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Thread: Epic hunt, on many levels (pic heavy)

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    Default Epic hunt, on many levels (pic heavy)

    driving, butchering and unpacking is over, it’s time to sit down and share my hunt for those of you that care. I feel like this was probably the best hunt I’ve been on and I hope to encourage and inspire others of you to keep working hard and trying. There is still untouched turf out there with animals to be found (even in Unit 13, believe it or not) and it’s easy to get discouraged after a few bad hunts. Keep at it, folks. Let me tell you why it’s worth it.




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    Default Epic hunt, on many levels (pic heavy)

    So this hunt was seriously special to me on several levels. No matter the year, I always cherish getting to adventure up into the beautiful north country of the Denali Highway. For too many years, I had to console myself over our lack of success with the privilege of living in this amazing state and spending any time out here. I’m extremely glad to have found a more productive spot, but the wonder of the scenery remains. Every year, I imagine Frank Glazer walking the Richardson Highway when it was only a dirt trail. I imagine my great uncle Chuck Gray getting his guide certification so he could take his non-resident uncle and cousin back into the MacLaren River area in 1951. Something about the Denali Highway area is special beyond words. Breathing the air up there is like taking medication, watching the scenery is like therapy. It’s special. Always will be, as long as we take care of it.



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    Beyond the area, there is something special about getting to spend time with my best friend, Jeremiah. This time around, we had more time set aside than ever before to get out there and find what we were after. I’m celebrating my 10th anniversary with my wife this year, but I realized that this summer marks 20 years of friendship. We were young hellraisers together, crazy teenagers, young professionals and now both married with kids, leading somewhat separate lives but there’s no one I could count on more. Jeremiah was the guy who helped me move 800 miles from my lifelong home of Anchorage this year to Haines. He’s that kind of friend. The kind who stands in line to get his passport so he can drive 18 hours through Canada, fixing the broken uHaul on the way down (mechanics love working on trailers on their time off, right?) and then stay up till 3am unloading the moving truck without complaining. Needless to say, it was going to feel tremendous to see my hometown again, stay with my parents for a few days, eat at my favorite places and then get out in the field with lifelong friend. What else could a guy hope for, right?



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    Born in Alaska: The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. Psalm 16:6

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    On top of Jeremiah, we were stoked to finally bring along another guy who we thought would make a good addition to our typical 2-man show. Jesse was a mutual friend from times past and a former roommate of Jeremiah’s. Jesse is a solid guy, a Navy vet who went through SERE school but a super mellow and even keeled guy. Last fall as we were all working on his old Chevy pickup, we had talked about our own hunting exploits enough that he confessed he wanted to dip his toe in the water and give hunting a try again. He had never really done any serious hunting but was interested and essentially said that he would feel privileged to come along with us. He acted as if he didn’t mind not getting a full share of meat, as if he needed to pay his dues. We told him that was totally unnecessary and directed him to sign up for the Tier 1 caribou permit. We assured him that we could hook him up with one of those animals without question and that the Unit 13 caribou hunt is basically the ultimate rookie/curious hunt. He got his permit, bought a bunch of gear, tried hard to learn and prepare as much as possible and turned out to be a fantastic addition to the hunt both in terms of effort and attitude.




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    I left Haines on Sunday the 4th, heading north to my beloved hometown. I’ve fallen in love with Southeast but I couldn’t wait to get ‘home’. I may have exceeded the speed limit a few times, getting from Haines to Anchorage in less than 12 hours.

    Haines Border station at sunrise


    Haines Junction, fall colors



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    Sunday through Tuesday was a whirlwind of eating, seeing old friends, shopping for the last remaining hunt items and fixing about every mechanical system on my old trusty King Quad and the Quad Runner that Jesse would be riding. Tuesday night we did final gear prep and dropped Jesse off for his night-shift as an air traffic controller. I did my best to get to sleep considering how early we intended to get up but, nah. You know how it is. I drifted off sometime around 1am, anticipating the alarm set at 4:45.

