Uncharted Alaska: Solo. Updated 1-18

[Kevin Dill]

Appreciative of the comments. Doing such a story isn't easy work for me. I'm not an author or writer. My hopeful goal in any story is to take you along and put you beside me every step...to have that 'over the shoulder' type feeling when you read. That's what I like when I read a good story.

Keith: There was plenty of rain through the hunt. I wouldn't call it excessive but I slept late a couple mornings and had to hunt after it cleared. No big deal. I don't hunt in a steady rain.

[Birdbow]

Superb storytelling and photos!

[wooddamon1]

Heck of a way to start the day, woke up and had to check if you started the story. Not a writer? I beg to differ, sir!

[Kevin Dill]

A few notes on gear: It's important, so I don't skimp. I know guys who do and get by which is fine...until it isn't. Last year's horrendous weather hammered home the need to take the best stuff you can afford or make. I'm near o-c when it comes to this, and hate preventable gear failures.

A good bedroll is important when you will sleep 15 nights on a 26” wide bed. Try it at home. Alaska isn't the place to learn your bed isn't up to the task of helping you sleep. One-third of your trip will be spent sleeping. Your bow will be used less.

 

Choose your food wisely and bring exactly enough, plus a couple days extra. Better to bring it out than run out. Steve O gave me the line on a superb dehydrated egg product and I brought them. They probably exceed the quality of most restaurant scrambled eggs...very tender and egg-tasty.

 

I switched from a liquid fuel stove to a canister unit. Mine is a Primus ETA Spider. It is superbly fuel efficient and fast. While heating water I can feel very little heat above the pan. The stove/windscreen/pan/lid combo captures over 90% of the btu output, hence I was able to make one canister of fuel last over ten days without skimping.

 

Speaking of nutrition, don't discount the value of locally available stuff. Berries count, as do grouse, hares or other in-season edibles. I found these lingonberries (low bush cranberries) not far from camp. They were a delicacy and I added them to my granola along with a few blueberries.

 

[Carcajou]

Kev
Being someone who does a lot of back country hunting, I appreciate your willingness to share in the positives on gear, and the negatives as well. Great way to tell of your adventures, and yes, I feel like I am in that Kifaru sitting by the stove with you...keep it comin'

[Kevin Dill]

I guess I ate a lot of blueberries.      

 

[Steve O]

Originally posted by Kevin Dill:
 

   

 

That would go good with one of Monty's patented thick sliced campfire bacon clotheslines!

[Kevin Dill]

The days became indistinct as the hunt grew longer. One day blends into the next until the memory is more like a twisting river. The moose sightings became few and I began to see another hunt ending without a kill. I can deal with that, but honestly it's not like we are forever consoled by fresh air or content to wear out our boots without walking down a blood trail. We are there to hunt and to produce a kill if possible. I wanted that, but all I could do was play my role and let Alaska do her thing. I continued to shoot images in place of the moose I hoped for.

 

 

 

 

 

[Kevin Dill]

One afternoon the moose suddenly appeared. 2 bulls and 3 cows showed on the burn opposite my camp. One of the bulls was a stud and the other was darned fine, too. I called to them as they headed off the burn into the valley and generally toward me. The big bull actually trotted off the hill and toward me. I basically flew off my rockpile perch and forded the stream, then headed cross-valley toward a key movement point. I never made it. Moose began filtering out of the trees and moving my way. I was pinned 70 yards from my objective. I settled for a clump of willows to hide my form. And of course you already somehow know the big stud bull walked withing ten yards of the key point I hoped to reach. I could only grit my teeth and send him a soft cow bawl. He walked directly to me and glared into the willow clump head-on. I held my breath and waited for the broadside turn. It came and I tensed the string as I leaned out for the shot. Too late...his turn became a 180 degree walkaway and I could only stare daggers into his wide rump. He left the valley and went over ½ mile west up into the edge of the burn. Then unaccountably he began a wide turn and began walking back my way. I lost no time getting to the key point and setting up an ambush in the highest probability spot I knew. 15 minutes later I found him. He had walked directly down the stream and was standing 50 yards from my tent. That was the moment I knew this hunt wasn't going according to Kevin's plan. The bull walked on as the sun dropped low and shadows consumed the valley.

[Crittergetter]

Good story telling Kevin. I almost feel like I'm right there with you when reading this. Like I'm an invisible ghost somewhere in the background watching it all unfold. I am Sooooo jealous!

[Kevin Dill]

Throughout the hunt I maintained contact with my wife Marilyn via satellite phone calls and texts. She was able to keep me updated on weather forecasts and it was a big help. She was also my constant supporter; always encouraging me to keep chipping and hope for the best. The day after the encounter above rain arrived again. I lost most of the morning's hunt and saw few animals that day. Her text message that evening: “Rain ending tonight. Clear and no rain tomorrow. Kill a bull day. Chance of rain and wind on the 21st.” I looked hard at the 'kill a bull' comment and smiled. The hunt was nearing its end and the weather wasn't helping.

