As someone once said,” Life is a journey not a destination, and who knows just what tomorrow might bring.”   OK, so I stole that one from the Aerosmith song, but it sounds like a damn good mantra to live by if you ask me and I am always on the look for tomorrow’s next adventure.   Speaking of adventure and destinations, outside of New Zealand, Africa, the North West Territory or few wild places left in our  ever shrinking world, Alaska seems to top my destination list.  I can not think of many places to journey that provide solitude mixed with adventure that Alaska has to offer those with a passion for the great outdoors.

That said it seems that my internal compass seems to point north during the spring and fall.

I count my blessings that life has allowed me to bail out of the corporate rat race and work in a rotational position that provides what I see as having the luxury of working overseas for 5 weeks and then have 5 weeks off to enjoy life.  At first the 5 weeks on and 5 weeks off sounds like a great gig, but what many do not understand is during the 5 weeks at work, we are doing 14 to 16 hour days, 7 days a week for 5 weeks straight. (NOTE: I said doing 14 to 16 hours and did not specify working)  Before getting excited about the off-time and running away from the 40 hour week job do the math and you can see that amounts to 112 hours a week and as total of 560 hours each rotation.  There is no such thing as calling in for a sick day, weekend or holiday off when working rotation. However, in my opinion, it certainly beats the old corporate Monday through Friday 8 to 5 grind with the possibility of a few weeks off each year.

With recent memories from the fall 2010 trip to Prince of Wales Island in SE Alaska, monster halibut, catching Dungeness crabs for the camp, tons of black bear and enough photographs of sea creatures to fill a library with scrapbooks, the thought of returning this spring and checking out areas further north in Prince William Sound was one of the thoughts that kept me pushing along during the long days at work. Or at least gave me an excuse to search the net and try to put a plan together.  As many will agree that planning the next trip is an adventure in itself, just as long as the boss does not catch you on Google when the weekly reports are due. 

Towards the mid part of May, I had yet to make any solid plans when a friend of mine Rick Young of Rick Young Outdoors sent an email to let me know an outfitter he represents in Prince William had three customers make a last minute cancellation on a 5 days black bear and fishing excursion and if I moved quickly, could pick the trip up at a great price. Folks, there is nothing like a last minute deal on anything these days, and especially on a hunting or fishing trip at a destination of choice, so I was off on a mission to get two other outdoorsmen to join me.  

One of my best hunting / fishing partners Doug was the first on the call list and not only jumped on the deal for himself, but wanted his oldest son Bo to come on what would be not only his first trip to Alaska, but also his first bear hunt. 

In total, I think it was only three hours from the initial email from Rick to the return call to confirm that we would take the three slots and would be on our way. The plan was set and now it was just a matter of telling the wife that after five weeks away, I would be coming home from overseas for a few days and then heading up to Alaska. Just writing that sounds like a tall order, but trying to figure out the best way to let her know of this last minute plan was going to be the greatest challenge. So, I did what any respectable husband would do and held off telling her about it until I called home on my birthday a week later. Talk about perfect timing as what spouse would complain to their husband on their birthday. That would just not be fair.  I am sure that will cost me in the long run, but after 21 years of marriage, I have learned, at a great expense mind you, that she will get payback eventually and the cost of this last minute trip will seem like a drop in the bucket. Turn about is fair play they say.

Travel to and arriving in Alaska is always an adventure in itself and we made sure to get in a few days early to do some flying around in a bush plane and visit a few other haunts, one being the Great Alaskan Bush Company. As a note to those that have never heard of the Great Alaskan Bush Company, don’t go there with an expectation of buying outdoor gear as you will not find it.

I can say with all certainty that you will find tons of wild-life, but it is not to be confused with the wildlife most outdoors folk’s travel to Alaska for. Enough said about that, Google it yourself if you want to learn more and you did not hear that from me.

After enjoying a bit of the wild-life in Anchorage, the morning of June 1^st found us up and early to meet with our guide for the week, Joe Romano of Gas and Time outfitters. It was clear that we had arrived at the perfect time for spring bear as they were just out of hibernation. Although the king salmon had yet to show, the halibut and yellow eye were stacked up outside of the sound and the shrimp traps on the inside were filling up with only a two day set.

