I am about to head for Alaska again next week. Decided I had better finish my posts about the last trip – it’s been almost a year! So here’s part three from last year’s Alaska Moose Hunt Trip. The other two posts can be found here and here.

As we left the last episode, Part Two, Derek Habel and I were in camp on Beaver Creek in southeastern Alaska.

We had been in camp about a week, when one evening, two of the horses decided they had had enough of the Alaskan adventure, and they headed back down the trail to the trailer…18.7 miles by my GPS. That was on Sunday, September 23, 2018.

Our first hint that the two horses were gone, was that my gelding, J Golden, had been grazing with them, but returned to camp alone that evening. We had heard him calling a couple of times in the distance, which must have been when they crossed the river and headed out. J just let the other horses go and turned around and came back to camp. I tracked him back and found the place on the other side of our island where  the two horses had crossed the river and headed north on Beaver Creek.

One of the horses, a mare named Ginger, had been on four previous hunts to that same camp, so she knew the route back to the trailhead very well. The other horse, Shadow, was on his first trip, but he willingly followed Ginger on her way. Why J Golden, who was also on his first trip to Alaska, turned around, left the other two, and returned to camp, I cannot guess, but I’m sure glad he did. In fact, he saved us two more times that way, when other horses ventured off the island to find other pastures.  A priceless trait for a backcountry trail horse!

The following morning it was decided that I would take J and head out after the two missing horses, while Derek continued his hunt; the moose rut had started and our hunting days were numbered before we had to head home. If he were successful, we would need those two horses to pack out the meat and rack. After a good breakfast, I saddled J Golden and said so-long to Derek. He kept Lucky, the trusty bear dog, with him, since he would be going through the thick forests, while I would have to depend on my horse’s senses and a .457 Marlin Lever-action saddle gun for my own protection. I have to admit I was a bit anxious, having spent very little time in grizzly country in my life.  So, trusting to J’s senses and divine protection, I headed out.

I hadn’t gone very far, when I began to see bear tracks superimposed on the tracks of the two horses in the sand along the river shores. It seemed that I found those tracks at nearly every crossing for nearly eight miles. I’m pretty sure most of the tracks were those of a large black bear, although there might have been tracks of a grizzly among them as well, as we saw some grizzly bear tracks near the trailhead as we departed the week before. I tried to speed up my chase, although cautiously, hoping to come upon the horses before they became bear food. I have to admit that I wondered about my decision-making processes, as I hurried to catch up with horses that were being followed by a bear!

I pushed J along pretty quickly, averaging about 5 mph or better, crossing the river upwards of 30 times. I found myself enjoying the ride and becoming less and less concerned about bears and more and more enthralled in the wilderness and beauty around me. I enjoyed the feeling of a good horse under me and his strength and effort in making his way through difficult water crossings, over and around log jams and blow-downs, and picking his way through rocky terrain and thickets. J gave me all he had. I was very pleased with my gelding and pleased with my surroundings. I thoroughly enjoyed that ride, and I think he did as well.

By the time J and I reached the trailhead, it was nearly 2pm, leaving me very little margin for safety in getting back to camp before nightfall. I found the two wayward horses calmly grazing on the sparse grass on the shore of the creek, near the bridge. As evidenced by their tracks, they had been up to the trailer, but finding nothing to eat there, had come back down to Beaver Creek and settled down to wait there. I contemplated staying overnight in the living-quarters trailer (fantasizing about a hot shower), but decided against it, since Derek would need me if he had killed a moose. Both J and I were tired, but I could see no alternative than to return to camp immediately. I moved my saddle and bridle to Ginger, grabbed some soda pop and snacks from the trailer, and headed back up the trail. I also grabbed some dog food for Lucky, as our supply at camp was running low.

Ginger wasn’t very willing to be heading back to the hunt camp at first, but after a few hundred yards on the trail, she settled-in and headed off down the trail at a good clip. I ponied J, and Shadow followed along of his own accord.

Back along the river we went, backtracking our trail, river crossing after river crossing, mile after mile.  On one river crossing, Ginger stepped into a deep hole and ended up swimming the last few yards to the far shore. I went in up to my hips. My rifle scabbard filled with water and had to be dumped out. I pulled the rifle from the scabbard, emptied the action and magazine and let the water drain out of it as well. Luckily, my saddle bags stayed dry and my pants, which were waterproof, stayed dry as well. My leather boots, however, were soaked and my feet were wet and cold most of the ride. I decided then that I would buy myself a pair of waterproof boots for the next such trip!

