Between Heaven & Hell: Alaska 2015

[MCNSC]

This is going to be good, it already is.

[23feetupandhappy]

I'm in  

[Kevin Dill]

edit in progress....

[The Night Stalker]

There is a subtle message here. I took Tonya to Denali in May, rode the glass train, and cruised the inside passage. This year, I am going back to Moose hunt with a caribou and wolf tag in hand.
Kevin, that Moose Pass place is not very big, did you get to met its Mayor.

[Joeabowhunter]

  I love your stories...thanks for taking us along!

[Kevin Dill]

Enjoying a sunny sidewalk café in Valdez...waiting on a beverage!

 

I had spoken to my pilot about the possibility of getting Marilyn up in his Super Cub. On a warm and fine evening he called and said, "Let's get her up!" Here she is getting pre-flight safety instructions.

 

Intrepid woman...first time in a Cub. I know I wasn't grinning like that the first time I buckled in.

 

One of our favorite stops is Pike's Landing in Fairbanks. Eating on the patio was a sweet treat.

 

[Kevin Dill]

Departure day for Marilyn was kind of a sad one. My partner was going home and I was staying on. It had been heaven. We celebrated our great trip with one last dinner at Pike's Landing, and then it was time. The airport goodbye was long and meaningful. I knew she was concerned and I didn't cover it up. It was hard to walk away. Fairbanks Airport is pretty small and I drove out to a neighboring business where I parked. Watching her Delta take wing, I nodded to myself that it was good, and my hunt was starting.

Back at my room I poured the final glass from a bottle we'd shared. I looked at my gear and knew I was ready. I quietly toasted the success of our trip. No matter what happened from this point...I was satisfied. I had a few hours to contemplate the hunt before sleep. Tomorrow it begins.

 

[Matabele]

What an incredible opportunity and experience, thanks for taking us along!

[Kevin Dill]

The Hunt

At 6:30 the next morning my pilot picked me up. We tossed my gear in his truck and ten minutes later we arrived at the hangar. I caught up with an old friend and chatted briefly as the Super Cub was fueled. I loaded my gear and we lofted up and away in no time. I rather enjoyed that flight...it was probably the finest bush flight I've ever experienced. Imagine two Super Cubs heading into the bush and low mountains of eastern Alaska...pilots talking back and forth...I was adding dumb commentary as required...and we flew steadily east by northeast into the rugged Fortymile region. The Cubs eventually separated and we began doing a reconnaissance of various caribou areas. We flew over domes and rugged cliffs, up and through passes, and soared above wild quiet expanses of alpine tundra. From the air we located a few bands of Dall sheep, one of which was watching a black bear navigate the steep slope below. We spotted multiple moose including a nice bull just coming out of velvet. The caribou were spotty, just as they should be in late August. They were scattered and holding high...the migration yet to begin.

After flying through and around many possible hunting areas it was time to make a decision. Based on visuals and feedback from my friend/pilot I made my choice. “Take me to Judith Pass”. My friend and pilot told me I'd chosen well. I heard him say something about tricky winds and short takeoffs which could make for problems in unfavorable weather, but by then it was a moot point. The rocks and tundra were looming larger by the second and less than a minute later we were bouncing to a stop. I clipped out of my flight harness and stepped into my new world, surveying the terrain and surrounding mountains.

   

[Qrole]

Love it, I'll be refreshing often, great story so far. My inlaws surprised the family with an Alaskan cruise this summer, pretty jazzed about it.

[Kevin Dill]

Judith Pass is a treeless pass which separates the headwaters of two rivers. It is rough country. Think lots of rock, steep mountainsides, cascading streams, a few alders below, and far below is the black spruce taiga which holds moose. It is severely lonely country without a tree to rest against. The only sounds you'll hear are those of the wind, the fast water below and maybe a raven croaking somewhere above.

It took ten minutes to unload my gear and get the Cub away. I don't recall any particular feeling of aloneness or gravity as I watched him float away down-canyon toward the spruce below...I've been alone in Alaska many times. Besides, I had work to do: “Well....I decided on this, so I can only blame me”. I wasn't going to camp where I landed. My campsite was to be farther up in the actual pass. That meant a backpack trip, and considering I had 75 pounds of gear it meant two backpack trips....I had to get working. I filled my pack with 40 pounds of gear and shouldered it. There's not much point trying to describe what it's like to be well over the double-nickel in age, while hammering up a big rough shale slide through alders and fighting for balance. In the end I climbed about 800 vertical feet and went a mile or two into the pass. On the way up I paused to shoot a picture or two. The tiny lake far below is about 3/4 miles away at this point, and I had started my trek near it. I noticed my shadow and struck a noble pose for the image.

 

[Kevin Dill]

I was seeing caribou as I packed upward into the pass. The strategy was to camp above and within striking distance of the various benches and trails traversing the pass. From my camp I would watch for bulls and then drop down to intercept them. It was a simple plan but not as easy as it sounds.