Could not ask for anything more as it was unusually clear for this time of the year and I had thoughts of  leaving back a bit of the my Swazi wet weather and other gear I had packed, but knew that the weather in Alaska will change faster than my wife can change her mind. (Not intended to be disrespectful my dear, just we both know it to be the truth)

Day 1: Off from Whittier in the 28 foot boat to fishing grounds unknown to check the first set of shrimp pots and found them full.  Certainly enough shrimp to fill our ice box and a cooler and more than enough to last our group the week.  For some reason I don’t think anything taste as good as something that comes straight from the sea and into the pan. My friends, now that makes for a fantastic evening meal and certainly a hell of a great way to start the trip. With our group positioned to glass in various bays, the evening approached and the bears came out into the tidal grass areas in “herds” I guess we could call it that as I lost count, but unfortunately did not see the 7 footer I had returned to Alaska for.

After pick up and returning back to the boat, we found that Mr. X, as we shall call him, the only one that was able to make the trip from the first group that had cancelled, tagged out on a nice boar bear.. Apparently he was not used to life on a boat and after getting his bear, he also fell violently ill.

Although he highly suspected it was the shrimp we ate earlier,  I think it was more along the lines of sea sickness as most would think that when 5 guys eat the same meal and only one gets sick, it easy to rule food poisoning out  on the list of causes. Allergy to shellfish probable, but seemingly the symptoms would have differed from what Mr. X was going through. Although I have never experienced sea sickness, seen it enough times to know it can be almost as debilitating as coming down with a case of dysentery.

At least that is the only thing I can compare it to from a personal standpoint of being sick and stuck on a boat offshore.  As I said, experienced from a personal standpoint, coming from when I first started working overseas. Back then, bottled water was not a common as it is today and it was made clear to the new guys, never drink the local water as dysentery was an ever present water borne illness in that part of the world. Needless to say, drinking local water was on top of my things never to do list.  However being the twenty-something know-it-all I was, decided the best option when away from potable water was to stick to beer. (Smart idea)

The only error in that though process was a poor judgement call one hot day in a West India bush bar , I decided to put local ice in the mug to cool down the warm beer.

I don’t think there is a need to further explain, but lived through that to learn the lesson to include local ice to the things never to do list and being stuck on a boat and sick is no fun. Be it sea sick or dysentery as to me they seem to have the same physical symptoms.

Though most people consider me to be a sympathetic soul, I just could not find it in me to fulfil his request and end his suffering.  So we made to run back to Whittier to avoid having to explain a mercy killing and burial at sea. I say that in jest, but did feel very sympathetic for Mr. X, but hey, he did get a great bear so not all was lost on his trip.

Day 2: Starting day two was long as we did not arrived back in Whittier until 0230 and was lucky that Joe knew the owner of the local hotel. You know someone must really like you when you can call at them at 0300 in the morning, get them out of bed and then to drive into town to give you keys to a room leaves me in absolute amazement. There were also two gallon bags of shrimp involved in the transaction. Apparently that was top shelf trading material in that part of the state. 

What can I say but “only in Alaska,” as that sure as hell would never happen back in SE Louisiana without someone in the party taking the worse end of a serious beating. Our outfitter made arrangement to get Mr. X back to Anchorage in case he needed to see the doctor and we were off to the hotel. We would later learn after a shower and days rest onshore he was feeling great and flew home that night. Amazing what a shower and dry land under your feet will do. 

The rest of day two was pretty much down time. Being back in town made it harder to return to the hunting and fishing grounds as the weather had turned from blue skies and sunshine to pouring rain and 40 knot wind gusts. The plan came back to waiting for the wind to die back down enough to allow us to run back to the hunting grounds, get Bo and Doug set up in a tent and shut it down for the night. I would have never though that I would have “a wasted day in Alaska,” but for the most part that was it. However we were all glad that Mr. X was no longer suffering and we had made it back into our hunting grounds.

Day 3: For anyone that has yet to experience spring in Alaska, you may find it a bit daunting as to why it does not get dark until 0100 and then the sun rises again at 0500. I am far from being an expert in these matters, but speculate that it must have something to do with being that far north. Guess that is where the term, “land of the midnight sun comes from.”

