Ben Sellers
Well-known member
- Joined
- Oct 29, 2018
- Messages
- 573
Congratulations! That’s not a hunt, it’s an adventure!
A Dream Becomes Reality
- Thread starter Big Fin
- Start date
noharleyyet
Well-known member
Remarkable pictures...great share Fin.
Sask hunter
Well-known member
- Joined
- Sep 20, 2016
- Messages
- 3,342
Congrats!
BrentD
Well-known member
Man, o man. What a story and trip.
I'm convinced of two things.
1. British Columbia has no ugly.
2. Marcus Hockett has the world's best job, bar none.
Those are awesome photos, Marcus. I'd give you a raise if you worked for me
!
I'm convinced of two things.
1. British Columbia has no ugly.
2. Marcus Hockett has the world's best job, bar none.
Those are awesome photos, Marcus. I'd give you a raise if you worked for me
!
TheJason
Well-known member
- Joined
- Oct 21, 2024
- Messages
- 18,592
Holy shit, those are some of the best field photos I've ever seen. What a great trip. Glad it lived up to the anticipation and expectation.
Doublecluck
Well-known member
Man! what a bull. Looks like the hunt of a lifetime. Congrats.
WNC2500
Well-known member
Randy: Thanks for sharing that so eloquently with us, and so methodical. Truly felt like we were looking over your shoulder, and were right there with you. Awesome job!!
With the meat care and cape taken care of the prior day, an early morning ride seemed in order. With at least ten hours ahead to get back to moose camp, the horses were loaded, and we were trailing back west, allowing me to examine a few more caribou and inhaling a bit more of this unique landscape. I was also whetting my appetite for a return to chase these half-white, half-brown ptarmigan that I wished I had bought a license to hunt.
It was a relaxing ride, as much as ten hours on a horse can be considered relaxing. The clear skies eventually gave way to afternoon clouds, giving some credence to James’ inReach weather forecast of many days of forthcoming rain.
James got a report from Braden, via inReach, that Jim had not yet tagged a moose. The first morning, shortly after we headed for caribou camp, a horse wreck came to rest on top of Jim’s rifle, relegating his 300 WM to a short-range weapon. When they checked the zero, they were 18” low at 40 yards. They maxed out the elevation adjustment, they were still 4” low at 100 yards. That was not good news.
Later in the afternoon found us within two hours of moose camp. Wanting to glass these timbered drainages during the prime evening light, James sent Blythe ahead with all the other horses and gear, leaving us to scour the hills for a moose. To see her grab the reins of four trailing horses, fully loaded with gear and caribou, then take off as if it was nothing more than a ride to town impressed the hell out of me.
We saw one small bull, a very small bull. He walked up to take a look at the horses. Even with a moose tag in my pocket and no minimum size limit, this young moose was in no danger. He was interesting to watch.
James decided we should start moving toward camp with enough light to glass the many small creek openings we would cross on our return. Add that possibility to the idea that we would get to travel this treacherous horse trail in some small about of daylight (if you can call a rockslide going up a creek drainage a “trail”).
We made a large detour around the bog, ensuring no repeat of the fiasco we brought forth on our way out to caribou camp. We crossed the biggest creek and it took us by the based camp of the two energetic residents we met on our way out. They had pulled their base camp after taking a bull and were no set up on the lake waiting for their transporter. They had seen the caribou on the horses Blythe had trailed past. They had stopped her to inspect the caribou and gave her a beer. They offered us the same, but James was convinced we would encounter a bull moose before dark, so he politely thanked the guys for their kind comments and generous offer.
As if James has some predictive talent, about a half-hour from moose camp, a bull moose stood about 100 yards downslope from the worst section of this trail. We all dismounted, and James started calling. Marcus was filming as James and I inspected this bull. James had him pretty worked up and slowly moving our way. It was very late light. James estimated the bull to be 45” wide. All good reasons to put the rifle back in the scabbard. Marcus used the chance to get some close up moose footage.
