Alberta Bear Adventure
- Thread starter kansasdad
- Start date
Elkhunter24
Well-known member
great story and thanks for sharing! Congrats on a beautiful bear
Cheese Curd
Well-known member
Great story telling with lots of great pictures and videos. Congrats!
Sask hunter
Well-known member
- Joined
- Sep 20, 2016
- Messages
- 3,901
Great pictures stories and videos! Your not helping with the wait for next spring!
Through the miracle of Al Gore's Internet, I received from Guide Byron a couple of photos of Daniel and his big bear. 7'4" of hide, with worn down teeth, and a cranky disposition (and I don't mean my brother Daniel!).
Here are ears that seem to come from the side of the skull.
As Daniel and the two guides approached the treestand area, Byron realized what was going to happen, and caught the last few seconds of the big bear encounter. Cell phone video is in no way an indicator of Byrons prowess as a guide, for sure. Wolfhuntinadventures dot com (note the lack of "g" in hunting) and active on Facebook at the same searchable address)
The video pic for now is a still shot. I am working to get the best quality reproduction to add to the thread.
Here are ears that seem to come from the side of the skull.
As Daniel and the two guides approached the treestand area, Byron realized what was going to happen, and caught the last few seconds of the big bear encounter. Cell phone video is in no way an indicator of Byrons prowess as a guide, for sure. Wolfhuntinadventures dot com (note the lack of "g" in hunting) and active on Facebook at the same searchable address)
The video pic for now is a still shot. I am working to get the best quality reproduction to add to the thread.
publichunter1
Well-known member
Congrats on a great trip! Thanks for sharing.
Big Bear Outfitters hunters had already taken over 25 bears by the time our group came north. After skinning and meat harvest (if desired), the bear remains were chained to a 4 wheeler and pulled about a kilometer away from the skinning table clearing. Cole did the hauling, and I noticed that he carried a very short barreled shotgun on a sling over his body as he left the skinning area pulling two bears. The resident wolf pack would from time to time scavenge off of the carcasses, and sometimes there would be bears encountered along the road or trail leading to the waste disposal area.
Daniel had taken his allotment of two bears. I technically had another tag that I could fill if I wanted to do so. Steve Overguard asked me if I did indeed want to get a second bear. I knew that once Daniel learned that sometimes wolves were known to visit the bear carcass area, he wanted to see about seeing a wolf, and icing on the cake, get to take one home with him. I told Steve that I would much rather spend our last night hunting in Zama City trying for a wolf, instead of another bear.
We arrived at the forest clearing and assessed our options. Cole had been dragging the carcasses about 3/4 the length of the cut, and had been leaving the remains along the forest edge. There were lots of bones from previous years harvests spread all up and down the cut.
One way to describe the size of this seismic cut, (an opening cut into the woods to allow dynamite charges to be placed into the soil, an controlled explosion set off, and seismic readings taken to determine where deposits of oil might exist) would be similar to a green space created along high power electric lines cut into a heavily forested area. But unlike an electric right of way, lots of little trees were trying to take advantage of the increased sunlight and were sprouting up in random areas of the cut.
Several large canine poop piles were noted as we quietly walked away from the road, looking to see where Cole had dropped the most recently discarded carcasses. Finding where we could hide ourselves alongside of either side of the cut, and see about 160 yards to the south, and 90 yards to the south, we decided that this was the spot that we would take the 1/2 percent chance that we would see a wolf tonight.
Driving in, Byron had cautioned us that it was almost certain that the wolves would show up sometime this week to feast on the bear piles, but tried to paint a realistic picture for us. I replied that just getting to hang with my brother was a treat in itself, and if we heard or saw a wolf, it would only be icing. We laughed at the dismal chance, but hoped for success anyway.
Daniel once again had the 7mm-08 loaned to him by the outfitter. I had the scoped slug gun loaned for my hunt. The box of slugs had ballistic info out to 125 yards (a handy 12 1/2 inch drop), but I knew that unless I fired several shots at that distance, minute of wolf at 160 yards was a pipe dream. I picked up a forked stick to use as a monopod. Daniel dinked around with a small sapling trying to clear some leaves and small branches to allow him a rest if shooting towards the bait pile. We whispered our strategy in scanning the woods. I would make sure that nothing came at us from my right (back the way that we had come from the road), while he was set up to see a wolf coming from beyond the bait.
Continuing to scan the forest edges, and keeping ears pealed.....OK, I was listening with one ear to a podcast, which was a Randy Newberg Unfiltered podcast..... we worked a little more brush into screening camo position. Daniel was already in the shade of the descending sun, and after an hour, so was I. We were both very glad to have our thermacells going as the skeeters were out for their reproductive pints of blood.
And then it happened. A very light colored wolf stepped out of the woods moving from the left towards the right. Whispering to Daniel, just as he was whispering to me "WOLF!!!!!", I looked across to see him battling the wispy sapling trying to find a comfortable rest and get the crosshairs on a wolf. We had made a plan that since he had the rifle, and I was basically self limiting to shorter shots with the 12 gauge, I got on the wolf and waited for Daniel to shoot. kansasson and I have successfully done the 1,2,BOOM scenario multiple times with decoying turkeys, but Daniel thought that trying to synch our two firearms would not be a wise idea.
I had used my rangefinder as we sat down and mentally measured multiple landmarks. This wolf had turned 180 degrees so that his snout was facing left, and I thought that he was at 155 yards away. I found my aiming point, and elevated my muzzle so as to be 2 feet over the point of impact. Solidly on the rest in front of me, I waited. The wolf was lifting his nose as if sniffing. Nervous feet movements made me think that this wolf might have known something was up. Man, was I wishing I had some reach out there and touch them rifle instead of this bear killing 12 gauge.
Daniel shot, and in my mind it was miliseconds after his shot that I released my slug. The wolf turned directly away from us, and seemed to my eyes to run without sign of a wound. I hadn't heard the characteristic impact sound of bullet hitting an animal, from either shot. We watched as the wolf ran into a break in the saplings at the end of the clearing. I looked over at Daniel, and asked him if he thought he had hit the wolf. I could tell by his body language that he wasn't happy with what had just happened. Checking his rifle, he found that once again the bolt had extracted the spent cartridge, but failed to put one in the magazine.
