It was Father’s Day, and I awoke to my second day in bear camp in Willow, Alaska. I was hunting with Randy Quincy of Alaska Goldrush Adventures and was holding tags for both brown and black bear. Randy successfully hunts a predator control unit where baiting for brown bears is legal, and he’d been sending me trail cam pictures for more than a month. The sheer number of bears he had hitting the baits was impressive enough, but the size of these bears was what really hit home.
As my wife, Traci, and I sat enjoying breakfast that morning at Eagle Quest B&B, I looked across the table and said, “It would mean so much to me to be able to take a bear on Father’s Day as a small tribute to my dad.”
My father and grandfather introduced me to hunting at a very young age. I wasn’t much more than five or six years old when I started following them around in the fields, pheasant hunting in New Jersey. The seed was planted, and from those days on I was a hunter. I lost my dad at a very young age, and not a day goes by that I don’t think of him and what could have been. He never met his grandchildren or even my wife. He missed my college graduation and the start of my career, but what we missed out on the most was simply just time we could have shared together in the woods and on the water, enjoying the passion we both shared. I’ve been very fortunate to travel to far points of the world in pursuit of that passion, but what I wouldn’t give to have Dad along on those adventures. Here in Alaska on Father’s Day, he was with me.
We had arrived in town the morning before and had already spent an evening in the stand. That first night, we sat quietly and had our first brown bear come in to the bait. He looked huge with a big pumpkin head and a rear end that looked like a Volkswagen bug rolling through the underbrush. I was amazed at the stealth of this beast of a bear. He moved silently through the woods as he approached the bait barrel. My heart rate elevated as I moved my hands to my rifle to get ready to shoulder the gun. I was dumbfounded when the assistant guide, Joe Tate, shook his head and motioned to me by pinching his fingers and mouthing the words, “Too small.” If this was too small, what was a big bear going to look like? Rather than shouldering the gun, I aimed my video camera and took some fantastic footage of the bear feeding and rolling around in front of me at 27 yards. Suddenly, he snapped to attention, staring off into the woods. He had heard a black bear approaching, and within moments, he ran off the intruder and returned to feast some more. We were treated to about an hour of bear watching as the bruin was uninterrupted. Once he was finished, he walked below our stand, looked up at me, and swaggered away without a care in the world.
We returned back to the same stand the second night. They had had a large black bear hitting this bait, and I was hoping to take him with my bow. A couple hours into my sit, we could see him slowly approaching through the woods. I stood, clenching my bow, waiting for the perfect shot angle. After what seemed like forever, the bear turned, giving me a broadside opportunity, but he looked edgy. I drew and fired without giving it enough thought. My shot was low, but I thought I had still hit him well with a clean pass-through. Randy had a different impression. He saw the arrow go under the bear. I hadn’t allowed for the steep angle of the shot and forgot about the long hair that hangs below the bear’s body. We discussed that we would sit for 30 minutes and then go down and check for blood. Unfortunately, a smaller bear had a different idea. He walked in, stepped on my arrow, scratched his belly with it for a moment, and lay down for a snack.
Over an hour later, we were still watching the bear and decided it was too much into primetime to get down and disturb the bait. We were still hoping a big brown might find his way in. Instead, in came a large black bear. Randy announced it was the same bear I had shot at earlier. With light fading in the woods, I wasn’t able to see him well enough through my peep sight and elected to take him with the rifle. I was shocked to see him get up after the rifle pancaked him in his tracks. A quick follow-up shot as he ran off had little to no effect. Later, we inspected the arrow to find it clean of blood. My guides then set off tracking the blood from the rifle shot through the thick vegetation. They located the bear only about 50 yards from where I had shot. Upon rolling him over, we could see where my arrow had sliced him right below his vital area. I hadn’t taken him with the bow, but at least I was able to pay tribute to Dad by taking the bear in my Father’s Day sit.
We took a break from hunting on the third night with me still trying to recover from the travel, change in time zones, and 24 hours of daylight. After disturbing that bait site, a decision was made to try a new spot. They had another setup with a large brown bear on camera. Joe and I were in the stand by 8:00 in the evening and sat until 3:30 a.m. without seeing a bear. I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed, but it was hunting and they were confident he would be back, so we would return the following night. We returned to camp and hit the rack for some much needed shuteye.
Randy and I headed back up the tree at about 8:00 again and were prepared to sit until 5:00 a.m. if needed. The big bears travel late, so we were ready to wait him out. It didn’t take quite that long. At 3:05, in minimal light, a huge bear appeared out of nowhere only about 20 yards away from us. Silently moving through the brush, it approached the barrel. It had been lightly raining for about an hour now, and the mosquitoes were out in droves. I raised my head net and lifted my rifle into position. For 45 minutes, we sat on edge, waiting for the perfect shot. Randy described the bear’s blocky shaped head and was letting me know this was a “toad” of a bear. My heart was racing as I waited patiently. Slowly, the bear turned to the left, presenting the front shoulder. I touched off the round from the 416 Rigby and dropped it where it stood. It had been discussed previously to not stop shooting until my gun was empty, so I sent two follow-up shots to anchor it to the ground. It never moved from where it fell. I was ecstatic and speechless. With adrenalin pumping through my body, I never would have guessed it was 3:45 in the morning.
With a quick look at the bear’s teeth, Randy predicted it was about 25 years old. This represented the perfect animal to take. Far beyond its breeding prime with teeth worn down to the gums, it certainly would have succumbed to starvation in the not too distant future. The size of its head and paws boggled my mind. I would not want to meet this bear on a quiet walk in the woods. Brown bears truly are the rulers of their domain, and I feel privileged and blessed to have had an opportunity to pursue one and claim it for my own. Hunting has taken me to places I never contemplated I would go and has afforded me opportunities many never get a chance to experience. I feel so fortunate to have made another dream come true.
With a week left in our Alaska vacation, Traci and I took to the river with Joe and Randy and completed the Alaska trifecta by landing a couple king salmon to go with the two bears. Then, we rented an RV and put on 1,250 miles seeing the countryside. Trekking from Valdez to Homer and then on to Seward, the landscape changes dramatically and the beauty is endless. Alaska is a place every hunter should experience, and Randy Quincy of Alaska Goldrush Adventures is the perfect guide to do it with.
Alaska Bear Hunting
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