Bury Me In The Mackenzie Mountains

[300stw]

looks like a basketball would fit thru the center of the horns on both rams,,,,

phenominal scenery cant wait to see video,,
how about on a big screen, hell with mr. costner and his videos,,,

 

[Big Fin]

August 18th (Hunting Day 8)

Andy, Jason, and Marcus rolled in at 1am. I was well into nightmare #2 when Jesse got up and warmed their dinner that was the last of my sheep backstraps and tenderloin.

I awoke to see a massive ram on our tent floor. I stayed in bed longer than normal, wanting Andy and Marcus to get some much needed sleep. They’d hit it hard for seven days. I didn't want to wake them up. Staring at the ram, it looked like Andy made a good call to pass on the ram I shot. Later that day the guides would put a tape to it. His was a 1/2" longer and had 1/4" larger bases.

Laying there looking at the ram, all I could think about was what kind of a roller coaster this had to be for Andy. And I had a huge grin as I thought about such a great guy being rewarded in this way. I was as happy for him as I've ever been for one of our guest hunters.

Smelling coffee coming from the cabin, I snuck out of the tent as quietly as I could. At the cabin everyone was in great spirits. We were all excited for the guys to roll in for breakfast to hear the blow-by-blow recount. It wasn't long and we were treated to such over a breakfast of French toast, scrambled egss, and bacon. Extra coffee today.

Once breakfast was finished, plans were crafted. Jason and Andy had meat and capes to take care of. I was keen on finding one of the great caribou this place is known for, so when Riley mentioned that Marcus and I should follow him up to The Fingers, I was ready to go.

I had told Marcus how stunning this place was last night. With the nice bulls we saw yesterday, I suspected a full day in here would turn up a great bull.

Having returned with a lot of blueberry stains on my hands and lips the evening prior, Jesse said if we brought back four quarts of blueberries, she could make a couple fresh pies - blueberries it will be. At least, if I could resist eating them as fast as I picked them. She handed us some freezer bags and indicated how full the bag would need to be.

By the time we hit the trail all indicators were this today would be sunny and hot. Not good caribou weather. They were going to be very high seeking a cool breeze and relief from the bugs sure to harass hunter and prey with equal appetite.

We were on top of this sprawling basin by 10am. The sun had beat us to the punch. We saw a far off group of caribou headed to higher ground before we could even assess them. No matter, too far for today's hunt.

Riley and I talked Canadian culture and humor while Marcus photographed. We picked a lot of berries, eventually filling our bellies allowing many more to make their way to our freezer bags for a pie.


We watched the group of five rams from last night. They were joined by another good ram, but the largest was still the dude with the black tail. No need to keep too close of tabs, as Andy's success negated any danger to this ram. Given the two sheep hunts for this large area had been successful, hopefully this ram will make the winter and a hunter can look for him next year.

As evening eased across the basin, I could only marvel at the beauty. It was remarkable and memorable. I am thankful Marcus was here to capture it for as long as I might want to revisit these images and video.


The tally for the day was one cow caribou, a young bull caribou, and six rams.
We decided to ride down in hopes of finding a bull coming to the river bottom. And given the forecast for even hotter temps tomorrow, Riley suggested we consider the best use of our time on a day when caribou would likely be seeking relief from the hot weather by either bedding in thick stuff or on the crests of ridges.

From my short time here and the report from experienced guides is that temps such as today are unusual. Makes the green landscape look vibrant and productive, even if it isn't producing a lot of bull caribou.

We were back to camp around 9:30, enjoying the glow of evening light and another great meal of caribou steaks. The definition of good livin' if ever I've experienced it.

 

[Big Fin]

August 19 (Day 9, back to base camp)

We were all up early, enjoying another hardy breakfast, thanks to Jesse. I inquire of Riley the best place to locate a jumbo caribou in this weather. He paused, "Wish I knew. You couldn't ask for worse caribou weather in late Augusts."

The answer was no surprise. If I didn't get a caribou, no worries. As it was, this trip had exceeded my expectations by such a large margin it seemed gluttonous to expect anything more.