Working the bolt one more time, as I added another shell to my shotgun, we moved to where we both thought the wolf was standing when we shot. We varied in our perception by about 4 yards. No hair. No blood. Both of us were fairly certain that Daniel had missed. He was kicking himself for rushing the shot. The scope wasn't dialed up to max magnification, and he probably hadn't squeezed the trigger to surprise himself with the firing pin releasing, and I hadn't a snowballs chance of connecting at that distance on a high tailing it out of there wolf. Getting down on hands and knees, I almost called out "BLOOD". It indeed was blood red, but it was simply a low growing leaf with blood splotched pigmentation mimicking blood splatter. Daniel was ready to head back to the stand, but I wanted to go through the small break in the saplings and continue looking for any signs of wounding. The ground turned quite swampy just a few feet beyond the sapling group, and while there was a couple of trails running through the grass, no signs of a wounded wolf.
Returning to your hidey holes, we air fived each other and did a strange happy dance of success/defeat. WE HAD SEEN A FREAKING WOLF!!....yeah, but we had missed....BUT WE HAD SEEN A WOLF!!
Quiet prevailed and even the crows were settling down. I texted Bryon "WOLF!!".
"No way!"
Sadly I had to report that shots were fired, and we were quite certain that the boys had failed to connect. He asked if we wanted him to come check for sign. I explained that we had already checked with no sound of a hit, no hair or blood, we concluded that we had blown it.
Pantomiming to each other, we both agreed that we wanted to continue the sitting over the bait bears. I'm not certain what was happening elsewhere in Alberta, but I know two men who were fighting mixed emotions. The "high" of success of even seeing a wolf, and the "low" of knowing we had failed.
About 15 minutes later I heard some unusual noises coming from the direction that it seemed the lucky wolf had headed as he vamoosed from the clearing. I asked Daniel if he heard a strange noise off into the woods. Nodding his head "no", I chalked it up to my imagination.
About 15 more minutes went by, and then a darker haired wolf entered into the clearing from the other side of the woods. Daniel at most could see his snout and ears the entire time this wolf was in the clearing. Because I was on the other side of the cut, I could see his entire body. As nervous as the first wolf seemed, this one was even more so. The wolf kept walking forward, and then would hit the trail where I had walked back to our chairs after checking on the first wolf, and would lower its head as if to sniff, and then step backwards, and try to walk into the clearing and hit my scent trail again. I hissed at Daniel to leave his side of the cut, as I was seeing him clearly. I dearly wanted my brother to get a wolf, and as this wolf was 150 yards out, I wasn't going to give the slug gun a go as primary shooter. Just as Daniel realized that the wolf was still in the clearing, but screened from vision on his side, he made a move to get over and the wolf booked it back into the woods.
"Fred" must have heard through the grapevine of our seeing the wolf. He texted us in a group text, "Howl for them". Daniel looked at me, and nodded his head yes, do it. I silently cleared my throat of some phlegm, and let loose with a kansasdad rendition of a howl. We waited. Nothing responded. I howled again.
Sunset this night was a few minutes after 11 pm. I howled a third time, trying to sound like a different wolf than the first two howls. Loud splashing noises came from the woods to the east. CLOSE noises. Visions of a bison heard running us over (the splashes were that loud) danced through my head. I tried to look into the darkening forest floor for the source of the splashing. Nothing to be seen, as the ground rose slightly to the east, and then evidently ran down to some water. Had I guessed, I would say the sounds were less than 40 yards away. My heart rate was once again rising. More multiple splashes, and it was obvious that something(s) were on the move, and they didn't care if anyone heard them.
90 seconds later, first one howl, then another joined in and then they all gave voice. Slightly further away than where we had heard the splashing, the whole pack called out. Goose bumps rising on my arms, you can be certain that any wolf that would now enter the clearing would not have been in danger, as my full attention was centered on the forest behind me. Hoping for flashes of movement, I realized that the rise in elevation combined with underbrush in the gloaming, there would not be a third wolf sighting tonight, as the howling was the pack warning each other that there were strange things going on in the woods this night.....beware!!
I grabbed my cell phone, and fumbled to start a voice recording of the pack howling. I ended up with the last few notes on the phone, the last notes of wolves singing to a couple of brothers enjoying the snot out of their Alberta adventure.
Daniel and I decided that at the stroke of legal shooting time ending, we would head down the cut towards the road. We texted Byron that we were heading back, and he met us at the road. Driving to pick us up, a wolf had run across the road right in front of Byron, and stood there watching him drive by once the wolf made the woods. Byron slammed on the brakes, and reached into this back seat for his rifle. Only then did he remember that his rifle was on loan to one of our group, and all he could do was curse his luck.
Heading back to the Inn, we learned that more bears had hit the dirt this third night of hunting, so there would be more time at the skinning table, but we were scheduled to catch a small plane and fly north to Tapawingo lodge, located on Bistcho lake, while others of our group were going to make a world's first motorized (non frozen) road trip into the lodge using the scherps.
Day four adventures to follow.....
Daniel had taken his allotment of two bears. I technically had another tag that I could fill if I wanted to do so. Steve Overguard asked me if I did indeed want to get a second bear. I knew that once Daniel learned that sometimes wolves were known to visit the bear carcass area, he wanted to see about seeing a wolf, and icing on the cake, get to take one home with him. I told Steve that I would much rather spend our last night hunting in Zama City trying for a wolf, instead of another bear.
We arrived at the forest clearing and assessed our options. Cole had been dragging the carcasses about 3/4 the length of the cut, and had been leaving the remains along the forest edge. There were lots of bones from previous years harvests spread all up and down the cut.
One way to describe the size of this seismic cut, (an opening cut into the woods to allow dynamite charges to be placed into the soil, an controlled explosion set off, and seismic readings taken to determine where deposits of oil might exist) would be similar to a green space created along high power electric lines cut into a heavily forested area. But unlike an electric right of way, lots of little trees were trying to take advantage of the increased sunlight and were sprouting up in random areas of the cut.
Several large canine poop piles were noted as we quietly walked away from the road, looking to see where Cole had dropped the most recently discarded carcasses. Finding where we could hide ourselves alongside of either side of the cut, and see about 160 yards to the south, and 90 yards to the south, we decided that this was the spot that we would take the 1/2 percent chance that we would see a wolf tonight.
