Hunt Date: 8/26/17 to 8/31/17
Game Hunted: Dall Sheep, Grizzly Bear
Area: Talkeetna Mountains, Alaska
Outfitter/Guide: Black River Hunting Camps – Jake Jefferson
Cook: Jake Jefferson
Guide: Jake Jefferson
Packer: Jake Jefferson
Logistics: Jake Jefferson, assisted by fleeting good weather
Assistant Packer: Jeremy Cotton
Assistant Cook: Jeremy Cotton
Designated Smart Ass: Jake Jefferson
Assistant Smart Ass: Jeremy Cotton

Rifle: Ruger M77 Mk2 action, custom built by myself in .300 Win Mag
Scope: Swarovski 3-10X42 BRH
Ammo: Handloads – 200gr Barnes LRX at 3000fps.
Boots: Zamberlan Ibex
Pack: Seek Outside Revolution 6300
Sleeping Quilt: Elightened Equipment Revelation 20F
Pad: Thermarest NeoAir XTherm
Trekking Poles: Black Diamond Trail Ergo Cork
Rain Gear: Simms Dermizax Jacket, and Rab Event Pants

First let me thank my wife for her understanding and support doing these hunts. Second, let me thank Jake for a tremendous experience. Finally, let me say that there is far too much to write here, so I tried to get the high spots, add a little color and let you see some of what I saw. I hope you enjoy the ride.

8/23

I arrived on 8/23 as previously scheduled. It was a rainy day. When I landed, I turned my phone back on and ding, ding, you have a text. It was Mr. Jefferson welcoming me and stating that the weather was rubbish for a fly out the following day. I’d prepared for this, but it was still hard to take. Lots of prep, annoyance of my wife, and dollars spent culminating in wait and see. So, nothing else to do, but check into my room at the Microtel, and plan dinner. Simon and Seafort’s was chosen, and the meal was excellent as expected.

8/24

8/24 came with a drizzly cold morning. As predicted, no flights today, but Friday looks better. Hope, pray, and sacrifice something if available for good weather. Oh well, I’ve only spent the last 2 years prepping for this hunt. What’s one more day? Turns out it was the longest day in history. I did have a nice meal of halibut and chips at a restaurant called Gwenn’s, and a nice dinner with live music from a one lady band at the Lakefront Hotel bar. I also repacked my gear several times because I had nothing else to do and re-runs of Alaska Bush People was not my cup of tea. The Microtel has a decidedly poor channel selection.

8/25

8/25 opened much the same as 8/24. Only, it was raining harder. Web cam shots from Talkeetna looked a lot better though, so I had some hope slivers peeking through. Breakfast was a nice plate of toaster waffles. Surprisingly good ones with a nice topping of mixed berry preserves, and a few cups of coffee. Had to get the coffee in before I was without. I knew the consequences would be a caffeine withdrawal headache, but it was worth it. This Microtel had pretty good coffee. At 10am, Jake shot me a text: The plane service said get up there and we can fly. Game On!!! He waited 5 minutes, and sent a followup text: April Fools, still too cloudy to fly. I checked the web cam, and decided he was full of crap. I texted back that if I knew his mom, I would tell her he was being mean to me. He replied that she may have taught him this behavior. Then he stated that he was actually on his way. Didn’t matter, my stuff was ready.
An hour later, I met Mr. Jake Jefferson, the man, the myth, the legend. And I met Jake’s oldest and second youngest. His oldest is a quiet polite young man. His second youngest is 2 and going to be fun when she gets older. Great kids.
Off to Jake’s house to drop off extraneous gear, pick up Jake’s gear, distribute food, check licenses, meet Amber, a saintly woman that married Jake, and get it all into the truck.
A quick stop at Big Lake to view the spawning sockeye salmon was next up, then up to Alaska Bush Floatplane Service. We spent exactly no time, and loaded up the plane for a flight with crack bush pilot Jason to the mountains. A lake was selected prior to flight and we would hunt farther north than the previous successful dall shep hunt Jake did a week or so before. They had run into some competition and he figured the game may get pushed north. Funny how competition is viewed from one area to another. In Indiana, less than 10 other hunters per acre is low pressure. In Alaska, you run into one other hunter in 3-4 years, and it is getting crowded.