 Being a person that has a hard time sleeping when the sun is out and generally needs at least 6 hours of sleep, really did not appreciate it much when Doug starts hailing Joe and I on the VHF radio at 0600. Mind you they won the coin toss and took the tent on the beach and Joe and I, anchored a few hundred meter away and hunkered down on the boat. Can’t say we actually lost out on that one as I prefer the comforts of a soft mattress on a heated boat in a calm bay over an army cot in an unheated hide salting tent when given the choice between the two. Guess he wanted to get an early start on fishing or in bad need of his morning coffee. At that moment he did not understand that this was primarily a bear trip with fishing as a side line activity to pass time after the hunt.  I will take fault as I did not explain the rules upfront when he decided to book as a non-hunting fisherman.

In a normal situation, you hunt late; go to bed around 0200, sleep until 0900, run shrimp traps or fish if in the fishing grounds and THEN hunt in the evening until dark. I don’t know who wrote that rule, but it sounds like a damn good plan to stick with.  I am just hoping that no one overheard my comments back to Doug over the VHF as I certainly would not want to be fined or be banned from using a marine radio for life, but I feel a few choice expletives made my point clear. I am sure that if anyone was listening in they were probably laughing too hard to care or just figured anyone who could relay their true feelings to a friend at that time of the morning was certainly a person that you might not want to cross paths with. 

Even with the unplanned early start, it would be a great day with blue bird skies and bears moving through the day feeding just below the vanishing snow line. We spent the rest of the morning cruising along the shores glassing bears, but did not spot one big enough to attempt a stalk. Can’t say I did not enjoy soaking up the sun from the top of the boat while glassing the mountains. That is when I was not taking an occasional nap.

The evening found us headed back to other areas to set up and glass for big black bears coming out to feed on the grass.

Albeit I was in what was or rather should have been bear heaven on earth, we all know that even the best of plans sometimes don’t pan out. At 15:00, Joe dropped me off in a perfect bay just as the tide was falling.  To give you an idea, I had a 300 meter section of grass above the tide line to my left at 200 meters and another 150 meter section of grass at 275 meters to my right with the wind to my advantage making this the perfect set up.

I found a good place set up and glass between two large trees that had long fell from the bank making an idea natural blind for the evening. Or so I thought until I heard the roar of an outboard motor in the background. My first thought was something must have happened for Joe to come back in this early, but after seeing an orange dingy, instantly knew it was not Joe and had to wonder how in the hell could this could be possible in such a vast wilderness..

I felt a bit of relief when I saw the boat pass the opening of the bay and move along, figuring they probably just glassed the area and decided to move onwards to check out other areas..

As the boats motor faded out of hearing, I relaxed back into my position and continued to glass the surrounding hills, hoping that a big bruin would slip out and allow me to make a good stalk, or better yet, slip out of the thick timber and into the grass for an evening meal and give me the perfect shot. As the light started to fade, out of the corner of my eye I spotted a slight bit of movement toward the front of the bay. Turning around to glass saw what I would have never expected, yes, three camouflaged clad hunters a bit over 600 meters making a slow stalk just inside the tree line.

Guess they had decided to run past the area, out of hearing and stalk back in on this “honey hole.”  Can’t say I blame them and can’t say I know exactly what a bears thinks, but felt this was just one of those places that would probably be where I would want to hang out if I was a bear, so go figure!  Being what is called the “prime time” of the evening for bear movement, started to feel that my space was being impeded by interlopers, but then came to rational thought and realised that they had just as much right to be here as I did. On the safety side figured it to be wise to somehow let them know I was in the area without ruining my own hunt. As they glassed in my direction, I flashed my pocket light in their direction hoping that they would see the light, spot me and move along. Apparently it was either too bright in the day to see the flashing light or they were not looking in the right direction as they continued to advance.

