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ALASKA

SPORTING JOURNAL Volume 6 • Issue 3 www.aksportingjournal.com PUBLISHER James R. Baker ASSOCIATE PUBLISHER Dick Openshaw EXECUTIVE EDITOR Andy Walgamott EDITOR Chris Cocoles ASSOCIATE EDITOR Tom Reale WRITERS Paul D. Atkins, Cindy Clock, Louis Cusack, Christine Cunningham, Becca Ellingsworth, Scott Haugen, Tiffany Haugen, Steve Meyer, Dennis Musgraves SALES MANAGER Katie Higgins ACCOUNT EXECUTIVES Becca Ellingsworth, Mamie Griffin, Steve Joseph, Garn Kennedy, Mike Smith, Paul Yarnold DESIGNERS Lisa Ball, Sonjia Kells, Sam Rockwell, Liz Weickum

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CONTENTS

VOLUME 7 • ISSUE 3

HUNTING TRADITIONS

102

ALSO IN THIS ISSUE 53 65 73 76

On the scene: Sharing the bounty of Bristol Bay’s salmon streams with bears Bristol Bay fish run chart Kenai Peninsula fish run chart Alcan Highway Journey, part IV of IV: Yukon border to road’s end, Delta Junction

DEPARTMENTS/COLUMNS 13 33

The Editor’s Note Protecting Wild Alaska: Halibut bycatch battle 33 Outdoor Calendar 117 From Field to Fire: Adak Island caribou; French-German roulade dish 125 No Sympathy, with Steve Meyer: On the decline of outdoor culture 126 Loose Ends, with Christine Cunningham: Puppy power!

T“Ragin’ Cajun” Louis Cusack took a while to settle in to life in Alaska. What helped him fit in and get into

a groove as a sportsman was bonding with buddies – many also Lower 48ers – on big-game hunts throughout The Last Frontier. In the second of a three-part series on how a tradition of hunting is developed, Louis shares tales from his “learning years” of floating rivers for massive moose and caribou bulls. (LOUIS CUSACK)

FEATURES 15

37

FROM ALASKA TO SNAKE ISLAND Jeremy Whalen never shies away from adventure.

Growing up a logger and tribal net tender in the Alaskan Panhandle, he once rode a motorcycle from the U.S. all the way down to Peru. These days he’s looking for gold off the coast of Brazil on what’s considered the world’s most serpent-infested island on a new Discovery Channel series, Treasure Quest: Snake Island. We think you’ll be fascinated by reading some of Whalen’s adventures in Alaska and beyond.

RAILROADING RAINBOWS AND KINGS You’re surely familiar with fly-in fishing. But what about train-track fishing? Our Dennis Musgraves, a couple buddies and their canine companion rode the rails on the Talkeetna Hurricane Train that travels along the Susitna River to sample its tribs for wild rainbow trout and Chinook. All aboard!

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WIN YOUR SILVER MEDAL The popular Seward Silver Salmon Derby was born way back in 1956, so it’s safe to say this charming port town on the Kenai Peninsula has embraced the contest that’s become an August must-do for anglers hoping to cash in on the prized coho that swim in the adjacent waters.

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THE BULL MARKET Regular readers of his adventures know that Paul Atkins hunts just about every species from his home base in Kotzebue, deep in Northwest Alaska’s tundra.

He’s harvested plenty of moose meat from his freezer, but many of those bulls were not his original target.

Could that be the secret to his success?

Alaska Sporting Journal is published monthly. Call Media Inc. Publishing Group for a current rate card. Discounts for frequency advertising. All submitted materials become the property of Media Inc. Publishing Group and will not be returned. Annual subscriptions are $29.95 (12 issues) or $39.95 (24 issues). Send check or money order to Media Inc. Publishing Group, 14240 Interurban Ave South, Suite 190, Tukwila, WA 98168 or call (206) 382-9220 with VISA or M/C. Back issues may be ordered at Media Inc. Publishing Group, subject to availability, at the cost of $5 plus shipping. Copyright © 2015 Media Inc. Publishing Group. All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be copied by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording by any information storage or retrieval system, without the express written permission of the publisher. Printed in U.S.A. 10

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EDITOR’S NOTE

Correspondent Dennis Musgraves (front) and friends enjoyed a trip on the Hurricane Turn Train out of Talkeetna, which dropped them off in prime fishing territory. (DENNIS MUSGRAVES)

T

rain travel is underrated and probably doesn’t get the justice it deserves as a great mode of transport. As our Dennis Musgraves explains in his story this month on the Hurricane Turn Train, how cool is that you can ride the route from Talkeetna to a series of secluded spots within walking distance of some great fishing spots?

It’s the best of both worlds: You indeed leave the driving to someone else (I guess that’s a bus catchphrase, but so be it) and still get to be dropped off and picked up essentially where you ask the conductor. Gotta love Alaska!