We deplaned and I found a rock across the lake to check my rifle on at 415 yards. Boom, whack, no issues to report save one dead white spot on the rock. We were in business.

Packs on and off we went. Hiking about 2 miles through alders and small streams to a beautiful bench overlooking yet another lake, and a long valley. What was to become a ritual ensued with us setting up camp, eating a hearty Mountain House meal, and glassing for sheep and bear until bedtime.

A band of ewes fed on the rounded top of the mountain to the south until they evaporated into the mountain.

I was hunting in Alaska.

8/26

I woke at 2:30am Alaska time. I ended up doing this every morning for the next 13 days whether I was in the mountains or in a hotel. Internal clocks are hell sometimes. Sleepy and disconcerted, I poked my head out of the tent and was greeted by light rain and twilight. Not quite dark, but definitely not morning. Retreat was in order, so I prudently snugged back into my quilt, pulled it over my head, and tried to sleep some more. It kind of worked.
A few hours of flopping in my tent later, I woke to birds chirping and just a nice cloudy day. High clouds, so we could glass. The ewes were back on top, but no more sheep could be seen. Oatmeal for breakfast with a cup of instant coffee. Only the best Folgers bagged instant for Black River Hunting Camps clientele. This was a nice surprise and honestly, not a bad cup of coffee. Just have to remember that color develops before the cup is fully brewed. So says the hang tag.
Time came to pack up, and we were off up the valley for a couple of miles to camp below a pass we would traverse the following day. This day, though, we set up camp, and hiked into a side basin to search for white dots. We found many, but all proved to be rocks. There are hordes of white rocks in them thar’ hills. We did find a couple of caribou that seemed to show up in the oddest places. With that, it was back to camp. While there, Jake spotted a ram laying above us about ½ mile off. Only his right side and part of his back could be seen. The spotter came out for a better look. He turned out to be an interesting sheep. Very wide flare to the visible horn, and it looked close to full curl. But, it was a very slender horn, and a tight curl with the bottom of the horn not reaching below the jaw line. We needed a better look, but it was now raining in earnest. Hell with it, a fine freeze dried meal was prepared, and we each ate in out tents discussing life as we ate. Kind of weird since you weren’t looking at each other, and tents give you a sense of being sheltered much more than a few thousandths of an inch of nylon really provide. The sheep of interest didn’t move until late that evening. At that time, we got a look at both sides which were symmetrical, about 7/8 curl, and both were very slender. He was a big bodied sheep, and noticeably stouter than two ½ curl rams that appeared out of nowhere near him. Maybe poor nutrition, genetics, younger than we thought, who knows. I just know he wasn’t legal, but seeing my first ram was pretty awesome.

8/27

Morning day 3 arrived with a snowy looking start. At least up high, there was snow. The rams above us were out and we took one last look at them. Yep, still the same so time to pack up and move on. This day the plan was to head over the pass and move into the next drainage south. With packs on and spirits high (it was early in the day), we embarked on our days toil. The band of ewes that we had watched earlier in the trip crested the ridge above us and made their way into our pass. They would be visible for a while, then vanish into the rocks only to pop up again somewhere unexpected. About half way up the pass, they appeared on a knob to our left and a little below us about 400 yards off. Here is where I learned that Jake speaks sheep. Baaahhhhhh, Baaaaaahhhhh says the registered Master Guide. The sheep say nothing, but they are intrigued and neatly line up on the knob to look us over. I
aren’t burning tundra to leave, so maybe there is something to this. After a few minutes, they do depart and cross the valley we spent the night in. Back to the task at hand, trudging up the pass.

