It was December of 2012, and I was discussing a few hunting options with my Father, a resident of Florida. He really wanted to shoot a moose, and I felt fairly confident that the area I had been hunting for the last few years could provide him this opportunity. I told him what draw permit to put in for and the long wait began. February 15th rolled around and the emails were sent out from the Alaska Department of Fish & Game. Luck was on our side as he drew the permit I wanted him to and the planning began.
A year earlier, in the spring of 2012, my parents had visited us to see our firstborn child. Of course they couldn’t come to Alaska in the spring and not go on a bear hunt! Sure enough, the first day of hunting my dad sealed the deal on a beautiful Prince William Sound black bear. This trip was by far one of the best hunting excursions I had done and set somewhat of a standard as to what to expect for future hunting trips. Well, in my mind, this was not necessarily a good thing. During every email or phone call preparing for our moose hunt, I made sure to reiterate that just going on the trip would be worth every penny and notching the tag on a nice moose would be the icing on the cake. I knew we would all have a great trip and my father believed this also. But, I was also aware of the expense for him and my mother to fly up to Alaska and go on a moose hunt. To say I felt a little pressure to get him a moose would be an understatement.
After a long hot summer, fall was finally here. My parents arrived in Alaska and the last minute preparations of packing, pre-cooking meals and triple checking the gear list was in full swing. The morning of departure came and we were all set to leave. One final stop to fuel up and we would be on our way to moose camp. While the truck was getting topped off I happened to step back and take a look at the truck and trailer, as usual giving everything a once over. For some reason the trailer angle just wasn’t right. I walked a little closer and saw the trailer tongue was almost completely detached from the trailer. Only a couple bolts were holding it in place. Just our luck! This is where good friends and family can never be thanked enough for coming to our rescue. After a couple of phone calls my friend, Kyle, showed up with a replacement trailer and the gear swap began. We were back on the road headed north after a few hours at the gas station, which was a miracle in itself. Who knows what would have happened if we hadn’t stopped and discovered the broken trailer.
We finally reached the jumping off point where the road ends and the trail begins. We began to offload the 4-wheelers and trailers, stowing and securing our gear. From the very beginning, the trail we took had some pretty good holes that even experienced riders need to walk first and cross with caution. I don’t know if I had ever seen my dad ride a 4-wheeler before so I knew he was in for a steep learning curve in how to ride an ATV in tough conditions. Plus, the fact that he had my mom riding double with him didn’t make it any easier. After a quick review of the ATV controls we were off down the trail. I really took my time going out to camp, being a little more cautious of where I went, trying to alleviate any unnecessary delays in getting stuck. We had great weather on the ride out and I knew my parents were already enjoying every second of the trip … at least I was. After crossing the main swamps, and only getting the 4-wheelers stuck a few times, we had arrived at moose camp. With the sun setting and the temps dropping we wasted no time getting camp set up and a hot dinner ready. I would put my mom’s cooking up against anybody’s, and to have those home cooked meals at moose camp was probably the best thing ever. With a full stomach we all piled into the warm tent, thanks to the buddy heater, and slowly drifted off to sleep. Just before falling asleep I remember thinking to myself how funny life is. Here are three native Floridians, who have lived most of their lives in Florida, camped out, moose hunting, in the middle of nowhere, in Alaska. Once again, I was thankful to have my parents with me and experiencing what I love to do and why I live in this great state.
The next morning came quick and we were up before sunrise. It was crisp and cold … perfect for hunting. The three of us posted up, glassing the area below. Sure enough, the moose started popping out. Hours passed and no legal bulls were seen so we retreated back to camp for another round of coffee and a hot breakfast. We glassed and glassed seeing many cows and sub-legal bulls but still none that were legal. Finally, a couple hours before sunset, I saw the white flash of a palm a couple miles off. I quickly got the spotting scope in position and was looking at our first legal moose … and he was a big boy. Letting both my mom and dad take a look at him, I knew it was too late in the day to go after him. However, he was on the move and headed in our direction. Being late September, we could tell he was in full rut by the way he was swaying his antlers back and forth, thrashing random bushes, and even tilting his head back and calling. All this commotion eventually drew in two lone cows that came running to him from quite some distance. We watched him slowly make his way in our direction until we ran out of light, leaving him in a thick drainage on the nearby mountainside across the valley. Leaving the spotting scope pointed at where I last saw him we called it a night, ate another delicious meal and went to sleep.