As we were draining the last of the coffee from its pot, Riley offered a suggestion. We had three days left; two days for hunting and one day to get back to base camp. Since the caribou hunting is excellent near base camp, Riley suggested that we use this hot day to pack up and get to base camp, then use the following two days for caribou hunting.

Sounded good to me. I asked Andy his thoughts, given he also had a caribou tag. He concurred. No sense trying to force the weather, especially given the forecast was for a storm front to move in tonight and create cool and rainy conditions the following two days.

With that, the decision was made - "Load 'em up!"
Everyone got about the business of breaking down camps and loading boxes. By noon the crew had everything on the backs of horses.
We'd have about four hours of riding to base camp, depending upon the speed of the horses. I hoped we'd not have another horse race, but I suspected I'd likely have to hold on and wish for the best.

It was a beautiful ride out. High sun, vibrant colors, the sounds of horses clacking and splashing. My mind was imagining how I could return before I die, even if it was only to pick berries and shoot ptarmigan.

This hunt had depleted my 30 years of savings for dream hunts. I couldn't think of a better way to drain that account. While the saddle creaked under my weight, my mind started to conspire. Not sure how I will ever pull it off, but I'd like to come here one more time before I'm turned into compost.


I didn't say much, even though Andy was within earshot. Something about being three months away from age 60 that has me a lot more reflective with each hunt. I know the odds of returning to many of these locations isn't likely in my cards. It requires some focus to keep enjoying the time while I'm here and not be dampened by the realities imposed by Father Time.

My mind went back to soaking in the sun, marveling at the geological handiwork, and reading tracks in the mud during our multiple river crossings.


From the tracks of caribou, bears, moose, and even horses, it was obvious that in this country you used the travel routes the landscape provided, mostly river corridors that wear scars from huge flood events in between the calm and enchanting flows like we had today.


One final big crossing and we'd leave the river, heading over the pass from the top of which we could see Palmer Lake, with base camp hidden on its north shore.


We arrived just before 5pm. The entire base camp crew greeted us and quickly had the loads unpacked and the horses unsaddled. We headed to our cabins to stow our gear that was now much dirtier and more used than when we left nine days ago.

Thanks to Harold's ingenuity, he has harnessed the power of a creek to create a small hydro plant the generates enough electricity to power the entire camp, and then some. One of the powered conveniences is a hot water heater that provided for a much appreciated shower before the cooks called us for dinner.

Two other hunters were back at camp, both having success similar to ours. Lots of stories swapped. The evening started to show signs of the coming storm, cause for Riley's prediction that tomorrow would be a great day for caribou hunting. That put a big smile on my face. Two days dedicated to caribou hunting in one of the world's most hallowed Mountain Caribou grounds.

I went to sleep dreaming of big velvet bulls. I was awaken at 2am when lighting hit the cabin, shaking us all and slamming closed the windows I had opened for the benefit of a cool night breeze. Shortly thereafter came a pelting rain the likes of which the crew said they seldom experience here.

Even with that disruption, the sound of rain pounding on the cabin's metal roof was like a soft music. I don't even remember closing my eyes again, but they didn't reopen until 7am.

 

[kansasdad]

What an adventure!

Is the last photo from post #63 from a phone camera?

I’m used to all pack animals being on a lead, attached to a rider or another pack horse. When not working we’re they simply hobbled, or hobbled and staked to a rope?

 

[Big Fin]

August 20 (Caribou Day #1, Part 1)

It was still raining hard when I woke. Riley had made a great call to use the hot day for packing out and banking on colder and wetter weather that caribou seem to enjoy.

Everyone at breakfast was talking about the lightning strike, though Riley said he didn't hear it. He must have been really tired to sleep through that.

Over breakfast we got excited discussing caribou options. Riley would take me and Marcus to a glassing ridge about an hour ride away. This place had accounted for many of the largest bulls Gana River has taken.

Riley suggested I ask Andy if he wanted to join, as it would allow Jason to hang here and help Ty re-shoe the 17 horses in this group, usually a three-day project. When asked, Andy didn't hesitate.