As they closed the distance down to 150 meters, I pulled off my hat and waved in hopes that they would see me first and not start shooting, but they continued to advance. I hate to admit it but at that point the frustration set in as it was clear that they were not aware of my presence and would likely step on me in a few minutes.  I wondered to myself, if they could not see a man waving his hat at them, how in the hell did they expect to see a bear? With no other option, I stood up and waved my arms and said in a firm tone. “Hey, I hope you can see me now!”   Without any exchange of comments, they turned and headed back. Maybe they figured I might have been the guy on the radio that morning? Anyway the damage was done, mostly on my part as the human voice, especially mine, carries far in the wilderness.  To be realistic, it was frustrating but not intentional and would dare guess that many of us have been in the same position as they were at one time or another.

Looking at my watch knew that I just as well sit back and continue to glass as it would be a few more hours before pick up and try to stay focused by trying to convince myself that it was still a small probability that although my voice was probably heard as far as Anchorage or just maybe a deaf bear might still slip out.

As the tide flooded back in and all light faded, Joe picked me up a bit past midnight, immediately asking, “What did I kill?”  This must have been the expectation as apparently bears were moving everywhere. Before I could say more than the words “saw nothing,” he told me Bo, had taken a good bear and they had several others come in when they were skinning out that bear.  I then told him what happened and Joe could only shake his head as he had a feeling when coming in to pick me up that I had probably had one on the ground. That would have been the ideal as we could head south to the fishing grounds.

Back on the Boat it was all smiles and listening to the story how the bears came in and continued to come after the shot even while they were skinning out the Bo’s bear.

It is hard for some to fully understand or appreciate the excitement that comes with a hunter’s first kill on an animal they have never hunted, but always wanted to pursue. It is even harder to try and explain the excitement that builds amongst a group of hunters when a member of their party finally bags his game. For those that can relate, you will understand that it is a time that calls for a bit of celebration.  Needless to say as soon as the boat was anchored up in the cove the Crown bottle was opened and was not closed until it was gone. Lucky for me, I had an extra bottle hidden away for medicinal purposes. 

Day 4: Well, when it rains in Alaska it does pour and that is exactly what it did. The sun was gone and the wind came in hard enough to make this an ideal morning to sleep in. Especially after a long evening of telling sharing hunting stories and passing around the bottle. Guess it is something a person has to grow up around to really understand or appreciate.  Although we checked out a few fishing spots, with the exception of a few undersized cod, as I understood it was too early for the fish to move this far inwards.

Around 13:00 Joe and I decided to at least make a run in to a bait station and see what that might produce. At the same time, dump another 50 pounds of dog food into the barrel. I have hunted my share of bait stations, but can say in all honesty that I have never seen an area around a station that was torn up to the point that it looked more like a hog pen than a bait site. Scat everywhere, trees rubbed and the barrel had been pushed up the tree so many times that the securing chain had rubbed the bark to the point that it shined.

No doubt the bears in this neck of the woods had fell in love with dry dog food and although the wind was blowing into the bait site, we decided to sit and see what may come.  Two good boars had been killed in the area since it was set up and more that bears 100 pounds of dog food had been gobbled up in just three days. With another 50 pounds of this “bear crack” (dry dog food) in the drum, it seemed like an ideal set up for a big boar to come in. Unfortunately our only visit was from a young sow that sat at the drum eating for the best part of an hour. It was obvious with a younger bear feeling comfortable enough to lie down at the bait site and eat without being nervous, was a clear sign that no other bears were around to chase her away. It was getting down to the line and a decision was made to run to another area further south to check out a tidal bay where several big bears had been spotted the week before but had not been hunted due to the difficulty getting into the area.

After the run, we anchored the boat in what was considered as a great fishing area leaving Doug and Bo with the task of catching supper while I hunted. As soon as the rods were out the bites started we headed off the dingy. I turned back to look as Bo missed a good fish, thinking to myself, if nothing else we should have fresh fish to go with the shrimp for supper.

As we came into the new area Joe explained to me something that did not fully comprehend. Apparently this area could only be accessed at high tide due to the tide range and the only chance to get out of the area was on low tide before the tide started coming back in. 

This did not sound right, as normally a person needs the high water to get in and out to avoid getting stuck.

However as I would later see for myself, this was not the norm and a unique situation. 

