About twenty years ago, I was the fortunate winner at an auction for an unguided caribou hunt in Alaska. A big game outfitter donated this hunt to be auctioned during a fund-raising dinner. I’d wanted to hunt in Alaska for decades, and this fairly reasonable hunt seemed like a great way to get my start. Taking place in mid-September, I actually would be hunting on my birthday, a pretty neat idea I thought.
When I spoke to him later, he said the area would also contain a lot of brown bears atthat time because the salmon would be running. Hearing that, I decided to take mystainless .338 Win Mag with lighter 175 grain Barnes X-Bullets at 3,200 fps for use on a caribou, but also bring some 250s to load my rifle after my caribou was down. That ideamade me feel a little more comfortable! A handgun also seemed prudent, so I’d bring along a single-action, stainless Ruger Super Blackhawk in .44 Mag with 320 grain hard cast bullets I’d loaded myself. Good self-defense medicine I thought, for around mycamp and while sleeping at night.
I’d be dropped off on a fair-sized lake about 20 miles from the Lake Illiamna airport. As an un-guided week long hunt, we’d fly out on a Wednesday, he’d help me set up a tent next to the lake, and then he'd be back on Saturday just to check on me. Otherwise, I’dbe totally on my own until I was picked up the following Tuesday. It sounded like a greatadventure to me, and I could hardly wait for September to roll around.
Chapter 1: There's a Lot of Fish Around Here
I was picked up at the Illiamna airport, and taken by my guide to his lodge on the south side of the lake. I believe it was a Super Cub with a tubular metal frame and the skin ofthe small float plane being made of canvas. That kind of concerned me just a bit, but Itried hard not to show any concern. Lake Illiamna is the second largest lake in the US, being just over 1,000 square miles in size. About 25 miles north to south and 80 miles wide, it’s the largest lake in Alaska and located about 225 miles west of Anchorage.
It was Tuesday afternoon, and he told me he’d fly me out, weather permitting, on Wednesday for my hunt about fifty miles northwest of the lodge. He had a map of Lake Illiamna on the wall, so I asked him to show me exactly where he was taking me and leaving me all alone for days. At first he hesitated to do so. But I firmly stated that Iwasn’t being left anywhere unless I...
could see on a map where it was located, itsrelationship to the lodge and the airport on the north side of the lake. He finally got up and pointed to where I’d be left. It was just five miles north of the northern shore of Illiamna and from there about twenty miles east to the airport, if you felt like walking.
That afternoon, another hunter on a non-guided hunt had scored on a nice moose. In the evening, I was able to dine on fresh moose meat for the first time in my life. Beautiful red fillets of moose about a half inch thick, two inches wide and four to five inches long were breaded and pan fried. We were also served boiled red potatoes cut into cubes and pan fried in butter with a sprinkling of parsley on top. At first, I grabbed two or three pieces of the breaded moose, but after my first bite, I was already in heaven. It was so tender and so flavorful, my plate was soon empty.
“Go ahead and have some more!” the happy hunter told me seeing how quickly I’d pounded the first plate down. So I forked three more of the beauties onto my plate and started downing that. In no time at all, again I had a barren plate before me. Sheepishly, I asked if I could have more. I did this TWO MORE TIMES! It was the best meat I’d ever tasted, wild or store bought. Next time, I decided, I needed to come for moose.
Wednesday morning came and passed with us sitting in the lodge. Not too surprisingly, bad weather had us locked in with a small chance of things clearing in the afternoon. If I was lucky, I might get out later in the day. Sitting around looking outside for the weather to get better was a very hard thing to do. I do remember we had leftover moose for lunch, which was not a very hard thing to choke down at all.
My gear had been sitting by the front door waiting for a hopeful break in the afternoon skies. Finally, around 3 o’clock, we were able to see the sun as things cleared up enough for me to be flown to the small lake, and for my guide to be able to fly back to the lodge. Besides my hunting gear and clothing, we were taking an 8-foot round dome tent, a sleeping bag, and a green metal, Stanley 48-quart ice chest that was filled with pre-cooked, frozen meals in zip-lock bags. With a small cook stove, all I’d have to do is thaw and heat up one of the handy person-sized bags for each meal that his wife had prepared ahead of time- a very nice thing to have done for me.