Train travel seems to be conducive to bad news. As one of our office’s movie buffs, I can’t remember too many flicks about railroad travel that didn’t involve death or being chased by some lunatic who was seeking mayhem, revenge or worse.

Think Murder on the Orient Express, Terror Train, Narrow Margin, From Russia with Love and Horror Express. (Then again, how many movies about airplane travel don’t involve the flight possibly ending in a crash? Or snakes. Thanks, Hollywood).

But I digress. For about the last decade I’ve become more of a traveler, but I just haven’t taken advantage of train trips as much as I should. A friend and I took an absurdly slow ride on the tracks from Prague to Plzeň, Czech Republic. I remember the train taking its own sweet time on a trip that probably would have been about an hour by car but more like two-plus hours by train. We didn’t care.

Someday when I go back to Europe I’ll buy a rail pass and take my own damn time to traverse multiple countries. I’d then hop off a few times in some tiny towns and soak in countryside locations you just can’t experience in an airplane or even driving freeways from a rental car.

In the meanwhile and much closer to home for all of us, there’s the Hurricane Turn Train. Come along this issue and ride the rails with Dennis and the boys for a little bit of New World train nostalgia and flag-stop fishing. –Chris Cocoles aksportingjournal.com | AUGUST 2015

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Jeremy Whalen (back right) is joined on this Brazilian adventure by (clockwise, from back middle) Cork Graham (who has also lived in Alaska), Bryan Fry, Mehgan Heaney-Grier and Keith “Cappy” Plaskett. (THE DISCOVERY CHANNEL)

THE TREASURE HUNTER DISCOVERY CHANNEL’S SNAKE ISLAND GOLD SEEKERS HAVE ALASKA TIES

BY CHRIS COCOLES

V

enomous vipers. Marauding buccaneers. Buried gold. Sunken galleons. Sound like a rough draft for yet another edition in the long overexposed Pirates of the Caribbean franchise?

Not quite, but Alaska, which barely has any snakes of note within its state borders, has a backstory in the Discovery Channel’s new adventure show with a catchy title. Treasure Quest: Snake Island premiered in mid-July and continues this month, and it should draw attention from two keywords that permeate with viewers: serpents and gold.

A crew of adventurers heads to the rugged Atlantic Ocean just under 100 miles off the coast near São Paulo, Brazil, to Ilha da Queimada Grande (the Portuguese translation of Snake

Island), which is home to a dangerous and deadly version of the pit viper, the golden lancehead. Modern-day pirates also are said to cruise these waters as another potential danger.

The Smithsonian magazine referred to Ilha da Queimada Grande as having “the highest concentration of venomous snakes anywhere in the world.” It’s also – legend says – full of a large colony of resident treasures – gold stashed there during the heyday of South America’s iconic Incas.

TV executives can’t get enough of such a storyline of danger and dollar signs, so Discovery sent a motley crew of experts to South America: freediver (and fashion model) Mehgan Heaney-Grier; the obligatory (and possibly insurance-company-mandated) reptile expert, Aussie herpetologist

Bryan Fry; vessel captain and treasure hunter Keith “Cappy” Plaskett; expedition leader Cork Graham; and mechanic and Swiss Army knife-style handyman Jeremy Whalen.

Graham and Whalen are no strangers to Alaska, having both spent time here. We caught up with the personable Whalen, who shared some of his adventures in The Last Frontier and a wild motorcycle ride from the U.S. to Peru.

Chris Cocoles How did you get involved with Treasure Quest: Snake Island?

Jeremy Whalen A call out of the blue, actually. Capt. Keith was recruited for the expedition and recommended me to participate. He and I are close friends who have worked on various underwater archeology/treasure-hunting projects in the past.

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CC It sounds like from an early age you had a passion for metal detectors. What got you into that?

JW I definitely have a passion for getting outside and exploring. Discovering new and interesting things is exciting, and metal detecting is one way of doing it.

When you get in the zone metal detecting, it’s almost meditative. When I was 14 my dad offered to reward me for keeping my grades up in school. My response was that a metal detector would do. So I acquired my first metal detector, a Sears TR Discriminator made by Whites. I took the bus to Idaho and spent the summer metal detecting with my uncle, Dennis Higbee, who, in any circle, is considered a metal detecting god. I was hooked.

CC What was your first experience in Alaska like?

JW Well, getting off the plane in Alaska the first thing I saw were rows of bald eagles in the trees. I’d never seen a bald eagle except on TV and in magazines. You were literally surrounded by wilderness. I grew up at the base of Mt. Si (the backdrop to the cult TV show Twin Peaks) in Washington state and the forests were my stomping grounds. Alaska forests were even bigger and surrounded by ocean and with huge trees. I spent that summer explor-

Jeremy Whalen’s life is full of adventure. He once drove his motorcycle from the U.S. to Peru, and as a handyman who once helped smooth over an international kerfluffle over a sailboat, easily found a place on Treasure Quest: Snake Island. (THE DISCOVERY CHANNEL)

ing. In my mind I can still see the bears, salmon, sea otters and moose. That was huge to me at 9 years old.