I told Andy he had first choice, but if he passed I might be shooting. He laughed and explained, "If there's a world record bull out there I won't be passing. Other than that, it will take something pretty special for me to be shooting."

Fair enough. I hoped one of us might score a bull today, leaving time for the other to hunt tomorrow.

Riley and Harold visited as we were loading horses in the rain. Harold warned as to how high the big river might be. Riley predicted it would be too high to cross safely. He then announces that as good of a day as this will be for caribou, there'd be no need to risk a river crossing swollen by a huge rain event.

Within an hour we're on the glassing knob. What a view, even with the low clouds and rain impairing the visibility. Immediately Riley has a bull standing all alone in shallow water coursing around a gravel bar. He didn't move ten yards all morning. He’s far off and see no injury. Riley speculates that wolves have injured him or he's hanging out there to keep wolves away.

Marcus finds one big old grizzly working the river below us. Looks an old boar. Very chocolate brown with a silver collar. He's looking for fish or other carrion. Seems like sparse pickens as much as he's moving and digging.

Riley has five bulls on a pass across the river. If not for the rains making the river too dangerous to cross, Riley explains that would have been our destination this morning. Eventually the bulls are joined by three others. Between clouds and rain, none of them seem to have all the right parts in all the right places, but I'm relying on Riley to confirm.

And confirm he does. We start looking elsewhere. Not much moving, yet.

Knowing we aren't crossing the river, Andy moves off to inspect a canyon running to our north. He comes back to tell us he has spotted three bulls a ways up the canyon and it looks like two of them are good ones.

We all grab our spotters and move over to his position. The guys are sizing them up. I can't find them. Oh, here's smaller bull. I look at the direction the guys are looking and it seems I'm looking too close.

I go back to my spotter and another bull is milling in the trees below this small bull. "Holy forked tops, Batman. Guys, look at that one in the trees at the nose of that ridge."

Everyone readjusts their field of view. Now there's a third bull.

"Those are ridiculous fronts." Riley states.

I'm asking, "Where? Where in relation to the bull with the crazy tops?"

Eventually I pull out wide and I can see all three bulls. Yes, this bull has bigger bezzes than either of the big bulls I shot in BC or the Yukon. And he has a very good second shovels to go with a huge main shovel.

I'm asking myself, "Ok, what his weakness?" Well, he's only about 35"-ish inside. Yet, when he turns to feed with his head down and facing us, his whale tales show to be super long, rolling in and forming a basket that is hard to detect from the side angle.

"Ok, where's the guy with the crazy tops?"

Marcus answers my question immediately. He's just above and in front of the other big bull.

Damn, those are some crazy tops. Every top point forks again. Too bad he's not as big of a frame and his fronts aren't as world class as his tops.

In the event Andy passes, I'm asking myself, "What to do, what to do?"

I eventually ask out loud, "Which one would a guy shoot? One is huge and built for score and the other has some major eye candy with all those forked tines on top."

Marcus says, "Don't worry about it, shoot whichever one steps out first."

Riley is chuckling at my enthusiasm. Andy is a bit more studious. He's giving it a lot of thought as he follows them feeding through the mix of spruce and willows.

My mind is made up. If Andy passes, we're gonna be moving in on a caribou stalk. Which one I'd shoot, I'm still not sure.

I wish I had some of Marcus' video from which to grab screenshots. It is pretty damn exciting to have these two bulls in the same frame. Maybe I can grab some of that at the office. If so, I'll add it here later.

The bulls are slowly moving toward the pass that takes us back to base camp. They seem to be milling around and feeding, more than they are traveling. Finally they feed into a small cut of thick spruce. We lose them.

We wait. Nothing. We wait some more. Still nothing. After about a half hour we start to discuss if they could have used the cover of those trees to sneak out of there without us seeing them. Very possible.

Riley suggests we start gathering our stuff. If one of us is going to shoot a bull, we might need to move fast when they reappear. Or, as I'm worried is the more correct assessment, "if" they reappear.

