What an adventure! After weighing all of our gear and packing it into the 185 Cessna, we were off and running. After a two and a half-hour flight, we attempted to land on the gravel bar on the river and pulled up for a second chance. We unpacked and started glassing right away, and we saw caribou right from camp. We met four hunters from Arizona who were camped at the drop-off point and were also hunting caribou. They had been there for a week and filled six out of eight tags. In Alaska, you can’t hunt the same day you fly, so we decided to fish for some lunch and set up camp. A few good bulls showed up 400 yards from camp, and we watched one of the guys from Arizona take a great bull. Eric Pauly helped the guys quarter up the caribou and said it might be good karma, which was soon to pay off the next day.
The excitement of the first day we could hunt quickly changed when we rolled out of our tents to see that a grizzly bear had been in camp the first night and ate all of Eric’s food for the next eight days. It was quickly decided we would share what food I had and let the Last Frontier provide the rest of our meals with fresh fish and caribou.
Eric and I split up and went two different ways to hunt that day. After watching several caribou all afternoon and talking myself in and out of shooting one on day one, I finally gave in and took my first caribou on an ice field. While I was dressing my caribou, Eric was stalking in on his first caribou. Just as I finished taking care of mine and packing it to the river, I received a call on the radio from Eric that he had his first bull down with his bow. I packed up and headed his way to help. On the way, I couldn’t help stopping and filming some giants within 100 yards. They were much bigger than the one I had shot earlier. With a long night ahead of us and it being day one to hunt, I decided to pass on the bulls. We made it back to the tents at 1:00 a.m.
The next day, we decided to float down and set up a new camp in the area the majority of the caribou were moving through. We got to the raft, and another grizzly had decided he would chew on our life vests and play in the raft. We moved camp downriver. After a quick stalk on a great bull by Eric close to camp, a huge bull tempted me at 300 yards from camp. I couldn’t find my rangefinder and decided to pass and video him instead with all the caribou that were around. That was a big mistake because he was huge. It wasn’t long before Eric spotted a few giant bulls up the mountain. We had figured out their routine, and it was time for an ambush. Eric went after the bulls, and with some hard work and great bowhunting skills, he harvested a giant old bull. After processing his bull and taking care of the meat, we headed back to camp.
With Eric being tagged out, I went after a few good bulls the next day. While racing to cut off some bulls, I hurried across the river in too deep of a spot and filled my waders with ice water. The bulls made it through quicker than I did and were gone. While drying off all my gear, I saw two wolves in the distance. I threw on my wet clothes and headed after them. They were a mile away and moving quickly towards the timber. I set up and started howling at them in desperation. They turned and started heading my way. After 30 minutes, they were within 600 yards. I took the shot, hair flew, and the wolf was out of sight. I was on cloud nine thinking I had just harvested a huge wolf, but come to find out, I had just given him a haircut.
While glassing and having some Mountain House breakfast with coffee, we spotted a few potential bulls to fill the last open tag. After a hike to cut the bulls off, I decided to pass on some good ones. With seeing fewer caribou every day, we decided to take a gamble and float downriver about 10 miles. While researching this area before we arrived in Alaska, I found some migration routes from previous years and was confident we had another area the caribou would be migrating through. We still had communication with the Arizona guys and found out before our next float started that they and the group before them had flipped a raft during their float in sketchy parts of the river. This made me a little nervous, but Eric handled the river like the pro he is. I’m super thankful he was on the trip rowing the raft because I would have rolled it multiple times for sure.
The next morning, I went out to spot some caribou, and right away, I saw a herd with a good bull about two miles away. It was a tundra one-mile race to cut them off. Within minutes of hunkering down, they came over the hill right to me within bow range. It was lights out for the ‘bou, and we were officially tagged out. After packing out the caribou in one trip, we lounged around camp and spent the day drying out all of our gear that was wet from the rainstorm the day earlier.
I’m stealing a quote from Eric because it fits this trip, “Your comfort zone is where your dreams go to die. Always be learning. Always be growing. And be willing to get uncomfortable.” Now that we had four caribou tagged and 57 miles of river left to float, we planned on a full day of floating. With many obstacles to avoid and a long float, Eric has his work cut out for him.
That afternoon, we received a random text on our GPS from an unknown number saying there had been an accident at the airport and they were working on trying to find someone to fly in to pick us up. We were close to our limit on the amount of texts we had paid for, so we couldn’t find out much info and were left wondering what was happening. We let them know that we would be to the pickup point in two days. We received a few updates from the random number that they were still looking for some pilots for our return trip.
The next day during the float, we received an update that we would be picked up the next morning at 9:00 a.m. We had to cover 20+ miles that day, and the only person we saw on this entire float was none other than Hiemo from the TV show “The Last Alaskans.” We stopped for a minute and talked to him. He was headed hunting to stock up on meat for the winter. Eric offered him a caribou quarter, but he declined. We reached the pickup point that evening.
We woke up early to pack up and be ready for our plane at 9:00. We received a text at 9:30 that they were still trying to nail down our new pilots. Finally, at about 5:00 p.m., two planes showed up. That is when we found out the terrible news that our pilot, Shane Bennett, who flew us in and was supposed to pick us up was involved in a midair collision while flying out. He was flying the last two guys out of the Arizona group two days before he was coming to pick us up. Shane Bennett (52) and Cody Rosania (30) were killed in the crash. Rayne Rush (40) was life flighted to the hospital with life-threatening injuries. The other pilot was also flown to the hospital in critical condition. It’s hard to take that kind of news, but you really don’t have any choice other than to jump on the planes that came for you. That was a sobering two-hour flight back to town.
Rayne and I had swapped info the day we met to possibly do some future hunts together in Arizona or Utah. I called his number and spoke to his wife. I found out Cody did not have a wife and kids, but Rayne and his wife had two kids under 10. Rayne had 37% of his body burned and is still in critical condition. He will survive, and my thoughts and prayers go out to his family. I hope he pulls through so I can see a fellow hunter/ outdoorsman on the mountain doing what he loves once again. This was a tough ending to a truly once-in-a-lifetime adventure.
RIP Shane and Cody.
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