A hundred or so feet up, the terrain rounds off and we make the pass. On the other side is a long hanging valley complete with lakes, and a few caribou. No sheep are spotted on the way through, and we stop midway up the left hand side on a shelf with some spring seeps for water. As we were making camp a band of ewes and lambs fed out back the way we had come from. We made a couple of walks to see the main valley that this hanger dropped into. Nothing up valley. Two rams on the skyline down valley about 3 miles off, and 6 rams way out there on a mountainside down valley. That is where we were headed tomorrow. Time for bed.

8/28

Cold night with rain and wet snow on and off all night. A couple hundred feet higher than camp there was a skiff of snow covering the ridgetops and peaks. From here, we glassed and found the first two rams again. They had moved a good mile lower, but neither was up to legal standards. Nothing else of interest was visible, so backpacks on and we were off. We angled out of the hanging valley and headed roughly southwest. Save a couple of boulder fields, the walking was good as long as we stayed 100 yards or so up the hillside on caribou trails. The bottom was very marshy and a PITA to walk through. This valley is fairly narrow, and sets up more like a canyon with side canyons coming into it along the way. We stopped periodically to glass and rest a little, but other than the random caribou, very little life appeared before us. About 3 in the afternoon, and after 7 miles, we had come to the end of the valley. It emptied into a flat where 3 creeks became one and that one cascaded into the main Talkeetna River valley. From our position it appeared to drop off a cliff about 5 miles away. A flat was chosen for camp with great visibility of everything around us, and camp was erected. At this point, the sun peeked out. This marked the first time that I had seen it since I had arrived in Alaska a few days before. It stuck with us all afternoon. That afternoon, and evening we lounged around camp glassing for sheep. Eventually, they started showing up here and there. A band of three down the valley, one behind us in a low grass patch, and another that had wanderlust. He crossed the main valley left to right, and fed about halfway up the mountain. For whatever reason, he crossed back over up valley from camp the following morning. Finally, a group of 5 showed on a mountain off to the right. We planned on checking them out the next morning.

Up to this point, sheep and caribou were the only large mammals that we had seen. At the same time we saw the forlorn sheep cross the valley, we spotted a grizzly a couple of miles down in a meadow. The valley floor heading downstream from us was a mix of tundra and alders. This bear was a light colored one about medium size. Jake figured it as a sow, but no cub. Eventually it winded us and boogied down the valley out of sight. Neat to see, and encouraging since that was on my target species list. Admittedly, a short list, but oh well. Just before dark another bear loomed out of the alders only a mile away. This one turned into two as a yearling cub bounced in and out of the brush putting on a fun show. Only issue here was their relatively close position, and our desire not to deal with a curious cub and mad momma. The wind was to them, though, so more than likely, they would depart during the night. We made a little walk to get our scent moving their way just to be on the safe side.

