With a few days under our belt and opportunities for bulls scarce, Matt and I decided to try the south side of our lake while Chuck and Will continued to hunt the north side. Matt traded his bow in for a .300 Win mag due to the open terrain.
We had discussed in camp that if Matt or I tagged a bull, we would pack it back to the south shore of lake, where we could stage the meat and have the float plane pick it up from there.
We hiked around the lake and worked our way east to a brush-covered knob. Mid-morning, Matt spotted a bull on another hill a mile further east. We put the spotting scope on him and both of us said we'd shoot that bull.
The bull worked to the south and stopped to feed at the end of a long and low brushy ridge. We watched him through the spotter as he fed for a few minutes--like most of the caribou we'd seen all week it seemed he wasn't moving much so we closed some distance, using what terrain was available and glassing along the way. It took about an hour to reach the ridge he'd been on, and crept through the brush we simultaneously saw him bedded at 550 yards. Matt said, "I want you to shoot that bull."
"You spotted him, he's yours if you want him."
"You should take him," replied Matt.
He didn't need to tell me again. We low-crawled to get closer, but the bull soon stood up and started feeding away. Matt and I split up and I dropped off the left side of ridge. As soon as I got down out of sight of the bull I started hustling his direction. After gaining a couple hundred yards I crawled to the top of ridge and saw the bull was still feeding away.
I was able to get prone and when the bull turned broadside I squeezed off a shot. I heard the bullet thwack as the bull lurched backward, spun, and stumbled badly heavily favoring a front leg. He was hit hard but still on his feet. From my right, I heard Matt shoot. The bull soon went down and as I got to him he was trying to get on his feet again so I gave him one more behind the shoulder for insurance.
I've heard caribou aren't that tough but this one apparently didn't know it.
I sent an inreach msg to Will, and Matt and I got working on quartering. Will arrived just as we finished the knifework and three of us packed the bull back towards our lake.
When we reached the lake we found it was too shallow on the south shoreline for a float plane, and we wound up packing the bull all the way around the lake to camp...four miles.
I was excited to have harvested a caribou--we certainly hunted hard and earned it.