Driving in, Byron had cautioned us that it was almost certain that the wolves would show up sometime this week to feast on the bear piles, but tried to paint a realistic picture for us. I replied that just getting to hang with my brother was a treat in itself, and if we heard or saw a wolf, it would only be icing. We laughed at the dismal chance, but hoped for success anyway.
Daniel once again had the 7mm-08 loaned to him by the outfitter. I had the scoped slug gun loaned for my hunt. The box of slugs had ballistic info out to 125 yards (a handy 12 1/2 inch drop), but I knew that unless I fired several shots at that distance, minute of wolf at 160 yards was a pipe dream. I picked up a forked stick to use as a monopod. Daniel dinked around with a small sapling trying to clear some leaves and small branches to allow him a rest if shooting towards the bait pile. We whispered our strategy in scanning the woods. I would make sure that nothing came at us from my right (back the way that we had come from the road), while he was set up to see a wolf coming from beyond the bait.
Continuing to scan the forest edges, and keeping ears pealed.....OK, I was listening with one ear to a podcast, which was a Randy Newberg Unfiltered podcast..... we worked a little more brush into screening camo position. Daniel was already in the shade of the descending sun, and after an hour, so was I. We were both very glad to have our thermacells going as the skeeters were out for their reproductive pints of blood.
And then it happened. A very light colored wolf stepped out of the woods moving from the left towards the right. Whispering to Daniel, just as he was whispering to me "WOLF!!!!!", I looked across to see him battling the wispy sapling trying to find a comfortable rest and get the crosshairs on a wolf. We had made a plan that since he had the rifle, and I was basically self limiting to shorter shots with the 12 gauge, I got on the wolf and waited for Daniel to shoot. kansasson and I have successfully done the 1,2,BOOM scenario multiple times with decoying turkeys, but Daniel thought that trying to synch our two firearms would not be a wise idea.
I had used my rangefinder as we sat down and mentally measured multiple landmarks. This wolf had turned 180 degrees so that his snout was facing left, and I thought that he was at 155 yards away. I found my aiming point, and elevated my muzzle so as to be 2 feet over the point of impact. Solidly on the rest in front of me, I waited. The wolf was lifting his nose as if sniffing. Nervous feet movements made me think that this wolf might have known something was up. Man, was I wishing I had some reach out there and touch them rifle instead of this bear killing 12 gauge.
Daniel shot, and in my mind it was miliseconds after his shot that I released my slug. The wolf turned directly away from us, and seemed to my eyes to run without sign of a wound. I hadn't heard the characteristic impact sound of bullet hitting an animal, from either shot. We watched as the wolf ran into a break in the saplings at the end of the clearing. I looked over at Daniel, and asked him if he thought he had hit the wolf. I could tell by his body language that he wasn't happy with what had just happened. Checking his rifle, he found that once again the bolt had extracted the spent cartridge, but failed to put one in the magazine.
Working the bolt one more time, as I added another shell to my shotgun, we moved to where we both thought the wolf was standing when we shot. We varied in our perception by about 4 yards. No hair. No blood. Both of us were fairly certain that Daniel had missed. He was kicking himself for rushing the shot. The scope wasn't dialed up to max magnification, and he probably hadn't squeezed the trigger to surprise himself with the firing pin releasing, and I hadn't a snowballs chance of connecting at that distance on a high tailing it out of there wolf. Getting down on hands and knees, I almost called out "BLOOD". It indeed was blood red, but it was simply a low growing leaf with blood splotched pigmentation mimicking blood splatter. Daniel was ready to head back to the stand, but I wanted to go through the small break in the saplings and continue looking for any signs of wounding. The ground turned quite swampy just a few feet beyond the sapling group, and while there was a couple of trails running through the grass, no signs of a wounded wolf.
Returning to your hidey holes, we air fived each other and did a strange happy dance of success/defeat. WE HAD SEEN A FREAKING WOLF!!....yeah, but we had missed....BUT WE HAD SEEN A WOLF!!
Quiet prevailed and even the crows were settling down. I texted Bryon "WOLF!!".
"No way!"
Sadly I had to report that shots were fired, and we were quite certain that the boys had failed to connect. He asked if we wanted him to come check for sign. I explained that we had already checked with no sound of a hit, no hair or blood, we concluded that we had blown it.
Pantomiming to each other, we both agreed that we wanted to continue the sitting over the bait bears. I'm not certain what was happening elsewhere in Alberta, but I know two men who were fighting mixed emotions. The "high" of success of even seeing a wolf, and the "low" of knowing we had failed.
About 15 minutes later I heard some unusual noises coming from the direction that it seemed the lucky wolf had headed as he vamoosed from the clearing. I asked Daniel if he heard a strange noise off into the woods. Nodding his head "no", I chalked it up to my imagination.
About 15 more minutes went by, and then a darker haired wolf entered into the clearing from the other side of the woods. Daniel at most could see his snout and ears the entire time this wolf was in the clearing. Because I was on the other side of the cut, I could see his entire body. As nervous as the first wolf seemed, this one was even more so. The wolf kept walking forward, and then would hit the trail where I had walked back to our chairs after checking on the first wolf, and would lower its head as if to sniff, and then step backwards, and try to walk into the clearing and hit my scent trail again. I hissed at Daniel to leave his side of the cut, as I was seeing him clearly. I dearly wanted my brother to get a wolf, and as this wolf was 150 yards out, I wasn't going to give the slug gun a go as primary shooter. Just as Daniel realized that the wolf was still in the clearing, but screened from vision on his side, he made a move to get over and the wolf booked it back into the woods.
"Fred" must have heard through the grapevine of our seeing the wolf. He texted us in a group text, "Howl for them". Daniel looked at me, and nodded his head yes, do it. I silently cleared my throat of some phlegm, and let loose with a kansasdad rendition of a howl. We waited. Nothing responded. I howled again.
Sunset this night was a few minutes after 11 pm. I howled a third time, trying to sound like a different wolf than the first two howls. Loud splashing noises came from the woods to the east. CLOSE noises. Visions of a bison heard running us over (the splashes were that loud) danced through my head. I tried to look into the darkening forest floor for the source of the splashing. Nothing to be seen, as the ground rose slightly to the east, and then evidently ran down to some water. Had I guessed, I would say the sounds were less than 40 yards away. My heart rate was once again rising. More multiple splashes, and it was obvious that something(s) were on the move, and they didn't care if anyone heard them.
