I can still see the coin flipping in the air as if in slow motion. It landed tails, and I knew my hunting buddy, Paul, would get the first opportunity at a legal bull if we could find one. Earlier that day, we had landed in Fairbanks, Alaska and settled into our hotel room. I was genuinely happy for Paul. He wanted this as much as I did. Truthfully, though, I was concerned. I knew the odds of finding two legal bulls from one stationary camp were not good. For a few moments, my mind drifted off as I stressed about the amount of time and money I’d put into this hunt, and the thought of coming home without fulfilling my dream were unsettling. I snapped back to the moment and knew I had to have a positive attitude if I was going to be successful.
Two years earlier, Paul and I had begun our journey by planning a self-guided moose hunt in the Alaska Yukon, and now that dream was about to become a reality. Zack Knaebel of Tok Air Service dropped us off on a mountain near the Charlie Yukon River two days before the season opener. Our 55 lb. packs carried all that we were allowed to survive with for the next two weeks. Our camp sat on a small mountaintop overlooking the Charlie river valley. Centuries earlier, the river had torn its way through the landscape creating a grassy, mile-wide valley home to moose, caribou, and grizzly bear.
Opening morning broke cool, calm, and sunny. It was a perfect day to call in a love-sick moose. Paul and I moved off in morning darkness to our glassing point. We felt fortunate to have had several encounters that day, calling in three small bulls as close as 25 yards. What a great way to begin a lifelong dream hunt! The next day, Paul connected on a beautiful 57” bull. It was an exciting moment for both of us, and Paul had a smile from ear to ear. Standing over his bull, once again my mind drifted off, realizing that getting another bull of this size in this area was going to be very difficult. It was raining steadily as we spent the next two days breaking down Paul’s bull and carrying the meat nearly two miles uphill back to camp. With every uphill step in the rain, carrying a heavy load, I felt the anxiety and stress brought on by months of planning, preparation, and financial sacrifices a hunter gives to chase a childhood dream.
My 52-year-old body was feeling the pain of the work I’d put in these last two day when I awoke on day four. My clothes and socks were still wet from rain and sweat, and a deep chill overcame me as I slid into my soaking wet boots. I was jealous of Paul as he was still sleeping as I made my way out of camp in the dark. I hiked to a distant hillside to do some glassing. The wind blew hard, drawing the moisture out of my clothes and the heat from my body. I shivered the whole way, making double time to try and generate heat to keep me warm. Negative thoughts drifted in and out of my mind as my exhausted body fought the steep hillside climb. I tried to imagine another big bull off in the distance. I turned up nothing that morning but a few caribou. I slogged my way back to camp in the early afternoon. I was exhausted after the morning hike. Paul and I enjoyed eating some tenderloin from his bull roasted on rocks over a warm fire. Afterwards, I made my way back to my tent for a much-needed afternoon nap. When I got to my tent, I glanced over my shoulder to breathe in the sights of the beautiful landscape that had become so familiar to me over the last few days. In the distance, I caught movement and a glint of sunlight reflecting off something in the pine trees below. Was that the flash of an antler? There it was again! Through my binoculars, I could see it was another big bull. I was stunned!
I quickly grabbed my rifle and began running down the mountain towards the bull. He was moving, and It seemed to me he was intent on getting out of the alder-laden drainage that fed its way to river valley below. I ran down the mountain through the alders and the devils club. He was nearly a mile away, and I knew I didn’t have much time. Running down that mountain, my legs ached and my sore body was screaming for me to stop. I was pushing myself beyond the uncomfortable zone like I had done so many times in the months preparing for this hunt. I felt this was going to be my one and only chance and used that as motivation to keep me moving as fast as I could. When I got to the bottom of the mountain, I noticed the bull working his way up the other side. He was still out of range, but I stopped to catch my breath and tried a few grunts to stop him. He was having none of that. I pushed onward, closing the distance but feeling completely exhausted. I forced myself to keep moving and eventually got to about 300 yards. I gave a loud cow call, and the bull stopped and looked at me. I quickly found a small tree to stabilize my rifle. The crosshairs were bouncing all over the place as a struggled to get my wind. I told myself to not rush the shot, trying to hold my breath and slow my heart rate. The bull turned his head forward, and I knew it was now or never. My crosshairs found his shoulder and settled. Boom! The bull dropped. I couldn’t believe this moment was happening.
As I walked up to the bull, his horns were buried into the soft ground. When I first put my hands on him, I was overcome with emotion. It was an experience I’d only read about in hunting magazines or watched on TV shows, but this time it was real, not a fantasy. After two more backbreaking days, we finished hauling my bull up the mountain. Our adventure was far from over. Every morning and evening, we waved at Zack as he tried to land his piper cub on the tiny 100 foot runway atop the mountain. The strong crosswinds pushed his little piper cub around like a paper airplane as he worked to land. For five days, our hearts sank as we watched him fly away.
As I climbed into the plane on the eleventh day, still beaming with excitement knowing that Paul and I had killed two 57” bulls on a self-guided hunt in the Alaskan Yukon, it dawned on me. Several days ago, I’d lost a coin toss, but now I realized true wilderness success cannot be determined by the side of coin.
Login