The next morning came and I quickly got dressed and went to the spotting scope. Slowly searching the area, no moose were seen. I watched the area, broadening my search for hours but couldn’t find our bull. A nice grizzly came out across the valley and started feeding on some berries. We watched him for quite a while before he finally disappeared. The morning drew on and it was another blue sky day but strong winds out of the west kept the temps low and cold. Again, many cows and sub-legal bulls were seen but our legal bull never came out of the drainage we had last seen him in. Finally, at last light, another moose popped out pretty close to camp. Sure enough it was a small bull. Not quite the big bull we were looking for but a possible shooter. With the low light my dad and I quickly scrambled down a caribou trail through the brush trying to get a closer look at his antlers. With the light already too far gone, I couldn’t say for sure whether or not he was legal. We slowly slipped back to camp thinking we would see him come morning.
The next morning was well below freezing as all of our water outside of the tent was frozen solid. We quietly eased down to the spotting hill and began the search again. The usual cows were milling around where we had been watching them the last couple days. We had been seeing quite a few cows and sub-legals further back in the valley and came up with a plan for the day. We decided to take supplies for an overnight trip and make the journey back to another camp site we have used in the past that overlooks the back portion of the valley. Upon reaching our destination we wasted no time getting the binoculars and spotting scope set up. Immediately we started seeing moose. One cow in particular grabbed my attention. Through the spotter you could tell she was watching something very intently. Not moving at all and ears up she stared for a long time. Finally, from the direction she was looking, a bull came running right at her. She bolted and both moose started running in our direction. Being about a mile away, my father and I grabbed the rifles and the spotting scope and took off in their direction. Dropping down into a small valley, then coming up the next side, my dad motioned to my left where a decent bull was walking about 100 yards off. I slowly crept higher on the hill, getting the spotter in position, as my dad steadied the .300 wsm waiting for the go ahead. The bull had gone past us and was moving away. I made a quick cow call and he immediately swung his head in our direction. He looked to have a mid 40s inch spread and only 2x2 for brow tines. I gave my dad the no-go signal as we watched the bull slowly move off. We slowly walked higher and reached another vantage point and began glassing more miles and miles of prime moose country. There were caribou for as far as we could see. My dad caught a glimpse of a bear and sure enough a sow and two cubs were running away from us in the valley below.
After about an hour we made our way back to mom who was still sitting at our high vantage point. Upon reaching her we could tell she wasn’t ok. She quickly told us how right after we left she was watching us look at the bull moose through her binoculars when she saw something in her peripheral vision to her right. She slowly turned and ten yards away, right below her, was a big grizzly bear staring her down. Not just one but two smaller ones came walking up also. She said they stared at each other for what felt like forever when finally the big bear bolted and ran away with the other bears in tow. She was very rattled after this encounter but now has a pretty cool story that most people can’t say they’ve experienced.
We ate lunch and took a quick nap waiting for the temps to cool off and the moose to come back out. We decided to make camp for the night after seeing more moose and more bulls. With the small tent and sleeping bags set up we began glassing again. Cows were moving and the small sub-legals were up also, scattered throughout the valley. I spotted two cows back across the valley in the small drainage we had last seen the big bull moose. I knew he had to be close but couldn’t see any more moose standing in that area. Finally, a white flash caught my eye and in between the two cows I saw the tips of his antlers where he was still bedded down in the low brush. Excitedly, I said I had found him and it was time to go get him. My father and I quickly gathered our gear, got my mom situated, and took off.
She slowly turned and ten yards away, right below her, was a big grizzly bear staring her down.
