Upon arrival, two other hunters and I were promptly met at the Cordova Alaska airport by Wes, one of the guides for Lonesome Dove Outfitters. First thing, we drove out to the shooting range to check the zero on our rifles and then to the hotel. Once we were checked in, we drove over to Dennis’ house, the owner of Lonesome Dove Outfitters, where we filled out paperwork for our tags and talked about the upcoming weather and logistics for the hunt. I then headed back to the hotel overlooking the harbor. It had been a long day.
I woke up at 1:30 a.m. freezing. I hadn’t set the thermostat. It was on 50! I was still on East Coast time. I went back to sleep for only a couple of hours and then I was wide awake. The room had a coffee pot, so I did my best to make a palatable cup and stood at the sliding door, looking out over the harbor at all the fishing boats getting ready to head out in the dim light.
At around 9:00, I got the call that they were on their way and to meet in the lobby. We loaded up the gear and headed over to the floatplane for the flight out. I met my guide, Jimmy, and packer, Cole, and we loaded up all the gear and climbed in for the flight. The pilot cranked up, and we headed out, lifting over the town and the teal blue water in the harbor headed towards the area where we would be hunting. As we glided in for the landing, we passed over a beach with two brown bears on it. We landed smoothly and coasted up to the beach. Jimmy and Cole quickly got all the gear unloaded and up the hill to set up base camp. I looked down the bank and could see a few sea otters swimming around, watching them come back down the hill.
We got base camp set, and Jimmy said, “We have time, so let’s make the push up to spike camp.” We loaded up the minimum amount of gear in our packs and headed up the mountain. This climb almost killed me. It was steeper than I had imagined and ranged from brushy leg-grabbing bushes to giant blown down trees where everything was covered in moss to boggy sludge-filled creeks. At times, I wondered what I was doing. My 50-year-old butt didn’t need to be up here, but then pride would pipe up and say, “You got this!” I had no choice now but to keep going. I wasn’t going to quit.
We made spike camp at about 1,400 feet. They quickly set up tents and made dinner, but I was too nauseated to eat from overdoing it and just fell asleep. We woke up the next morning to snow falling, but it looked like it would clear, so we loaded up our packs and headed up the mountain. The guys I hunted with were excellent with encouragement and helping any way they could. As we reached the top, about 2,400 feet to the saddle we wanted to glass from, my stomach sank as the weather turned dark and started blowing snow.
We reached the top and started glassing. It wasn’t long at all before Cole said, “I see a billy in the snow bedded down at the base of that dark cliff.” Sure enough, there were two billies bedded with snow covering them almost completely. We backed off out of sight to get a game plan. I actually thought they were further because of the haze from the foggy, snowy weather and I only got a quick glance at them. When Jimmy looked back over, he said they were leaving. They must have spotted us and knew something wasn’t right, so they started heading up the side of the cliff away from us.
At this point, the guys were a little nervous about taking what they felt was a long shot. They had just guided a hunter who, unfortunately, had wounded one and they weren’t able to recover it, so I understood their hesitation. I asked, “What’s the range?” thinking he was going to say 800 or so, but he said 480.
I said, “What are we waiting for?”
Jimmy said with reservation in his voice, “They are leaving, so...” Before he could say another word, I crawled to the edge, threw down a pack, and dialed in the range on the turret on my scope. I settled the crosshairs on his shoulder. Boom! At the shot, the snow blew up and I couldn’t see anything, so I said, “What happened?”
Cole yelled, “He’s rolling down the mountain!”
I jumped up, and we all high fived. I was yelling, “Y’all did it! We did it!” I was in absolute shock. I honestly didn’t think it would happen. We took a few minutes to gather our senses and looked to find a way to get over to him. As if on cue, just a few moments after the shot, the weather broke and the sun came out. It was so bright. It took about an hour and a half to make our way over to him through all the snow-covered boulders. He had rolled down into a shallow ravine but luckily stopped about 40 yards short of falling off a cliff. I sat down next to him and thanked God for the day and for what He had allowed me to do and asked Him to keep us safe on the way back down.
We took a lot of pictures and had a couple congratulatory handshakes. Jimmy and Cole made short work of skinning and deboning the meat and loaded up heavy packs for the pack down the mountain. We climbed out of the ravine and made our way back up to the spot where I had taken the shot and started down the other side of the mountain. Crampons for your boots are a necessity in this terrain. After a few slips and a couple kneel downs from each of us, we made it back down to spike camp where I crawled in the tent and passed slam out.
I woke up the next morning and was able to get a couple bites down for a little while, but they ended up vacating my body, as had everything else I had put into it since arriving in Alaska. We packed up spike camp and headed down the mountain. This is where I was in awe of this packer and guide. I don’t exactly know how much weight they had, but it was a lot, and they didn’t seem to act like it was a big deal. I think they have some goat in them too! This lower section was through all the dense rainforest stuff with moss-covered logs, trees, etc., and it was a lot steeper than you would think.
I’m guessing it was around three hours to make it down to base camp, and as soon as we walked up to the tents, I could see a boat just below us at the beach. The Forest Service guys were there to check my license and make sure everything was legal as it was. Jimmy and Cole knew the fella, so it was all good and they spoke for a while, catching up before they left. They offered to give me a ride to town but said the swells were rough, so it may not be a good idea. Jimmy called the plane on the sat phone to get us. We loaded up and headed back to Cordova. I was puking my guts up by now, so when we got into Cordova, I asked Dennis to run me to the urgent care for some fluids. With two bags of IV fluids in me and some nausea meds, I headed to the hotel where I took a shower and crashed for the night. I only wish my son could have been there for this one. It was another unique Aycock Adventure!
Login