just wanted to hear some stories about the moments in the woods.... bears, falls ect.
just wanted to hear some stories about the moments in the woods.... bears, falls ect.
Coming off a vertical cliff, wet & slippery grass amongst the rocks goat hunt.
watched a porcupine walking up a hill towards me so just stood there to see how close he would come, he came right up to my legs and stood up between tehm sniffing my knees then he got down on all fours and opened up his back showing all the needles and that gry looking skin I didnt dare move after about 2 minutes he ambled off i almost shot him for scaring me so bad but i think i was just thankful i was not *****ed
Getting stuck on Rasberry Island overnight with deer blood all over me. We were staying in a boat at night but one day I didn't make it off my last deer kill, and it got way to dark. Only had a raincoat for protection. Had to rotate like a hot dog in front of a fire all night to stay warm. It was late Oct with 60 mile an hour winds. Dont know how a bear didn't smell me, and come snack on my rotissery self. Every time I would start to drift off to sleep I would have some horrific mini nightmare of a bear eating me, and I'd wake right back up.
That is the only scary time hunting I can think of. Actually all my scariest outdoor moments have come while fishing.
I put together a spring brown bear hunt in PWS with a guy I met on the forum. We get together and make our plan to take my boat from Valdez to Hitchenbrook Island. I have a 21 ft Wooldridge Alaskan II, with all the safety gear, sat phone, survival suits, VHF, ectÖ. Our plan is to take the boat to Shelter bay and stay in the FS cabin. Well Shelter Bay is a bay that is kind of hidden with an entrance to it that is hard to find if you have never been there. Plus the map I had showed the cabin on the open water side. So we get there and canít find cabin. We anchor the boat and try to scout for the cabin on foot, takes us 15 minutes to figure out where it is and how to get the boat there. By the time we got back to the boat the tide monster had already bit us, the boat was 15 feet from the water on a mud flat. No big thing, already had the anchor out with 200 ft of rode and had another 400 ft coil of rope to tie to the boat and secure on shore. My friend tied off the extra rope and we were on our way to scout around the bay and wait for the tide to come in. We no sooner get around the corner when we spot a HUGE brownie, he had just pushed out and was hanging out just above the tree line.
Okay Rookie mistake number 2, THINGS ARE NOT AS CLOSE AS THEY LOOK. After a horrible 3 hour climb, hampered by rotten snow and fallen timber we get to within 400 yards of him and the wind shifts. He gets our wind and is gone. The skies have turned an ugly black color and there was rain on the wind. We head down and make for the boat. We get there after about an hour and half, cold wet and tired. We are horrified to see that the tide has returned and the boat has come untied and is being blown out to sea by 50 MPH winds.
Rookie mistake number 3, I think that I can walk out to the boat on this mud flat. Water temp is 38 degrees. I get out about 1/3 of the way to the boat and see that the water is over my head. My friend had a boat get away from him as a child in Canada and almost died getting it back, he wasnít going in that water for love or money. I stripped off to my under wear and started to swim the 400 yards to the boat. The wind was blowing it off shore and as soon as the water got deeper than 200 ft the anchor would swing under the boat and it would have been gone. Almost all of our gear was on the boat, another Rookie mistake. I swam about half way to the boat, thatís is when hypothermia started to set in. I started to not be able to move my arms or legs. I held my breath and was able to reach the bottom. I used the bottom to bounce my way back to shore. Now Iím hypothermic and not thinking good at all. Iím still focused on getting to that boat if it kills me. I see a large tree trunk that has floated up on shore. I get my friend to help me get it into the water, I used it like a surf board to swim to the boat. When I got there I let the tree go and tried to climb into the bow. My arms and legs did not have the strength to get me in the boat. I thought OH $%it Iím going to die right here at the boat. I had enough strength to get to the stern and was able to crawl in using the motor and the trim tabs. Once in the boat I had dry clothes and a propane heater. It still took me 30 minutes just to be able to lift the anchor and motor to shore.