    Wednesday the 7th I dragged my carcass out of bed before 5 and went outside to catch my ride from Jeremiah. We were pulling the quads up with his motorhome, which was a new development this year. We liked the idea of having an additional place to crash and sleep if necessary which turned out to be more necessary than we would have thought. We picked Jesse up from work and headed off while he racked out in the bed. We made good time up the empty highway, arriving at the ‘new outhouse’ on the Denali Highway by 11:30. Some of you know the landmark I’m talking about. It’s a good place for one last pit stop and is the last place with solid enough cell coverage to call our wives and wish them well.




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    Born in Alaska: The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. Psalm 16:6

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    We parked the RV in our typical pullout/parking lot and surveyed the area. I love starting the hunt in the mid-week rather than the weekend. We only saw one other truck parked and the ATV tracks coming away from his trailer went to the opposite side of the highway. We loaded our enormous camp onto three quads this year, rather than two. That felt delightful.



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    Born in Alaska: The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. Psalm 16:6

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    We pushed in, not on any trail, just bouncing ourselves through the puckerbrush and tussocks. This is where we first were impressed with Jesse. Those of you who know how good the terrain can look and then how treacherous is can be understand. For newcomers, it’s hard to adequately describe the difficulty of the uneven lumpy ‘Tundra heads’, the 8-foot tall yellow brush and the weird floating muck that you can get across if you’re careful. Jesse took it in stride, being surprised by how difficult it was to get through some of it, but not bending the slightest or acting distressed. We pushed back until we got to our special little valley, safe from the day-trippers and the road-hunters prying eyes.



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    Born in Alaska: The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. Psalm 16:6

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    Default Epic hunt, on many levels (pic heavy)

    We knew we had arrived at Moose Shed Ridge when our phones all re-activated cell and 4G coverage. Last year, we discovered this place when I let that big bull walk. We found 2 moose sheds last year and found that there was cell reception at this one magical spot. We threw camp and got our gear situated right there. We arrived a little before 4 and had the Canvas Taj Mahal set up by 5.


    Both Jeremiah and Jesse immediately fell asleep. I can’t stand guys who can do that. I can’t nap on demand like that, although I wish I could.


    Does anybody else share my love of being cold while up hunting? It’s one of the two things I look forward to all year. When we get up there, It’s my one week where I get to be bored and cold. It’s part of the whole ‘leaving the troubles of modern life behind’ process that is so freeing and good feeling. You don’t have to feel busy and pressed non-stop. Bored… Cold… Snacking non-stop… Staring at some faraway landscape… Loving it…


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    Born in Alaska: The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. Psalm 16:6

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    Default Epic hunt, on many levels (pic heavy)

    I woke them up after 30 minutes and fed them some of the smoked salmon I made for the trip. We got out to the edge of the valley and set up for the pre-sunset magic hour when all the moose stand back up. We quietly were explaining the basics to Jesse and relating when and where we had seen moose in the past, how they were, what they, HEY HOLY CRAP!!! That’s a bull! I love that magic hour, when after hours of emptiness, the ground seems to sprout moose in places where you swear they could not have possibly been hiding. All three of us were super stoked. A quick look through the spotter had us pessimistic. 45” moose, very unlikely to have a hidden 4th brow tine. It was very good process hunting, showing Jesse how we do this whole moose hunting thing. Jeremiah then pulled out the bull magnet and proceeded to do the most amazing job of calling him from ¾ mile away to 150 yards away. This was a really amazing thing since we usually don’t try very hard to call moose. We typically use our quads to get close to them after ID’ing them. This was magnificent and very encouraging. If this medium moose was responding to calls that thoroughly, the other bulls should be all over us in the coming days.




    We stoked up a good fire in the tent, ate a nice Mountain House dinner, called our wives to update them, streamed an episode of Psych and drifted off.

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    Born in Alaska: The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. Psalm 16:6

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    Default Epic hunt, on many levels (pic heavy)

    Thursday morning we woke up late. We were pretty tired from being up so early, hauling camp in and hunting right up until sunset. From our living rooms, we had tirelessly researched our area on Google Earth, looking for places we wanted to get around to and hunt in. On the aerial photo, we had found what looked like a crossable part of the creek right below our campsite. We held our breath as we rode down to it, hoping that this wouldn’t be a bust. To our delight, we found a shallow, rocky-bottomed crossing. We were elated. With this other crossing that we had found, we now had complete command of this valley. We could run the high ground on either side if we saw an animal worth pursuing. We pushed further on the other side of the creek, exploring more area than we had last year now that this crossing had opened up new area to us.