8/29

The clouds and drizzle returned, but not too bad. Breakfast was a rousing round of strawberry and cream oatmeal for me complimented by a steaming cup of instant java. Jake went crazy this morning and went for the bananas and cream oatmeal. Mind blowing stuff here since he has grown to detest oatmeal.
A lone bear worked the berries over in an alder thicket on the left side of the valley about ¼ mile off. After a good hour of watching her (gotta go with Jake’s opinion on the bear) while we stowed breakfast, we determined there was no cub. No way to know if this was the previously seen lone sow, or a new bear, but either way, I liked my chances of getting a bear.
A week or so before, another guide had marked out a Super Cub strip in this here valley and we took a walk to find it. Actually, it was on our way to checking out the previously noticed sheep. Rocks wrapped in white trash bags marked it out. Not too keen on what I would term litter, but it could be worse I suppose. Looking the area over, there are a few options for a landing strip if one had a saw, shovel like tool, and motivation. Lots of motivation. Jake uses walking length ice axes as walking sticks, and those are perfect for this and other camp tasks. Good take away for me on equipment choice.
Moving on, we worked our way down the middle of the valley to see about getting on that bear. The wind was at our backs, and it should have stayed parallel to the bear. Should have, but didn’t. About halfway there, we noted a side wind coming out of a cut to our right and that ended the bear stalk as she departed post haste for the Talkeetna River.
A mile and half or more found us at the mouth of the gulch we saw 5 rams in earlier. They were still there, and low on the mountain. Off we went to get a good angle on them. 4 obviously were safe. One however was close, so we cut off some distance and got out the big eye. An hour of waiting and watching revealed nothing more than the sheep’s right side was a little above eye level. The left side remained a mystery. A few minutes later, he turned to solidly head butt one of the youngsters in attendance and we got our answer. No love for the sheep hunters that morning.
Back to camp we went, noting an old miners cabin in the bottom of the valley with what looked like a small dozer abandoned next to it. Old in this case is relative, and it is probably a 60’s or 70’s setup judging by the cabin itself. Probably long forgotten with its history swept downstream like so many others. Tough spot to make a living for even a crusty old soul.
With camp on our backs we turned upstream of what was now the leftmost creek/river and headed up the right side of the valley for a mile or so before rock hopping up the creek a good half mile. It was easy walking on the rounded rocks. Jake dreamed up several places a Super Cub might land. I maintained a skeptical view, but who knows. My experience in backcountry Super Cub strips was all of 3 hours old.
We crossed over, and headed into a new valley to the left. While rounding the mountain at the entrance, we stumbled across a bright purple pile of bear scat. Couldn’t be too old since the berries had only been good for a couple of weeks at best. Oh, the leaves in it are still green? Yep, and this is why Jake is a Master Guide. He noticed things in poop that most folks didn’t.
About fifteen minutes later, the bear appeared almost a mile up the valley. Super light color to the fur. We kept moving since the bear wasn’t likely to see us, and we wanted a better look. Half way to it, we dropped the packs at a likely camp spot and I had a decision to make. The bear incidentally was right where we were supposed to camp. The bear was a blonde sow about 7 feet, and cub free. I initially declined, but reconsidered as we unpacked gear. There was a bear right within easy stalking range and one could have considered it a gift from the hunting gods if there ever was one. It was probably one of the prettiest that I had ever seen. As we slowly unpacked, and after Jake says, he is all about killing bears, I say, let’s go kill a bear.
Jakes dumped out his pack, and donned it while I snagged my camera, rifle, and some extra rounds all in that order. Yes, my camera is that important to me.
We headed straight for the bear, who had crossed to the right side of the creek and was now in seek and destroy mode for ground squirrels. She had no idea we were in the same zip code, and we had terrain to work with for an approach. She moved up into a small bowl, and there was a small rise between us that we headed up. At about 400 yards out, we ran out of cover. At that point, when she would turn away, we would scoot closer. About three scoots, and we were at a mound of tundra moss that suited me just fine for a rest. 240 yards to the bear according to the electronics I bought from Leica. It wasn’t a critically important piece of information, but it did help settle my nerves. Crosshairs placed on the bear, cartridge rested in the chamber (not in that order), safety off, and I waited for a good broadside look. There it was, then not quite, then there is was, this time for good. The trigger gave way, and I managed to keep the scope on the bear. In the view, I saw the impact of the bullet. Folded would be a good description of what the bear did. She collapsed backward, rolled to the side toward us, and that was all the movement we saw. I slammed a fresh round in to the chamber, and in doing so hit Jake with the empty. A few moments passed with no movement from the bear. The time had come to approach. I swung to the right and came up toward her back. At ten yards to go, we stopped, yelled like morons, and waited. Then we finished the approach, and did the standard poke the eye and rump with the rifle barrel.
I had killed my first bear.
And I knew it was the right decision. It took several minutes for it all to sink in with an emotional rush that I find hard to describe. Bears are such a different animal compared to the hooved creatures that we typically pursue. Her fur was splendid. A good 5” long with blonde tips across the back extending to her midline and giving way to a milk chocolate brown. This brown went from paw to upper arm as well. The undercoat thick and wooly enough to make a shepherd jealous. Long claws were touched and I marveled at their power. You see the bomb crater that a bear makes when squirrel diving, but you don’t get a feel for the implements used. At least I didn’t. Now I got a good look at them, and I felt the power they wielded. This was my bear and I was happy. A short and slightly tearful prayer later, we proceeded with the photos, and skinning.
Back at camp, Jake made with the skinning out of the head while I played Martha Stewart and whipped up the best Mountain House ever made in the mountains. I had lasagna, and Jake had mac and cheese. Nothing says success like freeze dried food and flavored water.
Sleep came easy that night.