CC You seem like a diehard adventure guy. Were Alaska’s wild and wide-open spaces a perfect fit for you?

JW Topographically, Alaska has so many virgin areas to explore. There is something special knowing that you are probably the first person to set eyes on an area. Alaska is what is left of the United States in its most original state.

I would say it is one of my favorite places in the world. Summers in Alaska are surreal with the northern lights and everything buzzing with life.

CC You also have worked as a logger in Alaska. What was that experience like?

JW That wasn’t actually my first job in Alaska. I worked for a month with the Metlakatla tribe emptying out their huge ocean fish traps – huge traps that ran from the shore way out into the ocean. Each had a floating cabin that someone lived in.

I lived with an uncle on the reservation, then got a job logging in Rowan Bay for Alaska Pulp Corporation at the ripe old age of 17. I might have embellished a little when asked how old I was. I spent one summer setting chokers, then two summers working as the “pimp,” also referred to as a second rigger. Basically, I climbed trees and set up the yarder cables that hauled the logs up to the landing where they were loaded onto trucks. I was in the best shape of my life. We worked six days a week, 12-hour days. Living at the logging camp I was able to save every penny. Funny, but some of the things I remember most: the T-shirt I always wore – Hard Rock Cafe-Hell; and also my boss, the hooktender, Jim Miller.

He taught me how to race horseflies, climb trees and splice cable.

CC

“Alaska is what is left of the United States in its most original state. I would say it is one of my favorite places in the world,” says Whalen (with the expedition’s boat captain, Keith Plaskett). Whalen worked as a logger in Alaska, among other odd jobs.

(THE DISCOVERY CHANNEL)

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Fellow treasure seeker Cork Graham also has a lot of Alaska ties. Did you share a lot of stories with him during this project?

JW We did swap a

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The treasure hunters brave the rocky terrain and viper-infested jungles of Snake Island, located 100 miles off Brazil’s southeast coast. Also known as Ilha da Queimada Grande, it is populated with one of South America’s most dangerous snakes, the golden lancehead, below. (THE DISCOVERY CHANNEL)

few about different places we’d been, and especially about fishing the backcountry. Unfortunately, we were so immersed in the expedition – it was intense – that a lot of those conversations were put on the back burner till we meet again.

wherever I was exploring in Alaska and spent a good bit of free time hiking and panning for gold. Even with my gypsy lifestyle I still have a huge old bottle full of black sand and a little bottle of placer gold from Alaska.

CC Do you have a love for the outdoors CC I’m fascinated by the Alaska/Klondike Gold Rush of the 1890s, especially the stories of obsession of those who came to Alaska and the Yukon. Is that a time in history when you would have chased gold there?

JW On one hand I think I’d feel the draw.

On the other hand I hate following the herd. I do enjoy prospecting. I’ve always hiked my sluice box and pan into 18

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like fishing and hunting?

JW I do. But growing up, fishing and hunting for my family and I was for sustenance. My dad and I would go deer hunting. We’d butcher and package it all ourselves and make sausage. I have some memories as a 5-year-old looking out the screen door on the back porch and seeing a deer hung up with its eye glowing red in the kitchen light. It obvi-

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ously left an impression. My dad would also bring a bear home once in a while. Mom would render it and make lye soap with lavender – horrible soap! One bar would last years for lack of use.

One of my favorite pastimes as a teen was tracking. I’d sketch every type of animal print I could come across. I’d spend all day in the woods, watching and tracking animals. I still have my sketchbooks. My teenage idol was Tom Brown, “The Tracker.” I must have read his book 20 times.

Cork Graham was once imprisoned in Vietnam after searching for offshore treasure illegally. He also spent four years meditating in Alaska. (THE DISCOVERY CHANNEL)

CC You rode your motorcycle all the way to Peru. What kind of memories from that trip can you share?

JW Funny story: at high school graduation the honor students had a luncheon where each one of us stood up and shared what we were going to do after graduation. Everyone basically shared what college, university or military

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branch they were going into. My turn came and I stood up and said, “After logging in Alaska for five months, I’m going to ride a motorcycle from here to South America. I’ll take about a year.

After that I’ll sort out the rest.”

I started the ride with a buddy from

AUGUST 2015 | aksportingjournal.com

the logging camp; I sold him on the idea.

But once we got to Mexico and crossed the border he got cold feet and headed back north. I finished the trip myself – the only rule being, no heading north. If I liked a place, I stayed. If I got hungry, I ate. I made some great friendships. I

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It’s not just Snake Island itself that has intrigue. On the bottom of the surrounding Atlantic Ocean sit the remnants of several sunken galleons and other artifacts from a previous era of treasure hunters.