It wasn’t long before we were down in the creek bottom slowly sneaking closer. 1000 … 800 … 500 … finally 250 yards away and we were up the creek from the bull. My dad chambered a round and got into position. The big bull slowly moved around pushing the cows and swaying his big rack back and forth. It took a long time for him to present a good broadside shot clear of brush but finally he did. My dad squeezed the trigger on the .300 and you could tell the bullet had found its mark. Another shot went off as the bull slowly went down. BBD…Big bull down! We were both more than excited … especially me. The pressure was off and my dad had just shot his first moose. After a few quick pictures the real work began. With the creek running pretty high and fast I didn’t want to risk taking the 4-wheelers across. With only one set of waders my dad made the trip across and stayed mostly dry … except for a slight stumble at the other side. I opted to cross without the waders (since they were on the other side) carrying my clothes in a dry bag … surprisingly the water wasn’t too cold. Our nice sunny weather had slowly dwindled and turned into a light snow. We quickly got the moose cut up, into bags, and hauled to the nearby shore. My dad went across the creek first again and took a rope that stretched from one side to the other. I tied off each bag in case I lost control while crossing and carried them individually across the creek. Once across we carried the meat up the bank to the 4-wheeler and made our way back to camp. Mom was very excited upon seeing the large moose. We all slept good that night.
The next morning we woke to a winter wonderland. We quickly broke down camp and loaded up before the weather got any worse. The trip out was slow in minimal visibility and sloppy wet conditions. We picked our way back through the swamp along the freshly hidden trail getting stuck more than we had on the way in, flipping trailers, and even having a tire come off the meat wagon. Finally, we made it back to the truck.
Kyle had told my dad right before we left that a lot of moose hunts, if not all, can be summed up as a series of obstacles you have to overcome. This held true for our trip. I left out a lot of details of stuck wheelers and trailers, lots of winching through mud holes, broken equipment, tired and exhausted muscles after long days, etc... We definitely had our fair share of obstacles, but that’s what makes these trips an adventure and keeps me coming back every year. Again, a new bar was set for future hunting trips for my parents … this one representing difficulty! I am not surprised at all that my dad handled everything great, but once again my mom surprised us both. She was a trooper getting out of her comfort zone and joining us on a not so easy trip way back into the middle of Alaska’s wilderness. It was great to have her along.
Another adventure goes in the books. The memories made on trips like this with family are priceless. Living the Alaska Life!
It was December of 2012, and I was discussing a few hunting options with my Father, a resident of Florida. He really wanted to shoot a moose, and I felt fairly confident that the area I had been hunting for the last few years could provide him this opportunity. I told him what draw permit to put in for and the long wait began. February 15th rolled around and the emails were sent out from the Alaska Department of Fish & Game. Luck was on our side as he drew the permit I wanted him to and the planning began.
A year earlier, in the spring of 2012, my parents had visited us to see our firstborn child. Of course they couldn’t come to Alaska in the spring and not go on a bear hunt! Sure enough, the first day of hunting my dad sealed the deal on a beautiful Prince William Sound black bear. This trip was by far one of the best hunting excursions I had done and set somewhat of a standard as to what to expect for future hunting trips. Well, in my mind, this was not necessarily a good thing. During every email or phone call preparing for our moose hunt, I made sure to reiterate that just going on the trip would be worth every penny and notching the tag on a nice moose would be the icing on the cake. I knew we would all have a great trip and my father believed this also. But, I was also aware of the expense for him and my mother to fly up to Alaska and go on a moose hunt. To say I felt a little pressure to get him a moose would be an understatement.
After a long hot summer, fall was finally here. My parents arrived in Alaska and the last minute preparations of packing, pre-cooking meals and triple checking the gear list was in full swing. The morning of departure came and we were all set to leave. One final stop to fuel up and we would be on our way to moose camp. While the truck was getting topped off I happened to step back and take a look at the truck and trailer, as usual giving everything a once over. For some reason the trailer angle just wasn’t right. I walked a little closer and saw the trailer tongue was almost completely detached from the trailer. Only a couple bolts were holding it in place. Just our luck! This is where good friends and family can never be thanked enough for coming to our rescue. After a couple of phone calls my friend, Kyle, showed up with a replacement trailer and the gear swap began. We were back on the road headed north after a few hours at the gas station, which was a miracle in itself. Who knows what would have happened if we hadn’t stopped and discovered the broken trailer.
