrated our great fortune. The entire crew was ecstatic. After so many hard breaks this season, we caught an amazing break on this hunt and we were happy to be the recipients of this great fortune.
By the time we finished pics and such, the tide was getting higher. The guys’ boat was now afloat in the higher water. While I took care of the bear, the guys motored most their gear back to camp. We left in such a hurry, some of the things I needed for the business work were left there. Matt offered to ride back to camp with Brad, and then row my boat over with my dry bag of goodies.
They went to camp while I stayed there, punching my tag and admiring the bear. Thinking about how cool it is to live in a country where we can do this kind of stuff. Where we have amazing public lands like the Tongass National Forest that is home to more bears per square mile than any place I have ever hunted.
I snapped many dozen more pics. Matt rowed his way over to me just as the tide was getting to almost full pool. Brad had to grab some more camera gear and he arrived about the same time Matt did. We loaded the bear into my raft, given I would prefer to take care of him back at camp, rather than in a foot of water here on this big tide flat.
The raft handled me, the bear, and all my gear very well. It took a lot more rowing strokes to make much progress with that load, but it never felt so good to lean my back into the oars and get a few feet closer to camp.
Later that day, while quartering and skinning the bear, the guys spotted four more bears, just from the beach below our camp. Not sure why the bears were out so thick on this day and so scarce the day before. I guess none of that really matters now.
Thanks to Brad and Matt. Not only did they work hard and put up with me, but they risked their professional reputations by offering to try get this done with limited gear. When you set a plan to shoot in a certain way, with certain angles, certain shots, then have all that compromised by missing gear, the entire plan gets screwed up.
There might be some footage that is not perfect, given everything was shot free-hand. I hope the audience can overlook what small glitches might be there and see how great of a job they did under these circumstances. As part of the new format, you will see us talking about the decision they faced. It is part of the Fresh Tracks style to tell you everything that goes into making this show. A decision to do it with limited camera gear being just one of those issues we think the audience wants to see.
More pics to follow and more side stories of the trip.
The raft handled me, the bear, and all my gear very well. It took a lot more rowing strokes to make much progress with that load, but it never felt so good to lean my back into the oars and get a few feet closer to camp.
Later that day, while quartering and skinning the bear, the guys spotted four more bears, just from the beach below our camp. Not sure why the bears were out so thick on this day and so scarce the day before. I guess none of that really matters now.
Thanks to Brad and Matt. Not only did they work hard and put up with me, but they risked their professional reputations by offering to try get this done with limited gear. When you set a plan to shoot in a certain way, with certain angles, certain shots, then have all that compromised by missing gear, the entire plan gets screwed up.
There might be some footage that is not perfect, given everything was shot free-hand. I hope the audience can overlook what small glitches might be there and see how great of a job they did under these circumstances. As part of the new format, you will see us talking about the decision they faced. It is part of the Fresh Tracks style to tell you everything that goes into making this show. A decision to do it with limited camera gear being just one of those issues we think the audience wants to see.
More pics to follow and more side stories of the trip.
Now some of the pics I have promised.
Big smiles to finally be on our way, even if we don't have all our gear.
Matt, ready to go and manning both the coffee pot and the spotting scope. Just the kind of guy you need.
Home up in the trees and rocks. Looked like a scene from Star Wars, where the little Ewoks lived.
Pacific Wing out of Petersburg has been the best transporter we have used in Alaska.
All these pics are at, or near, high tide. Look at the amount of tide flats and rocks at high tide to give you some idea of how bad it will be at low tide. Shows why people with bigger boats are not going to screw with these places when good bears can be found in other places of SE AK and not have to mess with this issue.
Big smiles to finally be on our way, even if we don't have all our gear.
Matt, ready to go and manning both the coffee pot and the spotting scope. Just the kind of guy you need.
Home up in the trees and rocks. Looked like a scene from Star Wars, where the little Ewoks lived.
Pacific Wing out of Petersburg has been the best transporter we have used in Alaska.
All these pics are at, or near, high tide. Look at the amount of tide flats and rocks at high tide to give you some idea of how bad it will be at low tide. Shows why people with bigger boats are not going to screw with these places when good bears can be found in other places of SE AK and not have to mess with this issue.
Some pics of the SOAR Pro Pioneer in action. I can imagine hundreds of other hunting uses for this craft, now having used it for these days.
Here is their website. Check them out and if you talk to them, make sure they know you heard about it from us. http://soar1.com/soar_pro.htm
Shows how easy it is to just grab it and carry it up the beach, without any worry of the tide issue.
Sunset on the first day. One point to think about when airing them up. Once you put them in the cold Pacific water, they feel like you did not air them up enough. Mostly due to change in temps. Gave it some more air the next morning and it was fully ready to go. Left it in the sun this morning for a while and the heat caused the air to expand and really made it firm.
That bear it taking up a lot more of the raft than I am.
Off to camp we go.
Now for the tricky part - getting that bear out of the raft and up here on the beach where I can finish the tasks of putting him in game bags.
Cool white patches on his chest that I did not see until he was on the ground.
A cool pic at mid-tide.
Here is their website. Check them out and if you talk to them, make sure they know you heard about it from us. http://soar1.com/soar_pro.htm
Shows how easy it is to just grab it and carry it up the beach, without any worry of the tide issue.
Sunset on the first day. One point to think about when airing them up. Once you put them in the cold Pacific water, they feel like you did not air them up enough. Mostly due to change in temps. Gave it some more air the next morning and it was fully ready to go. Left it in the sun this morning for a while and the heat caused the air to expand and really made it firm.
That bear it taking up a lot more of the raft than I am.
Off to camp we go.
Now for the tricky part - getting that bear out of the raft and up here on the beach where I can finish the tasks of putting him in game bags.
Cool white patches on his chest that I did not see until he was on the ground.
A cool pic at mid-tide.
A-con
New member
Congratulations Randy, that thing is a pig.
Hope you got lots of good footage, it will make a great show.
Hope you got lots of good footage, it will make a great show.
A few more random pics.
Another shot with all gear displayed. Rifle was a Howa/Hogue 1500. Load was a .308 Win 180 grain Federal Premium Trophy Bonded Tip. Scope is a Leupold VX-3 CDS 3.5 X 10 X 40mm. Looks like the blown out sky color makes the stainless barrel of the rifle disappear.
A better look of the three patches on his chest.
Another shot with all gear displayed. Rifle was a Howa/Hogue 1500. Load was a .308 Win 180 grain Federal Premium Trophy Bonded Tip. Scope is a Leupold VX-3 CDS 3.5 X 10 X 40mm. Looks like the blown out sky color makes the stainless barrel of the rifle disappear.
A better look of the three patches on his chest.
BiggWimm
New member
- Joined
- Aug 28, 2009
- Messages
- 635
Looks like a great adventure! My father in law floated a great deal of the Yukon in a SOAR inflatable canoe and swears by them.
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Mica Man
Well-known member
What a grand adventure! Thanks for sharing the story and pics.
