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one of us |
For those of you with personal knowledge of bears in both locations, which one usually offers bigger black bears? If you answer "Alaska," then... coastal or interior? Thanks. Russ | ||
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one of us |
Costal Alaska,particularly the islands.Have a few bud's from there that have taken several over 500 pounds and more than one that was close to 7 feet. Brian. | |||
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Moderator |
The biggest Alaskan black bears are in Southeast Alaska. I don't know how they compare to Vancouver. Also, are you looking for big heads, ie trophy sizing, or big hides? | |||
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quote:Heads first, then rugs. I was reading the Feb/Mar issue of Petersen's Hunting" and skimmed Layne Simpson's article. I backtracked his mention of Fred Lackie and Vancouver Island to Shockey's outfit, then hit the latter's website. Big bears, but big prices. I have a friend returning from Europe to Alaska who will gladly take me and a friend out hunting with him. Just thought I'd check sizes. Thanks, Paul. Russ | |||
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one of us |
The Bears in "my area" (using that term loosely) of SE Alaska are very large in body size. They seem to have small heads though. Two of my clients did take big headed, big bodied bears last spring. Each skull green scored B&C, but I am sure it has shrunk below the minimum. Both bears squared 7'3" It was a father and a son on the same hunt. This is the first big game animal the father has ever shot. I think he was in his early 70's. | |||
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<ovis> |
Russell, Queen Charlotte Islands! Joe | ||
one of us |
Thanks, Wendell and Ovis. (Ovis, please try to be a little more enthusiastic from now on, okay?) I'm sure not opposed to big rugs, I assure you. And most of the "small-headed bears" from Alaska probably beat any "big-headed bears" from the Lower 48. Russ | |||
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<Ross Spagrud> |
I have hunted with Shockey and I have hunted in Alaska. I felt that Jim's place was superb and I have never seen more big bears in one area in my life. Take your pick....... Ross | ||
one of us |
Ross, noticing your location, have you visited/used Hawkins Taxidermy? I met Damien when I was through there last year. Nice young man. Quite an operation. Gave me a grand tour of the entire place. Really neat place. Russ | |||
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Hey Russ if your are realy going to jump into bar'hunten see if you can round up a copy of the "Bear hunter" mag theyhave a lot of great info in there as well as a guide/outfitter section | |||
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Dave: I "jumped" in 1997 and have been fairly hooked since. I was a charter subscriber to "Bear Hunting" magazine. Just renewed, as a matter of fact. I really like hunting bears. Russ | |||
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one of us |
Russ, Both the SE Alaska and Queen Charlotte Island and Vancouver Island areas have basically the same Black Bear. The difference in these areas and say all the interior areas of Ak. B.C. Alberta etc.....is the fact that the coastal bears have way more food sources such as salmon runs, tidal flats, more vegatation, (an occasional lost fisherman )lower elevations meaning milder temps, occasional dead whales & seals etc......Bears are like pigs. The more they eat they bigger they get. Males get bigger yet. So for big bear you are looking in the right place in terms of body size. And they are going to be all black with the possibility of a rare exception.Big skulls to but ultimately, the biggest skull measurements, I believe have come from places like the continental south west. But they do not have bear hunting anywhere near as good as the Pacific NW. If you go to Van. Island or Q.C Islands it is superb hunting but you will pay easily $4500 - $5500 for one bear and another $1500 to $2000 for the second bear. Fairly pricey. If you want to see some impressive bears on the Q.C.Islands look at Graham Island under the website of www.prophetmuskwa.com Go to the archipelago of South East Ak. off of a comfortable house boat and pay $3500 to $4000. Pure service to. Usually two hunters have the boat to themselves. Only one bear though. Great fishing scenery etc......This is the Cadillac of all Black Bear Hunts. [ 01-17-2003, 05:02: Message edited by: Keith Atcheson ] | |||
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one of us |
I've wanted to do a boat/bear hunt for a long time, but I haven't hit PowerBall yet. | |||