I also brought along an...
Entemann’s Danish cherry cheese cake to comfort me while out in the wilderness all alone for days and days. It was sitting in the fridge at the lodge and when it was offered for my trip, I gladly accepted. There really was not much else that I’d have in my camp, just the tent and the cook stove, a flashlight, a pot or two, and a couple of 5-gallon jugs of water. It was a very damp time of the year, such that nothing in the area could burn. There were not any trees where I was being dropped off, so no campfires could be made each night. Things were going to be pretty basic the whole week. A few times, I thought about being out in the middle of nowhere all by myself, but heck… after all, I was from Montana (at least for the past several years). But I had grown up all my life in the suburbs of Chicago. Truthfully, I was just a little scared about this whole adventure that I had dreamed about most all of my life.
We diagonaled across Illiamna, reaching the north shore, and then kept flying for just a bit. I talked back and forth with my guide while scrunched up behind him in the narrow, tiny fuselage, constantly afraid of putting a hand or foot through the canvas sides of the Super Cub. That un-nerved me just a little bit, but I kept it to myself. We flew over my small lake just once and then circled around to make the final approach to land on the water. My guide turned his head around and said in a very serious voice, “I have to land now, so no more talking.” That sounded great to me. When landing on a lake in a plane made of cloth, a lot of concentration seemed like a very good thing for a pilot to have.
Previously, as we flew over the big lake, his flying seemed to not require much in the way of controls and adjustment. However, apparently landing a float plane was a “whole ‘nother thing!” He started moving his feet so fast, kept reaching up to slide this lever, turn that dial, and move that part near the top-center. I was amazed at the adjustments necessary to land a small float plane on lake. I truly feared for my life and prayed that he would safely land the frail plane. Finally, the pontoons touched the water, and the plane slowed considerably as our speed fell off. Turning around, we settled on the water and then headed for the north shore of the small lake.
Grabbing as much gear as I could carry, my guide said we’d set up my tent on the west side of the lake, tucked in among the alder bushes lining the...
shore. Though only six-feet tall, he says they provide some protection from the wind. There are no trees in sight, and the area is mostly tundra with short plants like moss and lichen covering the ground. As we walked, underneath my feet I constantly stepped over piles and piles of bear scat, then partially eaten salmon. Piles of scat, more piles of scat, half eaten fish, piles of scat, and more piles of bear scat. My guide was walking just ahead of me, when I remarked.
“Boy… there sure must be a lot of fish in this lake!" But something deep inside of me also screamed,
“HEY! WHAT ABOUT ALL THE ALASKAN BROWN BEAR CRAP!?!?” But somehow I ignored that...
We worked fast to set up the nylon, 8-foot diameter, dome tent, and quickly threw all my gear inside since it looked like rain was going to be blowing in soon. He told me to keep the frozen, food-filled ice chest well away from the tent. He also told me to just wander around every day, and I’d surely run across some caribou herds, as it was their migration time. Walking with him back to the plane, he untied it from a bush, then stepped onto the pontoon. “Some bad weather is blowing in, so I need to get going.” Turning around towards me, at the last minute, he yelled, “I’ll be back in three days to check on you.”He closed the small door, fired up the plane, taxied out, and took off. With the clouds came light rains early in the evening. I snacked on some trail mix I brought and then decided to celebrate my birthday early- it's tomorrow, on Thursday, that I’ll turn thirty-five, in Alaska, all by myself, in pursuit of my first caribou. I opened up the Danish cherry cheese cake, and cut off a two-inch wide slice from the over foot long strudel and crumb-covered treat. An early Happy Birthday to me!
I’m totally alone in the Alaskan wilderness, at least 25 or 30 miles from the nearest human being. No phone or radio, and there are half-eaten, dead salmon everywhere. Boy… I sure wish I would have brought a fishing pole!
...
Chapter 2: Hungry Night Visitor
I fell asleep on top of my sleeping bag, maybe at around 9:30. My tent was set up with 6-foot high alder bushes fully surrounding it, except for an open quarter section directly in front of the zip-up door. Not at all very tall. To get in or out, I had to be on my hands and knees. Since it was only eight feet in diameter, if I kneeled in the very center, I would never be more than four feet in any direction from the outside of the nylon tent. In just about an hour, I was suddenly awoken by the sounds of something going by, right outside my tent.