8/30

Morning was much like every other morning; cloudy with a threat of rain, or drizzle. We were used to it at this point and grabbed packs complete with rain gear since to do otherwise would have just been stupid. Up the valley we went past the site of my first bear kill to look for white spots on the mountains. At the head of the valley was one of the roughest basins that I have seen. It was mostly rock with thin strips of grass being lorded over by scree fields ending in jagged mountain peaks on three sides. Exactly where I would be if I were an old sheep. We set up on a bench and settled in to wait a while and see what might appear. About an hour into our sit, old man winter decided to hit us with some wind driven sleet and rain. Not cool. Since we had seen exactly nothing, it was decided that old sheep don’t live back here this year. In fact, as far as we could tell, no sheep were calling that basin home even as invitingly rugged as it is.
In our rain gear shells, we worked our way back to camp. It quit storming halfway back, and actually turned into a decent day complete with fleeting glimpses of some warm radiant orange thing in the sky. Jake said it was the sun. I’d never heard of it.
We packed up and the bear hide/skull made their way into my pack. Fine with me since I got us into the bear moving business, but Jake played wounded hernia sufferer to ensure pity would be taken. He did have a hernia, but I was less than convinced it mattered.
Once again on the move, we plodded only about a mile and a half to our next station. This was back to the main valley, and up about a half mile to a spot overlooking a nice lake that rumor had it float planes had once landed on. A particular plane had had a treacherous take off one day, and our chances of getting a dispatch off this lake were tarnished considerably due to that event. However, packing a bear hide wasn’t in the cards either, so we were going to make some calls the next day and see. If possible, a pizza would be on that plane as well. A Hawaiian pizza.
It was now early afternoon, and camp had been set up. Lunch of half a bagel slathered in chive cream cheese and mystery meat snack sticks was consumed by the intrepid sheep hunters. Off we went up to the next cross valley to glass for white specks once more. One was spotted, but it turned out to be sub-legal. 25 rams in, and it was obvious that legal is tough to come by, but there was no shortage of sheep, so no reason to be worried this early in the hunt either. Nothing else spotted, so we worked out way back to camp. While there, I spotted a couple of sheep on the mountainside up from camp a mile or so. I didn’t usually spot them before Jake, so these were important to me. In retrospect, I should have gloated, but it didn’t occur to me at the time. I think I had spotted maybe 6 or 8 up to this point, so my average was improving. Two turned into four as we watched them. One little banana horn that ran around above the others and just annoyed them, two half to three quarter curlers, and one that made us take notice.
He had a broken left side, but what made him more interesting was the mass he carried below the jaw line. We watched him until he disappeared into a cut on the mountainside. This sheep had the makings of a legal ram. Only problem, it was now dark, and who knew where they would be in the morning.
Jake tucked me in, told me a bear hunting story and we went to sleep. Not really, but it makes the story have a cozy feel to it.