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<Ross Spagrud> |
Damien is a good friend of mine who runs a class business. We have fought the antis many times together.... Ross | ||
one of us |
When I met him, he was losing one of the battles. He was selling a bunch of commemorative rifles and what not, because he couldn't keep them anymore under some Canadian law that had just passed, or whatever. He had some really nice guns -- some John Wayne lever actions, Weatherbys, and so on. Yes, Damien is a class guy. Did a STELLAR job on the bear I blew away with three shots from my .416 Remington Magnum with Speer 350-grain Mag Tips at close range. Not a hole in it -- now. Russ | |||
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one of us |
I read in a late 90's Western Sportsman Saskatchewan produces 1/3 of all the B&C bears in Canada. I don't know why. | |||
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one of us |
Look at Newfouland, home of some monster black bears. Mine went 21 6/16, squared 7ft. Saw two others as big body wise. | |||
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one of us |
I've always considered Newfoundland for bears because I keep hearing how much bigger (in the body) they are... but I haven't found an outfitter with whom I'd like to book. Of those I've researched, they all seemed like sleazy operations and/or more geared toward moose hunters or fishermen. I don't want a "small" moose, I don't want to fish, I want "a big bear." Still, if I found someone running a good operation at a good price in Newfoundland whose primary focus was bear hunting, I'd be interested. Russ | |||
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one of us |
I can attest that the bears in SE AK are the real thing. However, to play devil's advocate, have you considered the areas where Boddington has shot and seen some real brutes? South Carolina or thereabouts I think. I think that with Shockey you are paying top dollar due to name recognition but I'm sure you get a good hunt. | |||
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quote:I totally agree, on both points. South Carolina? "Brutes?" SOUTH CAROLINA??? Any such articles of Craig's you could point me to? Did he use dogs, or just hang out in the swamps? Russ | |||
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If memory serves, wasn't the largest black bear killed here in NC? Correct me if I am wrong, but 847 pounds comes to mind. | |||
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Yes, I believe you're right, but I also believe those are incredibly rare exceptions -- unless you use dogs or hang out in swamps. I'm not totally opposed to the latter. Russ | |||
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I couldn't remember which Carolina but it could have been NC. I don't think swamps or dogs were used...more like grain fields and big drainage ditches. Hunting was in tripod stands (ala TX senderos) and spot & stalk I think. Somebody help me here...wasn't it Peterson's Hunting? Seriously, Russell you should at least look into this. | |||
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one of us |
I remember the article and the big tripod but that's about it...didn't seem like much fun to me. Two other places to consider...( 1) There are some really big bear (7'+) in central California and as I recall the hunters ride mules and follow the dogs. Not very expensive and certainly a different hunt in some difficult terrain but the bears are uniformly big and I believe they take a lot of color-phase bear. (2) Arizona bear hunts in September in the mountains...when the bear come down to stuff themselves before the winter....the hunts are referred to "hunting in the pears" which, I believe refer to blossoms on cactus but I'm not sure....again, very large bear and a lot of color-phase....priced around $2,000. | |||
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<bearbait> |
you cant beat the swamps of easten nc. they got the biggest there period ! seen a 808lb taken this past season with hounds. bearbait | ||
one of us |
quote:1) I will only visit California as part of a conquering army. 2) I have a bear hunt booked for Arizona this August/September. However, that might be delayed for a while. Outside of California, Arizona seemed to have the next best record for skull sizes in the Lower 48. It was close, between AZ and NM, but I decided on AZ. What I'd "really" like, is a bear hunt in the White Mountains on the Apache reservation. More money, more money. Russ | |||
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one of us |
