Well I'm back from the Great White North with muskox in tow. It was one hell'uve ride. I had more fun than what I thought, maybe because I didn't know what to expect. The Arctic is an awesome place and this hunt was more of an expedition than a hunt. Unique is hardly descriptive, but here is my hunt report. Hope it is helpful for all those that may follow.

I bought the hunt last year at the local SCI banquet. Outfitter was/is Canada North, Almonte, Ontario. All flight schedules from Montana and return was booked through them also and they did a very good job. Jerome and Halina Knapp have run this hunt for many years and have it down to a smooth and concise event. If you pay attention to their instruction sheet supplied to all the hunters there is very little room for questions or misunderstanding. Neither one seems to have a lot of patience to answer too many questions, stupid or otherwise. And only they know how many questions is the too many limit. Good luck.

Arrived Cambridge Bay, Victoria Island, Sunday, April 6 and overnight at the Arctic Islands Lodge/Hotel. Comfortable room with satellite TV and small dining room. Room is $300/night, which I split with a guy from Grand Junction, Colo. A hamburger is $12.00 as is breakfast fare next morning. Met the Inuit guides and make ready the arctic gear we had with us. Temp was -20F on arrival. I brought my own arctic clothing. Too bulky to drag around really and caused me to take an extra bag. BUT I took too many clothes. You ain't likely to change into apre' kill attire in hunting camp.

Monday morning, clear and calm (mostly) and still -20F. Get licenses, don the parkas, pants, boots, etc and load up in the DREDDED freight sleds. I had heard about them. Middle aged fast ass white guys from down south sit behind a plywood box windbreak while the Inuits pull you on the snow machine. Mine was about 12+ft long, 4+ ft. wide and probabaly weighed about 500 pounds empty. You wouldn't think something like that could fly, but don't you believe it. Holy Crap! 40 miles to camp on Wellington Bay and it will hammer you silly all the way. Spinal discs, knees, kidneys, and everything in between takes a pounding. I'm sure I'm 2" shorter than when I went up there, but git over it! That's part of the experience.

Camp is a seasonal Inuit fishing village on the bay where the mouth of the Wellington River meets the sea. Right now, you can't tell beach pebbles from pack ice from river channel. It's all frozen and covered with windblown snow. There are about half a dozen plywood cabins there with bunks, table and a Coleman cook stove for heat.

The land is absolutely featureless, no buttes, canyons, hills or much of anything that is repeatedly recognizable. I'm pretty good at getting my bearings, but direction doesn't help much when guesstimating distance back to camp or town either for that matter. Victoria Island is HUGE and apparently featureless for hundreds of miles, although there are mountains up north around Hadley Bay. The inukchuk cairns are easily spotted from several miles across the frozen tundra. I find the country certainly stark but quite beautiful and vast. No single adjective will describe it, but it can be deadly no doubt. I stand in awe and respect for the Inuit who can navigate this country unerringly. They got's da mojo. I guess they must use sun azimuth and angle, prevaling winds, time substituted for distance, slight changes in God knows what to go where they need to go. Impressive, and your life is in trust to their dkill.

Sandwich for lunch on Monday afternoon and off to find some muskox. Ptarmigan and arctic hare were kicked up in front of the machines as we zipped along. I hate seeing where I've been, so I raised up on my knees, cinched up the balaclava and stared ahead. Hell, if Ronnie the GYDE can do it why not me. Depth perception is a little goofy. I see two black dots that I think are muskox and roar over the top of two rocks 100 yards further along. I see two black dots that I think must be rocks on a low lying bench, but nope, they're muskox anywhere from two to five miles away. I remember the same phenomenon many years ago in the Sahara desert. Crossed smokin fresh wolf tracks, 5 total, that couldn't have been but minutes old, but we couldn't locate them. Not much for polar bears on this part of the island, but they do wander through on occasion. Bears do whatever they damn well please.

Method of hunting is run up on the muskox on the machines, press them into a trot or gallop which doesn't last long. Then they stop and fort up, maybe split and regroup. All the while we are gaging the bulls for trophy quality. Had one bull with a minor case of attitude which did bluff charge. My new hunting buddy from Grand Junction took his by five o'clock or so in the afternoon of the first day. It really was a good bull. Round trip back to Wellington Bay camp was 60 miles. That made a 100 mile day on that sled. GAWD A MIGHTY!! An Australian couple with the other guide also shot the first bull out of the gate. Oh well.

