The story is long, but hopefully worth the read. You can alway jump to the photos if you want.
~~~Lars
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Part I - The Planning
After last year's successful November 2002 rut hunt with the boy, it was decided to give opening day a try at the
same location this year. I reserved the USFS cabin on the northern Admiralty Island lake as early in advance as
allowed. No problem there - 3 nights @ $35 per night.
I had obtained a digital ortho image from my brother, who at one time worked for the USFS ("forest circus.")
Although it was B&W imagery, it was quite useful. The lake sits at 300' elevation. On the cabin side of the lake,
the peaks range from 2,700 to 3,350 ft in elevation. Across the lake, sits the majestic Eagle Peak, the highest
mountain on Admiralty Island around 4,650 ft. Oh yeah, did I mention one of the highest concentration of brown
bears on the planet?
I had already decided on hunting near the cabin on the south-facing slopes. When we hunted it last year there was
excellent sign at the 1,600 foot level. We had no winter snow to speak of and with two mild winters in a row, I
expected there to be tons of deer. I always figure south facing slopes get the most light and therefore produce the
best veggies for them deer to eat. The ortho image and topo clearly showed the avalance paths which were solid
alder brush from about the 2000 foot level down to the lake. Several fingers of old-growth timber provided easy
access to the alpine, albiet, the route was steep. Above 2,000 ft the sub-alpine began with broken patches of trees
and open grassy slopes. Between the 2,700 and 3,350 peaks, lay a saddle at 2,500 ft.
I thought about how to hunt this area all summer long. I stayed in shape by doing lower body weights and playing
some handball. I had had neck surgery in the first part of June and was hoping to make a 90-95% recovery in time
for the deer opener.
Part II - Getting Ready
The plan had always been to go with my boy who is almost 12 years old. I had bought him a Ruger 77 MKII stainless
compact in .308 last year and felt this would be more than adequate for an alpine hunt. Well his summer travel
plans left him unavailable for opening day and it was too late to change the cabin reservations. I asked several
fellows who I had hunted with before and they declined. I started asking guys I had never hunted with, which I
don't really like to do. I knew that I could not afford $400 just to fly in just myself and I didn't want to hunt
solo in bear city, though I've done it plenty times before. I guess I'm getting smarter in my old age - just turned
40. Finally found a coworker who was willing to go. He had been my ski coach when I was in high school and was born
and raised in southeast Alaska. I knew of his hunting abilities and woodsmanship, so I had nothing to worry about.
He wanted to bring his 17-year old boy which I had no problem with.
I started working on rifles and loads in early July. My M700 .338 Win had something wrong with the bold stop and my
.375 Taylor was set up with iron sights only. It was only 5 weeks after my neck surgery to repair a herniated disc
and I did not want to hinder my recovery by shooting my bear guns. It was between the kid's .308 Win with a 150 gr
partition @ 2,650 fps or my trusty old Ruger #1 in .30 Gibbs with the new 180 gr partition gold at 2,900+ fps. The
.308, with its ultra light 16.5" barrel proved too erratic at 200 yds that the Ruger #1 got the nod. Now I don't
generally take a single-shot on any of the major bear islands, but I made an exception in this case since the rifle
was sighted in for 200 yds from last year and proved to be dead-on again this year.
With 5 days to go, the forecast looked marginal - rain the day before, 40% chance of rain on opening day, and rain
the following day. I kept the float plane reservation until the last minute. On Thursday the weather was gorgeous -
partly cloudy skies and nearly 70 deg F. Had all my stuff packed and ready to roll when I left for work. We decided
to go for it.
