Between Heaven & Hell: Alaska 2015

[Kevin Dill]

Hunting Day 2...the dream of it...was interrupted by the sound of steady rain and some wind in the night. Toward 4 am it rained hard and steadily. Not good. I slept in but the rain didn't quit. At 8 am I got up and looked outside. I was in a foggy cloud and couldn't see 30 yards. “Damn. Oh well; oatmeal is a good distraction.” After breakfast I was working on some gear and generally occupying myself in the tipi, when I heard a peculiar sound. I knew it was an animal and it was approaching. I could hear a sort of repetitive whining sound, and I realized suddenly that it was already in camp. “Bear”...and I silently picked up the handgun laying nearby. I eased the hammer back and two-handed the gun toward the sound which had now stopped. “If I see the fabric bulge I'm going to ventilate that exact spot” was what I told myself. I would have, too...but in a few more seconds I heard a snuffling woof and then another as it departed. I carefully unzipped and checked outside just in time to see the rear bumper of my grizzly going beyond a rise and then out of sight in the fog. “Crap! I didn't come here to play whackamole with a bear in the fog.” I suspect the electrified fence and wet conditions may have played a key part in the big bear's sudden departure....but I'll never know.

The weather remained in various stages of semi-terrible most of the day. There was a mid-afternoon break and I got out for about two hours. I spotted some good bulls but too far for a try. I also spotted a large band of 22 Dall sheep on the opposite mountainside at my elevation.

   

   

I took the sight of the sheep as a good omen...I knew I was in a very special place in which many species overlap. Caribou, grizzly, black bear, Dall sheep, moose....all could expect to be seen at any moment in time.

The cloud ceiling was very low most of the day, making it tough to see anything beyond 100 yards most of the time. The weather was acting weird and I opted to remain fairly close to camp...within a half-mile. The rain cranked up again just at dark and I hit the bedroll after a good meal.

[Kevin Dill]

It got wild in the night. The wind speed picked up and the tipi was noisy. Fabric was flapping and actually making snapping sounds as wind gusts hit. I guessed it was at 30 or 40 mph and remember thinking that it was a hard blow. I had no idea what was coming. By 3 am the wind was roaring and the tipi was rocking. The center pole was bending and flexing like crazy...bad enough that I had an arm out of the bag so I could grab the pole and brace it during gusts. I thought the whole shebang would fail at some point, as this went on for hours and hours. At daylight things settled for a bit and I stepped out. The world up there looked decidedly dramatic and dangerous. Clouds were scudding over the mountains and wild fog banks were swirling up and down the drainages. The two streams I could see were roaring with cascading falls and wild whitewater runs. Water glistened on everything in existence, and every rock was shiny black. The sound of the wind overhead was ominous....you could just sense that this wasn't over. It was a reprieve and there was more ahead...a lot more.

 

It was about this time that I began to think in terms of my own safety and security instead of hunting constantly. I knew the weather had me isolated and I needed to be careful. Knowing there was a persistent grizzly about the area made me keep my senses on alert. Planes can't fly in weather like that, and a guy is on his own in a solo camp.

[Kevin Dill]

Hunting day 3 was mostly a lost cause. I spent most of the day sitting in the tipi while the weather raged off and on. Whenever it stopped I would pop outside and glass if possible. All of the photos were taken during the extremely short breaks in the storm. It wasn't bad for 30 minutes and then clouds and heavy rain would occlude everything around me. I took a couple short walks and munched on a mixture of crow berries, low bush cranberries and blueberries. I snapped a few pictures and evaluated a nice bull. He was all the way across the canyon and climbing the opposite mountainside.

 

I watched him with plenty of envy. He was big and he was safe from my desires. He bedded down at dusk and so did I.

It rained all night and a wind gust slapped the tipi hard enough to jolt me upright at 2am. I sat there and listened. I felt vulnerable and momentarily stupid for doing this trip alone. I wished I wasn't having to endure the wild weather, and I knew none of it was within my sphere of control. Whatever would happen would happen, and I had to endure. Before I could develop those feelings further I thought I heard a low growl outside camp. It made me shudder and I reached for the gun. I heard it again, closer....then farther away. I strained my ears but all I heard was the howling wind. Maybe I imagined it...maybe not. Crazy weather and stress will do funny things to a guy. I slumped down and into a fitful sleep filled with crazy dreams unrelated to anything I was experiencing.