8/31

Morning Jake. Morning Jeremy. Actually, it was more like, “Jeremy, you up”. “Yep”. We had been keeping the conversation simple that early in the day. I threw on all of my clothes, and went out to greet the day. Translation, I finally gave in to the need to pee.
There was one sheep feeding below the cut that they had ghosted into the previous evening. One probably meant they were all still there. My usually pessimistic little heart was all a-flutter. After our morning ritual, we took just the essentials for a morning hunt, and set out after these sheep. The jury was still out on the legal status of the one ram, so cautious optimism was the rule.
For most of the hike we stayed out of sight of the rams. We scurried along the side of the mountain and only glimpsed them occasionally. Once we were below them, we started to zigzag up and to the right to get a look. One turned into two, then one on a rock point above us and to the right, then it was gone, then another, then gone. We waited until they settled a bit. One bedded on the edge of the rock point with only its withers in view. The others must have been above and behind the rocks. Not a bad setup for us, so we started moving. Again, straight up, then to the right a bit, then straight up, always keeping that sheep in view. Eventually, we were about 400 yards away, and had managed to get into a spot behind an alder that had gotten a wild hair to grow up on the mountainside. This spot afforded us a view of the bedded sheep and Jake determined him to be 6 years old. Not our guy. And so we waited. No worries, we were used to it at this point. A little while later, the ram we could see got up and moved into the cut. Off we went once more. Up and to the right, then just to the right. I would move, and Jake would spot me. Then I would spot for Jake and he would move up. Finally, we found ourselves in a position where we could see three of the rams. Jake put up the scope, and after a long while looked back at me and said “I’m 99% sure”. That sounded like a very expensive 1% if it wasn’t a good call. Then, the sheep turned to the right, and gave us a good look at both horns. Then, Jake said let’s kill him. No need to ask me twice, I was loaded and ready to get a sheep.
We were about 200 yards away at that point. The cut ran right to left as it went upslope, and 75 yards above us was the rock point that the smaller ram had bedded on. From here we could see them, but not well enough for a shot. They had no idea we existed, so we headed straight up the mountain to just below the rock outcrop, then cut right across the bottom of the cut. Once more, one sheep, then another, then all of them came into view above us. Jake threw up the scope, and I got set with the rifle. Of course being the first one to the spot, Jake took the best mound of tundra moss, so I displaced him, and we negotiate which sheep to slay. It was the second from the right. He was facing up hill at first then turned left to look down at us giving me a broadside look. No doubt at that point, he was our guy. I centered the crosshair low on his shoulder, and squeezed it off. He reacted much like the bear and courteously dropped at the shot. His compatriots did exactly nothing at the shot, and didn’t do much more than that when we stood up to make our way up to my sheep. Seems they don’t see many people up here, or hear a lot of gunfire.
We got up to the base of the rock outcrop and darned if my ram didn’t get up and walk onto the outcrop to look down on us from about 5 yards. One more round straight up through his chest turned the lights out for good, and he came rolling down. Jake was stepping and fetching to stop him, and I wasn’t far behind. We got him stopped, and quickly assessed our decision to shoot. Left side was broken, and the right side was over full curl. He also aged out at 9 years, so two out of three on the legal criteria scale checked off.
Not being in a spot where we could do much with him, Jake went for our packs which we had dropped off at the alder a good hour ago, and I endeavored to steer him downhill to a reasonable spot for field dressing. That’s a lot easier said than done. I’d tug here, and he would go there. On occasion, with what seemed like intent to take me with him. I finally got him to a good spot 300 or so yards lower, and after a few minutes Jake appeared with the packs. While I had the moment, I gave thanks for this magnificent animal, and for the incredible experience that taking him had ultimately ended. After all, I had taken both of my target animals.
Photos were next up followed by caping, and butchering for transport. We got it all sliced, diced and packed in about half an hour. Not a bad time since at this point the day had turned quite nice and we figured that a window had opened for extraction. Off we went back to camp to break it down and hoof it down to the lake below. Our original plan had been to have just the bear flown off this lake, but fortune had smiled on us and it was possible to get it all out in one shot. Makes you wonder if things work out for a reason.
At the lake shore, Jake made the call and as if by prophecy, the pilots had nothing better to do than shuttle smelly hunters and dead animal parts off of remote mountain lakes. Since it was a smaller lake, they opted to bring both planes and split the load. We were probably at 280-300lbs apiece including man, pack, and assorted animal parts. As we waited, we did some fleshing of the sheep cape, snacked on trail mix, fed a friendly squirrel, and jawed about our adventure over the last few days.