Part III - Getting There
We had a Cessna 206 floatplane booked on the way in, but figured that, if we shot 1 deer each, we'd need a Beaver
coming out. Made arrangements for a pickup on Saturday, the 2nd. We tried talking the pilot into making a high
level pass (around 3000 ft elev.) over the area we wanted to hunt. He said "no way" - too much extra fuel and
turning around, etc., etc. After a short 20 minute flight we were at the lake a little after 5 p.m. Unloaded the
gear into the cabin and took the skiff out onto the lake to take a look up the mountainside. Pulled out the aerial
ortho print and looked at possible routes up in the morning. There was a bench that prevent us from seeing up much
higher than about the 2000 ft. elevation, which was lower than we planned to hunt. We couldn't see any deer with 7x
glass.
Within an hour of getting there, the rain began. Caught and released a few small cutthroats and then hit the sack
early in preparation for the big day tomorrow.
Part IV - Opening Day
It had rained throughout the night and was still raining when the alarm clock went off at 4 a.m. The rain did not
dampen our spirits (pun intended) too much. Heck, you're a real Southeast Alaskan when you think nothing of heading
out in the rain - at least it was a warm rain. No coffee and no big breakfast. Just a big dump at the outhouse and
a dose of enthusiasm.
At 4:15 a.m., we left the cabin without headlamps or flashlights as it was light enough to see already. We went
into the woods less than 100 yds to the south of the cabin. Got the heart pumping and the legs full of blood in
short order. I stripped down to a single layer on top and took off the gore-tex cap in short order. I was just
wearing a set of camo fleece pants, gore-tex hunting boots, a long-sleeve thermax shirt and a green fleece jacket.
I had a frame pack with a day pack full of gear attached to it. The two other hunters I was with had a frame pack
between them and their day packs.
The coolest thing I recall about going up was all the noise the marbled murrelets were making. The whole forest was
alive with them. These birds nest in old growth spruce/hemlock forests, but they were a good 5 miles of saltwater
where they fish all day. There must have been 20-30 nested pairs from the lake all the way up to treeline. Never
heard them vocalize during the middle of the day or in the evening. The mated pairs, must sit there and talk
(bitch?) at each other until it's decided to head off for the ocean and a day's worth of fishing. From what I
understand, their nests are very hard to locate.
Well, the old man (not me, I'm 40, but the 48-year old) started showing his age and conditioning less than half way
up the mountain. We tried to give him a few breaks, but had to keep urging him on. When we got above the 1,500 foot
level, they old man jumped some blue grouse and had to try to bag 'em. He had a 32 caliber pistol adapter for his
.30-06. He missed three times before being relieved by his boy. His boy promptely bagged two grouse. The report
from the pistol cartridge was mild (like a .22 LR) and we were still far enough from treeline to prevent spooking
the deer.
Part V - Making it to Treeline
We arrived at treeline around 6:30 a.m. Still raining and visibility was poor - right around 50 yds. We were just
above 2,000 ft in elevation and in the subalpine country. Let the boy take the lead. I didn't take more than about
10 steps and saw the kid signal for the two old men to stop. He was about 25-30 feet in front of us when he raised
his Sako .338 and let her rip. He said he had shot at a buck and thought he had hit it. He persued his deer and
administered the coup-de-gras. It was a decent forked horn in velvet. One side of the antlers was somewhat smaller
than the other, but a nice sized buck nonetheless. Took some photos of the boy and his buck in the rain. (See
images at the end of the story.)
We gutted that one out and marked its location so we could continue to hunt further up the mountain. It was only
7:00 a.m. A large grassy slope lay above us and we started quarting up the hill. We split into two groups, but
maintained visual contact. I was interested in getting up to a small alpine lake at around 2,600 ft elevation. The
grass was tall and wet and my body soaked, but I was still optimistic. Saw a couple of does out in the open. At
this point there was a finger of trees that split me from other 2 hunters I was with. I decided to try the deer
call, just to see what would happen and to give the others an idea of where I was. Gave a couple of toots, but
nothing immediately happened.