A short while later, we were back to moose camp, listening to Jim and Braden share stories of horse wrecks, broken rifles, and alternately asking me to retell the caribou story. Also in camp was Kash, Dustin’s pilot who flies meat and capes back to the ranch at Boya Lake. Kash also brought with him Marty, the second wrangler who was finished with his duties at the other camp.
To hear Jim talk about his rifle problem and shrug it off as “part of hunting,” was refreshing. No complaints, no finger pointing, just laughing and commenting that, “This hunt just got converted to an archery hunt,” referring to the short-range weapon that was now his 300 Win Mag. You could not help but cheer for a guy with that attitude. A corrosive personality can make for a miserable camp and a joyful outlook can make even the toughest camp a pleasure. Jim was the latter, not the former.
The plan for morning was that Kash would fly out my caribou meat, cape, and antlers. Braden and Jim would go Southwest to where they had seen some moose. We would go Southeast, following a high spit of ground James thought the horses could traverse without too much challenge.
Another of Braden’s miracle dinners was served. More questions were asked of the caribou encounter. Tomorrow’s plan was finalized, and I retreated to the tent for a night of sleep, noting that the night skies had cleared some, allowing Marcus to ply his trade to the dancing Aurora Borealis. This was a great camp; made even more so by the quality of people I was lucky to share it with.
This is the most unreal image I think Marcus has ever captured.
It was a relaxing ride, as much as ten hours on a horse can be considered relaxing. The clear skies eventually gave way to afternoon clouds, giving some credence to James’ inReach weather forecast of many days of forthcoming rain.
James got a report from Braden, via inReach, that Jim had not yet tagged a moose. The first morning, shortly after we headed for caribou camp, a horse wreck came to rest on top of Jim’s rifle, relegating his 300 WM to a short-range weapon. When they checked the zero, they were 18” low at 40 yards. They maxed out the elevation adjustment, they were still 4” low at 100 yards. That was not good news.
Later in the afternoon found us within two hours of moose camp. Wanting to glass these timbered drainages during the prime evening light, James sent Blythe ahead with all the other horses and gear, leaving us to scour the hills for a moose. To see her grab the reins of four trailing horses, fully loaded with gear and caribou, then take off as if it was nothing more than a ride to town impressed the hell out of me.
We saw one small bull, a very small bull. He walked up to take a look at the horses. Even with a moose tag in my pocket and no minimum size limit, this young moose was in no danger. He was interesting to watch.
James decided we should start moving toward camp with enough light to glass the many small creek openings we would cross on our return. Add that possibility to the idea that we would get to travel this treacherous horse trail in some small about of daylight (if you can call a rockslide going up a creek drainage a “trail”).
We made a large detour around the bog, ensuring no repeat of the fiasco we brought forth on our way out to caribou camp. We crossed the biggest creek and it took us by the based camp of the two energetic residents we met on our way out. They had pulled their base camp after taking a bull and were no set up on the lake waiting for their transporter. They had seen the caribou on the horses Blythe had trailed past. They had stopped her to inspect the caribou and gave her a beer. They offered us the same, but James was convinced we would encounter a bull moose before dark, so he politely thanked the guys for their kind comments and generous offer.
As if James has some predictive talent, about a half-hour from moose camp, a bull moose stood about 100 yards downslope from the worst section of this trail. We all dismounted, and James started calling. Marcus was filming as James and I inspected this bull. James had him pretty worked up and slowly moving our way. It was very late light. James estimated the bull to be 45” wide. All good reasons to put the rifle back in the scabbard. Marcus used the chance to get some close up moose footage.
A short while later, we were back to moose camp, listening to Jim and Braden share stories of horse wrecks, broken rifles, and alternately asking me to retell the caribou story. Also in camp was Kash, Dustin’s pilot who flies meat and capes back to the ranch at Boya Lake. Kash also brought with him Marty, the second wrangler who was finished with his duties at the other camp.