90 seconds later, first one howl, then another joined in and then they all gave voice. Slightly further away than where we had heard the splashing, the whole pack called out. Goose bumps rising on my arms, you can be certain that any wolf that would now enter the clearing would not have been in danger, as my full attention was centered on the forest behind me. Hoping for flashes of movement, I realized that the rise in elevation combined with underbrush in the gloaming, there would not be a third wolf sighting tonight, as the howling was the pack warning each other that there were strange things going on in the woods this night.....beware!!
I grabbed my cell phone, and fumbled to start a voice recording of the pack howling. I ended up with the last few notes on the phone, the last notes of wolves singing to a couple of brothers enjoying the snot out of their Alberta adventure.
Daniel and I decided that at the stroke of legal shooting time ending, we would head down the cut towards the road. We texted Byron that we were heading back, and he met us at the road. Driving to pick us up, a wolf had run across the road right in front of Byron, and stood there watching him drive by once the wolf made the woods. Byron slammed on the brakes, and reached into this back seat for his rifle. Only then did he remember that his rifle was on loan to one of our group, and all he could do was curse his luck.
Heading back to the Inn, we learned that more bears had hit the dirt this third night of hunting, so there would be more time at the skinning table, but we were scheduled to catch a small plane and fly north to Tapawingo lodge, located on Bistcho lake, while others of our group were going to make a world's first motorized (non frozen) road trip into the lodge using the scherps.
Day four adventures to follow.....
Attachments
noharleyyet
Well-known member
What a meticulous picture book...thanks Mark.
Nameless Range
Well-known member
Missed this thread. Looks like one heck of a trip! Thanks for sharing!
SFC B
Well-known member
Man, that looks like a hoot!!!
The adrenaline rush that came from the wolf adventures of the previous evening wore off enough that sleeping late the next morning was easy-peezy. Coffee to go was nearly mandatory for those of us that met at the skinning table the next morning.
As each truck arrived with guides and hunters, we were able to tell the details of the previous evening's wolf encounters. And there were bears to take care of as well. "Fred" had connected with the heaviest looking bear of the week. This bear ended up being just shy of 7 feet when measured, but to my eye had the deepest chest and biggest skull of any bear taken in three nights of bear hunting.
Teamwork makes the dream work.
As we were "helping" the guides doing the hide removals, plans began to take shape regarding the second half of our Alberta adventure. Two airplanes flights had been arranged to Tapawingo Lodge. We would take off from Zama City's airport and fly north to Bitscho Lake, Alberta's third largest lake. Landing on the grass/gravel strip on the hill just above the lodge, we would arrive in under an hour from takeoff. Others in our group would trailer the sherps as far as the road system allowed, and then using the snowmobile trials that are "smooth sailing" in winter when the swamps and river crossings are frozen solid, these sherps would be the first motorized vehicles to travel in the thaw time to make it to the lodge.
The airport at Zama City is adjacent to the refinery which is a 15 minute drive from town. As we arrived, we met our pilot Conner, who flies for CanWestAir, and loaded up into the 4 seater Cessna (the company that is headquartered in my hometown). Daniel sat in the front right seat, with instructions from Conner to not touch the rudder peddles or yoke. The flight was smooth for such a small aircraft, and the scene down below was instructive as to what land we had been hunting was like. Small ponds/swamps surrounding tall forest tracts with the multiple seismic cuts running through them, interspersed with oil pumps or valves on pipelines and sporadically a roadway were seen. Zama City faded away on our right as we climbed to 3k above the earth.
Flying north the signs of man's hand on the earth decreased, until even the seismic tracks decreased significantly. In 2012 Northern Alberta had massive fires that burned hundreds of thousands of hectares of land. Lots of standing and fallen dead timber, with sporadic hamlets of non burned forest were spread out on both sides of the plane. The Garmin GPS showed the lake on the horizon before I could see it through the windscreen. Bistcho lake has multiple large and small islands in it, and we were later to learn that the moose and caribou of the region will head out to these islands to give birth, thus keeping their infants safe from the local wolves.
Buzzing the lodge, Conner did two loops around the runway as we descended and started our final approach. Down below us, we saw several bald eagles soaring in the breezes. He told us that as there is a slight dip in the runway, he would not touch down until he had traveled over 1/3 of the length of the strip. A crosswind required a pretty good crabbing setup, so it was just at touchdown that he straightened the nose of the plane to run parallel to the runway.
Because he had buzzed the lodge and circled twice, the Argo with trailer was already at the end of the runway to collect us and drive us down to the lodge. This was my first experience with an Argo vehicle. A tracked vehicle with a four wheels that drive the track, the Argo has been the main way to access roadless unfrozen northern regions for years.
The sherps vehicles that were starting the drive to the lodge have multiple advantages over the Argo. They are fully amphibious in non frozen water, leave less of a mark on the vegetation of a roadless track, can be fully enclosed in inclement weather with full heat capabilities for when its -40 degrees, and due to the low tire pressure offer a relatively smoother ride than an Argo.
Arriving at the lodge office, we met Debbie Overguard, the ramrod of the Lodge operations. She showed us to our cabin, and informed us with a bit of impishness that for now and forever we three would be be known as "cabin 7" and not by first names. She showed us the "store" where fishing gear and snacks could be purchased, and where previous guests had donated to the free pantry any unused food/gear that they had wished to leave behind. Pit toilets and a shower area, and a common kitchen area were shown to us, and then we had a boating safety instruction from Debbie before going down to the docks to get briefed on the Lund boat.
Most folks coming to the lodge bring their own fishing gear, and since we hadn't brought our own, Debbie rounded up some rods with some suspect line issues. Getting sorted out with the line, we tied on some spoons and started casting from the dock. Several short strikes later, I finally hooked up and fought the fish for a few seconds before losing the fish. Brother Daniel, and the other Mark caught a couple off the dock, and then they decided to jump into the boat and head out for an afternoon boat ride. I decided that the bunk in cabin 7 was calling my name, and I went up to power nap.
The cabins had six bunks, a propane stove, and a refrigerator. A very comfy couch and highbacked chairs, along with a table and chairs sat on the other side of the one room from the bunks. A big sliding glass door gave a nice view of the lake, and there were two outdoor propane grills for added cooking space. Water was pumped up directly from the lake for cold running water. An assortment of cooking utensils, pots, pans and dishes meant that anyone bringing in their own food would be fully set for cooking needs. A large wood burning stove in the middle of the room would not be needed while we were there, but I'm sure the ice fisherman are dearly appreciative of its warmth.