I headed onward and intercepted what I thought was the outlet stream from the lake. There was a hell of a ravine in
front of me, so I proceeded straight up. It started leveling out and there was a deer about 30 yds uphill checking
me out. So damn foggy, it was hard to determine the sex. I was pretty sure there were no antlers, so I held my
position. Off the left about 25 yds were two more deer. They weren't bucks either. Hard to say whether they came to
investigate the call, were there anyway or were spooked over by my hunting partners. All good sized does - no
yearlings. None showed signs of being nervous, they just walked off.
I realized that I was about 30-35 from the edge of the small lake. The water level was down about 4 feet and rocks
were exposed all the way around it. I decided to skirt around the uphill edge. The vegitated slopes were too steep
and slippery to negotiate, so I stayed right next to the lake. There was goose droppings all over the place. I
reckon they must fly into the lake to dine on the surrounding lush veggies. I made it to the far side of the small
lake in short order and decided to drop about 100 vertical feet down into the saddle since the wind appeared to be
in my favor.
Part VI - I Get my Buck
I was still pretty early in the morning - around 8:30, or so. Visibility had stayed right at 30-50 yds, typically
and did not look like it would improve. Wind was swirling a bit but I seemed to be in my face for the most part as
I began quartering downhill into the saddle. At this point, I was trying recall seeing on the topo and ortho image
and I was nervous about getting turned around. I had gotten turned around pretty bad a couple of times before when
the visibility was poor and I entered a saddle area. I took the compass out and made sure I knew which direction
led down to the lake.
I was getting a bit discouraged as I had not seen any deer since the lake, which was over an hour ago. At around
9:15 I heard two shots from behind me. I figured that my partners had shot their second deer and it was time for me
to make something happen! I turned on my VHF radio in order to get a status report from them. Batteries were low,
so I put in my reserve batteries. They were no good either!! Crap, I should have checked this out before leaving
the cabin! I sat under some trees to get out of the rain for a few minutes and had a quick snack and drink.
I resumed my hunting down into the saddle. I passed within 10' of a hen grouse before I noticed it. They aren't too
smart, but they know their best defense is to remain still and not move. I continued traversing lush slopes of deer
cabbage with scattered clumps of subalpine fir and could see not more than about 30-35 yards ahead of me. I
suddenly noticed something out of place in front of me! I kinda looked like a patch of snow - an almost whiteish
color. I knew it couldn't be snow down this low. I froze and watched intently. I saw movement behind some small
trees - velvet antlers!! I was only 20-25 yards away and the wind was in my favor. I popped off the scope covers.
Yes it was a buck by golly. He was curled up on the ground chewing his cud. I was ready. I made a soft whistle and
he raised his head and looked my way. I aimed offhand for the base of his neck. The rifle ROARED, and the buck
folded. A doe stood up to the right and looked at me at a distance of about 20 yds. As I approached the buck, she
walked off, but a second doe appeared behind and below the buck. He had a harem of does in early August? This
seemed peculiar.
I paused to admire the animals beauty, muscular tone, and coloring. Certainly not the biggest bodied deer I had
ever shot, maybe 160-170 lbs on the hoof. His belly was as stuffed as full as I've ever seen on a deer and I
marveled at this hind quarters which rivaled an NFL running back. A mountain deer for sure. I observed a bullet
entry hole at the neck/shoulder junction, but could not find an exit wound. I still was not sure how the animal was
sitting on the ground when I shot him. Before I dressed him out, I cut the antlers and part of the skull cap off
with my folder Gerber bone saw. The velvet was in perfect condition and the same light silver-gray color as the
pelage. A nice symmetrical forked horn which I guess was about 17" wide x 11" tall with small nubbins where a third
point may have developed. The condition of the teeth led me to believe that this was an older deer, probably at
least 5 years old.
The photo session consisted of about 10 photos of the deer - some with me in, but most with the deer, the gun and
the lush vegitation. Many were duplicates as, with the weather being so crappy and the 35mm film camaera being wet
(though supposedly waterproof) I wanted to make sure a few turned out o.k. (Photos at the end of story.)
Part VII - Back down to the Lake.