So, that was it. After 6 days of hiking, glassing, getting rained on, being made fun of, hiking some more, eating oatmeal, smoked salmon, mystery meat snack sticks, chive cream cheese bagels, several flavors of Mountain House, chocolate covered coffee beans, wild cranberries, blueberries, crowberries, shooting one bear, and finally shooting one sheep, my hunt was ending. What thoughts careened through my soggy brain? Honestly, I was an uneven mix of happy and sad. Who wants their dream to end? 2 years of prep had culminated in this moment. I could have spent the full 11 days in the field with no shots fired, and been very pleased with the hunt. How could I not? God has given us this spectacular country and, me, the ability to explore it as if I were the first to do so. Being there was something that I had wished for, wanted, and dreamed as a young boy. I had read the tales in books and magazines that built this desire. Now, I had been there and done that. I had tagged out early with two fine animals. My animals. I had walked the mountains of Alaska with someone I consider a good friend.

If it had to end, it is hard to fathom a better ending than sitting on the shore of an alpine lake, its waters crystal clear, the sun showing golden orange over a valley as beautiful as has ever been carved by the hand of god, trophies stowed in sturdy backpacks, chatting with a friend who helped it happen.

Plane one arrived, and I boarded for the flight out.

Epilogue:
Being done so early, I had to weigh my options. Fly home on the next bird out, or stick around for some additional activity. After a talk with my wife, and permission given, I took option two and I tried to make the most of my post hunt time. A car was procured and I hit the main attractions within an easy drive of Anchorage, and then made with the fishing. A halibut trip out of Whittier and some salmon fishing combined to complete my vacation. Getting it all on the plane was a bit of a challenge. 50lbs of fish, 70 lbs of sheep meat, a frozen cape, one skull with horns, and all of the my other gear. Thank you US postal service for allowing folks to mail their rifle home. All arrived home without issue. It remains to be seen, but it is possible I cashed in all of my luck on this one trip. I’ll give it hell finding out.


Plane saying goodbye. We are on our own, and I am now stuck with a strange dude in the tundra of Alaska for almost two weeks.

The view from campsite number one. Not too bad for a rainy day. This is some awe inspiring country, no doubt.

The tools of the registered Master Guide.

Nope, not a sheep. Nope, not a sheep. Nope, not a sheep. White rocks are in abundance in these mountains.

One of many sheds we walked on by. Strange, I would grab every one here. With a 65 pound pack on, they didn't seem that neat anymore.

The view from camp 3. Not much I can add.

Proof that I was there. The view from camp 4 in the background. We saw 4 bears down that valley when the sun was out.

Tundra chicken of the willow type.

My bear. And a pretty one at that. My smile should say it all.

One more of that beautiful animal.

Squirrel getters.

Pointy teeth. Very pointy teeth.

Camp 4. I shot my bear in the small bowl to the upper right in the photo. Sharp eyed viewers might spot the carcass in the photo.

Great year for berries. They were everywhere.

The rams that didn't go anywhere after I shot their buddy.

My ram in his final resting place. After rolling a long way, cleaning off the blood was just not going to happen.

My ram. Full curl on one side, broken on the other, and just a fine sheep to me.

The other side.

Jake digging for the scalpel.

Dream accomplished. A happy man.

Finishing up the caping while we wait for the plane. A rare bit of sunshine to finish the hunt.

Caping complete.

Someone call for a plane??

One great day of fishing with 4 good people. Fun to make new friends and share some memories.

82 pounds of fishy goodness for the year to come. My wife was happier about this than either the bear or sheep. Can't fault her for that, it is good stuff.

Finishing touch on the Talkeetna River. Last of the silver salmon run, but man they make for a fun day of casting spinners.

Congratulations on a perfect Alaska experience. Nice pics and report.
Cal
PS. We were in the Talkeetnas at the same time. I live 25 miles south between Talkeetna and Willow.

Congratulations on a great hunt.
In your first fishing pic, what are the two triangle pieces of meat at the bottom?

Congrats on a great trip.
Super report too.

Jake's humor alone is worth the trip.

Very nice, congratulations. Good report and photos.

Coyote, Those are the wings off of a big skate that one of the other folks caught. They hadn't tried that before.

Thanks everyone. It was a top notch trip. Still thinking about it and writing down things that I hadn't put down before. So much happens.

Jeremy

Well done!!!