(THE DISCOVERY CHANNEL)

and I are planning a yearlong motorcycle trip through Eastern Europe, then the east coast of Africa. I’m counting down the days.

CC Your bio describes you as a “mod-

was always sad and happy to be on my way again. I made a point of using only backroads and staying out of cities, even in the U.S. I stuck to small towns and country roads, and I think I had a

better sense of the people and culture because of it.

Traveling by motorcycle is incredible – the sense of freedom and being out there. In eight years my brother

ern-day MacGyver.” What is one of your proudest MacGyver-like moments of creativity in a pinch?

JW As a bush mechanic, you have to be creative. I’ll share a MacGyver moment that helped Peru save face with Ecuador.

A little background: Ecuador came into possession of a 54-foot sailboat named Karisma that a corrupt politician used to escape from Lima to Ecuador when an arrest warrant was put out for him. All of his property was seized. Except Karisma, of course – she stayed in Ecuador.

It has been a point of contention for 10 years between the two countries.

Last year, Ecuador decided to show some good faith and return Karisma to the Peruvian government. It was a big deal. A whole Peruvian Navy fleet showed up with admirals in tow to es-

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cort Karisma back to Peru. It was a big ceremony. They contracted us to snazzy up the boat while their two navy mechanics worked on the engine, which was an old and rusty Westerbeke. It wasn’t seized and would turn over, but they couldn’t get it going and worked at it for two days. The ceremony was fast approaching so they brought in a third mechanic. Still no luck.

The night before the ceremony they called me at 10 p.m. and asked if I’d give it a go. My brother, who was visiting, and I went down to the marina and crawled into the greasy, rusty engine room and started tinkering with it. Long story short – we ended up patching a pinhole leak in a hard fuel line with twopart epoxy and electrical tape. It started. They gave me a couple of bottles of pisco in appreciation. Not wanting to chance it not starting at the end of the ceremony, they kept it running all night and through the ceremony until they motored away with the fleet. That was my diplomatic contribution.

CC It looks like you have an obsession with South America. Is there a lot of Alaska to that continent in terms of the vast space and I would assume unexplored areas full of beauty, nature and danger?

JW Alaska and South America in general have a lot in common, I believe, topographically and culturally. People there I believe are more self-reliant and independent. There are potholes and animals to contend with. Weather can be extreme. You can’t go into either without being prepared. You are responsible for yourself and have to depend on it. South America isn’t just tropical – it has all the climates. There are a lot of mountains over 15,000 feet. One is Chimborazo (in the Andes Mountains of central Ecuador); my wife and I hiked for a week around the base of Chimborazo at 12,000 feet.

We were totally off the trail. There were wolves, vicunas (a cousin to the alpaca) and pumas. We were freezing, with spectacular scenery. The granite rock faces there would make Yosemi-

te jealous.

CC Without giving away too much from what we’ll see on TV, what was Snake Island like for you and your fellow trea-

Whalen and Meghan Heaney-Grier share a background in freediving.

(THE DISCOVERY CHANNEL)

sure hunters?

JW It was controlled chaos. There were only so many elements that you had

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GUN CARE The treasure seekers spent a lot of time on the Brazilian mainland and this boat plotting their Snake Island strategies.

Whalen said he had something in common with everyone on the crew, helping with chemistry among a group that was stuck together in such a confined space.

ALL IN ONE STEP

(THE DISCOVERY CHANNEL)

control over and just had to roll with.

Again, it was extreme nature. Also, the only way we could gel and work as a team was to complement each other’s strengths and weaknesses. That takes time and circumstance. The learning curve was sharp, but in the end I feel like we’re a hell of a team.

CC This is a pretty interesting and diverse group you worked with. Your prospecting and road trips, Cork’s days in a Vietnamese prison to Mehgan’s freediving background, Bryan’s work with snakes and reptiles and Cappy’s zest for treasure hunting. You must have engaged in some pretty good conversations on the boat and when not dodging snakes and looking for gold.

JW Fortunately, no one had any prison time in common with Cork! Cork and I had Alaska-ing and prospecting. With Mehgan it was freediving (I’ve been a freediver for 15 years). I’ve also had my share of reptiles and herp friends, so Bryan and I had that in common.

With Cappy it’s everything – we’ve been friends for about eight years.

There was a common ground with everyone and never any silence. Lots of near-death conversations with graphic descriptions.

CC Were you born a couple of centuries too late? I have a feeling you would have fit in well as an explorer in the 1500s and 1600s sailing into the unknown and seeing what you can find.

JW I love that era in history. Right after

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the Dark Ages: the Renaissance. I’m a history buff from between the years 1450 and 1700. That was a time of discovery. It actually formed modern society, but it was also a brutal time in history. Ignorance and religious fervor fueled most of it. I think I’d be more comfortable in the early 1800s.