Take something to read, and take an extra something to read. Up at 5:00 a.m. to take a leak and it is well past shooting light already. Also wind is rising out of the north. By mid-morning it's a howling sumbich. Temp is -30F with winds sustained at 40 mph and gusting. It was a real good book, and a good visit with the Aussies, the guides, the Coloradan, the dead muskox, the artic foxes, etc. Had a radio, but nothing coming through the wire. Snow drifted 4+ ft around the cabins and snow mobiles. Howled like a big dog all night.

Wednesday, April 9, 2008, wind died down after lunch. Temperature was still around -15F or so. Off to find my muskox, heading north and inland. Same scenario. Found one about 30 miles out. One shot at 80 yards from my Model 70, 300 Holland and Holland. 180 gr Swift A Frame dropped him like a sack of spuds. Pancaked 'em.

Both guides working quickly skinned and caped him in the field. A few cuts, but pretty darn good job with little meat on the hide. We rolled him up and wrapped him first in some heavy weight (6 mil) clear plastic then wrapped him again in a 9 X 12' blue nylon ripstop tarp. Cinched him up tight with 1/4" poly rope and away we went West into the low sun. I kept the back straps and the tenderloins for home fare and the Inuit kept the quarters mostly for their sled dogs back in Cambridge.

Ronnie the Guide asked if I wanted to stay another night or head for Cambridge. It is 5:30 and we have the return 30 miles to camp. I really don't care,so Ronnie admits that he's down to his last 5 cigarettes. I laughed and told him I understood since I used to smoke to. So back at camp we gobble down a tinfoil gourmet pack of ravioli and cup of tea and haul ass for Cambridge Bay. Two artic foxes are hanging around all the ox quarters frozen on the ground from 3 critters. It is 8:20 p.m., the sun is still up but low on the horizon. Now remember it's 40 miles back to town and now -20F and dropping with the twilight, but it has been a beautifully clear day since the storm blew itself out and the evening colors of frozen tundra and approaching darkness is really something to see. Still it is so featureless, you can't buy a freaking shadow in this land if you wanted to. Going out we made camp in 3 1/2 hours (10+ MPH). Going back with cigarettes running low, it took 1 hour and 45 minutes. Hmmmm AND we stopped to visit a fisherman set up over a lake (not that you could tell) camped in a small wall tent with his family. Ice jigging through 6 ft of ice he had chopped out with a spud bar, he had at least 20 lake trout laying stiff as board around his tent. Not one of them would have gone less than 10 pounds. Wow! Wonder where the bears are? They have to open the hotel for us about 10:30 since they lock it up at night for "safety" reasons. Another 100 mile day. In bed by 11:00 after cramming a handful of industrial strength Alieve down with a diet Mountain Dew. Life is good.

My wrapped up muskox weighed 88 pounds, under the 100 pounds allowable by First Air and United. A small glitch with Air Canada in Edmonton the next day because they don't accept anything over 70 pounds or it goes air freight. I did some fancy shuckin and jivin and got back on a United flight to Denver and eventually back to Billings the same day, with muskox lugged through security and check-in at Cambridge Bay, Yellowknife, Edmonton, and finally down to the taxidermist before the sun set on Friday, April 11th. As usual Canadian Customs officials are friendly, professional and helpful. No sour looks at American hunters with firearms. On the other hand, U.S. Customs officials, as usual, are rude and surly assholes, but I got through them and held my tongue. Wasn't wearing a fucking turban either. The only nice one I ever met was in Minneapolis. I bet he was a Canadian, maybe a Mexican. I don't like those guys.

If you go, expect a total experience. I've been to Africa Alaska, the tropics and all over the West, but there is one hell of a lot of planet earth north of the Arctic Circle and it is really neat. Dress for it PERIOD. Do not scrimp on cold weather gear Pretty country yes, but it will kill you if stupid is as stupid does. The Sunday evening prior to leaving Cambridge, a Japanese business man shows up, speaks absolutely no English, is wearing a business suit with open collar dress shirt and tennis shoes. He had a young interpreter who was wearing a nylon bar jacket. It was, shall we say, interesting. There is more to the story but if any of you have happened to have seen BABEL with Brad Pitt and Kate Blanchett, you'll quickly see the analogy. A bowhunter two weeks before us lost the tips of three fingers and maybe his little finger due to frostbite. He was uncovered with fingerless gloves for 40 minutes while he kept sticking this bull who didn't want to die. Bet he uses a realease from now on. Rumor has it, it was -58F. I don't know. Clean the firing pin of your rifle of all grease. Bring a soft side case for the rifle it will take some hard knocks in the sled. Twenty rounds of ammo is too many but an extra box in a different bag is a good idea. Take a damn good sleeping bag. You will need to rest comfortably after dashing through the snow in a one horse open sleigh.