Coming in on high tide with the dingy, we went down a patch of white water that dropped down 2 meters into a shallow creek that lead back into a large bay that was fed by various waterfalls. 

Going out at low tide, required us to float the boat in very shallow water down a 3 meter drop off back into the mouth of the main stream.

It became clear that at the mouth of the bay there was a 4 meter drop off and elevation difference in elevation from the Back Bay and the opening bay. With the water being shallow, it would be impossible to go against any incoming tide to get out of the area. So if you did not come out before the tide came back in the only option would be to carry the dingy, motor and gear across a steep hill on a portage or wait six hours for the outgoing tide. 

This was indeed and area that was worthy of front page photographs in any outdoors magazine. Steep snow capped ridges surrounding the entire bay with lush green grass on all sides growing up to almost to the snow line. We spotted two smaller bears feeding higher up, but during the 5 hour period that we could stay before the tide change, nothing else large enough was spotted to make  to make a stalk. 

After sitting and glassing from moss covered boulders for five hours in the steady downpour with dropping temperatures, I was glad that I had had not cut corners on my rain gear. Albeit my Swazi base and outer layers had kept me bone dry, I had started to wish I had put on an extra under layer as the chill in the air crept into my bones just as it was time to get out of the area.  As outdoorsmen we know all too well that too much bulk makes for a tough stalk and too little, well is just that and I had prepared for a stalk, but ended up sitting in the rain. 

To be completely honest after 5 hours, I was looking forward to getting back to the boat for a fresh fish dinner and a good stiff drink from the hidden bottle to cut the chill. However, upon returning to the boat, it was obvious that the boys had give up on the fishing and decided to go hunting…. By hunting I am not talking about critters, but hunting for my hidden bottle. I can say with a bit of dismay that they sure as hell had better luck in finding the bottle than they did fish that day. The only issue I had was they also did a good job of emptying the contents.

Hey, like all good friends, they at least saved me the last drink. And that was about all they left in the bottle.

So, with the bottle gone and no fish, I had decided it was time to give up on the bears and head towards the fishing grounds as with the flooding in the Northern US, the flood gates had to be opened and turned my normal marsh fishing area into waste water from the old Mississippi river.

My thoughts were to at least replenish the low stock of fish fillets in my freezer since it would be a tall order to fill back home. 

After a two hour boat ride, we anchored in a calm cove close to the entrance of the outside of Prince William Sound. Joe put his cooking skills into play and delivered a chicken with pasta dinner with a side of…. you guessed it…. boiled shrimp.

Day 5: With the thoughts of another bear hunt behind me and another unfilled tag, fishing was the focus. Timing was perfect as the tide was just starting to turn. The first stop did not prove to be the great halibut grounds we had hoped for and after a half hour of jigging with no success, Joe decided to move closer in to another spot and drift. As soon as the first jig hit bottom, it was fish on. First yellow eye rock fish, then halibut. We had stepped into the feeding grounds for sure.

With the three of us coming close to the limit, it was obvious that Doug was not doing something right as he was having the same issue catching fish in this spot as he was the evening before. Taking a moment to look it was obvious that he was not letting the jig go all the way to the bottom.

One quick lesson and he had a fine eating size halibut on the line. Although it was not the time of the year for the monster sized female halibut you see in the brochures, these smaller males make the best table fare and put up a good as a fight as you can expect as far as halibut fishing is concerned. 

As the fish continued to come into the boat, our fishing came to an immediate halt when a bear was spotted on the shoreline. With the speed of a racing pit crew, the fishing rods were stored, dingy launched, rifle in hand we headed towards the shore in to get a better look at this unexpected bear.

As we closed the distance, and the bear reappeared from the brush it became obvious that although this was a decent bear, it was not what I was after.  Half the distance to the shore, we aborted the trip to return and resume fishing. With clear weather and sun coming out, we decided to leave the dingy in the water just in case other bears were spotted and continued to fish.