Fisherman know the old poem: "Wind from the west, fish bite the best. Wind from the east, fish bite the least". A strong wind (really a breeze by Kansas standards) from the southeast had turned the fishing down several notches from the reported hot bite of the previous few days. Some of the lodge workers had taken limits of walleye over the last several days so we knew that a fishfry was on for tonight. The fishing boys from cabin 7 had a time finding some quiet water in which to fish.
The second plane arrived with its three passengers, and later that afternoon the remainder of the crew arrived with the two sherps. Five+ hours of travel time had taken its toil on the passengers of the sherps. Those that were sitting in the back areas of the sherps had been subjected to a hard bench seat on a rough snowmobile trail without the benefit of snow/ice filling in the little humps. Along the way they did see a momma bear with cubs, and several moose as well.
Sherps have an onboard compressor, so the tires can be deflated to ease getting out of the machine, and then inflated back up to their operating pressures (2-3 lbs generally).
The kids jumped out of the sherps ready to go fishing. As most of these young ones had been to the lodge before, they felt justified in skipping the safety briefing. Debbie thought otherwise! I imagine she shortened the talk down to remind the kids where the areas of low rocks on the lake might cause one to loose a motor or puncture a boat bottom and then off they went to play in the water.
Supper that night was classic northern fish fry stuff..... walleye two ways, with corn and baked potatoes. Seconds and thirds were the order of the day as this was good stuff, and it hit the spot.
I had no problems hitting the hay and immediately falling asleep and dreaming of big bears and big fish.
Next: Friday's adventures
As each truck arrived with guides and hunters, we were able to tell the details of the previous evening's wolf encounters. And there were bears to take care of as well. "Fred" had connected with the heaviest looking bear of the week. This bear ended up being just shy of 7 feet when measured, but to my eye had the deepest chest and biggest skull of any bear taken in three nights of bear hunting.
Teamwork makes the dream work.
As we were "helping" the guides doing the hide removals, plans began to take shape regarding the second half of our Alberta adventure. Two airplanes flights had been arranged to Tapawingo Lodge. We would take off from Zama City's airport and fly north to Bitscho Lake, Alberta's third largest lake. Landing on the grass/gravel strip on the hill just above the lodge, we would arrive in under an hour from takeoff. Others in our group would trailer the sherps as far as the road system allowed, and then using the snowmobile trials that are "smooth sailing" in winter when the swamps and river crossings are frozen solid, these sherps would be the first motorized vehicles to travel in the thaw time to make it to the lodge.
The airport at Zama City is adjacent to the refinery which is a 15 minute drive from town. As we arrived, we met our pilot Conner, who flies for CanWestAir, and loaded up into the 4 seater Cessna (the company that is headquartered in my hometown). Daniel sat in the front right seat, with instructions from Conner to not touch the rudder peddles or yoke. The flight was smooth for such a small aircraft, and the scene down below was instructive as to what land we had been hunting was like. Small ponds/swamps surrounding tall forest tracts with the multiple seismic cuts running through them, interspersed with oil pumps or valves on pipelines and sporadically a roadway were seen. Zama City faded away on our right as we climbed to 3k above the earth.
Flying north the signs of man's hand on the earth decreased, until even the seismic tracks decreased significantly. In 2012 Northern Alberta had massive fires that burned hundreds of thousands of hectares of land. Lots of standing and fallen dead timber, with sporadic hamlets of non burned forest were spread out on both sides of the plane. The Garmin GPS showed the lake on the horizon before I could see it through the windscreen. Bistcho lake has multiple large and small islands in it, and we were later to learn that the moose and caribou of the region will head out to these islands to give birth, thus keeping their infants safe from the local wolves.
Buzzing the lodge, Conner did two loops around the runway as we descended and started our final approach. Down below us, we saw several bald eagles soaring in the breezes. He told us that as there is a slight dip in the runway, he would not touch down until he had traveled over 1/3 of the length of the strip. A crosswind required a pretty good crabbing setup, so it was just at touchdown that he straightened the nose of the plane to run parallel to the runway.
Because he had buzzed the lodge and circled twice, the Argo with trailer was already at the end of the runway to collect us and drive us down to the lodge. This was my first experience with an Argo vehicle. A tracked vehicle with a four wheels that drive the track, the Argo has been the main way to access roadless unfrozen northern regions for years.
The sherps vehicles that were starting the drive to the lodge have multiple advantages over the Argo. They are fully amphibious in non frozen water, leave less of a mark on the vegetation of a roadless track, can be fully enclosed in inclement weather with full heat capabilities for when its -40 degrees, and due to the low tire pressure offer a relatively smoother ride than an Argo.
Arriving at the lodge office, we met Debbie Overguard, the ramrod of the Lodge operations. She showed us to our cabin, and informed us with a bit of impishness that for now and forever we three would be be known as "cabin 7" and not by first names. She showed us the "store" where fishing gear and snacks could be purchased, and where previous guests had donated to the free pantry any unused food/gear that they had wished to leave behind. Pit toilets and a shower area, and a common kitchen area were shown to us, and then we had a boating safety instruction from Debbie before going down to the docks to get briefed on the Lund boat.
Most folks coming to the lodge bring their own fishing gear, and since we hadn't brought our own, Debbie rounded up some rods with some suspect line issues. Getting sorted out with the line, we tied on some spoons and started casting from the dock. Several short strikes later, I finally hooked up and fought the fish for a few seconds before losing the fish. Brother Daniel, and the other Mark caught a couple off the dock, and then they decided to jump into the boat and head out for an afternoon boat ride. I decided that the bunk in cabin 7 was calling my name, and I went up to power nap.
The cabins had six bunks, a propane stove, and a refrigerator. A very comfy couch and highbacked chairs, along with a table and chairs sat on the other side of the one room from the bunks. A big sliding glass door gave a nice view of the lake, and there were two outdoor propane grills for added cooking space. Water was pumped up directly from the lake for cold running water. An assortment of cooking utensils, pots, pans and dishes meant that anyone bringing in their own food would be fully set for cooking needs. A large wood burning stove in the middle of the room would not be needed while we were there, but I'm sure the ice fisherman are dearly appreciative of its warmth.