I can see that I will eventually return to the Artic, probably for touristy stuff, or fishing and caribou. It is a neat country and you can the the North quickly becoming a destination place for all sorts of people. Times are changing.

I will try to post some accompanying pictures, but I am computer challenged so it may be after some judicious cussing. If feel like singing a few bars of Indian Love Call.

Great report!! Musk ox and to a lesser extent caribou is my dream hunt if I ever decide to do a guided hunt. You really got my juices stirred up.

thanks for sharing

the chef

Great Story! Congrats on the muskox. I have rode behind a skidoo on a sled (more sled-dog style), and unless you really enjoy cold and wind, it can be pretty exhausing. Way to go on a great hunt and a great story.
Good shooting,
Graham

I really enjoyed the story. Congratulations on an excellent hunt.

Congratulations. That was a very descriptive and interesting read.

Great story! I'm glad you enjoyed Canada

quote:

As usual Canadian Customs officials are friendly, professional and helpful. No sour looks at American hunters with firearms. On the other hand, U.S. Customs officials, as usual, are rude and surly assholes, but I got through them and held my tongue. Wasn't wearing a fucking turban either. The only nice one I ever met was in Minneapolis. I bet he was a Canadian, maybe a Mexican. I don't like those guys.

That's an interesting comment, as I always find the opposite to be true. When I'm entering the U.S., the U.S. agents are always friendly and polite, but when I return to Canada I encounter the Green Gestapo. It's easier to enter Russia than it is to re-enter my home country.

Do you suppose all these clowns are instructed to 'be nice to strangers', but turn the screws on 'their own'? Logic would tell me the opposite should be true, but when has anything about government been logical?

I must say I have seen a**hole border guards and awesome border guards from both sides. We crossed the border prolly 8 times in the past 3 years(4 of those times with rifles). I think it just depends on the day. Which guard is having a bad day? Fought with his wife? Got a hard time from his kids?
No matter...be nice, be polite, and dont let it be the stand out moment of a great trip.
Great story. Hope you took lots of pictures of your musk ox

Here are some photos from the muskox hunt on Victoria Island. I'd recommend it to anyone as a fine experience, a genuine hunt, and an opportunity to at least briefly immerse yourself into the Arctic culture, lifestyle, and environment

I told you guys that I'm computer challenged. Sorry 'bout that. I'll try again. Please be patient <snip>

MESSAGE FROM CANUCK:
yellowstone...your photobucket album allows public access, so I took the liberty of fixing up your post above to add all the photos for ya.
Cheers
Canuck

<snip> Thanks to all for your comments.

Great story. Great sense of humor.

yellowstone,
Awesome story and great pictures. I'd love to see the country up there sometime too.

Cheers
Canuck

Canuck
Thank you very kindly for your help. By way of explanation, there are the obligatory storm pictures, yours truly in the DREDDED sled, Ronnie headed back to Wellington Bay pointed straight at the sunset, one of the many inukshuks, and the mighty muskox.
I don't care too much for scores, he is a grand trophy to me and that is enought. But the rough numbers were 12"bosses, 25 1/2" outside spread, and drops down to the jaw line, and older than dirt, if you could find any dirt. Think I'll sign off for tonight. Thanks to all for your kind comments.

yellowstone,

Congratulations on a great report and musk ox. It looks like a real good one.

I take it from your 88 lb cape that you are going to have a life size mount. You won't regret it.

I feel your pain Yellowstone...the Komatik definitely is more an instrument of torture rather than mode of transportation. A buddy once asked me how to best prepare for his musk ox hunt and I told him to put a ladder up to the roof of his house and then climb up and jump off, landing on his butt. Repeat until numb!

Congrats on what sounds like a great hunt.

Yellowstone,

Looks familiar to me. Were you out of Holman?

I cannot read!!!!

Sorry Yellowstone please ignore my previous post.

Looks like and adventure.

Great write-up; enjoyed that.

Great story Yellowstone. I have two hunters there as we speak and we'd discussed all the contingencies you've covered and been through. They intend to bring their hides back as well for lifesize mounts.

And you know, your story reminds me, isn't it just a damned shame that the U.S. Customs Service requires people to be blueribboned assholes to be hired? Never had one problem with any other country, but just try to get back in our own homeland and have to contend with an asshole. What a shame.

Great Story!!

Thanks