A HUGE black bear was killed by a car in MAnitoba last year. It was about 950 pounds. But that doesn't make it the norm. I hear there are some huge bears in Penn., s. Carolina, etc, but that doesn't make it the norm. The "Norm" for coastal BC and Alaska, are good, big, bears. I have a hard time believing you will not be able to shoot a big bear, maybe not a record breaker, but big nonetheless, in BC or Alaska. Shockey has a great area (it's by Port Alberni, I think) on Northern Van Island. Plus, he's a celebrity, so his prices are going to be higher. That being said, I'd hunt with him any day. He's got a good record, and would be fun to hunt with. there are plenty of outfitters in other areas of BC that can offer good bears as well, and are a little cheaper. | |||
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one of us |
I understand that Jim Shockey's main guide is Guy Shockey (cousin?). He's supposed to be pretty good and a fighter pilot for Canada or something. If I was going to hunt in Canada (and I might someday) then I would probably hunt with Shockey. If you want a once in a lifetime kind of hunt you might consider going after a glacier bear which is a color phase that is almost blue. They are only found in a very few places in Alaska around Yakutat, etc. I've seen photos and they would truly be the trophy of a lifetime. Special draw I believe. | |||
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Russell...as long as you stay north of Los Angeles and well south of the Bay area you will be OK in California...Oh..stay away from the coastal areas too.....and I forgot..even San Diego isn't what it used to be and just to be sure don't go near ....crap you're right! How about telling the story of the black bear that took 3 shots from your 416? [ 01-18-2003, 08:47: Message edited by: DB Bill ] | |||
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I would also like to hear that story. It's been mentioned before but I never heard the details. | |||
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new member |
SE Alaska around Prince of Wales has big Bear. Out of five bear two made all time B.C., two made the three year book and one was a mistake. | |||
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quote:It didn't require three shots, I just like to shoot. I found the story in my E-mail archives, so here it is, dated 25 May 2001. ========== AAR -- My Bear Hunt in Manitoba, Canada ========== I left for my hunting trip on Saturday, 13 May 2001. I stayed overnight at a cheesy motel in Alexandra, Minnesota. I left the next morning, Sunday, and gassed up just north of Fargo, North Dakota. (Yes, the "Fargo" of "How ya doin' Marge, eh?" fame.) I went through the Canadian border with absolutely no problems. (Note for hunters: The $50 smackers the Canadians are charging now, to bring guns in the country, is in Canadian funds... I got a LOT of change back for my "real" $50 U.S. dollars, at a 1.5 exchange rate.) I handed her my paperwork, completed before my trip, she came out to inspect my guns and verify the serial numbers on the paperwork I'd given her, and that was that. No muss, no fuss. Now, before going further, let me tell you about road repairs in Manitoba. They suck. You think we have problems with OUR roads. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I laugh in your face! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! When you see a sign that reads "Broken Highway Ahead"... folks, they aren't kidding. See, their idea of "road repair" is, some schmuck pulls up, dumps a couple of pounds of asphalt into a HUGE !@#$@#$@# CRATER IN THE ROAD, tamps it down once, maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaybe twice, says "good enough for Manitoban Government work," and drives away. It's also important to note that not ALL of the fresh "repair asphalt" makes it into the pothole... much of it is left laying there, on the road, in clumps the size of your fist. I'm quite serious. (These fist-size clumps will quickly become relevant in my story.) Driving over just ONE of these so-called "repairs" is equivalent to running the ENTIRE Baja 1000... not advisable in a 1989 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme, by the way. Enough said. (And on the subject of Canadian roads, let's talk about metrics: I wish the Canadians would get over this gol-durn fad of metrics for everything. Distances, speeds, everything. Metrics. A fad which should have passed eons ago. My God.) Anyway, I hit the button on my dash and went from "English" to "Metric" for the speed limit -- a REAL-SLOW 100 KPH (62 MPH, for us non-metric types). Also, I should interject that if you look up the word "eternity" in Webster's Dictionary, you'll find it defined as follows: "Eternity. n. -- Driving north through