First, I heard branches breaking, and then the unmistakable sound of something very HUGE making heavy, deep breaths. As it walked by, the breathing got louder and louder. It seemed, at its closest point, to be within a yard of my tent.
Haaaaahhhhh, Haaaaahhhhh, Haaaaahhhhh! Oh my God! It’s a bear, a brown bear!
I’m instantly wide awake, and grab for the .44 handgun. But my rifle is far more powerful, right? I only thought of that for about a nanosecond. Inside a small tent, a rifle would be useless while trying to move it around. And if he tried to get inside, pressing down on the tent, I could be pinned down, rendering the long gun useless. So I sat up in the very center of the small tent with my single actioned .44 cocked and aimed at the zipper door… if that is even the way he might come, if he chose to break in.
Try to get in? What was I thinking?
If he wanted to come in after me, a zipped door would mean nothing to him, nor would the flimsy layer of nylon on the sides or back. An Alaskan brown bear just walked by my tent, perhaps only a yard from it. I’d heard his breathing get louder as he approached. I heard him virtually right outside my door, and then thankfully, heard his breathing get quieter as he walked on by. What was he up to? In less than 30 seconds, I had gone from a deep sleep to hearing a massive carnivore right outside my tent. I was scared as hell and had no idea what was going to happen, although many unpleasant thoughts crossed my mind for certain.
Braaaawwwww, slam-click! Braaaawwwww, slam-click! Braaaaaaaaawwwwwwww, slam-click!
He’d found my metal ice chest, full of frozen, pre-cooked meals, and was trying to get inside. I’d placed it outside...
about fifty yards downwind of me, sitting out in the open tundra. He kept bawling and bawling while he pounded on the chest with his huge paws. Not only could I clearly hear the thump from the pads on his paws striking the metal, I also heard the clanking of his long sharp claws simultaneously striking themetal. It was very unnerving!
The chest had a metal lid, back hinge, and front rotating latch. If it had been all plastic,he would have gotten in in no time at all. There was only one good thing about this situation. As long as I could hear his ruckus, I knew for a fact that he was occupied and50 yards from me. The pounding and bawling continued for what seemed like forever, when it suddenly got very quiet.
What the hell was he doing now? I would soon find out…
Chapter 3: Brown Bear Sniffing
As scared as I was, but being very analytical, I became aware of something abouthuman survival right away. Of our five senses, sight, hearing, taste, smell and touch, in almost total darkness at night, the only sense my brain had to work with was hearing.None of the others would be of any use. As I explained earlier,as long as I could hearhim pounding on the chest, I knew he was 50 yards away- that gave me some peace. For I then knew he wasn’t right outside my tent, contemplating… I didn’t want to think about what he’s contemplating, if only right outside my tent!
Though immediately after waking, my internal alarm went to DEFCON 1, it subsided only slightly to DEFCON 2, while the bear was trying to get to the food. The sudden silence, brought me right back to 1 in a heartbeat, because then I had no idea where he was, or what he was up to.
Let’s talk about fear- the fear of drowning, the fear of a thug in the city robbing orattacking you, the fear of being trapped in a fire. All are pretty scary things. But I’mhere to tell you that the fear of being eaten alive by a large carnivore in the dark, was waaaaaaaay beyond anything you can imagine and far beyond anything Icould’ve ever imagined. As soon as things got quiet, now knowing a brown bear was outside, my fears shot way past a DEFCON 1, by at least ten-fold!
Please Lord; let him make some noise… I need to know where he is… I should not have asked for that…
Sniff-haaaaa! Sniff-haaaaa!...
Sniff-haaaaa!
Dear God! He’s right outside my tent, sniffing me! It sounded like his lungs had the capacity of a 30 gallon barrel! That was it! I sat in my puny nylon tent with a brown bear sniffing me, seemingly with his nose against the zippered door! I felt like I was drowning, but in fear, not water. I couldn’t take it anymore, so it happened…AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! I let out a scream from hell!
I did it because I had to… I couldn’t possibly NOT scream… it had to come out.