CC You have a family. Do you ever want to just settle down with a nice house and relax? Or is being on the move looking for another adventure in your DNA permanently?

JW I tried to settle down three times.

Mentally, my mind kept going places and my body eventually followed. The first time I bought a house and settled down I had to take sabbaticals for two to four months every year from the company I worked for to stay sane. They were able to hold onto me the longest. When I got back they would always ask me when I was coming in. My son says I have a twoyear expiration date. I believe my kids are actually better for it. They relate to any

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age group, are bilingual, nonjudgmental and outgoing. My son Tristan, from age 7 to 11, traveled with me for three years on the ocean. We bought a sailboat in (Puerto Vallarta) Mexico and sailed for three years through Central America till we landed in Ecuador. He learned more in those three years than he ever would in a conventional school. Currently he is 16 and going to community college, and it’s not because I’m good at home schooling. I have all the worst traits for a teacher. I think it’s because he is a balanced person. He knows who he is and feels it.

CC You’ve spent a lot of time in Arctic Alaska and in the tropical jungles and waters of Brazil. Do you prefer one climate to the other?

JW Not really: I enjoy both extremes.

I think most people live their lives detached from nature. Air-conditioned or heated. Car to house, car to store and car to work. That’s fine, but it’s good to get out and feel part of Mother Nature.

AUGUST 2015 | aksportingjournal.com

It makes you feel alive and part of something bigger than yourself. It makes one appreciate the world we live in. It’s an incredible planet, and being born is like winning the lottery. The odds are over 14 million to 1.

CC Do you have an ultimate goal in what you want to accomplish, or is there no method to the madness? Are you just taking every day that comes at you and adjusting on the fly?

JW There actually is a method to my madness. I always make sure that financially I have options if any opportunities present themselves. What I’d like to accomplish in the end is this: an old me dying on some foreign beach; I’m totally broke but with a smile on my face and the tide taking me out to sea. ASJ Editor’s note: New episodes of Treasure Quest: Snake Island can be seen on Friday nights (check local listings). For more, go to discovery. com/tv-shows/treasure-quest-snake-island.

BEST OF GOLD PROSPECTING

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PROTECTING

OUTDOOR CALENDAR Aug. 1 Aug. 1 Aug. 1 Aug. 8 Aug. 10 Aug. 10 Aug. 10 Aug. 10 Aug. 10 Aug. 14-16 Aug. 20 Sept. 1 Sept. 1 Sept. 1 Sept. 1 Sept. 8 Sept. 15

Deer season opens in several game management units Goat season opens in several GMUs Caribou season opens in GMU 8 (Kodiak/ Shelikof) Valdez Women’s Silver Salmon Derby (valdezfishderbies.com) Caribou hunting season opens in GMUs 14A and 14B (Matanuska/Susitna Valley Caribou hunting season opens in GMU 15 (Kenai) Moose hunting season opens in GMU 16 (Lower Susitna) Sheep season opens in GMU 7 (Seward) Brown bear season opens in GMU 13 (Nelchina/Upper Susitna) Golden North Salmon Derby, Juneau (goldennorthsalmonderby.org) Black bear season opens in GMU 6 (North Gulf Coast and Prince William Sound Brown/grizzly bear season opens in GMU 5 (Yakutat) Brown/grizzly bear season opens in GMUs 14A and 14B (Matanuska/Susitna Valley) Brown/grizzly bear season opens in GMU 15 (Kenai) Black bear season opens in several GMUs Nonresident moose season opens in GMU 12 (Upper Tanana/White River) Moose season opens in several GMUs

Caribou seasons begin this month in various game management units in Alaska. (PAUL ATKINS)

WILD ALASKA

BYCATCH CONTINUES

BY CHRIS COCOLES

T

hroughout the Bering Sea, commercial trawlers sweep nets on the bottom of the seafloor and haul in various sea creatures that are sold worldwide to feed a hungry planet at affordable prices. That’s good news.

But here’s some bad: When halibut get caught in those same nets, the big trawlers are forced to discard them. The bycatch – potentially valuable assets forced to be thrown over the side – doesn’t exactly endear them with other commercial fishermen who target the prized species for a living.

“You meet people on the street, talking to people anywhere, Seattle, other places in the country here, (and they say), ‘Oh, halibut!

I love halibut.’ Well, guess what? It comes from where we live, out in the Bering Sea, and down here in the Gulf of Alaska,” halibut fisherman Simon Swetzof Jr. told National Public Radio, later adding he and others are fighting to reduce the amount of bycatch allowed in larger commercial trawlers.

“We live right out in the richest ocean in the world, practically, and we’re going to see this happen to us, in our own backyard? No! We’ll fight it!”