To hear Jim talk about his rifle problem and shrug it off as “part of hunting,” was refreshing. No complaints, no finger pointing, just laughing and commenting that, “This hunt just got converted to an archery hunt,” referring to the short-range weapon that was now his 300 Win Mag. You could not help but cheer for a guy with that attitude. A corrosive personality can make for a miserable camp and a joyful outlook can make even the toughest camp a pleasure. Jim was the latter, not the former.
The plan for morning was that Kash would fly out my caribou meat, cape, and antlers. Braden and Jim would go Southwest to where they had seen some moose. We would go Southeast, following a high spit of ground James thought the horses could traverse without too much challenge.
Another of Braden’s miracle dinners was served. More questions were asked of the caribou encounter. Tomorrow’s plan was finalized, and I retreated to the tent for a night of sleep, noting that the night skies had cleared some, allowing Marcus to ply his trade to the dancing Aurora Borealis. This was a great camp; made even more so by the quality of people I was lucky to share it with.
This is the most unreal image I think Marcus has ever captured.
bobbydean
Well-known member
Congratulatons and thank you for the story. Wonderful.
p_ham
Well-known member
Thank you for sharing with us! It looks like a trip of a lifetime.
onpoint
Well-known member
Watching the Twinkies leave bases loaded, ending the inning, in a must win situation against my least favorite team. Get up walk away from TV before throwing something at it.
Check the other idiot box to take a needed break from baseball frustration. Look at this thread. See this pic. Whoa. Rare shot.
This photo is one that would be a very large custom framed job in a prominent place somewhere in the house.
Perfect capture of the whole scene.................
Addicting
Well-known member
Your Guys did a filming gear series out on YouTube. There is only 1.5 of the 8 on taking stills. Michael asked if we wanted a in depth on still but one was never posted.
Marcus is absolutely awesome with the stills he takes. He needs to finish that video series this spring when the office is slower on how he does it.
These are some breathtaking moments captured for life.
Marcus is absolutely awesome with the stills he takes. He needs to finish that video series this spring when the office is slower on how he does it.
These are some breathtaking moments captured for life.
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Morning was again a huddle in the crowded small cabin for fresh coffee and some pancakes. Marcus took charge of the pancake operation, showing how you can do it on a really hot wood stove. The results got passing grades from all the hungry consumers.
James wanted to get an early start, so he, Marcus, and I were the first to be saddled and loaded. It is remarkable to see the wranglers get up an hour before everyone else, round of the horses, get them fed with grain, then have them saddled and ready well before the hunters and guides are set. Blythe and Marty did a great job, allowing James and Braden to focus on the goal of finding a moose for me and Jim.
We headed back toward caribou camp for a mile, then turning south along the high ground James had marked as our trail. Pretty uneventful. The clouds had gathered again and the wind was now chucking about 20 mph from the northwest. Add some drizzle to that wind and things cool off in a hurry.
We alternated riding and glassing as we moved closer to the slopes James wanted to glass. He was convinced that a big bull would be across that lake in the hardest to access parts of this large drainage. It all looked good to me, so I was happy to glass any of these places.
By 11:00 am we were set up and taking note of the small caribou bull that was more interested in the horses than he was his own mortality. He might have been barely legal, but given the size of some caribou in these parts, I doubt he was in much danger from any hunter holding a valid tag. He disappeared into the alders, making it more apparent just how tall that brush was. An entire caribou could disappear within 50 yards. Thank goodness the horses could plow through this brush, as it surely made our lives much easier.
Since the guys were glued to their spotters and pointed west and south, I put my 10x50 binos on the tripod and split the difference, glassing southwest. As if a script had been written, I saw a huge set of antlers wading through the alders. I told the guys what I had. They both looked at me as if I was jerking their chain. Nope, bull moose SW. Huge bull moose.
James pivoted further south and was instantly on the antlers that were disappearing and reappearing among the timber and brush on this far distant ridge. I am not sure of the meaning of some slang Kiwi terms, but suffice to say that James was excited. He instantly pulled up the map on his phone and measured the distance; five miles off. Dang it.
