Story By Kevin Orton
When we got to the airport in Las Vegas, I discovered my favorite thing in the world had happened: I’d misread our tickets, and we’d missed our flight. Never a great way to start off a brown bear hunt in Alaska. When we did finally arrive in camp a day late, the weather had changed from sunshine to raining cats and dogs. Welcome to Alaska.
If you have hunted Alaska, you know the rain can be anything from a light drizzle to an absolute downpour, and it can change every fifteen minutes. The first day of our hunt, we woke up to thick fog and rain that made it impossible to hunt. Rain is no fun, but not being able to see beyond fifty yards makes it so you don’t even need to go outside. It was Saturday, August 23, and my wife and I were on a two-on-one hunt with Alaska Big Game Outfitters.
Our guide, Tyler, told us the weather should break around 1:00 p.m. He was right, and we jumped in the boat and traveled about forty minutes downriver to start our hike. It had been a while since I had hunted in Alaska, and I was instantly reminded why I hate hiking in the tundra and swampy bogs that seem to guard every riverbank in the state. My wife and I came to the conclusion very quickly that we had not worked out hard enough in preparation for this hunt and that it was going to challenge us a lot more than we had expected. We did eventually make our way through the junk and up to the top of the mountain to glass. The weather was kind to us for about three hours, and we ended up seeing eight different bears. Unfortunately, there was only one close enough to consider hunting because of the late start, and she was a sow with a cub. She was the most beautiful brown bear I have ever seen. The sows in this area tend to be very blonde with dark chocolate legs, while the boars are usually all dark brown. We got back to camp at dark, excited about the coming days.
Unfortunately, we woke up the next morning to worse weather. We did get out for a few hours, but the same problem plagued us… We couldn’t find anything close enough to go after in the window of daylight we had left. The rain was miserable, and the wind made it worse, of course.
I’d thought the weather the last couple of days had been bad, but we woke up Tuesday to Alaska showing us what “really bad” looks like. In the afternoon, Tyler decided we should at least try to get out in the boat and see if we could spot some bears from the river as the fog rolled in and out. After about forty minutes of looking, we spotted two bears together that looked like a brother and sister pair. They weren’t giant bears, but in light of the weather and our luck so far, we decided to make a stalk to see if we could get close enough. I really wanted my wife to get a bear, and our window of opportunity was closing with each passing hour.
The hike wasn’t too bad, honestly; maybe the adrenaline of seeing the bears in the berry patch made it easier. By the time we got there, they had moved, but we hoped they would just be on the back side of the hill, so we kept moving in that direction. Then, all of a sudden, it happened. There they were, super close and coming toward us.
We ducked down, and I got Zanda set up on the gun. We didn’t have to wait long before we could see the back of the boar. He was only twenty-five yards away, and it was the perfect shot in the neck. He stood up on his hind legs. (I had never experienced this, and I have to say, it makes every bear look gigantic.) Both Tyler and I said at the same time, “Shoot him right in the chest.” But no shot. I said it again a little louder… Still nothing. It was about this time that the bear had had enough; he dropped to all fours and started running away. I asked Zanda what happened, and she said, “I pulled the trigger three times, but nothing happened.” I knew instantly that when I’d set her up on the gun, I hadn’t taken the safety off. Dang it! Of course, in typical Alaska style, it now started to really rain. The wind was blowing at thirty miles an hour. It felt like I was taking a bath, and we were quickly soaked to the bone.
On the way down, Zanda stepped wrong and her knee popped. What should have been about an hour’s hike down ended up taking an extra three hours of agonizing pain to get back to the boat. You’re always happy to get back to camp, but there are times when you literally kiss the ground with thankfulness that you made it back and didn’t have to just lie down and die.
I wish I could tell you that the weather got better, but somehow it got even worse. Everything we had was already soaked and not getting dry. Zanda needed to rest for a couple of days, but I was hoping I could get my bear out of the way while she did that. No such luck.
The next two days, we didn’t spend more than an hour total outside. Our weather app offered the only glimmer of hope: Friday had only a 10% chance of rain. If that was true, it would be our last chance to get back on the mountain to hunt. The weather app also said that after that, there would be a ten-day stretch of nothing but rain. We prayed for good weather on Friday.
We left camp at 7:30 a.m. Friday morning, about six hours earlier than any other day, and it felt good. Zanda’s knee had calmed down, and there were blue skies all around us as we made our way in the boat to the mountain we would be hiking. I had forgotten the sky could be blue. We needed to make today count.
We were about an hour or so into our hike and about 200 yards from the top of the biggest mountain around when, all of a sudden, there was: lumbering slowly up the hill straight in front of us, scarfing berries with every step. Tyler quickly got us set up, and once again, Zanda was on the gun and locked in on the shooting sticks.
I felt a bit of déjà vu when the bear noticed us and stood up on his hind legs. Only this time, it really was a big bear. We were eighty yards away. I said, “Right in the chest.” I’d made sure the dang safety was off. This time, the gun went off, and she hit him right in the chest with our .338-378 Weatherby Magnum. He rolled about twenty yards downhill, but he was stone cold dead.
Wow, was that exciting! Tyler went to work immediately, and by noon, the bear was caped out and in a bag with the skull. Luckily, another guide, Raf Greene, was in camp, and he graciously agreed to come hike the bear off the mountain so that we could keep hunting.
We hiked another four miles or so. By the time we got back that far, I was bushed. Zanda and I sat down to catch our breath. Tyler decided to hike a few hundred yards to look over an edge. About ten minutes later, he came back. He’d spotted a bear, and we needed to go now.
The bear was a boar and looked to be of decent size. We saw him go over a hill below us that allowed us to move closer. When we got there, I expected him to be uncomfortably close. The bear had different plans, and we caught him coming out of the Alders on the other side of the hill. This was it. At 273 yards from the bear, I was in a prone position with a very solid rest. Tyler let out a predator call, and the bear stopped and turned broadside. I squeezed the trigger. He only went about 100 yards, and then we had a second bear down. Unbelievable!
The hike back was brutal for this old body, and I kept thinking to myself that I was too old for this. I’ve got to give a big thank you to Tyler. He packed my bear out. It must have weighed around 170 lbs, but he still walked faster than Zanda and me. He is an animal.
Thanks to Raf Greene, who was willing to hike out a bear so that we could keep hunting—that was a lifesaver. Thanks to Ralph Greene, owner of Alaska Big Game Outfitters. I would encourage anyone who wants to hunt bears in Alaska to give him a call. No one has people who work harder for you and your success. Lastly, I need to thank the most amazing woman I have ever known for being as tough as they get and being willing to be by my side as we experience some of the most epic adventures known to man. Love you, Zanda.
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