HunterHarry
Long Time Member
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LAST EDITED ON Nov-26-06 AT 10:10PM (MST)[p]I just had some negatives transfered to CD from my 2001 bear hunt on Kodiak Island.
Thought I'd relive this dream hunt.
For years I'd dreamed of pursuing the giant coastal grizzlies of Alaska.
My late father was stationed there when he was in the Navy and used to spin yarns of his adventures there. I was always in awe when the subject turned to the giant bears.
After years of saving and sacrafice, I had researched a quality area on Kodiak and booked with a hard working outfitter.
With the blessings of my family I left California in mid April after months of training in anticipation of a two week long backpack hunt into Kodiak Island's rugged interior.
After my flight to Alaska, I overnighted with a long time friend that I had gone to school with years before.
The next morning I caught a flight to Kodiak, then a charter to the other side of the island where I was met by my guide.
I had corresponded with Rob off and on for a few months prior to my hunt, we immediatley hit it off as friends.
We ate a quick meal at the lodge, loaded our gear and jumped into a skiff that we used to cross the bay.
Opon arrival, we secured the boat, and hiked a couple of miles to a nice location where we set up an overnight camp.
At the lower elevations the early spring had melted the winter snow.
Morning breaks and we eat a quick breafast, load our backpacks and start our six mile hike to the snow covered mountains in hopes of catching a big bear emerging from his den.
We wade back and forth across a swift river covered with slippery rocks on our ascent to the high country.
Along the way we see quite a few mountain goats and the ever present bald eagles.
After several hours Rob assures me that we are getting close to our spike camp and we take a well earned break.
Just as we finish a sandwich an earth shaking rumble overwhelmes my senses.
I look up and see the entire snow covered mountainside let loose with an awe inspiring avalanche.
SCARED THE HELL OUT OF ME.
Fortunatley it never crossed the river to our side, but what a rush...
That evening after reaching spike camp even though I'm dog tired, sleep does not come easy.
First light finds us high on a ridge overlooking an incredibly beautiful snow covered basin with a distinctive set of large bear tracks meandering down a distant slope.
We eventually spend two full days glassing this area, but the owner of the tracks never shows.
On the third day we set up on the lookout again.
The sky omniously darkens and intermittant sleet and hail pelt down upon us.
As a welcome break in the deluge happens upon us, Rob decides to climb up on a prominant rock about a quarter mile from me and hopes the different angle will reveal some new secrets.
He tells me to continue to glass from my spot.
Rob is gone about a half hour and the heavy sky busts out with another volly of sleet and frozen rain.
I pull out a small tarp, cover myself and quietly pass time inspecting the newly forming erosion on the blued surface of my scope rings.
The sound of the rain on the tarp is very soothing and I curl up for a quick cat nap till the weather clears.
I groggily awake to silence.
I pull back the tarp wiggle myself back up to a sitting position and am immediatley shocked into reality...
Less than fifty yards downhill of my position, I am looking at a very large coastal grizzly lumbering his way past my location.
I raise my rifle and with addrenaline pounding through my temples, decide to let him walk.
I was commited to take a superior trophy or nothing at all.
Without Rob at my side, I just couldn't tell just how good this bear was.
I stay in position and watch the beast disapear into the naked alder jungle.
Moments later with wide eyes and trembling hands, I relay the story to Rob, who had just returned from his lookout.
After hearing my wild story, we shimmie down the slope to see what the tracks in the snow look like.
Rob stoops down, asseses the tracks and proceeds to tell me that I just let a huge bear go bye.
I feel sick to my stomach and know there is a good chance that we will never see this bear again.
We quickly gather our gear and race to intercept the bear.
Within minutes we spot the bear resting in the snowy alders.
I find a small shooting lane, take a rest and find his shoulder in my 3-10 Swarovski.
I take a half breath and touch off my stainless .300 Weatherby magnum.
The 200 grain Nosler partition slams home with that familiar thud.
The great bear rolls around thrashing in the alders for a moment, then all is silent.
I put two more shots into the boiler room for insurance.
We wait about ten minutes, but we can see no movement from the bear.
We cautiously approach the bear.
With each step it gets bigger.
I am at first reluctant to touch him, having seen first hand what these giants are capable of.
I am truly overwhelmed.
This was unquestionably the trophy of my lifetime.
Chills run up and down my arms when Rob looks me in the eye and tells me that I have probably taken a ten footer.
TRULY UNBELIEVABLE.
The bear had a hide that squared an honest ten foot one inch.
A perfect hide with no rubs, and white claws indicative of old age.
The skull made the all time Boone & Crockett record book.
The bear was aged at fifteen years old.