We finally reached the jumping off point where the road ends and the trail begins. We began to offload the 4-wheelers and trailers, stowing and securing our gear. From the very beginning, the trail we took had some pretty good holes that even experienced riders need to walk first and cross with caution. I don’t know if I had ever seen my dad ride a 4-wheeler before so I knew he was in for a steep learning curve in how to ride an ATV in tough conditions. Plus, the fact that he had my mom riding double with him didn’t make it any easier. After a quick review of the ATV controls we were off down the trail. I really took my time going out to camp, being a little more cautious of where I went, trying to alleviate any unnecessary delays in getting stuck. We had great weather on the ride out and I knew my parents were already enjoying every second of the trip … at least I was. After crossing the main swamps, and only getting the 4-wheelers stuck a few times, we had arrived at moose camp. With the sun setting and the temps dropping we wasted no time getting camp set up and a hot dinner ready. I would put my mom’s cooking up against anybody’s, and to have those home cooked meals at moose camp was probably the best thing ever. With a full stomach we all piled into the warm tent, thanks to the buddy heater, and slowly drifted off to sleep. Just before falling asleep I remember thinking to myself how funny life is. Here are three native Floridians, who have lived most of their lives in Florida, camped out, moose hunting, in the middle of nowhere, in Alaska. Once again, I was thankful to have my parents with me and experiencing what I love to do and why I live in this great state.
The next morning came quick and we were up before sunrise. It was crisp and cold … perfect for hunting. The three of us posted up, glassing the area below. Sure enough, the moose started popping out. Hours passed and no legal bulls were seen so we retreated back to camp for another round of coffee and a hot breakfast. We glassed and glassed seeing many cows and sub-legal bulls but still none that were legal. Finally, a couple hours before sunset, I saw the white flash of a palm a couple miles off. I quickly got the spotting scope in position and was looking at our first legal moose … and he was a big boy. Letting both my mom and dad take a look at him, I knew it was too late in the day to go after him. However, he was on the move and headed in our direction. Being late September, we could tell he was in full rut by the way he was swaying his antlers back and forth, thrashing random bushes, and even tilting his head back and calling. All this commotion eventually drew in two lone cows that came running to him from quite some distance. We watched him slowly make his way in our direction until we ran out of light, leaving him in a thick drainage on the nearby mountainside across the valley. Leaving the spotting scope pointed at where I last saw him we called it a night, ate another delicious meal and went to sleep.
The next morning came and I quickly got dressed and went to the spotting scope. Slowly searching the area, no moose were seen. I watched the area, broadening my search for hours but couldn’t find our bull. A nice grizzly came out across the valley and started feeding on some berries. We watched him for quite a while before he finally disappeared. The morning drew on and it was another blue sky day but strong winds out of the west kept the temps low and cold. Again, many cows and sub-legal bulls were seen but our legal bull never came out of the drainage we had last seen him in. Finally, at last light, another moose popped out pretty close to camp. Sure enough it was a small bull. Not quite the big bull we were looking for but a possible shooter. With the low light my dad and I quickly scrambled down a caribou trail through the brush trying to get a closer look at his antlers. With the light already too far gone, I couldn’t say for sure whether or not he was legal. We slowly slipped back to camp thinking we would see him come morning.
The next morning was well below freezing as all of our water outside of the tent was frozen solid. We quietly eased down to the spotting hill and began the search again. The usual cows were milling around where we had been watching them the last couple days. We had been seeing quite a few cows and sub-legals further back in the valley and came up with a plan for the day. We decided to take supplies for an overnight trip and make the journey back to another camp site we have used in the past that overlooks the back portion of the valley. Upon reaching our destination we wasted no time getting the binoculars and spotting scope set up. Immediately we started seeing moose. One cow in particular grabbed my attention. Through the spotter you could tell she was watching something very intently. Not moving at all and ears up she stared for a long time. Finally, from the direction she was looking, a bull came running right at her. She bolted and both moose started running in our direction. Being about a mile away, my father and I grabbed the rifles and the spotting scope and took off in their direction. Dropping down into a small valley, then coming up the next side, my dad motioned to my left where a decent bull was walking about 100 yards off. I slowly crept higher on the hill, getting the spotter in position, as my dad steadied the .300 wsm waiting for the go ahead. The bull had gone past us and was moving away. I made a quick cow call and he immediately swung his head in our direction. He looked to have a mid 40s inch spread and only 2x2 for brow tines. I gave my dad the no-go signal as we watched the bull slowly move off. We slowly walked higher and reached another vantage point and began glassing more miles and miles of prime moose country. There were caribou for as far as we could see. My dad caught a glimpse of a bear and sure enough a sow and two cubs were running away from us in the valley below.