Manitoba on Route 6 at only 62 MPH." Anyway, after miles and MILES of "Route 6" (check it out on the map), I was finally approaching Grand Rapids. I was also starting to get critically low on petrol. (Note: Unlike the U.S., there are NOT gas stations every 200 yards in the wilderness of Canada.) I started doing my "Please God, let me make it" prayers. Well, you know... God hears all prayers. It's just that sometimes the answer is "no." See, I hit Winnipeg with a bit over a half-tank of gas. Looking at the map, I figured I could make Grand Rapids, Manitoba, with no problem. I was gravely mistaken. I ran out of gas. So, here I am, out in the middle of BFE Manitoba, on a desolate Route 6, at 2200 hours. Interestingly, at that latitude, it was still somewhat daylight. It doesn't get seriously dark until about 2245 hours. So, just as I'm cruising to a stop, a car comes the other way. I flick my bright lights on and off repeatedly in an expeditious manner, roll the window down, and wave in a semi-panicked manner. The car stops. A couple of kids, a guy and a gal. I explained my situation and asked if they could take me the rest of the way (about 30 clicks) into Grand Rapids. No. They were going the other way. Sorry. Good luck. Fine. So, I'm sitting there, alone, at 2200 hours, stranded in the middle of nowhere, admiring Route 6. I was warm, had tons of food, lots of clothes, and I was prepared to sit there overnight and hope for better things in the morning. (By the way, you don't hitchhike in places like this. They have things running around that eat people. No, I'm not kidding.) Well, about 2230 hours, a truck comes buy, headed toward Winnipeg. Nevermind that thing with Custer, Indians are really nice people. There were three Indians (I think they're Cree, up that way) in this REALLY NICE Explorer. I swear to God, it had an onboard GPS, a bar, a Jacuzzi... everything. I was impressed. Made Cadillacs look sick in comparison. Anyway, I explained my situation and these two guys and a gal gave me a ride into Grand Rapids. Would you believe... there is a gas station, "The Pelican," open 24 HOURS A DAY in BFE Grand Rapids, Manitoba? I wouldn't either... but it was. So, I went in and got a gas container, filled it with gas, and we headed back out to my car, along Route 6... with all it's glorious road repairs. (Did I mention road repairs in Manitoba suck?) So, I gassed up the car, handed the driver, Chris, $60 of Canadian funny money for saving my life, and I was on my way... along Route 6... and the road repairs (which suck). I pulled into the Pelican, again, and attached a pump to my car and started filling the tank with gas. I took the gas can back inside and thanked the guy. I walked back out toward my car and was met by some kid waving his arms and blurting out something about "YOU'VE GOT GAS COMING OUT THE BOTTOM OF YOUR CAR!!!" So, I ran over to the car, shut the pump off, and looked underneath. A-yup. Gas. Just POURING out the bottom of my car. I don't mean trickling. I mean pouring. And for those of you military types, we're WAY beyond a Class III leak here. "Heavily gushing" is more like it. So, besides my car sitting in a gas puddle the size of Lake Erie, I had to pay over $12 for gas I didn't get to keep in my tank. (I felt, somehow, there was some measure of injustice in this.) So, here I am, in a foreign land (yes, Canada IS a foreign land), late at night, alone, stranded at a gas station with a hole in my gas tank. Well, horsefeathers. At this point, you might ask yourself, "What else can go wrong?" I'm glad you asked. Speaking of "what else can go wrong," my front wheel bearing (driver's side) was going out. Driving straight or making left turns, there was this ungodly "rub-rub-rub-rub-rub"... but when I turned right, things were silent. Yup, had to be a bad wheel bearing. I'd noticed it somewhere in Iowa on the way up... but what was I going to do, kill the trip? Hell no. Suck it up and drive on. So... to review... here I am, in Grand Rapids, Manitoba, at 2300 hours, at a place called "The Pelican," with a hole in my gas tank and a bum wheel bearing. Marvy. The slogan for Manitoba, on all the license plates, is "Friendly Manitoba." My ENTIRE TRIP proves this out. Yes, they can't repair a road worth squat, but they're nice people. First the Indians in the truck, then the folks at the gas station -- who set me up with a motel room for the night and gave me a ride there, free of charge. At the motel, the guy gave me a phone number for "Triple T Auto Repair" and said they were pretty good. Fair enough. He gave me a number for "Johnnies," but said to try Triple T first. I called Triple T in the morning and got some guy named Farron. Nice guy. Another