    We sat on a good hill, seeing another bull, much smaller than the one we called in last night, and another bull that had us arguing. We couldn’t tell if it was a fork or if something was wrong with it, or if it was a cow with something stuck to it or, what the heck, guys…. After not seeing anything on our side, we tried to cross back at another location and holy hell, was it dicey. Years of riding various ATV’s together came into play when Jeremiah found a hidden deep sweeper in the creekbed, which started to twist his front end downstream. He reached out and grabbed a 3-inch alder on the bank and somehow barely held his air intake above the water while I sprinted over and threw my winch hook onto his rear rack like a cowboy throwing a lasso. I winched him back up and once we were all breathing normal again, found another crossing. Once we had fought our way across the alder infested creekbed back onto our side off the valley, we ran into that confusing moose, which finally cleared things up about what the hell was going on with his head.




    I theorize that his other side was a fork and he broke it off to save himself from us.

    We put some miles on the wheelers that day and saw some amazing stuff, although no legal moose was showing himself yet. We took it in stride, knowing that there had to be more that we hadn’t seen yet. We did see one cow accidentally sneak up on another cow with a calf and they scared the bejeezus out of each other and ran away which we found hilarious.

    Sunset over the tent


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    Born in Alaska: The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. Psalm 16:6

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    Friday we got up fairly early. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but the wind was blowing really hard. Glassing our usual spot revealed only one cow moose, but after a minute Jeremiah quietly said ‘oh boy’ in a tone of voice which I know all too well by now. He’s our amazing spotter. He can see animals that 9 other people didn’t see, it’s uncanny. I joke how when he gets the spotting scope out, he can see around corners and find animals that are still bedded down. In this case, he spotted about 14 big bull caribou, 6 miles away, bedded down so far up the side of a hem. “I think it’s going to be a caribou sorta day guys…” he said. I smiled, knowing the feeling of a day that was about to turn into a ridiculous, long, hard ordeal that would end in a kill. Jeremiah had already taken his caribou in August, so it was all on Jesse and me. This was our moment to deliver on our promise to Jesse, that we could get him on a caribou.

    Way up the friggin hill



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    Born in Alaska: The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. Psalm 16:6

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    We fueled up, loaded food and water in our packs and set off. Down the hill, across at last year’s water crossing, up the hill, across the lumpy tundra plain, up the mountain side until we were only a few hundred feet shy of 5000’. We ditched the wheelers and walked from downwind, using the rocks as cover up in that barren landscape. While the wind was blowing kinda hard back down at our camp (1500’ down in elevation), it was RIPPING up on the mountainside where we were. This worked to our advantage. The group of caribou that we had seen from so far off were absolutely planted, they hadn’t moved at all. They were taking a weather day or something, riding out the wind and enjoying the sunshine instead of migrating. Silly animals.

    The howling wind concealed our scent and noise as we made a perfect stalk to 220 yards from the edge of the group. There were a few monsters in the group, but to get near them we would have spooked the group away. Jesse set up on a backpack and after waiting uncomfortably long (TAKE THE SHOT ALREADY!!!) pulled the trigger on his first big game animal, a good enough bull who also was the closest to us.








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    Born in Alaska: The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. Psalm 16:6

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    Default Epic hunt, on many levels (pic heavy)

    We kept our excitement under control and I switched to use the backpack that we had set down as a shooting rest. I wasn’t going to miss a chance to notch my tag, especially now that I live a thousand miles from the hunting area in Haines. I shot the first caribou which came into range, which turned out to be a good little meat bull.





    Smiles and congratulations went around, then the butchering work began. Jesse was a great hand at this part of hunting as well. He was helpful and not grossed out by all the blood and guts of tearing a critter apart and we headed back down the hill in good spirits. Those good spirits didn’t last long. The ride back darn near killed us. Jesses allllllmost flipped his quad down the mountain and Jeremiah did roll his quad onto him on one of those weird transitions that the tundra lumps and hill create. We finally got back into camp with 13.2 miles on the odometer, hung the meat, ate cold food just to have something in our stomachs and collapsed.