We arrived at camp just before darkness settled in. I had been in the saddle nearly 9 hours. I was ready for a hot meal and some rest. I had ridden approximately 38 miles, through some very tough country, crossing the river nearly 60 times. Both myself and the horses were pretty done-in.

I found it interesting that I had seen so many fresh bear tracks along the way throughout the entire day, but didn’t see a single bear.

Derek had only arrived back at camp minutes before I had. We found that a gust of wind had come through and quite thoroughly destroyed our camp. The tarp was blown aside and the framework had been knocked down. Some of our gear and supplies had been blown around the camp. Luckily, I had staked-down our tent when we set it up, so that was still in place.

We set about getting the camp back in order and rebuilding our camp lean-to frame and roof, after which we made ourselves a quick meal and headed for bed, as the wind began to rise. We had no sooner laid ourselves down, when the wind began to howl. Since it was still early evening, we laid in our sleeping bags and watched some video movies Derek had stored on his digital tablet. It was tough to watch the movies and tougher to hear them, with the wind howling like it was. Eventually, we gave up on that and just tried to go to sleep. Sometime around 10pm the wind rose to around 50mph, with gusts passing 70mph, in my estimation, and our tent collapsed. Derek has broad shoulders, so when the tent side collapsed against his shoulders, I was left on the downwind side of the tent with a bit of headroom, quite comfortable. We heard our tarp and the roof frame again collapse and we knew our camp would be in shambles in the morning.

Then, just as quick as it came upon us, the wind was gone. There was one last heavy gust, then all was calm. The storm had lasted about two hours.

We found one of the dome tent arch poles had snapped under the weight of the wind. We were able to do a makeshift repair that night, using a fiberglass rod from Derek’s electric fence parts, that kept the tent upright through the remainder of our stay in camp.

The following morning, we again repaired our camp roof frame, re-stretched the tarp, and reinforced the braces. We also took some time to sink a couple posts to use as tie posts for the horses, which proved extremely useful over the remainder of our stay. Later, we also  built a makeshift corral for the horses, which we will reinforce and improve on our next trip.

The following day, which would be day 13 of our stay in camp, both Derek and I packed up a couple horses, me riding J Golden, and headed back up into the foothills. Derek had seen a couple bull moose the previous day and was excited to find that the moose rut had finally begun.

On that day we did, indeed see a good sized bull moose, but it moved away from us into deep forests, where it would be impossible to hunt. After a long day, we started back toward camp. On the ride back, J got going a little fast down a slope. He stepped into a bit of a hole and came up solidly short on a front leg. I was nearly unseated from the saddle. However, he just kept on going and never missed another stride, as we made our way over the next four or five miles to camp. The next evening, however, I noticed J’s front right knee was swollen like a football. I believe he hyperextended his knee coming down that slope. He was not limping, but his knee was stiff and obviously sore. I gave him the next couple days off to rest and by the time we packed out, the swelling had gone down quite a bit. We packed him light and he made the trip out just fine.

The day after J hurt his knee, which was Thursday, Derek and I headed back up into the foothills, intent on coming out with a bull moose. About five miles from camp we came upon the same bull moose we had seen the previous day, along with a smaller bull and several cows. However, this time Derek decided to keep looking, as this bull was not in the trophy class Derek was hoping for.

On one particular hillside, we parked our horses and Derek headed off around the crest to scope for moose. Shortly thereafter, he came running back, yelling in a whisper voice…I think you can imagine what I’m trying to describe…that there was a pack of wolves on the next hill over! We made a plan to try to take a closer look at them and possibly to get a shot at one, as Derek had a wolf tag as well as a moose tag.

I crossed the crest of the hill and set myself up in a good spot. I attached my iphone 7 to an adapter and fitted it to Derek’s 20-60X spotting scope and began watching the wolves. They were lounging on the adjacent ridge, just relaxing, apparently after a good meal. The range was about 700 yards. I counted 16 wolves on that ridge.

Derek set himself up on the other side of a saddle. He had an electronic coyote call that he hoped would attract the pack to come closer, as wolves and coyotes are mortal enemies and wolves will attack and kill coyotes at every opportunity. I got my iphone camera set up while Derek got himself set up. When he turned on the coyote call, we were treated to one of the most spectacular scenes I have ever witnessed. Below is the video I took, in its entirety, with my iphone 7. If you turn the volume to 100%, you will be treated to a wonderful and eerie chorus of the voices of 16 Alaskan Timber Wolves.