Indian. Said they could tow me, fix the car, et cetera. Came and picked me up at the motel and took me to my car. Asked if I could drive it. I said there wasn't any gas. He said that Triple T was just up the road about 500 yards. I figured, what the Hell. I cranked up the car and had "one" dot of gas on my electronic gas gauge. Go for broke, screw it. I put it into "drive" and expeditiously departed The Pelican, headed for Triple T... which, sure enough, was just 500 yards up the road, and I made it -- saving myself significant towing charges. I got things lined up for working on the car (wheel bearing, gas tank), and Farron took me over to meet Stan (another Indian), who came out to meet me at the truck. He introduced himself and we worked out a way to get me and my things out to the camp where Darrell was. (Side note: In all this mess, I had been calling Darlene Dushanek, the wife of the outfitter, keeping her apprised of the situation. Darrell had the cell phone with him but, gosh, cell phones don't work in BFE Manitoba. Darlene had said to get in touch with Stan, that "everyone" in Grand Rapids would know Stan, that he'd know where Darrell's camp was set up, and he could get me there. Well... I left with Stan and, having transferred all the stuff from my car to his truck, we headed to camp. Once at the camp, I was starting to feel better about life. This was a terrific campsite, right along Honeymoon Lake. It was a lovely place. It was also the wrong camp. Thinking, however, that it was the right camp, he left me there to await for Darrell's "return" to camp. As I've said, though, this was the wrong camp. We had turned off of the beautiful and scenic Route 6 at a landmark identified as Power Station 103 (don't bother asking about these power stations... long story), but I told him it was, from Darlene's instructions, Power Station 137. He said no, this was the camp. What do I know, I'm just a dumb American white guy who runs out of gas in Manitoba. Okay, we'll turn at Power Station 103. Like I said, wrong camp. Well, it's another long story which I'll omit, but Darrell and Stan eventually met up and, upon learning I was waiting at the wrong camp, Darrell came and got me and took me to the camp that was off of POWER STATION 137. (The other camp was nice, though, and I'd taken many pictures and was enjoying life at "my bear camp" -- albeit at the wrong one. Took pictures of a nice bear skull that Stan and I had found laying on the ground, though.) So, at the new (correct) camp, Darrell introduced me to Terry, who would be my guide. Camp was not quite finished yet (I was the first hunter this season, but within one day it was FULLY operational with everything a hunter could want in the way of accommodations, and then some. Quite a professional operation and I'd recommend Darrell to anyone.) We went out hunting that night, Monday. (Note: On all these baits I was put on, they were getting GOOD hits and by some bears that were BIG bears.) I was in a stand in the trees. Rather windy. It was fun swaying in the wind. No bear. Came back to camp. Tuesday. Got up, had coffee, bacon, eggs, potatoes... good stuff. We were on a lake, it was a great day, but a bit chilly. Had a terrific breakfast. As Terry and Darrell kept working on finishing the camp, I unpacked the rest of my things and got myself "established" for the week. Around 1400 hours, we checked baits, using ATVs -- which was my first time on such contraptions and quite fun for me. Good hits on all the baits and they put me in one that showed especially good promise; multiple hits from multiple bears. I stayed on that one Tuesday night. Terry said he'd honk when it was time to come out and meet him at the truck. It rained. Hard. I had my Gore-Tex jacket on, but my legs were soaked to the skin. I was in a ground blind that Terry built around me (a damn fine blind, by the way), but I had little overhead cover and just got hit by the rain. I was cold and wet. Things were rapidly approaching "critical" here. I "WAS" going to stay until 2200 hours (quitting time) even if I froze to death. Hooah. However... at 2030 hours, I heard a honk. (???) Hmmm... way too early, but what the Hell. I was cold, I was wet, I was in bad shape. I gathered my things and headed out. I wasn't walking real well and stumbled and fell flat on my face on the trail back to the truck. There are rocks everywhere. Seriously. Cambrian Shield. Anyway, I got up and kept walking and met Terry, who said he'd accidentally touched the horn. I didn't care, I was taking it as an act of God that he'd honked "accidentally." I asked him, 20 percent joking, 80 percent hopeful, if he had any brandy on him. He said no, but he had some rum in the truck. I