[Kevin Dill]

Hunting Day 4 did give me a 3 hour opportunity to get away from camp. It happened just after noon. I decided to swing around the mountain and look into a different drainage. I geared up and headed out, but first I repaired my electric fence which had taken a wild ass-whipping from the freaky wind gusts. I was hiking up and around the mountainside gaining elevation when it happened. I looked up and ahead to pick my route and magically there were two very immense caribou racks bobbing above the rocks. One was in chocolate velvet and the other had just shed...his antlers were a very striking blood-stained tan color. They were at least 200' higher up the mountain and feeding my way. I made a quick calculation of speed, distance, elevation and likelihood.... then ignored it and went for it. I did a pretty good job. I ended up gassed and positioned below a rock clump as they approached.

It was so steep that I was inclined against the rocks on my left side and had my right boot dug in to keep from sliding down the mountain. I was probably 1500 vertical feet above the landing strip and could barely maintain footing up there. I didn't have much time to decide. I thought about it and I knew it would be a foolish risk to kill a large bull so high up...and alone. I found my answer as they arrived. The bow was up and cleared the rocks. Two of the biggest bull caribou I've ever seen fed past me at 20 yards and my arrow stayed on the bow. Yes...it was a hard decision. Yes...it stung to watch their rumps feed away. Yes...I made the right call. You'll see why in a bit. I munched some of the abundant blueberries and glassed the Dall sheep opposite my perch. I thought about my hunting life and the decisions I've made. I thought about Marilyn who would be disappointed for me to come so close. I rolled a rock off the hill and headed back to camp.

The country is far rougher and steeper than it appears.

   

I hoped the storm was over, but it was again raining before darkness fell. I had braced every tent peg with big rocks and done all I could to secure the camp. By 11pm the winds were again roaring and at midnight the worst of it arrived. The tipi fabric was shuddering and popping in huge wind gusts. The noise was almost deafening. The fabric flap which covers the stove jack was holding securely, but the speed of the wind had it buzzing like a kazoo in the night. The center pole was bowing and bending like it might collapse at any moment. I fought it for hours, doing everything I could to save things. I realized that this had gone beyond an irritating inconvenience. If my shelter was lost I would be on my own to manage until someone could finally get to me, and that wasn't going to happen until the weather improved. If the worst happened I would need to activate my PLB and await some sort of rescue...not what this guy wanted to see happen. Somewhere toward 3am I think I just reconciled that things were now up to a power beyond myself. I couldn't control the storm or Alaska. The tipi had survived everything to this point. My fatigue was extreme. I offered a quick prayer for my safety, and then I pulled my beanie over my ears and slipped completely into my bag. My last thought was something like “I'm going to sleep. If it blows down, I will deal with it then.” I slept like I was dead.

Somewhere in the predawn I woke to fabric draping my face and realized the tipi had failed. I roused myself and slowly understood I was still deep in my down bag and it was only the inner lining I was feeling over my face. The tent was up...the wind had slackened to maybe 20 mph...and I gratefully closed my eyes.

[Kevin Dill]

Hunting Day 5, I woke at dawn to a broken sky and the mountains looked forbiddingly dark. The wind had settled down to a mere 10-20 mph. I was still exhausted. I hadn't had any opportunity to bathe or any of that since my arrival, so I felt...grubby. I would do that today if possible. I thought about the caribou from yesterday and what would have happened if I'd shot one. Glad I didn't have that to worry with. I felt simultaneously strong and weak. I had toughed it out so far and I knew my capabilities, but this cooped-up-in-camp routine wasn't helping me physically. I decided to eat breakfast and maybe call my pilot for a weather report. Hot granola with blueberries is a mood-altering meal, and I felt pretty good as I fired up the satellite phone.

Me: “Hey what's going on in town?”

Him: “It's been just awful down here. You wouldn't believe the weather.”

Me: “ Whatever you've had is a cakewalk compared to Judith Pass. What's the forecast?”

Him: “More of the same for at least 2 days. Then it turns cold and nasty. They say the wind will blow.”

Me: “I'm still up on the mountain. The wind has beaten me to a pulp.”

Him: “You probably ought to get off there and get down low. Maybe hole up in the spruce for a couple days. I'll get you out when this is over.”

Imagine that. Two more days to endure....it felt like a sentence to hard time. I needed to act. I looked at the sky and it wasn't that bad. A critical decision; as fast as possible I sorted my gear into need-it and need-it-less piles. I broke camp loading my pack with the need-it pile. Everything else I bundled and covered with a tyvek tarp which I securely rocked. I left the weary and battered electric fence in place to guard the cache until I could get back. I shouldered the heavy load and headed down.