There I sat in my tent with a cocked handgun pointed at the door while a brown bear is sniffing me, possibly deciding if I might be easier to get at and eat. The moment I screamed, the first thing I thought was, “OH MY GOD! WHAT IF I MADE HIM MAD?” Honest, that’s what ran through my mind.
Halfway expecting claws to come ripping through the nylon, I was relieved to hear him turn and walk away. Moments later, when I hear the wonderful sounds of him, again pounding on the metal chest, trying to get to my food, it caused me to breathe a sigh of relief. I know, I know. You may be thinking that I could have done this or that in this situation. Believe me, every possible defensive and offensive thing I could have done had been thought of. And not only did that all run through my mind, the bear’s response to every scenario and the resulting outcome/reaction to all of those responses also ran through my head.
Although I knew I was in great danger, I had not yet felt I was about to die, so hadn’t yet reached the decision point where my response would have to be greatly
elevated. Being in near total darkness, the last thing I wanted to do was have a wounded bear on my hands; a hungry one was bad enough.
Chapter 4: Suddenly… Too Quiet
Having a brown bear sniff my tent while I was only four feet away was a level of fear I could have never comprehended. Beyond any level of fear I could have ever imagined, not by ten-fold, or a hundred-fold; it was way beyond that. Imagine being eaten alive in the dark while all by yourself. I was “happy” for now.He continued to beat on the metal chest hoping to get at the food. I was so glad no food was in my tent. Wait a minute- the cherry cheese Danish! I immediately tore open my backpack, and pounded the remaining 6 x 10 inch portion down my throat in record time, hardly...
bothering to chew. There, I thought, while the scent would not be as strong, and he could still smell it on my breath, at least the big Danish was no longer around to tempt him. Then I noticed something disturbing.
Suddenly, it was quiet outside… too quiet!
Did he give up and simply walk away? Or did he open the chest and was now feeding? I knew there were more options than that, but my mind was hoping one of those two situations to be the case. I hear a branch break, right outside my tent- HE WAS BACK! For the second time, he walked right up to the tent, and started sniffing real hard. His nose had to be only inches from the fabric door.
Sniff-haaaaa! Sniff-haaaaa! Sniff-haaaaa!
I had no way of knowing exactly where his head was; the only place for a certain quick, killing shot. But what if I was off just slightly? I dared not turn on my flashlight. It wouldn’t do much good inside the tent anyway. And having both hands wrapped around the .44 made me feel as confident as I possibly could in my present situation, all things considered. The fear welling up was incredible!
AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!
Yes, I screamed as loud as I could for a second time. Was it the smart thing to do? I really had no choice. There was no way that primal scream was not coming out of me. Again I worried that I might have pissed him off, but again it got silent as he walked away. Moments later, I hear him again, pounding on the metal chest full of frozen food. Dear Lord, please let him open it this time… please give him something to do besides terrorize me in that flimsy tent!
For the second time, it got quiet again and stayed that way for quite a while. I’d originally been awakened at 10:30. It was now just before midnight, and I hadn’t heard a sound from him in quite a while. Either he’d moved off or had gotten the metal chest open. I just had to know, so I slowly started to unzip the door to my tent. With no moon out that night, and the heavy clouds from the rain, I could barely see and only in black and white. Peering out to where I had left the chest of frozen food, I’m both scared and relieved at what I saw.
The brown bear was feeding over the now open chest and looked HUGE! It looked like someone had pushed a double-wide refrigerator over, and then put hair on it. Well, at least the unnerving pounding of his paws had stopped, and...
better yet, the clink-clank of his claws on the metal. And most importantly, he was feeding, but not on me. I slowly zipped the door closed and backed into my safe zone- a whole four feet from the outside walls of the nylon tent. I don’t know why, but it actually made me feel safe.
Chapter 5: Time Passes So Slowly
It’d taken almost an hour and a half for the brown bear to open the ice chest and begin feeding. I am praying to God that he will eat quickly, and then go off somewhere to digest. For the past 90 minutes, I’ve sat in the middle of my tent with my knees bent, resting both arms on them with my single action Ruger cocked, pointing at the flimsy wall, expecting the brown bear to come tearing into the tent at any moment and eat me alive. In a situation like that, time goes by very sloooowly!