TRULY UNBELIEVABLE.
This was five years ago and I still get chills when I tell the story.
Thought I'd relive this dream hunt.
For years I'd dreamed of pursuing the giant coastal grizzlies of Alaska.
My late father was stationed there when he was in the Navy and used to spin yarns of his adventures there. I was always in awe when the subject turned to the giant bears.
After years of saving and sacrafice, I had researched a quality area on Kodiak and booked with a hard working outfitter.
With the blessings of my family I left California in mid April after months of training in anticipation of a two week long backpack hunt into Kodiak Island's rugged interior.
After my flight to Alaska, I overnighted with a long time friend that I had gone to school with years before.
The next morning I caught a flight to Kodiak, then a charter to the other side of the island where I was met by my guide.
I had corresponded with Rob off and on for a few months prior to my hunt, we immediatley hit it off as friends.
We ate a quick meal at the lodge, loaded our gear and jumped into a skiff that we used to cross the bay.
Opon arrival, we secured the boat, and hiked a couple of miles to a nice location where we set up an overnight camp.
At the lower elevations the early spring had melted the winter snow.
Morning breaks and we eat a quick breafast, load our backpacks and start our six mile hike to the snow covered mountains in hopes of catching a big bear emerging from his den.
We wade back and forth across a swift river covered with slippery rocks on our ascent to the high country.
Along the way we see quite a few mountain goats and the ever present bald eagles.
After several hours Rob assures me that we are getting close to our spike camp and we take a well earned break.
Just as we finish a sandwich an earth shaking rumble overwhelmes my senses.
I look up and see the entire snow covered mountainside let loose with an awe inspiring avalanche.
SCARED THE HELL OUT OF ME.
Fortunatley it never crossed the river to our side, but what a rush...
That evening after reaching spike camp even though I'm dog tired, sleep does not come easy.
First light finds us high on a ridge overlooking an incredibly beautiful snow covered basin with a distinctive set of large bear tracks meandering down a distant slope.
We eventually spend two full days glassing this area, but the owner of the tracks never shows.
On the third day we set up on the lookout again.
The sky omniously darkens and intermittant sleet and hail pelt down upon us.
As a welcome break in the deluge happens upon us, Rob decides to climb up on a prominant rock about a quarter mile from me and hopes the different angle will reveal some new secrets.
He tells me to continue to glass from my spot.
Rob is gone about a half hour and the heavy sky busts out with another volly of sleet and frozen rain.
I pull out a small tarp, cover myself and quietly pass time inspecting the newly forming erosion on the blued surface of my scope rings.
The sound of the rain on the tarp is very soothing and I curl up for a quick cat nap till the weather clears.
I groggily awake to silence.
I pull back the tarp wiggle myself back up to a sitting position and am immediatley shocked into reality...
Less than fifty yards downhill of my position, I am looking at a very large coastal grizzly lumbering his way past my location.
I raise my rifle and with addrenaline pounding through my temples, decide to let him walk.
I was commited to take a superior trophy or nothing at all.
Without Rob at my side, I just couldn't tell just how good this bear was.
I stay in position and watch the beast disapear into the naked alder jungle.
Moments later with wide eyes and trembling hands, I relay the story to Rob, who had just returned from his lookout.
After hearing my wild story, we shimmie down the slope to see what the tracks in the snow look like.
Rob stoops down, asseses the tracks and proceeds to tell me that I just let a huge bear go bye.
I feel sick to my stomach and know there is a good chance that we will never see this bear again.
We quickly gather our gear and race to intercept the bear.
Within minutes we spot the bear resting in the snowy alders.
I find a small shooting lane, take a rest and find his shoulder in my 3-10 Swarovski.
I take a half breath and touch off my stainless .300 Weatherby magnum.
The 200 grain Nosler partition slams home with that familiar thud.
The great bear rolls around thrashing in the alders for a moment, then all is silent.
I put two more shots into the boiler room for insurance.
We wait about ten minutes, but we can see no movement from the bear.
We cautiously approach the bear.
With each step it gets bigger.
I am at first reluctant to touch him, having seen first hand what these giants are capable of.
I am truly overwhelmed.
This was unquestionably the trophy of my lifetime.
Chills run up and down my arms when Rob looks me in the eye and tells me that I have probably taken a ten footer.
TRULY UNBELIEVABLE.
The bear had a hide that squared an honest ten foot one inch.
A perfect hide with no rubs, and white claws indicative of old age.
The skull made the all time Boone & Crockett record book.
The bear was aged at fifteen years old.
TRULY UNBELIEVABLE.
This was five years ago and I still get chills when I tell the story.
:RIMROCK