wasn't in a position to be picky. I was "very" cold. I know you're not supposed to drink to get warm, because it releases critically-needed heat from your body but, as I was going to be getting in a soon-to-be warm truck, I didn't give a rat's ass at this point. Terry set me up with a mug with about three fingers of Bacardi (hey, if you're going to drink rum in the woods, it might as well be the good stuff) and I immediately got some relief. It was a LONG ride back to camp. I got back to camp much warmer than earlier and feeling no pain. We had supper and went to bed. Wednesday. Windy, chilly. Checked baits. Sat on new bait; big bear tracks. Multiple hits, multiple bears. I was up in a stand, strapped in so I didn't become a statistic. No bear. Thursday. Windy, chilly. Checked baits. Sat on same bait as Wednesday. (By the way, when sitting on these bait sites, I was always in my position at 1600 hours or earlier and staying until 2230 hours, which is a long-ass time to sit there, motionless, with arthritis in one hip, freezing, and occasionally getting rained on. However, with my Bausch & Lomb Elite 3000 4-12x 40mm scope, I could still see the crosshairs until 2230 hours, because of the long hours of daylight at that latitude.) Friday. Darrell found good strikes on three other bait sites around one of the other lakes. I sat on one of those. Terry, again, built a great ground blind around me. (I took pictures -- it was that good of a blind.) It was in a GOOD spot overlooking the bait and was quite comfortable. After he left in the boat, I continued to improve the position (Army training). It really was a damn good blind. The wind cooperated and became still at around 1800 hours. No bear. Terry picked me up at 2230 hours. Said in checking the two other baits on that lake, he'd seen a BIG chocolate, walking along the beach of the lake near one of the baits. I only had Saturday left on my hunt. We discussed switching, he left it up to me, and I made the decision to go to the new bait site. Saturday. Checked this new bait site. Hit "HARD." BIG-ASS bear. Terry put me in a REALLY great position overlooking 300 yards of beach and the bait, 21 lased yards away. He showed me where the bear had accessed the beach, between Trees #1 and #2. (There were four main trees I lased to for my distances, ala completing a range card). I lased #1 at 211 yards, #2 at 200, #3 at 187, and #4 at 176. With my load (93.0 grains of Hodgdon BL-C(2) and moly-coated Speer 350-grain Mag Tips, in my .416 Remington Magnum), I'm flat to 265 yards, three inches high, three inches low. I'm zeroed three high at 100 and dead-on at 205, according to preliminary ballistics information I established before leaving home. It just didn't get any better than this. Terry outdid himself in building a blind around me and clearing sectors of fire to the bait and to the trails leading into the bait. He also cleared vegetation, as I dictated from my position, to allow me a clear shot at anything moving along the beach. He left, and I improved my position with more foliage. Terry had seen the big chocolate at 2050 hours, Friday night. If the bear didn't show up until then, I had plenty of time to enjoy this last, and quite beautiful, day of my hunt. The lake was a stunning, breathtaking turquoise color, with crystal-clear water through which you could see the rocks at the bottom in the shallows. I was enjoying watching the pelicans feed along the beach (the sucker fish were spawning on the beach). Having discussed the matter at length since the night before, Terry and I figured the bear was likely feeding along the beach each night, because of the spawning fish. We surmised that his routine was to awake and head down to the beach for a breakfast of fresh fish. Because this area had not been hunted before, the bear had no reason to suspect much danger from humans and I probably stood a good chance of nailing him. Friday evening, the bear had stayed in view of Terry (seeing Terry, too), long enough for Terry to get two pictures with his camera before departing the beach. I was sitting in my blind and splitting my observation, slowly, between the beach and the bait. At just shy of 1800 hours, I heard a THUNDEROUS "snap!" I slowly looked over at the bait and there was a chocolate. It looked smaller than what Terry had told me, but I figured this was it. Further, either way, I had four hours left to my ENTIRE hunt, on which I'd seen NO bears, and I wasn't going to pass this one up. I eased the rifle up to my shoulder, VERY slowly. My position was at 11 o'clock from the bear who was, at this time, looking at me. I do not know if the bear "saw" me or was just looking in my direction. It didn't matter. I centered