On the way around the mountain I suddenly realized I just might not ever get back up there. My gear cache might have to be lost if I couldn't catch a break from Ma Nature. I snapped a quick photo...

 

Once off the mountain I realized the spruce were still a long way below me. Reaching the edge of them wouldn't help much; they were small and sparse at first. I would need to drop another quarter to half mile into them to find true shelter. “This is it. I'm camping here.” I went to a low place off the landing strip and into some light brush. I put the tipi up and was basically getting things adjusted when the mist turned to rain and the wind started. The first gust yanked 3 stakes and almost parachuted the Sawtooth into the Yukon. I stomped them down immediately and started looking for stones. I ended up having to carry 16 stones an average distance of 50 yards each. If you do the math I covered 1600 yards of walking to amass enough big stones to secure my tipi. It pounded rain and wind
the whole time. Once inside I had some lunch and a nap.

This picture has little meaning to anyone except those who understand how the smallest things can be so appreciated.

 

[Kevin Dill]

My brain wasn't processing things accurately, but I could tell the wind was getting crazy. You could hear it moaning and roaring up in the pass and heading downward. I knew it was going to be a day and night of hell, but I wasn't out of tricks yet. I felt pretty sure the rocks would hold. The fabric had no issues....none. That left me to worry about the center pole. I grabbed my arrow case and removed 3 shafts. Using 550 paracord I tightly bound the shafts to the weakest area of the aluminum pole. It worked, and the pole had noticeably less flex after that mod.

 

All throughout the previous 3 days the temperature had remained relatively decent. In fact, it felt almost warmish-tropical at one point in the storm. Now I noticed the temperature was declining and quickly. My breath was evident inside. Much of my gear was now damp, though not wet as I'd taken pains to be careful through the weather. I fixed myself a cup of coffee and thought about my situation.

 

So I was secure, but half my gear remained up in the pass. I had no choice, as going after it would have been suicidal. I used the satellite phone to let Marilyn and Bryan know my situation, She was well aware of the weather and living with the constant wonder of how I was doing. I told her I really had no choice except to be tougher than a Marine, because even the Marines weren't going to come get me in this weather. I had zero shot at rescue if needed. I'm not much into self-images, but I popped off a couple shots as I sat in my rain gear in the tipi. My eyes tell the story better than words.

 

I went to bed damp, tired, grubby and feeling a bit subhuman. In the night I finally noticed the wind had abated some, but I also noticed a new noise. It was the sound of snow sliding on siliconized nylon fabric. “zzzzzit......zzzzzit”.  I slept in a sort of hallucinatory dream state from time to time...losing track of time and feeling disconnected from reality.

[Kevin Dill]

Hunting Day 6: Of course I woke to a different world. It was late August and snow was everywhere. Termination dust at 5,000 feet. I rubbed my bearded face and took stock of the mountains around me. I could hear the wind up high but somehow it sounded less threatening. Curtains of snow showers floated through the pass and between the rocky mountainsides.

 

I knocked it off the tipi and checked my shelter.

 

100% good to go. “Heck yeah...this is better than Hurricane Judith” and I enjoyed a breakfast to the sound of snow showers pinging on the tipi. I wanted to go get my remaining gear, but the clouds and weather kept closing the door. I needed a window of time and weather. I got it at 1pm and sent a message out “Going for gear. Have faith.”

I slipped into my empty pack, grabbed my bow and headed up the mountain one last time.

 

[knobby]

This is a great read. I'm looking forward to the rest of the adventure.

[Kevin Dill]

I was 50 yards from camp when I spotted the tracks.

 

I knew they were fresh as snow had fallen only an hour earlier. I followed them a ways and then remarkably spotted their maker. A black wolf was standing up on the mountainside watching me...watching him. Such a cool moment. He trotted into the alders and I later found his tracks up that way. I also determined there were a couple other wolves with him, though I never spotted them.

I found my gear cache as I left it, though covered with 4 inches of snow and ice at the higher elevation. The fence was in tatters and knocked askew by the monster winds...but the charger was still clicking away and doing its job. I hurriedly cleaned up everything...packed up everything...and made the long downhill carry to my low camp. I was back with everything intact. My gut and the sky told me the worst was over....there was a bit of alpenglow washing the evening landscape, and the snow just enhanced the effect. I was feeling nothing but relief and appreciation to be over the hump. Yes...the storm was finished.