Well done! Great trophies, pictures and it reads like it was a fantastic experience!

Another hearty well done.

Mark

Holy smoke - what an adventure

Man - I want to do that type of grizzly hunt

Congrats on a beautiful grizz and white dall


Morten

Great sheep and very nice bear.

Jake consistently gets it done!

Well done to the both of you, congrats.

One big part is that Jake knows his area. That guy has wandered around that mountain range a lot.

He also knows the animals. He kept saying, bears don't like the rain. And we only saw them when the sun peeked out.

The sheep are a waiting game it would seem. You look over enough and eventually find a legal ram. I don't think any place has a high percentage of legal sheep in it. Even the best places. That said, the country hides sheep amazingly well. Several spots that we saw nothing in definitely had sheep in them. But waiting to find them wasn't productive, so we moved on.

One thing I found both surprising and nice was that you didn't have to travel far to the next spot. 2-5 miles and you were there. I had it in my head that we would be going 5-10 between spots, and going over the top from basin to basin. Nope. Not needed. It wasn't like the sheep were hiding in the timber, so staying low was just fine.

Jeremy

Thanks for sharing. Nice ram, and great story.

great hunt and great photos

Sheep, griz, salmon, and halibut, and one of the nicest write ups I've read in a while. Well done! And you and Jake certainly hunted and earned them too, which makes everything sweeter.

I've only ever drawn two kodiak tags and dream of another before I'm too old to go again, but those interior tundra bears are vastly prettier, if a bit smaller, to me. They've always reminded me of bumblebees the way their two-tone coats look golden on top and black when the fur is parted. That's going to make an awesome rug.

Bob

Sounds like you had a great adventure. I enjoyed the report.

Don

Looks like you had a great hunt with Jake. how old was the ram? Looks like a 9 year old to me.

The only thing I could see as an improvement to hunt----macadamias.

Enjoy the memories every time you look at that dall sheep mount.

Love the color of that grizzly. You getting a rug done or full body mount?

Wonderful Trophies!!! Congrats

Bob, Yep, the sheep aged at 9 and a little over full curl. The grizzly will be a rug. I don't have the room for a full body bear. That would be sweet, though.

You are of course correct about the nuts.

Jeremy

What a hunt! That grizz is beautiful; sows have better looking fur IMO, and remember they never get that big in the mountains compared with their lowland brethren. You had a dream trip!

Great hunt, Jer. Wonderful trophies, and story.

Great report on a great hunt!

Congrats on a great hunt! That grizzly is gorgeous.

Pretty cool

Congratulations on a fantastic hunt. I hunted with Jake for grizzly during the same time frame last year. Thanks for a great write up, you took me right back to those mountains. Great to see another Hoosier succeed.

Spectacular write up. Congrats on a doubly successful hunt. Time spent in country like that is time added to your lifespan. Just awesome. And you had a great guide.

quote:

Originally posted by A7Dave:
Time spent in country like that is time added to your lifespan.

Dammit, I should have spent all 12 days. I didn't know.

Jeremy

The extra days are added as credit. They are roll over days.

Congratulations! An adventurous hunt with excellent trophies.

Great hunt and beautiful pics!
Congrats on a couple of fine critters too!

Z

That looked like an incredible trip!!

Great read, well done.

Thanks guys. It will take a lot of luck to duplicate this one.

Must be the offseason. I was digging up old elephant hunt reports last night planning my next big trip.

Jeremy

Wow what an adventure! Congrats...

Awesome and really well written. Well done on your fine animals.

Many congratulations on your hunt and magnificent trophies. I hunted my Dall in the Brooks so can relate to every word and emotion.
Lifelong memories. Very cool.

Awesome report. I liked that all the pics were at the end. Written this well it was easy to imagine the surroundings and then get the real pics at the end. Congrats on the great trophies and fish!

Thanks for the comments and compliments. I'm still stoked about this hunt.

The bear skin is at the tannery, and I am waiting for a call on the sheep to see when to send the horns. Shouldn't be too long now.

Jeremy