The North Pacific Fishery Management Council, which manages the waters off the Alaskan coast, has methodically reduced the amount of halibut bycatch allowed. In 2012, it reduced it by 15 percent in the Gulf of Alaska trawl fisheries and longline catcher vessel fisheries and 7 percent in the gulf’s freezer longline fisheries.

Then in June, the council voted to cut the bycatch rate by another 25 percent.

“We got screwed, plain and simple,” Myron Melovidov, chairman of the Central Bering Sea Fishermen’s Association, a trawling group, told the Alaska Journal of Commerce.

Halibut fishermen don’t think that’s enough of a cut after requesting a 41 percent reduction. Sam Cotten, the commissioner of the Department of Game and Fish, had suggested a 33 percent cut.

Neither one got the number they hoped for.

“I don’t want anybody to leave this meeting thinking this is a step backward,” North Pacific Council chairman Bill Tweit, seemingly trying to talk everyone off the ledge, said at the very heated hearing.

Don’t expect this issue to go away anytime soon. ASJ aksportingjournal.com | AUGUST 2015

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GETTING BACK

ON TRACK THE TALKEETNA HURRICANE TRAIN IS A SCENIC WAY TO SEE THE ALASKAN COUNTRYSIDE AND ALSO JUMP OFF TO DO SOME FISHING

The author (left), Paul Ferreira and Shawn Johnson took advantage of the Hurricane Turn Train’s system of letting passengers on and off at various mileposts along the route from Talkeetna to Seward to fish in some remote locations. A ticket gives you endless possibilities. (DENNIS MUSGRAVES)

BY DENNIS MUSGRAVES

A

laska’s wilderness raced by quickly as the swaying train chugged towards our destination. My fishing buddies and I stood near one of the two open side doors inside the baggage car, each of us maintaining our balance by grasping a section of a chest-high webbed cargo fence, which stretched across the doorway.

Fantastic views of rolling forested hills painted the landscape. I intermittently stuck my head out the open-air portal, scanning the passing horizon for wildlife and being careful not to lose my fishing cap from the brisk wind. Excite-

ment for adventure grew inside me as the train rock-n-rolled on a path northward while paralleling the Susitna River.

It wouldn’t be long before we reached our stop in Indian Canyon.

I was traveling with two longtime angling partners, Shawn Johnson and Paul Ferreira, and Paul’s loyal dog, Gunner.

We were riding one of the last remaining flag-stop trains in America; our goal was to be dropped off alongside the tracks for a few days in Alaska’s backcountry north of Talkeetna to pursue native rainbow trout and wild king salmon.

FLAG-STOP TRAIN Hitchhiking on the Hurricane Turn Train

for remote fishing had been on my bucket list for years. I first learned about the little-known flag-stop train service out of Talkeetna from my wife many years ago, when she had worked a summer on the Anchorage-to-Fairbanks touring train as a hostess and bartender in a passenger car. Plans to ride the choochoo and catch some fish finally came together for me this summer.

The Hurricane Train runs from May to September from the Talkeetna train depot (winter season service is from Anchorage) to a bridge that spans over 900 feet across an almost 300-foot drop at Hurricane Gulch.

The train is short – one passenger

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lows bush residents and private cabin owners modern access and means to carry their supplies since there are no roadways along the stretch of railway. It also allows adventurous hikers, campers and sportfishermen an opportunity to explore a less-traveled part of Alaska. Some passengers simply ride the train for scenic and wildlife viewing from the elevated observation car and/or for the novelty of riding on a working flag-stop train.

The train is short – one passenger car, an elevated observation passenger car, a baggage car and a diesel locomotive at each end. But it’s become a popular trip as anglers and other outdoors enthusiasts take advantage of the stops around great fishing destinations. (DENNIS MUSGRAVES)

Because they had a dog and firearms, the author, friends and Gunner the canine had to ride in the freight car, which wasn’t the worst thing in the world, considering they had an open viewing platform to take in the sights. (DENNIS MUSGRAVES)

car, an elevated observation passenger car, a baggage car and a diesel locomotive at each end. Passengers can purchase tickets to ride the 55 miles of track and coordinate with the conductor to be dropped off anywhere along the route. Travelers waiting beside the 38

ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

tracks wanting to be picked up for a return trip by the train can do so by waving their arms or a flag. Ticket holders can also simply remain on the turn train for the entire round trip if they don’t want to disembark.

This unique train trip primarily al-

AUGUST 2015 | aksportingjournal.com

ALL ABOARD! I planned to catch the midday train for a ride into the wilderness for a couple days with my friends at Indian River to fly fish. Thanks to my wife and her extended family in Alaska, I was able to gain permission to use a private cabin located on a high ridge not far from the tracks and situated near the river. The rustic cabin would be a better alternative to tent camping in bear country and would also provide a dry, comfortable location to rest after a long day of walking trails and wading in the river, fishing.