I continued to advance in both elevation and distance until I was a good long ways from our landing strip. I liked what I could see and decided I needed to find a campsite. “Good lord....I forgot to bring a bulldozer.” I found a bench which wasn't really level...more like 15-20 degrees angle...and looked for a place to pitch the Sawtooth tipi. Every spot was either wet or bulging with rocks. I finally compromised and selected the least rocky spot I could find. I dumped the pack and flopped on a flat rock. It was 11:30 and I needed a lunch snack. I cut a chunk of salami....you know that good Genoa stuff by Boar's Head.....and opened a granola bar. “This is pretty good. I'm sitting alone in Judith Pass eating lunch. There are caribou walking below me. The sun is warm. I have another load to haul, but I'll get it done.”

My brain was in neutral...lulled by the comforts of sun and scenery. My legs were tired. The food tasted divine. “I think I see another caribou coming. Wait a second....uh oh.”

I grabbed my binoculars and verified what my unaided eyes had seen:

 

[Joeabowhunter]

   

[Kevin Dill]

This was the last in a long line of remote possibilities I envisioned. We had flown through the pass 3 times...no bear. It didn't matter....I had my very own camp grizzly sauntering my way at 250 yards and closing steadily. I grabbed the camera and snicked off several images.

 

Big and blonde..."Jeez-o-pete...that sucker is big!" The wind was wrong; he was upwind and couldn't smell me. The situation was wrong: I had intelligently decided to leave my big handgun far below for the second trip. After all, bears don't usually find themselves attracted to airplanes and all that clatter. I had a can of pepper spray and a few minutes at most. I needed to make a decision, so I decided; I sat there and ate my salami and granola bar. “If this dude crosses that rocky slide and gets on my side he'll be at 125 yards or so. I'll give him until then. If he gets under 100 yards one of us is going to look bad.”

 

Well of course he didn't stop and when he hit the 100 yard marker I did something which is instinctively very difficult to do. I stood up, yelled some bad-bear talk his way, and I raised my arms high in an effort to look big and bear-proof. I swear I heard him say “You gotta be kidding”....and he just stared at me. I clicked the safety off the spray can (not comforted) and continued the propaganda assault. He took several steps my way and I suddenly realized that my two arms overhead might just happen to look like a Wilbur-sized bull caribou, so I pulled my arms down and curled them over my head. He started making steps in a sort of circling way, and I did the same hoping he would get my wind if this lasted long enough. “Hey bear!....Hey bear!.....Get outta here!.” He dropped his head low and eyeballed me hard....I thought “Crap....here he comes!”...and then he lost it. He lost his nerve and bolted down the mountain and into the alders. I thought he looked bad doing that, but I wasn't laughing. I needed a drink for my dry mouth...I blamed the salami.

[Carcajou]

Excellent Kev! You have my full attention, great story telling for sure!

[FoCoBlackWidow]

Got me hooked.

[Duckbutt]

I know this story well but am enjoying reading it again.  Takes me back to eerily similar times and places and helps keep the pilot lit for future adventures.

[Kevin Dill]

I had no choice except to beat it back to the landing strip for load number two. I wasn't thrilled about leaving my first load up there unattended with a snoopy bear around. I hoped he was too ashamed to show up again. I loaded the second load and stripped down to just my long johns for the big hike and climb. I know...not pretty...but it beat having a heat stroke and being a piece of paralyzed bear bait. I made it back up and nothing was disturbed. By dark I had camp established and my electric perimeter fence up. I even found a small source of spring-water which I improved by digging it out some and then rocking the lower side to dam it up. I was able to walk 30 yards from camp and dip cold spring-water which I never filtered. Such luxury is almost unheard of up there!

My camp, looking down into the drainage.

 

The view up the mountain; image taken with 'dramatic' setting.

 

Knowing the grizzly was up there gave me a few pauses as darkness fell. I knew the odds were against him coming back, but the odds were also against having him walk up on me two hours after landing. I adhered to my usual ritual of handgun readiness and placement for night use. I drifted off to sleep and hoped for a quiet night with no visitors.

[snag]

Note to self.....carry at all times.

[Kevin Dill]

I opened my eyes as gray dawn infiltrated the tipi. No bear. No gun needed. I kept it close though...just in case...and that later proved to be a smart practice.

Hunting Day 1 was beautiful. Sunny and warm. Plenty of work to do around camp and time to hunt as well.

 

I spotted several big bulls but none I could reach and then hope to pack out on my own. Two very large bachelor bulls actually fed lazily near the landing strip in the evening and I considered a move to kill one of them. The biggest problem was the massive amount of ugly shale boulders and alders I had to navigate. I went for it. Halfway to the bulls I rolled a rock and had them staring my way at 150 yards. It was over...their suspicion was obvious. I headed back to camp as a light misty rain started to fall.

Along the way I noticed plenty of evidence that the blueberries were as irresistible to the bears as they were to me.