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    Born in Alaska: The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. Psalm 16:6

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    Saturday we got up late again. We had all sustained some various small injury on that trip up and back. It felt good to sleep in a little, nurse our wounds and eat a giant breakfast knowing that we had achieved one level of success. We had animals down. Good stuff, right? Still, Jeremiah was pretty driven about finding a moose. About 9:30, Jeremiah sees what appears to be moose antlers in a spruce patch 2 miles from camp. We gear up and head out, circling around and eventually sitting right over where we had seen this moose. We waited there for hours, fighting the bugs and the heat wash in the scope. The sun was out but there was no breeze today. I choked on more than one gnat.



    After waiting until 6pm. We gave up and left our spot, circling back towards camp to look at something else we saw which turned out to be a caribou shed, held up by some brush so it swayed in the wind. We felt kinda silly, like we had been chasing shadows all day. We hadn’t seen any moose nearby, only a few way off in the distance. It was a weird feeling day, as if something was off, not quite right. I had felt that way all day, but couldn’t put my finger on it. Glassing back to where we had been sitting 30 minutes ago, I suddenly figured out why.

    “Guys, we got grizzlies!” I hissed. Sure enough, a mama bear and two cubs bounded up over the hill and walked right across the knoll we had been sitting on. They were heading straight for us. It made sense now why everything had been hiding all day. After a little tongue-in-cheek debate about killing all three, we waited until they were at 600 yards, still closing in at us and Jeremiah opened fire with his Ruger 338. It was amazing watching the mama wheel around and snap and bite at the tundra he shot near them. She rounded the cubs up who had ran in different directions. As soon as they were back together, Jeremiah shot once more and they all bolted back the way they came, out of our valley. That’s right, punks, keep walkin. This is our turf. Nobody kills moose around here except us.

    We headed back to the tent a little discouraged, but Moose Shed Ridge lived up to its name. We found a mast he'd pair of antlers on our way back. Score!

    Moonrise over the tent




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    Sunrise at Moose Shed Ridge


    Sunday we got up super early. Textbook moose hunting, we were out of the tent a half hour before sunrise. No more sleeping in. We set up and starting glassing and sure enough, Jeremiah spots something and his voice changes. “Dude, I know this is a real moose!!!” he says. Sure enough, he found a big pair of antlers attached to a healthy moose, swinging through the tundra relatively close to our camp. We sprinted down the ridgeline a little way, dropped the hill into our valley and ran the muddy flats up to a little ridge behind him. Sure enough, he hadn’t moved. He had 2 cows with him and there were 2 other bulls nearby, thinking about pushing in for a piece of the action. Our big boy was pacing around between his cows and those bulls, making them think twice about coming in. This savagely beautiful game that they play perfectly held his attention while we got the scope back out. From 300 yards out in the early dawn light there was no doubt about it. 4 brow tines! I was stunned. 7 years of trying up here and we had finally found one that was guaranteed. I couldn’t believe it. Not only that, but it was my turn to shoot the moose (we alternate who gets the first shot after each moose that gets harvested). I couldn’t believe my good fortune. We ducked down into the low ground and climbed one last ridge to 200 yards out. I set my 416 Taylor on my backpack, tried desperately to slow my breathing and shot twice. After 30 seconds, he laid down. We hooted and hollered loud enough to be heard from Anchorage. As we were walking towards him, he suddenly stood back up. This dominant fighter was refusing to stay down. Another few shots from my whomper and Jeremiah’s laser guided missile 338 and we kept him from running away. It was surprising how much fight he still had in him, but we anchored him on a nice, dry accessible piece of ground, no more than 30 yards from where he was when I first shot.




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    Well as they say, the second you pull the trigger, the fun’s over and the work begins. I was still having fun but oh boy, that big boy took a lot of work to carve up, even with 3 guys. Regardless, we had him butchered and packed by about 11:30.