Our departure from the depot had us riding in the baggage car for two reasons: Paul had brought Gunner along, and because we packed some heat in our packs. Neither dogs nor firearms are allowed in the passenger cars. The large-caliber handguns in our packs would be strapped and loaded for bear protection once we left the safety of the train. Being in the baggage car was not all that bad. We had a great viewing platform with the car’s open doors, and we got to help a couple of the local cabin owners unload supplies at their stops, which made for a very cool experience.

About 40 miles north of Talkeetna, the train conductor notified us we were getting close to our requested milepost.

We shouldered our heavy packs and proceeded to shuffle to the doorstep as the locomotive slowed, grinding to a halt just past the Indian River bridge.

There was no fanfare in offloading – just a simple wave from the conductor and a reassuring announcement as the train engine pulled away. “See you in a couple days.” The train cleared the bend,

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Gunner, Paul Ferreira’s adorable dog, watches over the scene at the cabin the anglers rented for home base during their fishing trip. It wasn’t far from the railroad tracks, but the guys got lost; fortunately, they found a local who gave them a ride via an ATV.

HOME AWAY FROM HOME Our first order of business was to find the log cabin. The rudimentary instructions I received by telephone about the exact location of the cabin had me a bit concerned. The cabin caretaker had described a few reference points to follow using an Alaska Bureau of Land Management trail. Our temporary home was positioned atop the high ground on a plot of land about a half-mile from the train tracks. The distance was not far,

(DENNIS MUSGRAVES)

RIDING THE RAILS Alaska Railroad Corporation offers an opportunity to travel and experience a part of the Last Frontier with a unique adventurous perspective. Alaska’s railway system is operated year-round, offering several options for convenient day trips and tours to spirited destinations from the northern city of Fairbanks, to the seaside port of Seward (south of Anchorage). Nine train depots service the routes during the summer, which makes planning and catching the train in Alaska an easy task.

The Hurricane Turn Train is serviced during the summer from a depot located in the small, quirky town of Talkeetna.

The track route runs 55 miles north along the mighty Susitna River through Indian River Canyon, eventually reaching Hurricane Gulch. Passengers can flag-stop the train anywhere along the route by telling the conductor a milepost dropoff location.

When you’re ready to return, the train will pick you up if you simply wave a flag alongside the track.

The Hurricane is one of America’s last flag-stop trains. Primarily the train provides remote cabin owners modern means to access their homes in the rugged backcountry north of Talkeetna. The route also allows passengers to experience outdoor adventure in parts of Alaska that are inaccessible by roadway. Hiking, river rafting, and sportfishing are just a few of the activities people enjoy while getting dropped off by the Hurricane train.

For more information about the Alaska Railroad Corporation Hurricane Turn Train, additional train routes, reservations and ticket pricing or additional information, visit alaskarailroad.com.

Hurricane’s railway spans over several creeks and rivers along its route. The clearwater tributaries flow into the silt-laden Susitna River, and during the summer host spawning runs of different types of eastern Pacific salmon and native rainbow trout. Some of the popular fishing stops are Dead Horse Creek, Gold Creek and Indian River. Backcountry fishing along the train’s route can be excellent if you plan your trip in conjunction with the salmon runs.

My friends and I planned a multiday fishing trip in late June, which allowed us to target king salmon and rainbow trout. Having a family connection with a cabin in Indian Canyon allowed us to forgo tent camping; however, primitive tent camping is per40

ALASKA SPORTING JOURNAL

from vision, and into the wild we went.

AUGUST 2015 | aksportingjournal.com

mitted along any of the riverbanks.

GEAR BAG/TACKLE BOX Having good angling apparel is essential to avoiding misery in remote destinations. A quality pair of breathable waders, wading jacket and wader boots are a key to staying comfortable (we wore them daily like pants and shoes). Weather conditions changed hourly during our three days, alternating between hot sunshine, cool overcast skies and soaking cold rain. We walked long distances every day over a variety of surfaces, including uneven slippery riverbed rock, steep muddy inclines and fallen timber. We hurdled them without issue. Our good clothing choices and Korkers footwear allowed us to remain comfortable and spend more time fishing.

Staying hydrated and not having to pack in gallons of water was made easy by filtering river water. Bringing a portable water filtration system made gathering H2O right from the source where we fished easy and we quickly filtered amounts for consumption as needed. Having a small water storage bladder allowed us to pack a few gallons back to the cabin at the end of each day.

We used both conventional and fly fishing methods when targeting king salmon and smaller-weight fly fishing rods for rainbows. Appropriate-sized reels were matched with fishing rods. My Temple Fork Outfitters four-piece fly rod not only saved space, but it was ideal for packing into the backcountry and busting through thick vegetation while hiking along the riverbank.

