Month: November 2018

The following is an account of day five of our trip to the Arctic Circle.  If you missed day four, you can catch up in quick fashion with a recap found here. 

We woke up to a thin layer of frost on the tent, and a layer of ice on our coffee kettle.  Edgar discovered a supply of Swiss Miss in our food tub, and we enjoyed steaming cups of mocha while we waited a moment for the sun to reach camp.

We had planned to venture into the valley about three miles away, so we packed the necessities: almonds, mini Snickers, Reese’s, and beef jerky, as well as a knife, saw and other items we’d need to field dress the caribou once we got it.  Feeling confident, we tracked to Wader Hill and conducted a 360 scan.

I’ll pause here to explain that one of the many fun things about camping in the wilderness all alone and away from civilization is that there are no signs or names of things.  You’re free to make them up as you go. A small rise where one might drop their waders becomes Wader Hill.  The big rock that looks like an elephant eye and trunk becomes Elephant Mountain, and the bump with the two rocky formations is heretofore referred to as the Double Bubble.

So, Wader Hill.  We glassed there for while, before sneaking up to the next rise, where the view was great but we were still well-hidden.  Eventually, far away on the horizon, we saw a group of caribou making their way down into the basin where we were spotting.  They were so far away, all I could see were flashes of white where their chests caught the sun.  “Looks like two bulls in that pack,” Edgar noted.  I looked at him to see if he was joking.  He wasn’t.  I wasn’t sure if they were rocks or animals, and he knew their gender.

Sure enough, as the group made its way closer to us, I could finally make out that two of the animals were larger, and had more white on their chests.  The cows have antlers too, just a bit smaller than the males, so that alone doesn’t distinguish the sexes, but after staring at the group for a while, and allowing them to get closer,  I could see the difference in size, coloring and headgear.

After watching them for about an hour, Edgar decided to make his move.  It appeared that they were headed for the river bed and then the valley, and he’d have to move quickly to cut them off.  Our research told us that you can’t outrun a caribou, and it was right.  You can’t even out-walk them; they’re so quick on the tundra that gives humans so much trouble.

I watched the two in my binoculars.  To my left, a herd of caribou was coming on strong, and to my right Edgar was making quick tracks down to the riverbed.  Back and forth I checked their progress, until I saw Edgar stop.  Everything was quiet.  The shot seemed to take forever to get to me… a sound like I’ve never heard before.  Part shot, part echo, it reached my ears and kept going past me into the lake.  I saw the animal stumble but keep going.  A second shot.  He was down.

Edgar had warned me that this is when the real work would begin.  Alaska Fish and Game are serious about harvesting the meat of the entire animal.  A hunter can’t just take the trophy antlers and be on his way.  The animal must be cut up and carried out, and the antlers need to be the last to leave the field.  Our outfitter also clarified what to do if you found yourself sharing your harvest unexpectedly. “If you come back to pack out a second trip, and a bear is on your caribou, you don’t need to fight a grizzly for your meat.  But you do need to take a photo of the grizzly as evidence he was there.”  We assumed this rule was an effort to kick some lazy hunters in the pants… don’t just say a bear was on it and leave half the animal.

Of course we had no intention of doing any such thing, so Edgar got going on the skinning and I headed his way with my pack and his waders.  He’d had to cross the river to get to the caribou, and the water was cold and the rocks slippery.  My waders were full-length and heavy, so his hip waders were better for transporting and sharing.  I was grateful to have them on the way over, and we traded off footwear for the multiple trips back.

It took a little more than an hour for me to reach Edgar and the caribou. I helped him cut up and bag the meat.  Hind quarters, shoulders, ribs and even neck meat went in the bags.  Once we had it ready to take back to camp, we started loading up our packs.  On the first trip out, all I had was my rifle, day pack and a heavy coat, and it felt like a million pounds.  Edgar carried the first sections of meat, attached to his pack.  Three miles later, we were back at camp, and creating a refrigerator out of a small brushy alder tree down the beach from camp. (re: in case of bears)  With the bright sun and the heavy packs, we no longer needed the layers of fleece over our wool.  We stripped down to our long johns for round two.

A male caribou can weigh up to 400 pounds, and its hind quarters are not light.  Prior to the trip Edgar and I had many conversations about how much weight I could carry.  I didn’t know, but I did know from years of lifting that I am more confident in my front squat than my back squat, and expressed an interest in having some of the weight in the front.  Enter the pack out bag. A couple of Idaho hunters invented this carrier with big pockets in the front and the back.  Edgar loaded me up and stood back.  “Too much?”  I took a couple of test steps.  “I can’t move quickly, but I can move.  I want to try it.”  So he grabbed a shoulder, all the loin meat and ribs and we set off.

I had trained for the trip for weeks by loading up a backpack with weights and walking on the treadmill at the gym, but no amount of fitness equipment can prepare you for carrying the hind quarters of a caribou through the marshy tundra.  I had to stop quite a few times to flatten my back and take a breath, but I never actually took the weight off, for fear I wouldn’t put it back on.

We sang a couple of songs and did our best to enjoy the scenery on that second trip back to camp.  We knew we had to keep moving, as the sun was going down quickly, and we didn’t want to be in bear country in the dark with meat on our backs, and in my case, my front.  We made it back to camp in twilight and added the second helping of meat to the fridge.  I felt a huge sense of accomplishment and relief.  We did it.  We tracked and harvested the animal, dressed it out and packed it out in only two trips, and 12 miles.  It was time to relax and enjoy some Mountain House spaghetti by the fire.

As we climbed into our bags for the night, we talked about where we might head the next day.  I could barely keep my eyes open for the planning, and drifted off in my comfy bag and 47 layers.

On day six we tried our hand at fishing for grayling and arctic char, and the Arctic Circle decided to show off its repertoire of changing climates.