Fisherman know the old poem: "Wind from the west, fish bite the best. Wind from the east, fish bite the least". A strong wind (really a breeze by Kansas standards) from the southeast had turned the fishing down several notches from the reported hot bite of the previous few days. Some of the lodge workers had taken limits of walleye over the last several days so we knew that a fishfry was on for tonight. The fishing boys from cabin 7 had a time finding some quiet water in which to fish.
The second plane arrived with its three passengers, and later that afternoon the remainder of the crew arrived with the two sherps. Five+ hours of travel time had taken its toil on the passengers of the sherps. Those that were sitting in the back areas of the sherps had been subjected to a hard bench seat on a rough snowmobile trail without the benefit of snow/ice filling in the little humps. Along the way they did see a momma bear with cubs, and several moose as well.
Sherps have an onboard compressor, so the tires can be deflated to ease getting out of the machine, and then inflated back up to their operating pressures (2-3 lbs generally).
The kids jumped out of the sherps ready to go fishing. As most of these young ones had been to the lodge before, they felt justified in skipping the safety briefing. Debbie thought otherwise! I imagine she shortened the talk down to remind the kids where the areas of low rocks on the lake might cause one to loose a motor or puncture a boat bottom and then off they went to play in the water.
Supper that night was classic northern fish fry stuff..... walleye two ways, with corn and baked potatoes. Seconds and thirds were the order of the day as this was good stuff, and it hit the spot.
I had no problems hitting the hay and immediately falling asleep and dreaming of big bears and big fish.
Next: Friday's adventures
Friday dawned overcast and chilly. This did not deter the mosquitoes in their never ending search for blood.
Breakfast was over and "Fred" wanted to take a few of us out on Steve's boat. This is the boat often used by guides/moose hunters wanting to travel towards the south and west end of the lake in the fall. The kids had skipped breakfast and the rods that I had made functional were shanghai'd off into their Lund boats. Scrounging around even more, we put together some sketchy fishing poles (not worthy to be called fishing rods) and headed out. The boat's depth finder showed how shallow the lake is on the north end near the lodge. We had been advised that the walleye were in 5 feet of water, while the pike were to be found there, or in the little bays along the shores edge where the water was warming up faster.
Trolling along, the other Mark on the trip hooked up first. Netting the pike, we then had to search for a pliers to safely unhook the pike without slicing up fingers or tearing up the pike. Seems like someone had pilfered Steve's good dehooking pliers so it was a little more tedious than usual. Daniel hooked up, and boated a nice walleye for the pot next. Taking turns at the rods, we motored east towards a pike bay. Several more fish were boated, with Daniel and the other Mark having the hot hand. Both reels that were attached to our rods were budget spincast reels than sounded like they had never heard of reel lube, and the gearing was a bit suspect as well.
Arriving at the pike bay, we coasted into comfortable casting distance if one had a heavy spoon and a stiff casting rod. As we had suspect rods, coupled with the tendinitis in my casting hand, I was having trouble getting my spoon up into the likely hideyholes of Mr Pike. Seeing my lack of success, "Fred" hopped up onto the bow of the boat and two handed cast into a tiny weed bed opening, and immediately hooked up. Several 5-8 pounders were brought to net over the next 30 minutes as we let the wind/waves push us gently along the shoreline.
Bergmann's rule holds for northern Alberta seagulls, so it seems, as these birds look to be double the size of seagull I am familiar with in the states. We were told that several miles away from the lodge there is a large island that the gulls use as nesting habitat.
After several hours of fishing, "Fred" told us that he was feeling like it was time to head back. With the windy easterly winds, the fish were not hitting at the red hot pace of the previous week and this seemed to bother him, as he had told us that sometimes this lake at this time of year is one fish, one cast, when the fish have been located.
We made it back to the lodge, and went up to make some sandwiches for lunch. We found out that the other boats had also found the fishing to be somewhat off, but all had caught some fish, so were were looking forward to another fish fry that night.
After lunch, the sherps were in high demand for some rough road/off road adventuring. Several of "Fred's" kids took turns running the sherp out into the increasingly wave filled lake. It was indeed amazing to watch this vehicle handle any surface that the northern wilderness could throw at it. Steve Overguard is looking forward to pushing into previously unhunted moose territory using the sherp as an insertion/extraction vehicle.
Shortly after lunch I witnessed an amazing sight, as a float plane had landed around the corner of land where the water was flatter, taxied up to the dock, tied off, and the four guys hopped off the plane and were on a boat within minutes of tying off at the dock.
After lunch, we heard a plane buzzing the lodge, so the UTV and Argo with trailer were driven up to pick up the new arrivals at the lodge. A Cessna Caravan brought in some more fisherman, and some supplies for the lodge. The Argo took them down to the lodge, while Steve and I took the heads, entrails and skeltons of the fish caught that morning and placed them across the runway from the tree stand had been built several years ago. Steve showed me the trees that the stand was built in, but it took long minutes of looking to find the carefully hidden shooting platform that would have a perfect vantage spot on the just placed bait.
Daniel and I had hatched a plan to once again see about a Canada wolf. Hours later as the sherp activity was shut down, "Fred" Daniel and I jumped into the UTV and headed back up the hill to the ridgetop runway. As we left the forest road, and turned onto the road that runs alongside the runway, I shouted "WOLF!!" and pointed out the jet black wolf running towards the treeline at the far end of the runway. He was loping along, but making good time and was gone in a few seconds. Daniel turned around and grinned at me, as once again these rookie wolf hunters had defied the odds and seen a wolf.
Heading towards where the wolf had been seen, we stopped in front of the big trio of trees that held the elevated blind. Making sure we had everything, we made our way to the base of the ladder. Down at Zama City, my bear stands had been metal ladders strapped to big trees with metal seats/rails. Here we had a homemade ladder with screws (sorta!!) holding the treads to the uprights, which was wired into the base of the plywood/dimensional lumber blind. Daniel went up first testing every tread with great care, and made it up just fine. He was borrowing a 30-06, while I had a 300Win for myself. The blind had a plywood roof with 2x4 railing, and someone had made a nice artistic range map showing several points of reference.
Daniel had brought his thermacell, and I gave him my permethrin treated facemask to ward off the swarm of mosquitoes. I had packed my thermacell, but looking for it, didn't find it at the bottom of my pack. As the wind in the blind would swirl, we would move the working thermacell a bit to try and keep us in the downwind zone of protection. It was clear that the wind was very irregular as we could see lots of poplar cotton floating first this way, then that with the vagaries of the breezes.