on the heart/lung area, on a three-quarter left frontal presentation, and fired. I recycled the bolt and fired again. I recycled the bolt and fired again. I got hits each time. I checked my watch; it was 1802 hours. I experienced INCREDIBLY EXCRUCIATING PAIN at the base of my skull and my lower back. Post-killing adrenaline, I surmised. I reloaded three rounds (total capacity for my custom rifle) and gave the bear five minutes to die in peace. I approached the bait and found my bear, quite dead. GORE ALERT!!! GORE ALERT!!! GORE ALERT!!! GORE ALERT!!! GORE ALERT!!! Read no further if gore bothers you. As I inspected the bear, rifle at the ready, I noticed the moly-coated, 350-grain Speer Mag Tips, launched with a muzzle velocity of 2700 FPS from 93.0 grains of Hodgdon BL-C(2) and WLRM primers, had done a good job de-gutting the bear. Further, after taking a few pictures with my camera, I began noticing bear guts in the trees, at 10, 20, and 30 feet away from point of impact. Interesting. However, from a .416 Remington Magnum, I guess I didn't really expect anything less. I signaled to Terry, across the lake, for my extraction. We retrieved the bear and returned to camp. The next crew of hunters had arrived and congratulated me on a beautiful bear. I got drunk on Rum and Diet 7-Up. Seriously drunk. WAY drunk. More drunk than you can imagine. (Once when I was still married, there was a time when my wife Carla was driving me home because I was too drunk to drive, and I was singing a really BAD rendition of "La Bamba" -- well, I was MUCH drunker than even that time.) Sometime later, I was in sad shape. After killing nearly an entire fifth of Bacardi, I was suddenly, and I mean "suddenly" overcome with a feeling of "Russ, you've had too much rum." The new guys were all great and lots of fun, but I'd partied too much and now found myself deep in the hurt locker. The planet was spinning -- more than usual, that is. Terry, ever the guide extraordinaire, helped me get to bed. I awoke with no hangover and had a wonderful breakfast of artery-hardening food. Pictures were taken, the skinning commenced, I packed, and my meat was secured. I left at 1330 hours Sunday and made it to Fargo, North Dakota. I left there the next morning, after a good night's sleep, and stopped at the Cabela's in Owatonna, Minnesota. It was alright, but I like the one in Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin, better. I returned to the Quad Cities at 2230 hours. I stopped at Wal-Mart and bought my dog LOTS of goodies and treats (I'd missed her a lot). She was happy to see me and I her. I went to bed. Final notes. I got my car back on Saturday: $621 Canadian (about $414 U.S.). I will be reimbursed by MC Automotive, my usual car-repair place, since they'd (improperly?) replaced the same wheel bearing in February of this year, when it had gone bad then. (They usually do exceptional work, so I'm inclined to think only the bearing itself was to blame.) I had a hole in the gas tank the size of a quarter (I have pictures) from where one of those aforementioned "loose" pieces of asphalt bounced up and punctured my tank. I got a used tank from someplace in Winnipeg, which saved a few bucks I guess. On my return trip -- with my wallet still smoking from the cost of the repairs -- I swerved like Hell, and often slowed to a crawl, when hitting the infamous patches of "repaired" road along Route 6. As for my bear... my chocolate was not the one Terry had seen, but it's good enough for me, especially since I'd seen no other bears on this hunt. Reports Darrell had received, about other operations, indicated that the bears weren't moving any better anywhere else, either. The colder weather makes them less active; apparently, they enjoy warmer weather and are seen more often. Regardless, I got my bear and the hide is at Hawkins Taxidermy in Winnipeg, the largest taxidermist (by volume of work) in North America. Even though I'd called him on a Sunday and he met me while in a rush to get ready for a date with TWO girls... I got a tour of the place and everything, as he does for each and every customer. Really neat. Nice kid named Damien running it. Fourth-generation business. Good to see some young folks still believe in "tradition" and keeping a family business going. Quite a nice operation. In spite of the car problems, it was a good hunt -- due in large part to the residents of "friendly Manitoba." Bears were hitting the baits and I got one. There was ample evidence of big bears in the area and I will return someday to try my luck again. ========== Okay, there it is. Which explains why I now rent trucks when I go on hunting trips. Russ [ 01-18-2003, 10:45: Message edited by: Russell E. Taylor ] | |||
