Brooks Range Caribou 2023

Once we arrived at base camp we quickly realized our delay in Fairbanks was just the beginning. Fog and 100 ft cloud ceilings had the float planes grounded and there was a backup of hunters waiting to be flown out.
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The outfitters, Dan and Mike, did their best to keep the hunters spirits up and everyone informed. We pitched our tent on a gravel bar at base camp, and killed time for the next 3 days waiting on weather to clear.

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We even did a quick run to Deadhorse / Prudhoe Bay for a hot meal, and saw some good caribou bulls and muskox along the way.
 
We need some grip and grin grayling pics! That water is surprisingly cold, even this time of the year. I could watch Muskox for hours, 3 days in, the anticipation must have been killing you. I’m going to guess fuel in Deadhorse was…$6.49?
 
We'd arrived at basecamp Tuesday morning, and at midday Friday the skies cleared and pilots started flying.

We pitched tents on the NW shore of our designated lake and glassed a few caribou around camp.

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The next morning Chuck and Will headed to a small knob a half mile east of camp, while Matt and I hiked to a rise west of camp.

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We found plenty of cows and calves, and a few smaller bulls. Saw one good bull a couple miles away, and found an old caribou shed on top of our hill.

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Late in the afternoon, Matt and I heard rifle shots from the east. A short while later we received an inreach message, "Bull down, could use help with packout if u can."

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Will had collected a great bull, and we were on the board on our first hunt day!

The packout to camp was a touch over 1.5 miles but packing meat across the tundra and muskeg was every bit as hard as everyone says it is...best described as walking on hairy basketballs with interspersed treks through boot-sucking bogs.
 
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After our day one success and with meat in camp, we thought this hunt might be easy. Instead, we spent the next several days looking over tons of cows and calves but very few bulls, and the few mature bulls we spotted were miles away and heading the opposite direction. With the tundra walking as challenging as it is, there was no way we were going to catch up to them.

We did have a couple friendly ermine keep us company on the glassing knob, quickly getting so familiar as to come up and inspect my rifle.

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We also were able to find a few ripe blueberries to supplement our dehy meals.

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One afternoon Matt looked through the spotter, "Check it out, this cow's wearing a blue collar."

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We figured that was a rare sighting, but about an hour or two later I put the spotter on a bull in the distance, and sure enough, he was wearing an orange collar.

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Each day we crossed a small stream between camp and the glassing knob to the east, and one warm day Chuck noticed fish rising in the pools.

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Telescopic fishing rods came out and we found the little grayling to be willing.

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We need some grip and grin grayling pics! That water is surprisingly cold, even this time of the year. I could watch Muskox for hours, 3 days in, the anticipation must have been killing you. I’m going to guess fuel in Deadhorse was…$6.49?
Done! I want to say it was about $7.49 in Deadhorse and $8+ in Coldfoot. 😬
 
Looks like a great adventure. Couldn’t help but notice the Fin and Feather water bottle. When I lived in Iowa City I frequented that store often. I’m jealous .
 
As to Your rifles, there is a requirement that guns must fly. You should follow up with Alaska air and with TSA.20 years of guiding up there I came to expect at least 25% of my flights would be weather delayed. Glad you made it out.
 
With a few days under our belt and opportunities for bulls scarce, Matt and I decided to try the south side of our lake while Chuck and Will continued to hunt the north side. Matt traded his bow in for a .300 Win mag due to the open terrain.

We had discussed in camp that if Matt or I tagged a bull, we would pack it back to the south shore of lake, where we could stage the meat and have the float plane pick it up from there.

We hiked around the lake and worked our way east to a brush-covered knob. Mid-morning, Matt spotted a bull on another hill a mile further east. We put the spotting scope on him and both of us said we'd shoot that bull.

The bull worked to the south and stopped to feed at the end of a long and low brushy ridge. We watched him through the spotter as he fed for a few minutes--like most of the caribou we'd seen all week it seemed he wasn't moving much so we closed some distance, using what terrain was available and glassing along the way. It took about an hour to reach the ridge he'd been on, and crept through the brush we simultaneously saw him bedded at 550 yards. Matt said, "I want you to shoot that bull."

"You spotted him, he's yours if you want him."

"You should take him," replied Matt.

He didn't need to tell me again. We low-crawled to get closer, but the bull soon stood up and started feeding away. Matt and I split up and I dropped off the left side of ridge. As soon as I got down out of sight of the bull I started hustling his direction. After gaining a couple hundred yards I crawled to the top of ridge and saw the bull was still feeding away.

I was able to get prone and when the bull turned broadside I squeezed off a shot. I heard the bullet thwack as the bull lurched backward, spun, and stumbled badly heavily favoring a front leg. He was hit hard but still on his feet. From my right, I heard Matt shoot. The bull soon went down and as I got to him he was trying to get on his feet again so I gave him one more behind the shoulder for insurance.

I've heard caribou aren't that tough but this one apparently didn't know it.

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I sent an inreach msg to Will, and Matt and I got working on quartering. Will arrived just as we finished the knifework and three of us packed the bull back towards our lake.

When we reached the lake we found it was too shallow on the south shoreline for a float plane, and we wound up packing the bull all the way around the lake to camp...four miles.

I was excited to have harvested a caribou--we certainly hunted hard and earned it.
 

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