Once we're all gathered Riley unties his horse, the sign for us to do the same. We're soon in a string of movement easing back from where we came, hoping to cut the distance and find some new angles to peak directing into the gut of this timbered draw.

After about 500 yards Riley dismounts and ties off. We take his cue. This puts us slightly higher in elevation and a better angle for looking directly into this thick spruce.

Damn it, they gotta be here. If not, we're screwed. It seems to be impossible to gain ground on a caribou traveling through the woods. When I ask Riley the futility of that task he just shakes his head as if to say, "Don't even bother."

(adding a new post due to character limitations)

 

[Big Fin]

August 20th (Caribou Day #1, Part 2)

I hiked further ahead while the three guys stayed glassing near the horses. If these bulls did move ahead, we need to look at those other openings up the drainage and hope to catch sight of them crossing.

About twenty minutes later I move back toward the guys and glass from there. Riley waves me over. One of the guys has found the dude with forked tops bedded in some really thick stuff. Almost impossible to see him, but from the proper angle you can make out one beam and the whiteness of his mane.

Damn, the game continues.

Andy looks at me, "I'm not going to shoot either of those bulls. You should shoot one if you want one of them."

"You sure?" I ask, quizzing him.

"Yup, I'm sure." Andy confirms. Not sure how we lucked out to get such a great sweepstakes winner. He did warn me before leaving that morning that I would most likely be the shooter today.

"Alright then." I look to Riley who is grinning. Marcus is packing his stuff, knowing the look I express when the time has come. And now, the time has come.

Riley unties and mounts up. He explains we are going to move downwind and up the other slope. There's a small bench that runs directly to where they are bedded. If we get up there we'll have the wind in our favor and the visibility will provide better shooting options. And with that, we're off.

After making a half-mile arc downwind and slightly uphill, Riley has us tying off horses. From here we'll climb uphill to gain the visual advantage, then pivot and head upwind toward their bedding location.

It's a half-mile stalk and in about twenty minutes we know we're getting close. This is when a guided hunt is always hard for me. Everyone has their own pace and style. Fortunately, Riley's pace is like mine; slow and methodical, even if what I see for good shooting perches might be different than his.

We sneak over the final ridge, knowing they are there. But, no bulls.

We move left, hoping it will give us a different view. Nothing.

Riley moves a few steps back up the ridge, indicating we'll wait them out here. The ranges are from 150-210 yards. Wind is now from right to left at about 10 mph.

I step further back to a position that will allow me to be fully prone. As I do Riley sees what I'm up to and retreats slightly behind me. We wait, but not for long.

I had decided I'd take the bull with the crazy tops, even if he wasn't as big as the other bull. The bull with the big fronts rises from his bed and starts moving out of the basin. He stops for a 185 yard broadside shot. In the scope his fronts look too big to be real.

I'm scouring for the other big bull. I see a white rump moving straight uphill behind the thickest part of these tall spruce. It must be him. "Come on buddy step out where your mate stood."

Nope. He walks over the ridge never giving a full identity of which bull it is. Now the final bull rises and moves out of the thicket, walking the same path as the first bull with the big fronts. Damn it, bull #2 must have been the guy with the crazy tops.

I see the antlers of a bull bobbing as he feeds just off the ridge line that forms the north edge of the small pocket. Through the scope I can see the antler tops. It's the dude with the crazy forks everywhere.

Riley sees it also. It's only 220 yards off, but the ridge protects everything but the top of his rack. Good news is that we know all three of them have moved over this small ridge into the next cut that is very open.

We grab our stuff and start moving. Quietly, looking ahead, in the event they have tried to circle above us. Andy stays back further. Riley is leading and Marcus is right on my hip.

As we get close we can see this open basin. The wind is from a different direction here, explaining why they bedded where they did. There are no caribou in this pocket. They must have made a J-hook to try get our wind.

Riley moves left about ten yards. He sees caribou bodies milling in the spruce below. It's too thick to tell who is who.