I woke to partly cloudy and cold conditions the next morning. Breakfast just like always and then hit the vantage points. Zip except for a long range cow. Never saw a finer morning for moose to move, but that's moose. At 10:30 I decided to cut some brush and wood for a fire that evening. I was making a heck of a racket and not caring at all. Sometimes bulls are intrigued by these sounds and will respond.  At this point I wasn't holding my breath. I was there more for moose meat than antler and would have happily shot a paddle horn full of wood arrows. Anyway...you know things never happen when you're expecting them.

[Patknight]

Kevin I have have been daydreaming my whole life for a trip such as yours,your words and excellent descriptions of the bush put me there,,,thank you!

[Big Ed]

Kevin,
Thank you so much for sharing. Some day I hope to do it myself.
 Big Ed

[Kevin Dill]

I glanced up and across the valley at the key zone...the side drainage...and my eyes caught movement. No glass required; a bull was headed to the valley in front of me. Panic. Grab the bow and get across the river. No good cover. Where to go? There....2 small spruce trees. I made time and got to the trees.

 

The bull was at 200 yards and acting rutty. Pawing, raking and slopping up a rut pit...looking good so far. Then he bedded and that was it. Nothing would get him up and there was no way to pull off a stalk. I could only wait and watch hm thru the glass. Long points and paddles. Plenty of bone up there. I was in anguish, wanting this dude to have a bad day and end up on my arrow. The wait went on for minutes....a lot of them.

[Kevin Dill]

Unlucky

I've said it before. I have this sort of internal leveling philosophy about big game encounters. I figure in any hunting encounter with an animal, one of us will be unlucky. And of course it's almost always me which is part of the deal when you're carrying a longbow. This philosophy keeps me balanced and is a coping mechanism of sorts. I'm never terribly disappointed when I'm unlucky.

So when the bull suddenly rose to his feet and started walking my way I was startled. I didn't expect this kind of good luck. He was coming right into the open and acting rutty. That's when I noticed a big and very available cow headed down the valley. She spotted him and made a beeline to him.

 

I've never seen a cow moose throw herself at a bull before but that's what she did. Rubbing, nuzzling and licking...she circled him like he was her prince. I guess I stood behind my tree with a slack jaw figuring the unlucky part of this had just been decided. “Really?” A desperate cow bawl would do nothing, but I had nothing else for this bull. I wailed and he came 20 yards. The cow circled and played. Another bawl and another 20 yards. The cow was throwing herself on him and pleading “what about ME?”. At 50 yards I gave out a slight nasal squeal and that tripped his trigger. He raised his head and strode confidently straight to my tree. The effect was one of watching a school bus drive right up to you and stop a few feet away. I was shocked when the bull was eyeball-to-eyeball with me at a few feet. I could have reached out and fed him a carrot. His eyes were moving and sides heaving as he stood there reading the situation.

I can't explain it...why I let it happen. I've been close to plenty of big and dangerous animals before, but this was the peak of insanity. A rutting bull with a cow in tow. 36” away if that. One lunge from getting plowed into the tundra or river behind me. Any sudden move was highly likely to produce a reactionary charge. I could only hold ground and hope it defused somehow. I was on a razor's edge and any sudden move by the bull would've likely caused me to react violently. And then it happened.

[Bowwild]

The pictures are great but I enjoy your insight the most. Obviously steeped in experience.

I sense a surprise coming...!

[twigflicker]

Incredible!  Thanks for taking us along Mr. Dill!

Jonathan

[Kevin Dill]

With no warning the bull swung his head to my left...his antlers brushing the top of the spruce just over my head. He turned and walked left with his massive shoulder right against the opposite side of my small tree. I somehow had luckily lined up my arrow with the gap between the 2 trees and he was going to walk right in front of it. As he began taking steps I slowly raised the bow...expecting him to see the motion and either bolt, stop or somehow react. None of that occurred and I tensed the string as his shoulder entered the opening. My last conscious thought was something like “There's no way to predict what's about to happen”....and then his chest was there. I hit full draw with no aiming and watched the arrow plunge between ribs all the way to the crest. The distance from bow hand to moose hide was 4 feet.

 

Maybe it was the cow, but the bull sort of just jumped at the shot and trotted off 30 yards. I don't think he even felt much of the arrow. He walked slowly and his cow continued to circle him playfully. At 50 yards he stopped...head down...and began to do what I call the moose-hula. Hips swaying...head swinging....and then he just laid down purposely to die. It was as good a death as any bull moose can ever accept. That's what I told myself as I began dealing with the emotions of 12 days of solo hunting that culminated in the killing of an animal I revere. I wanted a good death for him and I did my part.

 

[Steve O]

It does not get ANY better than that!  

Fine job as always Kevin    

I dread what you are going to have to deal with next though. Moose are a handful with two people to butcher and pack.

[JimB]

Amazing stuff Kevin.Thanks for sharing it.