Once at the cabin, I continued to make mistakes in my hypothermic state. I anchored the boat and had to get out of the driving rain and 50 plus MPH wind. During the storm the wind blew the water to our side of the bay, this storm surge along with the monthly high tide and me failing to properly moor the boat caused the boat to end up about 20 feet from the water. It took us 2 days to get the boat back operational and in the water. We never saw another bear. We faced a storm equal to hurricane force winds 4 days out of 7. We were so happy to have the seas die down so we could get back to Valdez. I learned many lessons on this trip. I should have known I was in for trouble when I saw all that 3/8 inch cable holding down that cabin. I felt like a train was driving by for 12 hours straight. The worst storm I have ever seen, we had gust to 90 MPH. So that trip was my scariest out hunting .
Walking into mid air trying to come down off a mountain at night. My fiance was holding onto my shirt. Fortunately when I disappeared she sat down were she was and stayed still.
I figure I fell about 13 feet or so. I did one backwards summersault and stopped about three feet from the top of a 50' cliff. This was all reveiled to me when I had to climb back down to retrieve my rifle the next morning. After I fell it took me about 45 minutes to climb back up to her. We then back tracked about 20 feet and halfslept on a nearly level spot that was maybe 10x10. We werent 50 yards from the "trail that we were supposed to go down that bypassed the cliffs.
From now on I carry a flashlight and will sleep right were I am if caught on a mountside in the dark.
"You have given out too much reputation in the last 24 hours, try again later".
I was sheep hunting with a friend of mine who shall remain unnamed (let's just call him Frank Ferro). We got to the top of the ridgeline, which was the main spine of the whole range we were hunting, and Frank informed me that he'd left his water bottle (yes, he only had one) back at the rig. The plan was to spend the night up on the ridge so we'd be in a position to glass come morning. But Frank was really thirsty and eyed every movement of my adam's apple as I chugged my nalgene bottle nearly dry, knowing I had one more in reserve. I swilled some water around in my mouth and spat it out, wiping my lips as water dribbled down my chin, out of the corners of my mouth, and down the front of my shirt. "Man, that's gooo-ood! You know, Frank, if you started right now, you could prob'ly make it all the way to the truck and back by, ohhh about 3AM. Just think how good that water would taste by the time you got there!" He looked at me and I could swear he was thumbing the safety on his rifle. "I'd give you mine, but then I wouldn't have anything to brush my teeth with in the morning!" I continued.
"Ya know" Frank replied, as he surveyed the vast reaches of the Talkeetna Range from atop the ridgeline, "a feller could sure get lost in here. Why, just lookit how steep those cliffs are below you. A man could slip and fall and nobody would ever find his remains." I looked at him and his lips were dried and cracked, and his voice was scratchy with dust as the August sun beat down on us. I glanced down into the canyon, the one that had just become visible after our long climb. A small trickle of water was visible far below, and an insane plan crossed my mind.
"Well, Frank," I intoned, "...I'll give you a sip of this bottle if you go down there and refill it." Sounded fair enough to me. But before I knew it, he'd grabbed the bottle out of my hand and drained it, then he snatched the other one from my pack and chugged it too! He smacked his lips in satisfaction and laughed hysterically. "Well, I guess we're in the same boat now, aren't we?" he said while doubled over in mirth.
Any sheep hunter will tell you how hard it is to give up elevation that's been gained by sheer sweat and burning muscles. But now I had no choice. A shale slide ended nearly at a small pool far below, and we plunge-stepped all the way to the bottom under the afternoon sun. There, we drank all the water we could hold (I could swear I saw a camel's hump forming on Frank's back), and we filled both bottles to the brim (I was careful to put both of them back in MY pack).
We could not ascend the shale slide, so we surveyed the mountainside for a good climbing route back to the ridge. We opted to separate so we wouldn't kick rocks down on each other, owing to the steepness of the terrain. Frank went for a ravine and I chose a nice outcropping that went clear to the top. Big mistake. The "outcropping" was made of very rotten rock that eventually left me mere feet from the top, with nowhere to go. I could not go left or right, could not ascend, and could not stay stationary as the outcropping was disintegrating while I was on it. I was reduced to glancing below with thoughts of falling backwards onto my pack, spinning around so my feet were downhill, and glissading until I could stop and regroup. It was going to be ugly, and I was sure I'd look like a Picasso painting when it was all over. Just as I was about to push off, a shoelace curled through the sky and landed on my shoulder. A shoelace! Frank had reached the summit ahead of me, saw my predicament, and assembled a rescue rope out of scraps of parachute cord and boot laces. I grabbed ahold and just that little string stretching out of sight over the outcropping was all I needed to stabilize myself and make the ascent the few remaining feet.