My body and mind had been at an extreme level of awareness- fight or flight- for almost two hours. I wonder how long a body can sustain such a condition? Surely, all of my adrenaline reserves have long since burned off. With the only sense I have remaining is hearing, I truly can feel how my brain has rerouted all neurons, devoting them to the sense of hearing.
I never hyperventilated, nor even reached a point where I was breathing very heavily. That was not in my best interest. For one, I wanted to be as silent as possible, and secondly, if I make loud breathing sounds, I won’t be able to hear if the bear approaches my tent.
I sat like this for what seems like an eternity. When I felt certain at least an hour had passed, I looked at my watch- only 20 minutes had gone by! I was crushed by this. Right now, my only goal is to make it to sunrise. The darkness makes this situation so much worse. Greatly distressed, I waited far, far longer before checking my watch the second time. Surely at least an hour and a half had passed- surely.
As I glanced at my watch for a second time, I’was CRUSHED to see, that only thirty minutes had gone by! What had seemed like two and a half hours to me,turned out to be a total of less than an hour.
It’s amazing how slow time goes by, when all you are doing is sitting in a tent, with a cocked handgun pointed at the outside wall only two feet from the gun, and all the while expecting a brown bear to come tearing inside to eat you alive.
I never again looked...
at my watch. I couldn’t stand to bear what it would tell me. By this, it was almost 1 a.m., and I had around
seven more hours until daybreak. Never again could I get myself to unzip the door, and look outside, to see if the bear was still feeding. How long does it take to eat 48 quarts of frozen food? I had no idea, but I couldn’t stand unzipping the door again to check if he was still feeding, and be greeted by his head right outside, headed straight for me.
This was going to be a very long night.
Chapter 6: Morning Has Broken
For nine and a half hours, I sat in the middle of my tent with my .44 cocked and aimed at the zippered door. Every moment was spent expecting a brown bear to tear inside and eat me alive. It was the worst and best event I’d ever experienced in my life. The sun was finally up, and it was time to go outside and assess my situation. Still holding onto my handgun, I unzipped the door and slowly peered outside, half expecting the bear to be lying on his back sleeping off all of my food. I could not get myself to leave the safety of the nylon tent.
Strange as it may seem, that flimsy shelter had been my sanctuary during the most terrifying time I’d ever experienced in my life, and as long as I was in it, I had known for certain the bear was not with me. I tried and tried over a half dozen times to crawl out on my hands and knees, but I could not bring myself to do it. I had to stop myself from thinking about it and finally, quickly crawled out, stood up, and then ran away from the tent half expecting the bear to grab me from behind. I headed for my trashed ice chest 50 yards away, and as I ran, I could see the bear was nowhere in sight.
The chest was empty and riddled with claw and teeth marks from the bear’s efforts to open it last night. I never knew when he finally left, but just held my ground in the tent through the entire night. Every bit of my food was gone- nothing was left. It was Thursday morning, and my guide would not be coming back for two more days. If the bear came again tonight, the only thing he’d have to eat… would be me! It took but a fleeting moment, but I had decided right then and there that I had to walk out. There’s no way I’d ever spend another night like that, especially since I was the only thing left to eat. My insistence that I be shown on the map where I’d be dropped...
before we left was a wise stance to take. All I had to do was walk five miles south across the tundra to the north shore of Illiamna, turn left at the lake and walk twenty miles along the shoreline to the airport. I can do that. I didn’t even think for a moment about breaking down camp. I’d just grab my rifle and backpack and start heading south. Then, I realized I’d left them both inside the tent!
While all night it’d been my sanctuary, I was now standing out in the open where I could clearly see for quite a distance. But now I had to run back to the tent, drop down on my hands and knees and crawl back in. But what if the bear is sleeping in the alder bushes on the other side of my tent? It again took me many tries to talk myself into going back into the tent, but I finally accomplished that great mental task. I grabbed my backpack and rifle, but I could not get myself to commit to crawling out on hands and knees. There was mental comfort in being in a place where I knew for sure the brown bear was not. And this time I’d be less nimble carrying the handgun, rifle, and backpack.
