Gerald Martin
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- Joined
- Jul 3, 2009
- Messages
- 8,643
We are sorry to inform the reader that this is a from the field report and a bear has eaten the author before he could finish.
"Well, you came up here for adventure, didn't ya?"
- Thread starter Bluffgruff
- Start date
muskeg
Active member
The first year I guided out of Happy Valley (pump station #2) ... I had no experience up there in the tundra country. When I asked if you keep food or game meat aways away from the tent ... that got a big laugh. They said keep that food inside and the game meat / capes piled next to it or it will be gone. So that's what I did.
SFC B
Well-known member
Pics or it didn't happen......
PaulRevere
Well-known member
Bluffgruff
Well-known member
I hike my way through the mixed tundra, some clearly alpine and pleasant to walk on, and some boggy and prone to topping over my boots with vegetated mush, other places are large rocks ready to turn an ankle and puddles in between. Slow going.
I turn down this tor at the farthest edge of my hike because I couldn't squeeze into the only good crevice.
Moving a few miles back toward the tent and my choosen tor, I'm in view of the backside of the ridge the three bulls had been on the evening before.
Nothing there. I scan the many square miles of terrain around me, and nothing. Not a single large mammal. I decide to cram in as many calories as I can while I'm 100 yards from my rock. This amounts to pb m&ms, mixed nuts, 2 clif bars, swedish fish, some cheese, some salami, and a whole bar of Lindt dark chocolate.
I give up on glassing around 10pm and start to settle into my bivy, tarp, down jacket, insulated pants, rain gear. There is drizzle coming from the opposite side of the rock, but I'm dry in my 2 feet of overhang. My feet are damp, so I get my boots off and shove them into a crack nearby, socks go in my jacket. It isn't the worst, so I pass out, gun and bear spray nearby.
At about 0130, the wind picks up quite a bit and changes direction, buffeting my tarp which is partly wrapped around me. I wake up to readjust, and see that theres a break in the clouds above me, and I see a haze in the star-filled sky.
Pictures aren't great, but I'm treated to the crawling green snakes of aurora overhead for a few minutes before the clouds take over and the rain starts back heavy.
I'm eventually driven from that bivy by the wind turning and blowing rain hard into the overhang. My socks and the interior of my boots are dry, so on they go. I reposition to the other side of the rock on a fairly steep slope for another few hours of fitful sleep. I wake up worn out.
My initial overhang, the following morning.
And the second refuge from about 3am on.
My food was still present on the rock 50 yards away, so I dig in again while I scan the backside of the ridge and surrounding area, hoping the bulls have returned.
I turn down this tor at the farthest edge of my hike because I couldn't squeeze into the only good crevice.
Moving a few miles back toward the tent and my choosen tor, I'm in view of the backside of the ridge the three bulls had been on the evening before.
Nothing there. I scan the many square miles of terrain around me, and nothing. Not a single large mammal. I decide to cram in as many calories as I can while I'm 100 yards from my rock. This amounts to pb m&ms, mixed nuts, 2 clif bars, swedish fish, some cheese, some salami, and a whole bar of Lindt dark chocolate.
I give up on glassing around 10pm and start to settle into my bivy, tarp, down jacket, insulated pants, rain gear. There is drizzle coming from the opposite side of the rock, but I'm dry in my 2 feet of overhang. My feet are damp, so I get my boots off and shove them into a crack nearby, socks go in my jacket. It isn't the worst, so I pass out, gun and bear spray nearby.
At about 0130, the wind picks up quite a bit and changes direction, buffeting my tarp which is partly wrapped around me. I wake up to readjust, and see that theres a break in the clouds above me, and I see a haze in the star-filled sky.
Pictures aren't great, but I'm treated to the crawling green snakes of aurora overhead for a few minutes before the clouds take over and the rain starts back heavy.
I'm eventually driven from that bivy by the wind turning and blowing rain hard into the overhang. My socks and the interior of my boots are dry, so on they go. I reposition to the other side of the rock on a fairly steep slope for another few hours of fitful sleep. I wake up worn out.
My initial overhang, the following morning.
And the second refuge from about 3am on.
My food was still present on the rock 50 yards away, so I dig in again while I scan the backside of the ridge and surrounding area, hoping the bulls have returned.
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Nunyacreek
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- Dec 13, 2013
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- 279
This is the real deal.
Bluffgruff
Well-known member
Nothing.
Being tired, underfed, and sluggish, I make my way around the top of the ridge again, I glass 40 or 50 square miles of terrain in all directions. The top of the ridge is absolutely disgusting with caribou sign, but there are no caribou.
My water filter is starting to slow up with the richness of the tarn water. What was previously a liter per minute is now more like a liter every four minutes. I should probably replace this thing when I get home.
The views are amazing, the tundra is full of plant life, but I'm tired and hungry.
I stop at one last place to glass. This is where I was when I had glassed up the three bulls from two nights before.