After about an hour we made our way back to mom who was still sitting at our high vantage point. Upon reaching her we could tell she wasn’t ok. She quickly told us how right after we left she was watching us look at the bull moose through her binoculars when she saw something in her peripheral vision to her right. She slowly turned and ten yards away, right below her, was a big grizzly bear staring her down. Not just one but two smaller ones came walking up also. She said they stared at each other for what felt like forever when finally the big bear bolted and ran away with the other bears in tow. She was very rattled after this encounter but now has a pretty cool story that most people can’t say they’ve experienced.
We ate lunch and took a quick nap waiting for the temps to cool off and the moose to come back out. We decided to make camp for the night after seeing more moose and more bulls. With the small tent and sleeping bags set up we began glassing again. Cows were moving and the small sub-legals were up also, scattered throughout the valley. I spotted two cows back across the valley in the small drainage we had last seen the big bull moose. I knew he had to be close but couldn’t see any more moose standing in that area. Finally, a white flash caught my eye and in between the two cows I saw the tips of his antlers where he was still bedded down in the low brush. Excitedly, I said I had found him and it was time to go get him. My father and I quickly gathered our gear, got my mom situated, and took off.
She slowly turned and ten yards away, right below her, was a big grizzly bear staring her down.
It wasn’t long before we were down in the creek bottom slowly sneaking closer. 1000 … 800 … 500 … finally 250 yards away and we were up the creek from the bull. My dad chambered a round and got into position. The big bull slowly moved around pushing the cows and swaying his big rack back and forth. It took a long time for him to present a good broadside shot clear of brush but finally he did. My dad squeezed the trigger on the .300 and you could tell the bullet had found its mark. Another shot went off as the bull slowly went down. BBD…Big bull down! We were both more than excited … especially me. The pressure was off and my dad had just shot his first moose. After a few quick pictures the real work began. With the creek running pretty high and fast I didn’t want to risk taking the 4-wheelers across. With only one set of waders my dad made the trip across and stayed mostly dry … except for a slight stumble at the other side. I opted to cross without the waders (since they were on the other side) carrying my clothes in a dry bag … surprisingly the water wasn’t too cold. Our nice sunny weather had slowly dwindled and turned into a light snow. We quickly got the moose cut up, into bags, and hauled to the nearby shore. My dad went across the creek first again and took a rope that stretched from one side to the other. I tied off each bag in case I lost control while crossing and carried them individually across the creek. Once across we carried the meat up the bank to the 4-wheeler and made our way back to camp. Mom was very excited upon seeing the large moose. We all slept good that night.
The next morning we woke to a winter wonderland. We quickly broke down camp and loaded up before the weather got any worse. The trip out was slow in minimal visibility and sloppy wet conditions. We picked our way back through the swamp along the freshly hidden trail getting stuck more than we had on the way in, flipping trailers, and even having a tire come off the meat wagon. Finally, we made it back to the truck.
Kyle had told my dad right before we left that a lot of moose hunts, if not all, can be summed up as a series of obstacles you have to overcome. This held true for our trip. I left out a lot of details of stuck wheelers and trailers, lots of winching through mud holes, broken equipment, tired and exhausted muscles after long days, etc... We definitely had our fair share of obstacles, but that’s what makes these trips an adventure and keeps me coming back every year. Again, a new bar was set for future hunting trips for my parents … this one representing difficulty! I am not surprised at all that my dad handled everything great, but once again my mom surprised us both. She was a trooper getting out of her comfort zone and joining us on a not so easy trip way back into the middle of Alaska’s wilderness. It was great to have her along.
Another adventure goes in the books. The memories made on trips like this with family are priceless. Living the Alaska Life!
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