Koktuli River Alaska 2004

An average night in the bush of Alaska? Here is a picture of a self-guided float hunt on the
beautiful and scenic waters of the Kokuli River, my good buddy John and I were in pursuit of
Moose, Caribou, Black Bear and Wolf, the pickings were slow for all but caribou. We saw a
lot of them on this 12 day hunt and we were able to take one Caribou each. Both were a
good representative of the species however, we really never saw anything larger by
the way of rack size. We called in a moose from the thick forest but really never had a clear
view of it's rack to properly judge for a fifty inch spread, which is by the way the legal size
for the taking for non-resident hunters. As far as Black Bear and Wolf, we never saw either
one, we did however hear wolves howl in the early morning fog,
some were in the distant forest!

Fishing on the other hand was great for Silvers, Grayling and Rainbows, our arms were
aching after we tried to battle every passing school of Silvers. John’s arm was much better
after he broke his fishing rod, on a heavy Silver!

The mornings were cold. But by midday we could have hunted in t-shirts if it
wasn’t for the "mosquitoes", "white socks" and "no-see-ums" which reminds me; take
plenty of bug spray (High on Deet). My buddy John has these ears that protrude from his
head a little more then most so his ears were bitten so bad they started to ooze, nasty!
My bites were just under my hat in a straight line across my forehead and how they itched
like hell! We wore head nets, gloves and bug dope, but they still seemed
to find away to get to us!

The river started out more like a small creek which widened and narrowed frequently till about
ten miles from the confluence of the Mulchatna River. It was a bit unnerving in the narrow
portions of the river, we were always wary of jumping a moose and or brown bear that
seemed to be abundant in the area. Although we only sighted one Brown Bear running along
the open tundra from the safety of our seat in the bush plane, we saw tracks and trails the
whole way to the Mulchatna River 60 some miles long.

On one of these nights a bear walked along the rivers edge just outside of our camp, you could
hear the water splash as the Bear was parting in a passage in the easy flow of the river.
As it came closer and closer it sounded like a distant ripple but then it began to get louder and
louder, the time was 2:00 am and it was very dark with no moon light. I laid there with my
head stretched out trying to listen until I realized that the bear had stop right in front of camp!
I reached over to wake John, he quietly said “yeah?” I said there’s a bear by the meat; which by
the way is along the rivers edge just out side of camp about 30 yards or so, we both sat
quietly in a cold sweat. We did not hear a sound so I decided to shout out, Hey Bear! Hey Bear!

We didn't sit up because we didn’t want to miss a sound that might be over shadowed by
the rustling of the sleeping bag and my neck ached from this uncomfortable position.
We waited for a sound of any kind, breathing, meat bags be riped open, the huffing of a bear
but there was nothing! Gun in hand we waited when all of a sudden we could hear the
water as though the bear was trying to sneak past our camp, what a relief!
The sound of our bear was becoming more and more distant. WOW, I thought to my self as
I was finally able to lay my head down to relieve my aching neck and we never said another
word John and I!

With my hand gun in hand and atop my chest I dosed off till morning light, all was well
with camp and the meat was never touched. That encounter was a bit close for comfort,
but think of all the critters that wonder past camp when you’re fast asleep? I really do
believe that it was because we had laid out a couple of used shirts in the trees above the
meat that helped to keep the bear away!

Well that’s an average night in the bush of Alaska!    How I long for another.. 
  _____________________________________________________________________
       

This picture shows after I had reached the trail head  

Boone and Crockett Deer
On the day I took my trophy buck, I awoke at 4:30 a.m. to prepare for a full day of hunting.
I started out on trail around 5:30 a.m., hiking deeper into the mountains. Eight inches of
snow had fallen a few days before making tracking easier. I hunted a small valley with a
trail that meandered along a creek at the bottom. From the trail I could view open
meadows through small openings in the dense trees on the opposite side of the valley. 
I paused at each opening to search for an movement.  Two hours after I started I came
across fresh deer tracks that meandered on and off the game trail. I thought, “Buck!”
because it traveled alone and tracks wear of exceptional size for a deer. 
        
    I prepared myself by removing the lens cap from the scope and chambering a round as
I continued my slow spot and stock  movements intently searching for any kind of movement,
I spotted a deer in a large meadow about 300 yards away and realized it was the largest
buck I ever saw. I slowly stepped back behind a small pine tree, dropped to my knees and
removing my coat and backpack. I kept my eyes glued on the buck as it headed for the
black timber 50 yards above it. 

    I quickly closed the distance between myself and the buck by 100 yards by half running
and half walking while trying not to make any noise or be spotted by this great animal.
The babbling creek covered any noise I made as my feet crunched in the snow.
When I reached some large pine trees and willows, I scanned the area for the buck only
to realize it stood broadside to me, looking in my direction. I froze in position for at least
five minutes as I watched the buck and listened to my heart pound. The buck eventually
turned and walked at a steady pace for the dense forest above. I realized I had a poor
shot between the pine trees and willows; all I could see was the rear and rack of the buck.
Just as it was about to disappear into the black timber above, I dropped to a sitting position
and prepared for a shot.

As I fixed the buck in my sites sights, it walked behind a large pine tree. In a last-ditch effort
to attract the buck’s attention, I gave a short, high pitched whistle. The curious muley made
the fatal error of taking one last look and turned back!
 stepped partially away from the tree for a half broadside shot. I slowly squeezed the trigger.
The buck jumped and bolted toward cover, giving no indication it had been hit other then it
kicked rear ward with both legs. I lost track of it after 50 yards from where I last saw it, 
I questioned my shot. because he never gave any indication of being hit.  I waited an hour
and returned to the trail where I had first spotted the deer, I planed to work my way up the
trail in hopes of spotting the buck the buck on the opposite side. Seventy-five yards from
where the buck disappeared, I spotted it at the base of a small tree. I watched the buck
with my binoculars knowing it was hit but not knowing how well. sitting there waiting what
seemed like fore ever, two hours later I noticed a bird land on top of the big bucks rack,
I new then that I had harvested the largest buck I had ever seen!  When I got closer I
 realized the buck had died instantly on the run, from a heart shot, it had fallen and slid to
the base of a tree with its head up and its legs tucked under it, looking alert and ready to bolt.

My buck was accepted into the Boone and Crockett Club’s 23rd
North American Big Game Awards Program (1995-1997)
 an currently holds a cherished spot in the all time Boone and Crockett Record Book.