I kneeled at the open door for at least five minutes before I was able to fool my brain into crawling out one last time. Again I flew like the wind away from the tent towards the chest out in the open, ever expecting the bear to grab me from behind with his claws and begin to rip me open. Standing 50 yards from the tent, nearly obscured by the alder, I felt so alive to be out in the open, no bear in sight, with a clear path of what I must now do. It was mentally refreshing to no longer worry about being eaten alive.
Chapter 7: Head For The Lake
After last night, walking 5 miles south to the north shore of Illiamna and then 20 more to the airport seemed like it’d be a breeze. I was sooooo happy to be out of that tent and away from the brown bear that had terrorized me all night long. Once I got walking I could see that this wouldn’t be too hard. The land was mostly dead flat with only mildly rolling hills here and there. No trees, only patches of alder bush scattered here and there. I was still quite paranoid though, fearing the bear might creep up behind me for an ambush. There was a simple remedy for that.
First off, I took out my 175 grain caribou loads and filled the magazine and chamber with 250s. By the way, yes, I know a .270 is plenty of gun for caribou, but if dangerous...
game is present in the same area you are hunting for medium game, then I recommend bringing a rifle big enough to make you comfortable if confronted by the big, bad boys. My .44 was carried in a shoulder holster, but with my .338 was slung over my shoulder. It would only be a weapon of last resort.
Secondly, I never traveled through any brush on my journey because bears could be hidden in there. Whenever I approached a large patch of it, I would swing way off to the side, at least a hundred yards, and always be on the downwind side of it. This ensured my scent would not drift into the patch where a bear may lay in waiting.
Thirdly, whenever I did find a hill in my direct line of travel, I always went straight up the center to always have the best possible view of my surroundings.
Lastly, I was constantly looking over both my shoulders to ensure I was not being followed by a bear. I was not going to be taken by surprise today!
The ground cover was mostly tundra or very low growing plants, moss and lichen, and fairly easy to walk on. Sometimes I would find myself boxed in by a large bend in a river and would have to backtrack a considerable distance to get out and then around it. As I got closer to the big lake, I ran into boggy areas where it started to feel, at first, like I was walking on a trampoline. If I continued on, I soon found my boots breaking though the spongy vegetation and actually hitting water. Again, backing up a sometimes considerable distance and swinging wide of the hazard only cost me some time, of which I had plenty.
With all of the detours, it took me almost three hours to finally have the lake in my sight. Getting nearer and nearer to it, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest when I saw a large float plane approaching to land, probably to drop off some fishermen.
Quickly, I kicked it into high gear and started running as fast as I could over the bouncy tundra. Suddenly, perhaps only 200 yards from the lake, I saw people alongside the small river fishing for salmon. Forgetting my rule about not walking through the alder bushes, I headed straight through large patch of it which seemed to surround the river everywhere.
Chapter 8: Finally Safe
In a few moments, some of the fishermen started jumping up and down and waving frantically to me. I’d been seen! I waved back, and plowed like a bulldozer into the heavy brush, making a straight-line...
drive towards them. They continued frantically waving at me, and jumping up and down. It felt wonderful to be seen by people and know that my ordeal would soon be over.
I hit the river’s edge, but what the hell. I jumped into the two foot deep water, reaching a dense alder patch on the far side, and continued my straight line drive to the fisherman standing on the lakeshore near where the river flows into it. As I emerged from the brush, I saw several people running towards me, and the float plane still sitting on the lake shore. It almost seemed like they may have known of my ordeal last night as they run up to me.
“You just kicked out a bear and her two cubs! While you were plowing through the brush, she came out down river, snarling and popping her teeth. Boy, you’re lucky she ran away, instead of after you!”
As it turns out, they were not waving to me, but waving at me to get me to stop. They’d seen the mom and her cubs, but I had not!
I quickly relayed the events of last night to the fisherman and the pilot. Nobody could believe I’d been left out alone in prime bear country to hunt on my own for days. They all said I was lucky to have come out unhurt. The pilot said he’d just dropped some people off and would be happy to take me back to the Illiamna airport. He’d also call my guide so he could come and pick me up once we landed. I was never so happy to see other people, and to know I was no longer alone.
I then remembered today was my birthday- a birthday I could never forget. But I still wanted to get my caribou!!!
Continued in - Alaskan Part 2: Second Chance Caribou