I drop below Riley and sit on my butt with my pack upright in front of me. This is close shooting and the pack will serve as an adequate rest.

As I ease a round into the chamber one bull steps out and looks up our direction. I am on 4x and he looks huge through the scope at 110 yards. It's the bull with the huge fronts. Now I can see how crazy long his tops are as they fold in and form a basket.

As Kara always suggests, "Look at 'em in the crosshairs. You'll likely have an easier decision."

Yes, this is a no-brainer decision. I inform Marcus I'm going to take this bull. He confirms he's rolling. Riley reads 108 yards.

The shot is a bit quartering to me. Shouldn't matter at this range.

The crosshairs are steady. My breath expires and the trigger is slowly reaching it's breaking point. It's quiet as everyone is waiting for the sound of the rifle.

Silence is broken as the trigger releases 140 grains of .284 AccuBond. I can hear an immediate crack after the muzzle blast. Either shoulder or ribs.

The bulls bolts to our left and out of sight. The other two bulls are milling around. They move over to where the target bull disappeared. Their obscured bodies seem to be looking at something below. With some noise below them they whirl and head to our right, opposite of where the bull ran when I shot.

It's again quiet. We all look at each other. We're whispering what we think happened, not wanting to alert a bull that might not have yet expired.

Marcus reviews the clip and zooms in. "He's dead. You drilled him on the point of the shoulder, middle of the lungs at that shot angle."

We all feel some relief, yet until he's recovered, I'm not celebrating. Riley suggests I lead us down this hill to the point of the shot, keeping one in the chamber in the event of a needed follow up.

As we get to the flat spot where the bull stood with his right antler behind a spruce tree on my left, I can see the smaller tree that framed him on his right. This was where he stood. As I look for blood Riley tells me to unload and come his way.

There, 30 yards away, the bull is expired in an opening surrounded by willows. I walk up to him and tap his eye. No response. The entrance wound tells the story. He wasn't going far.

I stand back. He's huge; much bigger than I thought from afar. I look up to the three guys with big smiles. They're as impressed as I am.

I unload my rifle and remove the clip. I drop my pack and return to the bull.

I've never shot an animal in full velvet. With caribou, on a bull this big, it's an impressive display. I'm seeking words, but all I can manage is some head shaking and a few "Wows." The guys all come to shake my hand, but I should be the one shaking their hands.

Three amazing guys who made the last ten days of my life one of the most memorable hunts I will ever have; that I will likely ever have. They all gave so generously of their time, effort, and consideration. I have no words to adequately thank them. I hope my smile and look of wonderment will suffice to express what this meant to me.

As I regain some awareness that this really happened, I remind the guys what Marcus had said earlier, "Don't worry about it. Shoot the first one that steps out." Turns out to be what I did. And I'm very thankful for that.

I'll let Marcus' pictures tell the final pieces of the story.


The view of just how much his tops roll in to form a basket. So hard to see that from the side, but when seeing it from above and face on it made shooting an easy decision.


Three guys to whom I owe a huge debt of gratitude.


Andy helping me remove quarters while Riley does the caping. When not taking pictures Marcus is deboning the quarters.


A big bull loaded on Baxter the Big Black Horse.



Thanks for following along. I've got a ton of gear to de-junk and clean, along with dinner with Mrs. Fin.

In the next few days I'll add more comments about Gana River and their crew, some gear we tested, and some other general notes.

I hope you enjoyed this story. Thanks to Marcus' hard work to capture all of this, along with the Riley's skill and knowledge, combined with Andy's great camaraderie, I think we "Did it up right."

 

[mtmuley]

August 20th (Caribou Day #1, Part 2)

I hiked further ahead while the three guys stayed glassing near the horses. If these bulls did move ahead, we need to look at those other openings up the drainage and hope to catch sight of them crossing.

About twenty minutes later I move back toward the guys and glass from there. Riley waves me over. One of the guys has found the dude with forked tops bedded in some really thick stuff. Almost impossible to see him, but from the proper angle you can make out one beam and the whiteness of his mane.