At 10:30, I was ready to head down to the lake. My current position was 2,500 ft and the lake was at 300 ft, so a
vertical drop of 2,200 feet was in order. The slope varied from 30-45 degrees. Although I was equipped to bone out
the meat, I elected to begin by dragging due to the wet and slipperly alpine vegitation. The first 500 ft went
pretty quickly and effortlessly. When I reached the lower limits of the subapline, I was up to my armpits in
salmonberry and other assorted vegitation. You can't actually see the ground, but can get a feel for the general
terrain. I was laying down quite a swath of flattened growth behind me. I recall pausing for a moment to rest and
looked around. A small forked horn was curiously watching all the commotion about 100 yds away. I looked thru the
scope at him, but didn't even consider dropping him, even though I still had 3 tags left.
To make a long story short, 4 hours later, I hit the edge of the lake. I did not push it too hard as I had all day.
Not really all that bad of terrain - some alder brush, some blowndowns. The worst of it was the last 500 vertical
from the lake. Lot of blown down. Lifting the animal up, over and sometimes under the fallen spruce and hemlocks.
On hindsight, I could have saved at least an hour by boning out the animal at some point below the subalpine. Oh,
well, another lesson learned. I left the animal by the side of the lake with the intention of rowing the skiff over
to pick it up later.
It took me about 15 minutes and 1/2 mile of walking along the well developed lakeside trail to make it back to the
cabin. I was one tired puppy! My two partners had been back for some time. I showed them my rack and they were
impressed. They had indeed shot a second buck - a spike. They dragged both theirs down in half the time it took me.
They said that they had a scary brown bear encounter. While draggin thru the nasty alder brush, a brownie had been
following the bloody scent trail. It charged them and kept right on going down the hill. Lucky for them!!! They
said it was a small bear - maybe 400 lbs - and probably became confused and panicked when it encounted humans.
According to them, they were ready to shoot, but did not need to. Only a change in underwear was required (of
course they didn't have a change with them!) I felt lucky that I had not encountered any bear trouble on my way
down.
I sucked down a cold 24 oz can of brew while I changed into some dry clothes. I grabbed a Macanudo Caviar cigar and
we headed down the lake in the skiff to pick up my deer and try some fishing at the outlet end of the lake. Came
back and skinned and quartered my deer. We hung them in game bags under the eave on the front porch of the cabin.
We figure that this way, we'd know if a bear was trying to get into it during the middle of the night. The camp
cook (not me) made a great big dinner and I slept like a log that night.
The next day, we finished boning out our deer and tried a little more cutthroat fishing. A pretty relaxing day, but
the old men's bodies were hurting. The boy was willing to climb up again, but did not want to go solo and neither
of us old guys had the energy to "get it up" the mountain again. The beaver picked us up promptly at 5:30 p.m. and
flew us back to town.
Of course, alreay planning next year's opening day hunt and some fall hunts during the rut.
POSTSCRIPT
I went ahead and scored my antlers in the local big buck contest, which I remembered to sign up for beforehand. I
knew there was no chance of winning, but it could go in the top 20. The official score was 27.5" - 16.5" for width
and 11" for height. My field estimate was pretty close. The local contest keeps the scoring system simple, but it's
typically a 3x2 or 3x3 that wins the thing. Last year's prize was a new Howa rifle.
I sent some pictures to the local fish and game biologist and asked what he knew about coloring aberation on my
buck. He indicated that this was a recessive gene and a form of albinism. This recessive gene was found in the deer
population on the northern end of Admiralty Island and on Chichigof Is. He said this coloring was analagous to the
glacier phase of the black bear which is also found on the mainland in this geographical area. Very interesting
indeed. Some folk have reportedly seen white "Ghost Deer" in this area.
I've been working on preserving the velvet antlers for display. I could not obtain formaldehyde or embalming fluid
locally, so I orders some stuff thru a taxidermy supply company. Went ahead a froze the rack until the stuff shows
up. If anyone has tips on how to preserve them, I'd be interested in hearing.