    However, about that time we ran out of luck on 2 fronts: weather and Jesse’s knee. Moving the quads down to the kill site, Jesse’s knee popped out of joint for a second. Again, he amazingly powered through it with a smile and a good attitude. I joked how we finally found his flaw. No hunting partner could be as good as he was without some issue. We found his. Also, as we made the first cut into his hide, we felt the first raindrops start falling. By the time we were done, it was pouring rain and blowing hard. We got the machines back to camp and made a quick assessment. With the benefit of 4G coverage, we had been watching the weather forecast and knew that cruddy weather was blowing in. We attached the meat trailer, threw both caribou into it and started the miserable haul back up to the road. We finally got up to the RV about 4:30, two machines overheating, one man barely hanging on with his knee. Heck, my King Quad had overheated so badly at one point that it lit the brush caught near the exhaust pipe on fire, full on. Exciting.

    We unloaded the meat, wrapped it with a tarp and left Jesse and the worse off machine at the parking lot and headed back down with the ‘failure is not an option’ type mission of throwing camp and getting it back to the road by nightfall. It was funny that earlier, on the initial trip in, Jesse had joked and asked ‘Wow, we have all his gear on three machines. How on earth did you guys haul this whole camp in all these years with only two wheelers?” We laughed then, but oh boy Jesse, you had to ask. Well here we go. You’ll see how two quads and one meat trailer can haul an old military arctic tent, fuel, food and supplies for an 8-day hunt. We broke the land speed record heading back to camp unloaded and ran around like Speedy Gonzalez getting camp packed up in the pouring rain and blowing wind. Once again, we pounded up the hill. We had radio contact to keep in touch with each other in case it got so dark that he would need to blow the horn for us to follow in the dark, but we didn’t need it. We rolled in about a half hour after sunset, beat up, exhausted, stressed, but over the moon with the success of our hunt. I was never happier to see Jeremiah’s RV. The thermostat got cranked all the way up and the stove got to work. We ate, dried out and finally, stepped outside to enjoy a celebratory smoke since the rain had at least stopped. Jeremiah picked up some amazing pipe tobacco before leaving. It was a perfect cap to an amazing trip.


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    Born in Alaska: The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. Psalm 16:6

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    Waking up at about 7:30, we were surprised to see that the other people now posted in our parking lot had yet to wake up. We woke everybody up getting our meat and gear packed up and ready for the trip home. We had a few good friendly conversations with the folks there, subtly patting ourselves on the back for our effort. 5 years ago, I bought that tent and we committed to never ‘road-hunt’ again until we were 50 and it truly has made all the difference. Being able to start our morning being just a few miles from the road is like night and day as far as hunting productivity. We prayed a prayer of thanksgiving, took a few last pictures and got our wagon of death on the road back to Anchorage.





    Jeremiah’s wife had predicted that we would get 3 animals this year and Jeremiah had predicted that we would only hunt for 5 days. We’ve got this down to a science. We had all the way to Wednesday off of work, but ended up right on the money of our predictions, hunting 5 days and driving back on Monday.


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    Thank you 2016. Now to enjoy a full freezer of moose/caribou with new friends in my new hometown and focus on the silvers heading for the Chilkat River now.

    I took my dad out gilnetting while he was down visiting this weekend.




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    Born in Alaska: The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. Psalm 16:6

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    A little encouragement for everybody who feels discouraged by Unit 13 and the crowds right now. Stick with it. Don’t hunt where there are crowds and you will be amazed how much game there is to be had in that big unit. Stick with it and explore until you find the right area that you can call your own honey hole. This unit also has a tremendous amount of places where moose and caribou habitat are surprisingly close together. Keep your chin up, keep trying, do it the right way and take the good with the bad. If you’re not happy at the end your hunt, successful or not, you’re doing it wrong. At the end of each hunt, it reminds me why I do it.

    This forum could currently use a little more celebrating about the amazing privilege we have to hunt in this state and a little less kvetching about the things we are unhappy about. This is my contribution.

    Good luck to those of you who’s season is not over yet. Go get it enjoy the ride.

    Andrew




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    Born in Alaska: The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. Psalm 16:6

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