We broke off a few branches deemed to be in the way of observation or bringing a rifle into firing position. As we had flown such a small aircraft into the lodge, I had elected to leave my Big Fin garage sale gold ring binos back in Zama City. Kicking myself for that decision, I kept careful watch, hoping that the wolf would show himself again.
"WOLF" we both whispered to each other as a black wolf moved beyond the forest edge, just about where we had seen him disappear 45 minutes earlier. My rifle was already pointed in that general direction, and as I brought the butt to my shoulder, I could see him start to slide off to his right, heading into some short poplars on the side of the runway. Trying to find him in my scope, I knew that Daniel should be swinging his gun muzzle towards him as well. As quick as he appeared in the open, he drifted back into the treeline. I imagined him heading towards the fish carcasses and tried to see any movement as he would be heading back to my left. Hoping that he didn't know what we were up to, we kept intensely watching for him to reappear where we had just seen him, or along the way to the bait.
After 5 minutes or so of intense anticipation of seeing him again, we began to relax the hyper vigilant scanning. We had seen yet another wolf, but the time was so short that I never really had him in my scope. Ten minutes later I saw movement in nearly the exact spot we had just seen the wolf. My gun mount was quick, and I saw a marmot moving towards the large tree pile that borders the end of the runway edge. He offered me several minutes of scope viewing, and practice for my shot routine should one present itself tonight.
Several minutes after the marmot disappeared into the woodpile, I once again saw motion at the same spot of ground. Pulling the scope up for a magnified view, I whispered to Daniel "it looks like a mountain lion!?!?" I saw a tawny body, and thought I saw a long tail. It indeed was a feline, but it was a big Canadian Lynx. This big cat seemed to me to be sniffing and following along where the marmot had just been minutes earlier. Sitting down to do a little licking, at one point he seemed to turn and look directly into the tree that we were sitting in. This lynx was in view for several more moments, and then disappeared behind the tree pile, never to be seen again.
Later in the evening, we could hear human voices coming off of the lake as the fisherman were trolling along, heading back to the lodge. For some time after they had passed, and nothing seemed to be happening along the runway, we whispered if howling was indicated once again. "Fred" and kids had told us stories of having the lodge pack answering their howls, and one night they felt like the pack had totally surrounded them. Letting a few howls rip, we waited, hoping for another miracle to happen. No dice, as we had no answer and saw no more animals this evening.
As we had landed two mornings before on the runway we were hunting, mama bear and two young cubs were seen. Following safety protocols we unloaded the chamber of our rifles as we descended from the trees, but I re-chambered a round for our walk home. Walking down the middle of the runway, we saw several older wolf poops, and found some moderately fresh tracks at the bait site. As we neared the entrance to the forest road, we heard a UTV heading our way. "Fred" and wife had come up to howl for a wolf, and to drive us home. Quite honestly I was very glad that they had done so, as I didn't relish the though of a mile long walk through the forest with toothy creatures roaming nearby.
Breakfast was over and "Fred" wanted to take a few of us out on Steve's boat. This is the boat often used by guides/moose hunters wanting to travel towards the south and west end of the lake in the fall. The kids had skipped breakfast and the rods that I had made functional were shanghai'd off into their Lund boats. Scrounging around even more, we put together some sketchy fishing poles (not worthy to be called fishing rods) and headed out. The boat's depth finder showed how shallow the lake is on the north end near the lodge. We had been advised that the walleye were in 5 feet of water, while the pike were to be found there, or in the little bays along the shores edge where the water was warming up faster.
Trolling along, the other Mark on the trip hooked up first. Netting the pike, we then had to search for a pliers to safely unhook the pike without slicing up fingers or tearing up the pike. Seems like someone had pilfered Steve's good dehooking pliers so it was a little more tedious than usual. Daniel hooked up, and boated a nice walleye for the pot next. Taking turns at the rods, we motored east towards a pike bay. Several more fish were boated, with Daniel and the other Mark having the hot hand. Both reels that were attached to our rods were budget spincast reels than sounded like they had never heard of reel lube, and the gearing was a bit suspect as well.
Arriving at the pike bay, we coasted into comfortable casting distance if one had a heavy spoon and a stiff casting rod. As we had suspect rods, coupled with the tendinitis in my casting hand, I was having trouble getting my spoon up into the likely hideyholes of Mr Pike. Seeing my lack of success, "Fred" hopped up onto the bow of the boat and two handed cast into a tiny weed bed opening, and immediately hooked up. Several 5-8 pounders were brought to net over the next 30 minutes as we let the wind/waves push us gently along the shoreline.
Bergmann's rule holds for northern Alberta seagulls, so it seems, as these birds look to be double the size of seagull I am familiar with in the states. We were told that several miles away from the lodge there is a large island that the gulls use as nesting habitat.
After several hours of fishing, "Fred" told us that he was feeling like it was time to head back. With the windy easterly winds, the fish were not hitting at the red hot pace of the previous week and this seemed to bother him, as he had told us that sometimes this lake at this time of year is one fish, one cast, when the fish have been located.
We made it back to the lodge, and went up to make some sandwiches for lunch. We found out that the other boats had also found the fishing to be somewhat off, but all had caught some fish, so were were looking forward to another fish fry that night.
After lunch, the sherps were in high demand for some rough road/off road adventuring. Several of "Fred's" kids took turns running the sherp out into the increasingly wave filled lake. It was indeed amazing to watch this vehicle handle any surface that the northern wilderness could throw at it. Steve Overguard is looking forward to pushing into previously unhunted moose territory using the sherp as an insertion/extraction vehicle.
Shortly after lunch I witnessed an amazing sight, as a float plane had landed around the corner of land where the water was flatter, taxied up to the dock, tied off, and the four guys hopped off the plane and were on a boat within minutes of tying off at the dock.
After lunch, we heard a plane buzzing the lodge, so the UTV and Argo with trailer were driven up to pick up the new arrivals at the lodge. A Cessna Caravan brought in some more fisherman, and some supplies for the lodge. The Argo took them down to the lodge, while Steve and I took the heads, entrails and skeltons of the fish caught that morning and placed them across the runway from the tree stand had been built several years ago. Steve showed me the trees that the stand was built in, but it took long minutes of looking to find the carefully hidden shooting platform that would have a perfect vantage spot on the just placed bait.