Once I was astraddle the ridgeline (yes, it was THAT steep), I told Frank how thankful I was for his ingenuity. He smiled and said, "I'll drink to that!" "No, you won't" I replied, "not while I have the water bottles in my pack."
I don't think I really knew how dangerous the situation was until several years later, when a mutual friend of ours was killed in a 1200-foot fall just a few miles from where we were. He was doing the exact same thing.
I was too stupid to be scared at the time, or I really didn't care. No kids, no worries. I had the world by the tail. But I have learned to count each day as precious, and to make good decisions that will not bring shame or sadness to those I love. And I never leave camp without a good supply of parachute cord. You never know.
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"Dream big, and dare to fail." -Norman Vaughan
"I have climbed my mountain, but I must still live my life." - Tenzig Norgay
kayaking in a small craft advisory without a skirt (too much gear) was interesting
I choose to fly fish, not because its easy, but because its hard.
It may seem kind of silly compared to the other stories since I was never in any danger, but it scared the bejeezus out of me.
I am notorious for falling asleep on a deer stand. Opening day of deer season 1994ish I was hunting with my grandfather and uncle. I hunkered down on a ridge overlooking a stream and a beaver dam. I dozed off and woke up with a whitetail doe about three feet away from me sniffing around to figure out what I was or if I was dead. I jumped up, and yelled my fool head off.
I'm willing to bet that if that deer was on this forum she would say that was the scariest day of her life too.
Finally, Brad Childress is GONE!
The time I ran into Dick Chaney while out hunting doves.
Ok: That is the winner. I about shi%# as I read that story. I could feel the cold and I knew how his mind was working as the Hypothermia was setting in. This country will kill you if you let it!
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Well im not sure if this will count since i was actually fishing/exploring with my river boat, but here it goes.
Me and a buddy decided after not catching anything on the deshka river to take my (new to me) jetboat up river to the willow creek area. Mind you this boat is 21' and have no real good river running experience at time. We get past the boat launch and continue upriver using my map gps to figure which channels look good. I get about 4 miles up from the launch and round a corner that seems hard to read to me. On both sides of the river its boiling water and smoothe in the center. Well i decide the center must be deepest considering theres some rotting dunnage and logs high and dry there. Well my thoughts were to skim by them since there is probably a drop off. Guess i was wrong cause we made it only 40+ feet from that. Needless to say we slept the night on the boat due to not being able to move the back of boat at all. Did i mention i could hear multiple airboats an other jet boats running up on the other side of the tree line were there was another channel?
To top this off my buddy came from anchorage to the valley for a nice meal my wife was cooking up for supper. Well the closest we got to tasting it that night was when i called from my cell to tell her what was going on. I hadn't spent much time sleeping out on a river were i know a few years back before buying the boat i've seen brownies crossing the water to get closer to where we were bank fishing. So that was kind of a scary experience to me although i say kinda cause i had old good buddy 44 onboard with us. But my buddy was mostly scared because he could'nt swim.
The next morning around 7am the fishing gods in two diffrent boats came down river and ran in the boiling water i noticed to get to us. It took 9 of us to get the boat back in the deeper water.
Back in the woods from Eielson on the hills north of the Salcha. Anyhow I was out looking for moose and found a nice stand someone had built. Turned out it was a lady's bear bait stand and when she caught me in it she was...rather upset. She was down right scary with her gun and demeanor. I was 18 and it was my first summer in state...I didn't know.
Okay this strays a bit but our brush with death came when we were "hunting" coho salmon on the great lakes.
We were young, fearless and dumb and when my bud called and said his 15' Larsen was ready for some January coho on Lake Michigan I was all in.
The Larsen had a 60 horse Johnson on it, circa 1960 or so, and his kicker looked like it had been dunked in cooking oil, nevertheless, we dropped the boat in the lake out of Burns Ditch in northwest Indiana and headed out. It was Super Bowl Sunday 1989.
A southwester blew a rare warm front in, and the lake was rough, and as usual for winter, free of boats. Normally the lake is frozen, at least partly, and the Coasties had permanently docked the cutters for the winter.