Damn, the game continues.

Andy looks at me, "I'm not going to shoot either of those bulls. You should shoot one if you want one of them."

"You sure?" I ask quizzing him.

"Yup, I'm sure." Andy confirms. Not sure how we lucked out to get such a great sweepstakes winner. He did warn me before leaving that morning that I would most likely be the shooter today.

"Alright then." I look to Riley who is grinning. Marcus is packing his stuff, knowing the look I express when the time has come. And now, the time has come.

Riley unties and mounts up. He explains we are going to move downwind and up the other slope. There's a small bench that runs directly to where they are bedded. If we get up there we'll have the wind in our favor and the visibility will provide better shooting options. And with that, we're off.

After making a half-mile arc downwind and slightly uphill, Riley has us tying off horses. From here we'll climb uphill to gain the visual advantage, then pivot and head upwind toward their bedding location.

It's a half-mile stalk and in about twenty minutes we know we're getting close. This is when a guided hunt is always hard for me. Everyone has their own pace and style. Fortunately, Riley's pace is like mine; slow and methodical, even if what I see for good shooting perches might be different than his.

We sneak over the final ridge, knowing they are there. But, no bulls.

We move left, hoping it will give us a different view. Nothing.

Riley moves a few steps back up the ridge, indicating we'll wait them out here. The ranges are from 15-210 yards. Wind is now from right to left at about 10 mph.

I step further back to a position that will allow me to be fully prone. As I do Riley sees what I'm up to and retreats slightly behind me. We wait, but not for long.

I had decided I'd take the bull with the crazy tops, even if he wasn't as big as the other bull. The bull with the big fronts rises from his bed and starts moving out of the basin. He stops for a 185 yard broadside shot. In the scope his fronts look too big to be real.

I'm scouring for the other big bull. I see a white rump moving straight uphill behind the thickest part of these tall spruce. It must be him. "Come on buddy step out where your mate stood."

Nope. He walks over the ridge never giving a full identity of which bull it is. Now the final bull rises and moves out of the thicket, walking the same path as the first bull with the big fronts. Damn it, bull #2 must have been the guy with the crazy tops.

I see the antlers of a bull bobbing as he feeds just off the ridgeline that forms the north edge of the small pocket. Through the scope I can see the antler tops. It's the dude with the crazy forks everywhere.

Riley sees it also. It's only 220 yards off, but the ridge protects everything but the top of his rack. Good news is that we know all three of them has moved over this small ridge into the next cut that is very open.

We grab our stuff and start moving. Quietly, looking ahead, in the event they have tried to circle above us. Andy stays back further. Riley is leading and Marcus is right on my hip.

As we get close we can see this open basin. The wind is from a different direction here, explaining why they bedded where they did. There are no caribou in this pocket. They must have made a J-hook to try get our wind.

Riley moves left about ten yards. He sees caribou bodies milling in the spruce below. It's too thick to tell who is who.

I drop below Riley and sit on my butt with my pack upright in front of me. This is close shooting and it will serve as an adequate rest.

As I ease a round into the chamber one bull steps out and looks up our direction. I am on 4x and he looks huge through the scope at 110 yards. It's the bulls with the huge fronts. Now I can see how crazy long his tops are as they fold in and form a basket.

As Kara always suggest, "Look at 'em in the crosshairs. You'll likely have an easier decision."

Yes, this is a no-brainer decision. I inform Marcus I'm going to take this bull. He confirms he's rolling. Riley reads 108 yards.

The shot is a bit quartering to me. Shouldn't matter at this range.

The crosshairs are steady. My breath expires and the trigger is slowly reaching it's breaking point. It's quiet as everyone is waiting for the sound of the rifle.

Silence is broken as the trigger releases 140 grains of .284 AccuBond. I can hear and immediate crack after the muzzle blast. Either shoulder or ribs.

The bulls bolts to our left and out of sight. The other two bulls are milling around. They move over to where the target bull disappeared. Their obscured bodies seem to be looking at something below. With some noise below them they whirl and head to our right, opposite of where the bull ran when I shot.