Daniel and I had hatched a plan to once again see about a Canada wolf. Hours later as the sherp activity was shut down, "Fred" Daniel and I jumped into the UTV and headed back up the hill to the ridgetop runway. As we left the forest road, and turned onto the road that runs alongside the runway, I shouted "WOLF!!" and pointed out the jet black wolf running towards the treeline at the far end of the runway. He was loping along, but making good time and was gone in a few seconds. Daniel turned around and grinned at me, as once again these rookie wolf hunters had defied the odds and seen a wolf.
Heading towards where the wolf had been seen, we stopped in front of the big trio of trees that held the elevated blind. Making sure we had everything, we made our way to the base of the ladder. Down at Zama City, my bear stands had been metal ladders strapped to big trees with metal seats/rails. Here we had a homemade ladder with screws (sorta!!) holding the treads to the uprights, which was wired into the base of the plywood/dimensional lumber blind. Daniel went up first testing every tread with great care, and made it up just fine. He was borrowing a 30-06, while I had a 300Win for myself. The blind had a plywood roof with 2x4 railing, and someone had made a nice artistic range map showing several points of reference.
Daniel had brought his thermacell, and I gave him my permethrin treated facemask to ward off the swarm of mosquitoes. I had packed my thermacell, but looking for it, didn't find it at the bottom of my pack. As the wind in the blind would swirl, we would move the working thermacell a bit to try and keep us in the downwind zone of protection. It was clear that the wind was very irregular as we could see lots of poplar cotton floating first this way, then that with the vagaries of the breezes.
We broke off a few branches deemed to be in the way of observation or bringing a rifle into firing position. As we had flown such a small aircraft into the lodge, I had elected to leave my Big Fin garage sale gold ring binos back in Zama City. Kicking myself for that decision, I kept careful watch, hoping that the wolf would show himself again.
"WOLF" we both whispered to each other as a black wolf moved beyond the forest edge, just about where we had seen him disappear 45 minutes earlier. My rifle was already pointed in that general direction, and as I brought the butt to my shoulder, I could see him start to slide off to his right, heading into some short poplars on the side of the runway. Trying to find him in my scope, I knew that Daniel should be swinging his gun muzzle towards him as well. As quick as he appeared in the open, he drifted back into the treeline. I imagined him heading towards the fish carcasses and tried to see any movement as he would be heading back to my left. Hoping that he didn't know what we were up to, we kept intensely watching for him to reappear where we had just seen him, or along the way to the bait.
After 5 minutes or so of intense anticipation of seeing him again, we began to relax the hyper vigilant scanning. We had seen yet another wolf, but the time was so short that I never really had him in my scope. Ten minutes later I saw movement in nearly the exact spot we had just seen the wolf. My gun mount was quick, and I saw a marmot moving towards the large tree pile that borders the end of the runway edge. He offered me several minutes of scope viewing, and practice for my shot routine should one present itself tonight.
Several minutes after the marmot disappeared into the woodpile, I once again saw motion at the same spot of ground. Pulling the scope up for a magnified view, I whispered to Daniel "it looks like a mountain lion!?!?" I saw a tawny body, and thought I saw a long tail. It indeed was a feline, but it was a big Canadian Lynx. This big cat seemed to me to be sniffing and following along where the marmot had just been minutes earlier. Sitting down to do a little licking, at one point he seemed to turn and look directly into the tree that we were sitting in. This lynx was in view for several more moments, and then disappeared behind the tree pile, never to be seen again.
Later in the evening, we could hear human voices coming off of the lake as the fisherman were trolling along, heading back to the lodge. For some time after they had passed, and nothing seemed to be happening along the runway, we whispered if howling was indicated once again. "Fred" and kids had told us stories of having the lodge pack answering their howls, and one night they felt like the pack had totally surrounded them. Letting a few howls rip, we waited, hoping for another miracle to happen. No dice, as we had no answer and saw no more animals this evening.
As we had landed two mornings before on the runway we were hunting, mama bear and two young cubs were seen. Following safety protocols we unloaded the chamber of our rifles as we descended from the trees, but I re-chambered a round for our walk home. Walking down the middle of the runway, we saw several older wolf poops, and found some moderately fresh tracks at the bait site. As we neared the entrance to the forest road, we heard a UTV heading our way. "Fred" and wife had come up to howl for a wolf, and to drive us home. Quite honestly I was very glad that they had done so, as I didn't relish the though of a mile long walk through the forest with toothy creatures roaming nearby.
So I was reading the paper on the couch this morning, when the cell phone alert chimes. It was Daniel texting me, saying call me when you get this, there MIGHT be an incredible opportunity to put your new 308 to good use. My mind started racing....what is he cooking up now? Texas whitetails, Alberta whitetails, some Colorado landowner voucher, what could it be??
I called him, and the long story short is there is a possibility of filling in going on a moose hunt, and did I want to pursue it if the chance to go north materialized?? He reminded me that often the offer to go is made, and then something falls through and the slim chance of going is missed. Daniel told me that his "Dream Hunt" has always been a moose hunt. Physical location has just made the logistics hard enough that he has been happy with his bear quest, along with regular deer hunting. From a scheduling point, early October is fine for me and my work, but a week away from Washington DC one month before the elections might be a deal breaker for Daniel.
I had not even seriously considered going black bear hunting before the fateful phone call from Daniel in April, and we made it happen. Even more remote from my thinking was a moose hunt and now there is a glimmer of a chance. Moose and wuffs beware, there is a slim chance the brothers could be in action again.
I called him, and the long story short is there is a possibility of filling in going on a moose hunt, and did I want to pursue it if the chance to go north materialized?? He reminded me that often the offer to go is made, and then something falls through and the slim chance of going is missed. Daniel told me that his "Dream Hunt" has always been a moose hunt. Physical location has just made the logistics hard enough that he has been happy with his bear quest, along with regular deer hunting. From a scheduling point, early October is fine for me and my work, but a week away from Washington DC one month before the elections might be a deal breaker for Daniel.
I had not even seriously considered going black bear hunting before the fateful phone call from Daniel in April, and we made it happen. Even more remote from my thinking was a moose hunt and now there is a glimmer of a chance. Moose and wuffs beware, there is a slim chance the brothers could be in action again.