Nothing. Not even that wayward immature bull has shown himself today. At 1230, I'm easing over the ridge top to spy on my food and camp.
Food bag is in place on top of the house sized rock, and my tent looks intact.
Mentally, I'm in a tough spot. Lack of sleep, lack of adequate food, lack of caffeine, and diminishing caribou sightings have really brought me to the nader of my energy.
I shelter behind my food rock to cook a double lunch and try to refuel.
Being tired, underfed, and sluggish, I make my way around the top of the ridge again, I glass 40 or 50 square miles of terrain in all directions. The top of the ridge is absolutely disgusting with caribou sign, but there are no caribou.
My water filter is starting to slow up with the richness of the tarn water. What was previously a liter per minute is now more like a liter every four minutes. I should probably replace this thing when I get home.
The views are amazing, the tundra is full of plant life, but I'm tired and hungry.
I stop at one last place to glass. This is where I was when I had glassed up the three bulls from two nights before.
Nothing. Not even that wayward immature bull has shown himself today. At 1230, I'm easing over the ridge top to spy on my food and camp.
Food bag is in place on top of the house sized rock, and my tent looks intact.
Mentally, I'm in a tough spot. Lack of sleep, lack of adequate food, lack of caffeine, and diminishing caribou sightings have really brought me to the nader of my energy.
I shelter behind my food rock to cook a double lunch and try to refuel.
rtraverdavis
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- Joined
- Oct 20, 2016
- Messages
- 4,078
@Hunting Wife, it's early in the year, but I think you have your first nomination for a Talkie.
@Bluffgruff, this is great. This is how I'd like to do caribou. I know this was months ago but damn I want you to get one.
@Bluffgruff, this is great. This is how I'd like to do caribou. I know this was months ago but damn I want you to get one.
PaulRevere
Well-known member
Can't sleep now.
Bluffgruff
Well-known member
Amazing what 2500 calories and a few hundred milligrams of caffeine will do for your mood.
I'm warmer, more awake, and I get the urge to walk over and glass a huge basin on the other side of the ridge. It's a 50 yard walk. I spend about 10 minutes panning back and forth on the tripod.
Nothing.
I'm fumbling my way back through the brush towards my kitchen when I glance into the distance.
Holy hell, there are a bunch of caribou trotting down the hill I just spent all morning tramping around! Two miles away, I put my binos up to catch at least one set of big antlers skylined for just a moment.
I'm warmer, more awake, and I get the urge to walk over and glass a huge basin on the other side of the ridge. It's a 50 yard walk. I spend about 10 minutes panning back and forth on the tripod.
Nothing.
I'm fumbling my way back through the brush towards my kitchen when I glance into the distance.
Holy hell, there are a bunch of caribou trotting down the hill I just spent all morning tramping around! Two miles away, I put my binos up to catch at least one set of big antlers skylined for just a moment.
Bluffgruff
Well-known member
There's a lot of real estate between them and me. Caribou always outrun people, unless they've got no where to be. I hurriedly repack all my food and toss it on the rock. I repack my bag, but what do I take? what do I leave?
I just put everything back in my pack from the night before. This could be a quick thing or another bivy night.
I just put everything back in my pack from the night before. This could be a quick thing or another bivy night.
Bluffgruff
Well-known member
Sprinting carrying 50lbs over true marshy tundra is really only about 2mph. In 45 minutes, I've crossed the marsh and the big creek in the middle, angling towards where I expect the caribou to be.
Oh, there's another bear, about a 1000 yards off to my right, headed away from me, solo, young looking, but definitely grizzly. This bear will haunt me the rest of the day.
I continue across a broad saddle, sidling up the side I imagine the caribou would be on, peaking over each roll in the terrain, I suddenly see a shape below me in the saddle.
I hunker, then sit down, as it feeds towards me. It's a cow, with good-sized antlers. Another cow and a calf feed into view below me, then two more cows. Two of them have antlers as big as the immature bull from days prior. The wind is blowing towards my approach, and I'm now lying down on my backpack, just another multicolored rock in the open tundra. Did I see a handful of cows with big antlers cross that saddle an hour ago? I'm taking video as they feed uphill towards me, all the way into 30 yards at one point, fortunately upwind. I put my camera down and slowly get my binos up to try to enjoy the view, nestled in the disappointment of not finding any bulls in the group.
Oh, there's another bear, about a 1000 yards off to my right, headed away from me, solo, young looking, but definitely grizzly. This bear will haunt me the rest of the day.
I continue across a broad saddle, sidling up the side I imagine the caribou would be on, peaking over each roll in the terrain, I suddenly see a shape below me in the saddle.
I hunker, then sit down, as it feeds towards me. It's a cow, with good-sized antlers. Another cow and a calf feed into view below me, then two more cows. Two of them have antlers as big as the immature bull from days prior. The wind is blowing towards my approach, and I'm now lying down on my backpack, just another multicolored rock in the open tundra. Did I see a handful of cows with big antlers cross that saddle an hour ago? I'm taking video as they feed uphill towards me, all the way into 30 yards at one point, fortunately upwind. I put my camera down and slowly get my binos up to try to enjoy the view, nestled in the disappointment of not finding any bulls in the group.