Although no mention has been made of it, I had the knowledge of this day driving me onward through the tough weather. All through the trip I had carried and protected a memento from the elements. I had felt some degree of guilt for being gone during our anniversary, but had also been assured it was good, and there would be a payback required anyway. It was time:

 

[LC]

Wow awesome story! Thanks for taking the time to post this!

[Kevin Dill]

Hunting Day 7: Picture a snow-covered world of mountains, tundra and brush. Far below, the snow line cuts off somewhere down in the spruce forests. It's cold for August...in the 20s. Everything is silent.

 

I ate a big breakfast and grabbed my bow for a walk. It was just the two of us. The snow told the tale; the caribou were gone. The storm, winds and snow pushed them out of the pass and into the first part of their annual journey south and east. I explored the area well, but there was not a track to be found. I felt a little sad to be alone...the animals had at least been a type of company when I could get outside. I returned to camp and decided to cook a hot lunch. That's when it happened...I had company again.

I was propping my bow up against a willow when something made me look up. Standing at the forward end of the landing strip...and not more than 50 yards from me...was a Dall sheep. No horns...a lamb. I recall how she stood there calmly and regarded me. In a minute she moved my way to get a better look and I was surprised at her calm curiosity. “A white lamb...my sign...I'm safe....I'm going home.” Just like that I felt all the tension of the past many days melt away, and just like that the Dall lamb turned away and went back to the mountains. I thought about that all afternoon as I hiked and photographed and rock-hounded.

 

 

 

 

 

[Kevin Dill]

Though I watched carefully I never saw the lamb again, nor did I see a single other sheep. The caribou were no more than a wish now. This pass would be the domain of the grizzly and wolf until next summer.

As the day moved along, the snow melted nicely in my low camp. The afternoon was beautiful, and the rugged mountains seemed spiritual...caught in transition between summer and autumn.

 

Just as afternoon was blending into evening I faintly heard that old familiar sound which I'm never quite ready for, but always somehow appreciate. Floating through Judith Pass was my angel: a familiar Super Cub with the evening sun glinting off her glass. My heart skipped a beat as I realized my difficult and very priceless adventure was coming to a close. Even though I'd been through so much bad weather and hardship, I still wasn't ready to leave the mountains. I guess I felt like I'd endured hell, and now had earned the right to hunt and maybe kill something. It didn't really matter though. In my heart I knew it was time to call it a hunt...pack it in...and count my blessings in ways other than meat and antler.

I broke camp and 30 minutes later we were winging out of the mountains. Mixed emotions chased me for the first 50 miles, then came the full peace of knowing I was a lucky man to see this place even once. Home was waiting, and I wanted nothing more than to be there.

[Kevin Dill]

Last word: According to the meteorological data the area received between 4 and 6 inches of rain in those days. Nobody knows how hard the wind really blew up in the Judith, but I estimated the gusts were hitting 70mph. I ended this hunt early due to a forecast of more bad weather. The caribou were gone. I just had this internal voice telling me to call it...the same voice that told me not to shoot one of the bulls up on the mountain. Hours later I was in a hotel room completely showered and shaved and feeling very human again.

I thought much about the last 2 animals of that trip. A black wolf who visited my camp and left me just as the storm blew away. A white lamb who visited my camp and left me just before the sun shone and my adventure ended. That's hard to ignore...I smile when I think of it.

I have a number of people in my life who should be thanked, but obviously the main one is my wife who trusts me to be safe and allows me the freedom to enjoy the wilderness. I am that lucky.

Here's to finding our adventure....


 

[Carpdaddy]

A great read, well written, and good pictures to go along with it. Thanks for taking me along in sharing this.

[ron w]

Just outstanding.......thank you!

[Joeabowhunter]

Just fantastic!  I thoroughly enjoyed your post.  

[dnovo]

wonderfully written, Kevin.  Thanks for taking us along on another grand adventure. I could feel the wind blowing as I was reading this. Thanks for being smart enough to survive it so we could read more hunting adventures.

[agross1]

Great read.  Thanks for taking the time and effort to share.    Had me hooked from the start .

[flyflinger]

Thank you very much for taking us along via your words and pictures. Wonderful story, awesome adventure. Have a happy new year.

[ksbowman]

Super story! Thanks for taking us along! I was in a storm like that one night on the Flattops in Colo. and it lasted thru the night, but seemed like a week. Broke the poles on one end of my tent.