It's again quiet. We all look at each other. We're whispering what we think happened, not wanting to alert a bull that might not have yet expired.

Marcus reviews the clip and zooms in. "He's dead. You drilled him on the point of the shoulder, middle of the lungs at that shot angle."

We all feel some relief, yet until he's recovered, I'm not celebrating. Riley suggests I lead down this hill to the point of the shot, keeping one in the chamber in the event of a needed follow up.

As we get to the flat spot where the bull stood with his right antler behind a spruce tree on my left, I can see the smaller tree that framed him on his right. This was where he stood. As I look for blood Riley tells me to unload and come his way.

There, 30 yards away, the bull is expired in an opening surrounded by willows. I walk up to him and tap his eye. No response. The entrance wound tells the story. He wasn't going far.

I stand back. He's huge; much bigger than I thought from afar. I look up to the three guys with big smiles. They're as impressed as I am.

I unload my rifle and remove the clip. I drop my pack and return to the bull.

I've never shot an animal in full velvet. With caribou, on a bull this big, it's an impressive display. I'm seeking words, but all I can manage is some head shaking and a few "Wows." The guys all come to shake my hand, but I should be the one shaking their hands.

Three amazing guys who made the last ten days of my life one of the most memorable hunts I will ever have; that I will likely ever have. They all gave so generously of their time, effort, and consideration. I have no words to adequately thank them. I hope my smile and look of wonderment will suffice to express what this meant to me.

As I regain some awareness that this really happened, I remind the guys what Marcus had said earlier, "Don't worry about it. Shoot the first one that steps out." Turns out to be what I did. And I'm very thankful for that.

I'll let Marcus' pictures tell the final pieces of the story.
View attachment 337888

The view of just how much his tops roll in to form a basket. So hard to see that from the side, but when seeing it from above and face on it made shooting an easy decision.
View attachment 337889

Three guys to whom I owe a huge debt of gratitude.
View attachment 337890

Andy helping me remove quarters while Riley does the caping. When not taking pictures Marcus is deboning the quarters.
View attachment 337891

A big bull loaded on Baxter the Big Black Horse.
View attachment 337892


Thanks for following along. I've got a ton of gear to de-junk and clean, along with dinner with Mrs. Fin.

In the next few days I'll add more comments about Gana River and their crew, some gear we tested, and some other general notes.

I hope you enjoyed this story. Thanks to Marcus' hard work to capture all of this, along with the Riley's skill and knowledge, combined with Andy's great camaraderie, I think we "Did it up right."

Heck yeah. mtmuley

 

[CT_SD]

Amazing adventure!! Thanks for sharing.

 

[Hem]

Great adventure!
I'm still processing, and I am just reading.

 

[Dsnow9]

Heck yes, what a hunt!

 

[fulldraw]

What a great adventure, great story telling, great photography, and thank you for sharing it with us.

 

[Rie Bread]

My favorite kind of social media

 

[hank4elk]

I am glad you got to go Randy.
Mindblowing shots Marcus.

I live through you my friend. I do not remember the book,but I dreamed of the Mackenzie Mtns as a boy.

 

[deer_shooter]

That was a masterclass in storytelling. Thank you and congratulations on a hunt of a lifetime

 

[Dave N]

That was a masterclass in storytelling. Thank you and congratulations on a hunt of a lifetime

Agreed. It seems as though a certain someone brought up a collection of your tales for maybe a book a while back?

 

[Mica Man]

Amazing experience! Thanks for bringing me along!

 

[Gellar]

Wow! I’ve been reading this on my phone, but I’m going to have to look at the pictures on the computer. Amazing country! Congratulations on a great hunt! I just dumped my bucket list out and filled it back up with the McKenzie Mountains.

 

[WNC2500]

Wow Randy! Amazing story, and Marcus had some unbelievable pictures.

 

[jrabq]

Wow!

 

[TheTone]

One heck of a hunt. I’m green with envy! The sheep are awesome but that caribou is something else. Andy may be the king of passing great critters