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Russel Southeast around Prince of Whales has some real brutes if you have the time to hold out and be selective. Modern Taxidermy is right. I spent several months on Prince of Whales and one thing I can say is you better be ready to see some bear. Make sure you practice up on judging as this will prove to be the toughest task. I flew a buddy of mine out in 2001 and he took a 21 inch bear that was so heavy we couldn't even move it a foot. It was as heavy as a bull elk. Lots of great places to hunt there and you will never have a hard time spotting bear. For example, when the berries were ripe we counted over eight bear in less than a two mile stretch of road. When the humpies are running you just sit and watch them majicaly appear out of the brush. Awsome man. NO shortage of bear there, and no shortage of big ones!! You can take your rig to the island by way of Prince Rupert-Ketchican-Prince of Whales, or Bellingham, Washington-Prince of Whales. No guides necessary and very affordable [ 01-18-2003, 14:43: Message edited by: ray capp ] | |||
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Russell Thanks for posting that story again. It's still good to read, even the second time. Have you thought about publishing it? Pocket money is hard to come by these days. | |||
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John: Yes, I have. Several people told me I should, after I posted it the first time, but I wouldn't know who would pay for such material. You're right, though... money is hard to come buy. Glad you liked it (again). Russ | |||
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Russ, try sending a copy to Hunting magazine. that's at least as good a story as anything i've read in their publication (maybe edit the "drunker then a three peckered owl" part). Yeah, highway 6 is a bitch. You should have tried it before they put asphalt down. When you go to Thompson are you flying right to Thompson, or to Winnipeg and then driving? Highway 6 gets WORSE north of Grand Rapids (where it meets up with old 391). When I lived there, I had skid plates on my oil pan, tranny, and gas tank. It's one of those learning experiances. Now I just drive trucks and SUV's, it's easier. There are some astounding bears on the west coast (and up around Grand Prairie here in Alberta), but I have to say that the largest black bear that I ever saw was in Manitoba, NE (about 75 miles) of Winnipeg, towards the Ontario border. My cousin was driving a Dodge Volare station wagon at the time (Mid 70's or so) and we were at his place out in the bush. The bear walked out of the bush and by his car parked in front of his house, I watched it though the front window. On all fours, that bear was as tall as that car. Now some of that was surely fur, but that is a big damned bear. Good luck in your search for ever bigger bears, I also think the color phase idea has merit. You have the "blue" or glacier bears, the white or "ghost bears" of the west coast (actually a white colored black bear), there are cinnamon and red/auburn colored bears up around Peace River. If you go a little farther north then where you're going in Manitoba to hunt black bears, you can hunt polar bears (in Nunavet, used to be the eastern North West Territories). bears give you lot's of options, and lot's of seasons. - Dan [ 01-18-2003, 21:48: Message edited by: dan belisle ] | |||
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OK guys now that we know where to go.When should we go? | |||
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quote:It's not that easy, Elim, unless you're rich. Have you ever priced polar bears? I have. For me, it's another of those "PowerBall" things. Thanks for the encouraging post, Dan. (Route 6 gets WORSE north of Grand Rapids???????) Well, like I said, that's why I now rent trucks for these little excursions. Russ | |||
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Russell you know about 99% of the time I absolutely can't stand your fouled mouthed, need to prove your some type of tough guy attitude on the net, but that Manitoba story was great. Just FYI, I've spent a lot of time in both Manitoba and Saskatchewan and the roads aren't any better in SK. If you showed your creative writing side more often rather than that demon split personality, a guy might learn to enjoy what you had to say. | |||
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Russell who said anything about Polar bears?I thought we where talking blackies.I'm in the same boat you are if the lottery ever comes in i'm sure that polar bears would be at the top of my list. | |||
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