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Bluffgruff
Well-known member
As I'm watching one cow at around 50 yards on a terrain ripple that blocks my view of the other cows, inspecting her velvet but fully formed antlers, double shovels, nice bez, decent tops, back points, all in miniature, behind her in my field protrudes a pair of massive looking beams with a bunch of points. **** **** **** I unbuckle my waist belt and chest strap, unclip my rifle from my pack, slow as possible while the cow continues to feed and walk towards the far side of the ripple. The large antlers were moving up and to my right, and they and the cow move into a gully I can't see about the same time. I grab my rifle and scurry in a hunker about 30 yards closer, at which point I can see that there are quite a few caribou in this gully, and two obvious bulls. The antlers from the saddle weren't in my imagination afterall. I move too quickly to get in position for a shot, and a cow locks her eyes on me while I'm still unable to see more than antlers of the two bulls, the only real difference in them being more length on one's tops. She's only 50-60 yards away, the other caribou are closer. After 30 seconds, she tires of this and starts trotting away, and the rest of the herd thunders out of the gully to join her on a hill. I stand and get ready to shoot. Both bulls are covered up by cows as they trot away, the one I'd rather shoot pulls up at 80 yards, surrounded completely, but the other one stops in the clear at 90 yards and turns to quarter to me. Breathe in. Breathe out. Pick my spot, KA-POW.
He's hit. Blood pouring from both sides, he runs about 30 yards, while the other 22 caribou run several hundred yards to the saddle and turn to watch again. He falls to the ground, and so many things are rushing through my head.
Where's that bear? Can't see him in the 400 yards I can see his direction. Where my pack? There it is. What now? Damn this is a big critter.
I'm really thinking more about the bear and the work ahead as I snap a few pictures.
I feel like I am being watched. I feel like I should hurry. I am being conscious of salvage requirements. Everything will be coming out, with the bone in. One side, then the other, nothing but the spine and the hide left when I'm done. Every 30 seconds, I lift my head and scan a full 360 degrees. I can see 400 yards in all directions.
Each piece is carried 100 yards to a waiting cache. It starts to rain, and a tarp goes over the meat.
The antlers are last.
While I'm packing my gear, ready to leave everything in the cache for the night, I realize I'm being lazy. The cache is only 100 yards from the guts and spine, and that isn't far enough.
I make one good decision and move the meat 400 yards away, careful not to drag the meat or get blood on myself, to another, safer cache. This cache has better airflow, and I can see my camp from it, meaning I can see it from my camp. My hands are cold, wet, cramping. My legs are burning. This is the miserable icing on the cake of caribou hunting, but I'm ready for more. I secure the tarp with rocks to ensure the meat stays as dry as possible, and head back towards camp.
My only regret is making the decision to leave the hide there. It's 30 lbs I don't think fits into my plans.
He's hit. Blood pouring from both sides, he runs about 30 yards, while the other 22 caribou run several hundred yards to the saddle and turn to watch again. He falls to the ground, and so many things are rushing through my head.
Where's that bear? Can't see him in the 400 yards I can see his direction. Where my pack? There it is. What now? Damn this is a big critter.
I'm really thinking more about the bear and the work ahead as I snap a few pictures.
I feel like I am being watched. I feel like I should hurry. I am being conscious of salvage requirements. Everything will be coming out, with the bone in. One side, then the other, nothing but the spine and the hide left when I'm done. Every 30 seconds, I lift my head and scan a full 360 degrees. I can see 400 yards in all directions.
Each piece is carried 100 yards to a waiting cache. It starts to rain, and a tarp goes over the meat.
The antlers are last.
While I'm packing my gear, ready to leave everything in the cache for the night, I realize I'm being lazy. The cache is only 100 yards from the guts and spine, and that isn't far enough.
I make one good decision and move the meat 400 yards away, careful not to drag the meat or get blood on myself, to another, safer cache. This cache has better airflow, and I can see my camp from it, meaning I can see it from my camp. My hands are cold, wet, cramping. My legs are burning. This is the miserable icing on the cake of caribou hunting, but I'm ready for more. I secure the tarp with rocks to ensure the meat stays as dry as possible, and head back towards camp.
My only regret is making the decision to leave the hide there. It's 30 lbs I don't think fits into my plans.
WNC2500
Well-known member
@Bluffgruff Great write up! Your persistence has paid off! Thanks for sharing.
Zellhouse
Well-known member
Amazing story, well written. Congrats on a hard earned bull.
ashersdad
Well-known member
Incredible story and adventure! Can't wait to hear the rest...
D
Deleted member 16014
Guest
So this is what you were talking about with the bears all over 
. Great writing.
. Great writing.