Let’s be honest about it, some people are just not as enthused about fishing when the bite starts to slow. I know people that will sit in the freezing rain all day just waiting for a bite and other that get bored if a fish is not on with every cast. Let’s just say  although Doug is probably one of the hardest going big game hunters I know, he never developed the same drive or patience for fishing  As the tide started to change and the bite slowed from the fast pace to an occasional nibble, he decided to call it quits to glass for bears. Having fished with him over the years, did not give it a second thought as I had already changed my mindset from that of a hunter to a fisherman and intended to stay after the fish until the end of the trip..

The great thing about maturing as a hunter is when a person learns to gauge the success of a hunt but the enjoyment they have in the trip itself and not by the size of the trophy.  I know that sounds like the words of a person that has came off more than a few hunts with an unfilled tag and to say that about me would be correct.

Guess I have learned that the TRUE measure of a successful trip, is having a great time just being in the great outdoors and if you do take a trophy animal, well that is just an added bonus. 

I must have been lost in deep thought as it seemed we had not said much when Doug broke the silence saying, “Hey, there is a good bear down on that point.” Looking in the direction he was pointing it was obvious that this was indeed a big bear. At more than a mile away, I could see that without my binoculars.

Without the haste required to make the last boat run, we reeled in and eased the boat to close the distance to a half mile. After making a visual reference of the last place we saw the bear, Joe and I were in the dingy, off to the shoreline once again for a stalk. As we reached the beach, I headed to the grass line as Joe secured the dingy and caught up to me.

As we headed through the grass with the wind in our faces, it was hard to determine the spot where the bear was last standing.

Thinking we had passed the bear, Joe turned and said, man hate to keep on going when the prime fishing time is about to start. I agreed as the tide change would certainly turn the fish back on, but told him I wanted to take a look around the bend just in case the bear had doubled back.

With that said, I followed Joe as he stepped from the grass bank and back to the beach. Before making a second step, I could see the bear walking up the beach directly to us and immediately dropped to one knee.

For people that have not hunted black bears, I can say, other than a pronghorn antelope, it is probably one of the hardest animals to field judge in the wide open.  However, if you seen your fair share of bears and hunt them long enough, you will KNOW a big bear the instant you see him.

You can read all the advice you want on judging a bear and most is somewhat correct, depending on the time of year. When you see one that comes along with that “John Wayne” like swagger that seemingly reflects the attitude of, “hey I am the boss of this part of the woods,” big head with a stumpy pig nose and what seems to be two small rounded dots on the side of his head that are ears, well you have just found a mature boar bear. In the very first part of the spring, you will normally find the hides to be in their prime, but it is always a good idea to get a good look of the hide as Bear fever is just as bad as buck or bull fever.  The bear may not weigh as much as it will in the fall, but the size of the head and the hide is the same minus 150 or 160 pounds of body fat.

Well, looked like old “John Wayne” was headed our way without a care in the world, I though to myself. The bear stopped to check something out on the ground to his right giving what would have been a perfect shoulder shot. Thinking back, I can only recall telling Joe, this is a shooter and to get ready.

As he stepping back to give me a clear shot and covered his ears, the bear must have caught movement as he turned his body looking straight to our position.

I have never liked a front on shot, but with his body turned to our direction, saw no need to wait, I aimed a few inches under his jaw and let the 140 Barnes TSX fly from my Christensen 7 RUM.

Even with this being my seventh bear, I was a both a bit surprised and overjoyed when he dropped like a sack of bricks , landing flat with all four feet under him, without as much as a  flinch. 

Joe headed back to get the boat as the tide was coming in fast and as he would later tell me that this was not a beach you would want to get stuck on in rough weather. I decided to get a close look at this bear. No ground shrinkage and would go well over 7 foot, 7 and 4 inches from nose to the base of the tail to be exact.

 Looking at the battle scarred face and what was left of his teeth you could tell this was an old warrior that had lived a rough life in a rough part of the world.

With the bear back on the boat, Doug and Bo finished off our trip fish limit as Joe and I caped out the bear.

As they say, rather be lucky than good and this was certainly last day luck. With the boat secured, we made the 3 hour run back to Whittier to end the trip. In finishing the story, I am already looking forward to the next adventure as I said or rather Aerosmith sang, who knows what tomorrow might bring.. Enjoy the great outdoors as it is not ours to own, but to take care of for the next generation.

Happy hunting.