The bull was large. James remarked it was the largest bull he had ever seen in British Columbia. Given how rambunctious he became, I suspect he was sincere. For me, I just knew that if that moose closed the distance or if our horses could swim that lake, I would be shooting if given a chance.
As if to tease us, the bull started to angle toward our position before disappearing behind a ridge. He reappeared, closer, and still angling our direction. No way. A bull moose is not going to saunter that far and make himself a video star. James smiled and said, “I’ve seen rutting bulls do stranger things.”
It was only a tease. Once he was within four miles, the bull turned straight north, traversing a long rock spine way out in front of us. James noted that the spine eventually petered out below the big knoll Braden and Jim went to for their morning of glassing. The bull eventually disappeared from our view. None of us were sure exactly where the other guys were glassing, nor did we know where the bull would end up. Opportunity gone for us, but hopes were wished for Jim to get a glimpse on that bull.
James wanted to get an early start, so he, Marcus, and I were the first to be saddled and loaded. It is remarkable to see the wranglers get up an hour before everyone else, round of the horses, get them fed with grain, then have them saddled and ready well before the hunters and guides are set. Blythe and Marty did a great job, allowing James and Braden to focus on the goal of finding a moose for me and Jim.
We headed back toward caribou camp for a mile, then turning south along the high ground James had marked as our trail. Pretty uneventful. The clouds had gathered again and the wind was now chucking about 20 mph from the northwest. Add some drizzle to that wind and things cool off in a hurry.
We alternated riding and glassing as we moved closer to the slopes James wanted to glass. He was convinced that a big bull would be across that lake in the hardest to access parts of this large drainage. It all looked good to me, so I was happy to glass any of these places.
By 11:00 am we were set up and taking note of the small caribou bull that was more interested in the horses than he was his own mortality. He might have been barely legal, but given the size of some caribou in these parts, I doubt he was in much danger from any hunter holding a valid tag. He disappeared into the alders, making it more apparent just how tall that brush was. An entire caribou could disappear within 50 yards. Thank goodness the horses could plow through this brush, as it surely made our lives much easier.
Since the guys were glued to their spotters and pointed west and south, I put my 10x50 binos on the tripod and split the difference, glassing southwest. As if a script had been written, I saw a huge set of antlers wading through the alders. I told the guys what I had. They both looked at me as if I was jerking their chain. Nope, bull moose SW. Huge bull moose.
James pivoted further south and was instantly on the antlers that were disappearing and reappearing among the timber and brush on this far distant ridge. I am not sure of the meaning of some slang Kiwi terms, but suffice to say that James was excited. He instantly pulled up the map on his phone and measured the distance; five miles off. Dang it.
The bull was large. James remarked it was the largest bull he had ever seen in British Columbia. Given how rambunctious he became, I suspect he was sincere. For me, I just knew that if that moose closed the distance or if our horses could swim that lake, I would be shooting if given a chance.
As if to tease us, the bull started to angle toward our position before disappearing behind a ridge. He reappeared, closer, and still angling our direction. No way. A bull moose is not going to saunter that far and make himself a video star. James smiled and said, “I’ve seen rutting bulls do stranger things.”
It was only a tease. Once he was within four miles, the bull turned straight north, traversing a long rock spine way out in front of us. James noted that the spine eventually petered out below the big knoll Braden and Jim went to for their morning of glassing. The bull eventually disappeared from our view. None of us were sure exactly where the other guys were glassing, nor did we know where the bull would end up. Opportunity gone for us, but hopes were wished for Jim to get a glimpse on that bull.
Birddy
Active member
- Joined
- Aug 25, 2014
- Messages
- 87
Incredible story and pictures!
sneakypete
Well-known member
- Joined
- May 19, 2014
- Messages
- 1,929
Randy, I'm happy for you to accomplish a lifelong dream! The great north is a place I yearn to return! Congrats!
