Well, I didn't get et by a bar, but if you die and go to hell, you'll go moose hunting. It was an awesome trip, one that I'll always remember, but what a physically miserable hunt.
We booked with Papa Bear Adventures. They are a top-notch outfit with phenomenal pilots that I would recommend to anyone. They flew us to what I like to refer to as the "suck-hole". Every step whas groin deep marsh in the open, and alder, shin-tangle crap in the trees. Moose and moose sign were everywhere, but only glimpses of moose were seen at 30 yards in the alders. We were too early in the rut for any calling to be effective. I've never been wet to this extreme except in a swimming pool. On the 3rd night, a bear decided to eat our raft and gas can. When he got done playing, he ambled up the trail to our tent and decided to play with the electric fence. That "WOOF" when they hit the fence will jolt you straight out of bed as you listen to them crashing off in the trees. Funny as hell the next morning, not so much that night. We called Steve at PaPa Bear on the sat phone and he replaced the raft and gas can, and even moved us to a new location without a moments hesitation. He moved us to what he called the "ridge". Now this was hunting. Dry ground! The alders were still bad, but there were huge blueberry patches, dry ponds, poplar(or something similar) and spruce forests. After a couple of days of brush thrashing, we finally got a response, a bull was thrashing a few hundred yards away. We weren't able to get on him that evening, so we backed out. The next morning we set up on a pond hopeing to catch him when he started thrashing down the draw from the pond. I snuck in while my buddy stayed on the hill thrashing. At 42 yards I could see pieces and parts of him in the alders, but not enough to snake an arrow into his ribs. Damn, I wish I had my buddies 338, which was 200 yards behind me. I estimated him at 58-60 inches with 3 very long brow tines per side, and wore down top points. He looked like an old bull to me, but what do I know. Those things are so big he could have had milk on his lips with a 25 inch spread! He eventually ambled down the draw to where he caught my wind and crashed into the timber. That night we set up on the same pond hopeing to catch him when we heard him come down the hill and go into another pond a few hundred yards away. As we snuck down to that pond, the dry blueberries, which sound like dry aspen leaves, gave us away and he blew back up the hill. I half expected moose to be big and dumb. Wrong. He acted more like an old whitetail buck than a swampdonkey. That was the last encounter we had that week. I would love to go again, and I would highly recommend PaPa Bear, but I would take a couple of 20 year olds with me, and would go later in September. The rut just wasn't going yet. We had a full moon and 3 days of near 70 degree weather which didn't help. The biggest thing is it's so damn hard to walk anywhere, let alone cover the country to find the moose, that you need the rut to help. I did end up harvesting a small black bear near camp on the last day. I think I'm going to Kodiac after deer next. It'll be a couple of years before I forget how hard it is moose hunting, and decide to book again. No regrets though, that's bowhunting for you!