We hit the water around noon and after a an hour or so we were into the coho like cordwood. We ran flatlines and Rapalas and it was Katie bar the door.
We limited out and headed in....for about ten minutes.
Then the motor sputtered.
On that particular Larsen the gas tank vent was up on the bow and the huge southwester-pushed waves had water entering the tank. Although we didn't know this.
We scrambled to figure out the problem losing one cylinder at a time. I was soaked from driving the small craft into the wind and six foot crashing waves; we were 15 miles from shore.
All hope was lost when the grease-covered kicker sputtered once and gave up the ghost sealing our fate once and for all.
The 33* water was blue and cold and we were soaked and soon shivering uncontrollably. My bud looked for the flare gun as dark hit, but it was back in the car. It was bad, really bad.
We were quickly drifting toward Wisconsin and we thought we were doomed. The good Lord intervened when at about 10 p.m. the anchor hooked and slammed the boat around into the oncoming waves stopping our drift.
We later learned the anchor hooked an old trawler net on the bottom. We laid on top of one another to try and conserve heat--frankly, a male bonding I don't care to remember.
About midnight we heard a chopper coming out of the north. It was the Coast Guard! After about twenty minutes they spotted us on the horizon and dropped their basket to lift us to safety. That was a moment I will never forget. That basket swingly wildly banging the useless motor and breaking the standing rods. I grabbed the basket and was launched to the other side of the boat. The static was unreal. Amidst the blue spray and bright lights the lifesavers lifted us up and off the water.
We were exhausted, hypothermic and happy to be alive in that immense chopper. Their night vision is what saved us. Looking down on that small boat in the rough seas looked like something out of Castaway. The chopper was ordered to return to Glenview, Illinios at midnight, they spotted as at 11:59 pm.
We were front page news the next day, replete with soaked, exhausted picture, and we got plenty of (deserved) grief. We were thankful that my bud's brother called my wife and they drove to the lake and spotted a small transom light drifitng on the horizon.
I can't say enough about the Coast Guard-they are the unsung heroes!
i had a wolf wake me from a sound sleep playing with my feet while i was nice and snuggled into my bivi sack and sleeping bag this august on my sheep hunt......never thought i'd be that happy to see a wolf....not a bear....but i don't sleep on my stomach any more in the woods....and i bought a pistol
"early to bed, early to rise, fish like hell, and make up lies"
After the assistant guide and I were flown into a remote strip, we watched as the pilot make the second trip in with the other hunter and head guide. After touch down, the right wheel broke off and bounced over our heads. The plane skidded on the tundra for about 100 feet and nosed into the ground. Some steam, no fire but fuel was leaking out. We forced the two doors open and got the three out. After everyone was confirmd safe, we radioed for another plane and took pics.
I told the guide this wasn't in his brochure! Don't know which was more memorable, the sheep I got or the crash I witnessed!
I had a scary one sheep hunting and getting caught on a ledge where I couldn't go forward anymore and couldn't turn around to go back due to the width of my pack but the scariest one was flying out with a buddy to go spotting for critters down towards the AK Peninsula. We both had Cubs but decided to use his for a spotting trip. As it was his, of course he sat in the front seat and I in the back. On our return to Anch he told me over the intercom to fly his plane while he ate lunch. After about 20 minutes I heard him (I thought) say "got it" and felt the stick lurch out of my control. I assumed he had resumed control of his plane. After a couple more minutes of flying, we nosed over into a dive and then a steeper dive heading towards the ground. I assumed he had spotted a large moose or bear and was diving down to get a closer look. I kept hunching up higher over his shoulder trying to get a look at whatever animal he was eyeballing but couldn't see anything. As we got closer to the ground (which was getting closer at a scary rate) I could not see any critters and was seriously wonderering what animal he was going to buzz. Since it was HIS plane and HE was IN CONTROL, I just let it ride and kept looking for a critter. At the last second he pulled us up before hitting the ground - I SEMI CRAPT MY PANTS!! He comes on the intercom and asks what was I looking at - AND WHY THE HELL DID I ALMOST WRECK HIS PLANE DOING THAT???? I said I wasn't flying his plane, I thought he had taken control when he said"got it" and left it up to him. He thought I was in control and I thought the same of him. The only thing that saved our lives was his concern about his plane. I would have never overuled his authority concerning his plane as I thought he was in control of it.