By way of explanation, at about 1:37min, you will also hear the electronic coyote call and will see the wolves respond to it. You will also see that the wolves were quite content to remain on their ridge and just howl warnings at the intruding coyotes. These wolves were fat and happy and not in any mood to be off chasing coyotes.

Derek was unsuccessful in scoring a wolf kill. However, we knew from that moment that our moose hunt was over. About 30 minutes later, we saw eight more wolves come down from the hills above us and join the pack, bringing the total to 24 wolves in that one pack. We realized we would see no trophy bull moose in that area for quite a while.

When a pack of wolves, especially one of that size, moves into an area, they decimate the wildlife in the area, then move on when there is nothing left to feed on. Even the mighty Grizzly Bear had moved out of the area. We saw one Black bear and cub on a far mountainside during the entire hunt. While some would have one believe that wolves only feed upon weak and injured animals, that is actually far from the truth. There simply aren’t enough weak and injured animals to feed them. The wolves will feed on the bulls and the calves, the largest bulls being the most vulnerable. The wolves will chase them into the dense forest, where the bull is less able to maneuver to defend itself, due to the breadth of its antlers, then the kill comes quickly. While wolves seldom kill bear, they will harass even the Grizzly until they simply leave the area. It was a great disappointment to find this wolf pack in our hunting area, uncontrolled and overpopulated. It will take years for the game to be re-established in this particular region.

We made plans to pack out the following day. We came out without a moose, but I wouldn’t call it an unsuccessful hunt.

Breaking camp didn’t take long. It always takes longer to set up than to take down. We had everything packed and ready to move by about 1pm. We headed back up the trail to Beaver Creek at a very nice pace, even for a Missouri Fox Trotter. Despite not having a designated trail to follow and the 30 or so river crossings on the way out, we made excellent time.

 

The 18.7 miles took us three hours and 40 minutes from the hunt camp to the trailer. That even allowed us time to feed and water the horses and head over to Buckshot Betty’s for a nice, warm, steak dinner.

We slept in the very nice living quarters of Derek’s trailer that night, after taking nice hot showers, and rested very well. Before noon the following day, we were on the road, headed home.

 

We retraced our route heading south, with one alteration. We stopped at the hot springs at Liard River Hot Springs Provincial Park, British Columbia, where we took an hour to soak in the hot springs. That was a stop that was well worth the time. Wish I had gotten some pictures, but we left the phones in the truck.

The trip home was a fast one. While we were on the hunt, a devastating forest fire burned in Utah County, completely surrounding Derek’s ranch in Diamond Fork, east of Spanish Fork, Utah. The fire had taken out most of the vegetation in the hills surrounding his place, but he had lost no buildings, thanks to the efforts of several fire crews.

However, as we headed south from Alaska, a severe storm warning was in effect for Utah County and Derek feared is ranch would suffer more damage from uncontrolled runoff from the storm, including landslides and flooding, that was caused by the fire itself. We spent two nights on the road in Canada, then drove straight through overnight to Idaho Falls, where we made a stop at the home of Derek’s daughter’s family, 22 straight hours. The horses were glad for a rest and some grazing time in a grassy pasture.  After a little breakfast and a short nap, we hit the road again. We arrived at Derek’s place that afternoon, in time for Derek to make some preparations for the storm to protect his home and buildings.

I was glad to be home as well. It was a wonderful adventure, but very tough on both men and horses.  The horses all lost quite a bit of weight on the trip, but all came through healthy and well.  The horses did very well in the trailer both up and back and we had no injuries to horse or man, outside the normal bumps and bruises.

Going into and out of Canada was painless. We had our paperwork in order and nothing to declare other than horses and rifles. Handguns are prohibited in Canada, so we left those at home to begin with.

Derek and I are heading back up to Alaska again next week. Looking forward to it. I will be taking Apollo as my saddle mount, since I sold J last spring.  I’ll try to be more diligent in getting my posts and photos up in a more reasonable timeframe.

It’s just that I have been having so much fun on the horses this year that keeping up my posts sort of fell by the wayside.

Stay tuned for posts about my Flagstaff to the Grand Canyon ride last May and my trip to the Jim Bridger Wilderness last month.