Below is a short list of proven and trusted favorites personally used on the trip: • Korkers Devils Canyon Wading Boots with Omni Trax; korkers.com • Temple Fork Outfitters Mangrove 7-weight four-piece fly rod; tforods.com • P-Line Fluorocarbon 8-pound and 12-pound test and P-Line CXX Xtra Strong 20-poundtest fishing lines; p-line.com DM • Kodiak Custom Fishing Tackle GI Skirted Spin ners size 6 blue; kodiakcustom.com -DM

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Paul Ferreira reels in a hefty king salmon from the Indian River.

Catch-and-release fishing turned out to be a blast, as many kings and some early rainbows were brought in and then released. (DENNIS MUSGRAVES)

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but the incline to reach the log cabin sounded heart-busting.

Locating the hillside cabin rapidly became an exhausting effort. Although the trail was wide and clearly used, dense forest on both sides prevented us from accurately reading terrain features, making it impossible to see any secondary paths from the BLM approach or reference the predominant ridge line as described by the caretaker. We managed to trek about a mile and a half past the correct trail conjunction in the heat of the day, all under the weight of our cumbersome backpacks.

I desperately needed a break and some water. Paul and I took a knee while Shawn decided to push ahead for a short distance. After a short rest and fluid intake, Paul and I started to ruck up, move ahead and check on Shawn. But before we took 10 steps Shawn rounded the path and reappeared, confidentially telling us that “we went too far.”

During our short siesta, Shawn managed to locate a couple cabins and also met up with a local resident who graciously gave improved directions and offered us a lift in his amphibious tracked Argo. Doubling back in the Argo would be less taxing and also get us almost right to the front door of the cabin, so we gladly accepted the offer for a ride.

We easily muscled across the forested terrain from the comfort of the ATV, effortlessly moving up a steep switchback path along a ridge to a final resting point within 50 feet of the elevated cabin. Grateful for the help, we all extended our sincere thanks to the local resident for taking his time and

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It was a little early for rainbows, but the boys managed to catch a couple this time. (DENNIS MUSGRAVES)

efforts in guiding us just shy of the front door. It was nothing abnormal from any of my experiences off the grid in Alaska – people help other people here without expecting anything in return; it’s part of the reason I am proud to call Alaska home. One day each of us will return a favor to someone else in need.

FISHING THE INDIAN RIVER After getting settled in the cabin, our focus swiftly switched to fishing in nearby Indian River. The tributary is just one of several flowing under the Hurri-

cane’s 55-mile train route. Other popular choices for sportfishing include Gold Creek and Dead Horse Creek. The three streams feed into the Susitna River and hold a good population of trout and different species of migrating salmon, depending on the season.

Our trip in late June had possibilities of targeting king salmon and rainbow trout. We planned for catch-and-release fishing for all the fish we’d catch, primarily by fly fishing. Only single-hook flies and lures were used in order to reduce the risk of fatal hook injuries to the fish. Fishing turned out to be pretty good, even with the abrupt changes in weather and low water levels.

Everyone in the group caught and released several king salmon, using bright-colored Intruder and streamer patterns; some of the fish pushed into the 30-pound range. Swinging the flies in deep holes seemed to be the most effective at producing a strike. The confluence at the mouth of the river was certainly a great spot to target the large salmon; it turned

out to be the site of many hook-ups.

My attention during the majority of time was on the rainbows. The fish were active and caught on just about anything swung their way under the water. Dolly Llamas, egg-sucking leeches and beads all produced, and everything seemed to work well for a few fish.

Getting the salmon to rise was not easy, but I managed to catch several quality fish drifting a dry fly. A large Blue Dun always seems to trick a fish for me.

There were not many trout in the system yet, probably because they were still in the big water of the Susitna waiting to enter the small river after more salmon showed up later in the summer.

Even with the low numbers, no one in the crew went fishless, and everyone caught a few rainbows.

Feeling the strength of leaping trout on a fly rod is addicting for me. The wild beauty of a rainbow up close is something special. Even though the trip did not net me hundreds of catches, I appreciated each and every one of the

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few beautiful ďŹ sh I was lucky enough to land, admire and return to the river.

WAVING DOWN THE TURN TRAIN Our last hike from the cabin had us bypassing the river and moving straight to the train tracks. My joints ached a bit from three days of walking, casting and catching, but I still had a huge smile on my face. I was looking forward to riding the train back to Talkeetna and visiting one of the local brew pubs with my buddies to celebrate another epic ďŹ shing adventure with a cold beverage.

The three of us reminisced about the ďŹ sh we caught and fun we had on the river as we sat near the edge of the tracks and waited for the passing train.

It wasn’t long before we all heard a distinct noise in the distance. “Train’s coming,� I stated the obvious as I stood up, and on cue we gathered our packs and prepared to board.

As the train moved closer into sight, I took off my hat with my right hand, extended my arm high in the air and

The author releases an Indian River king salmon. (DENNIS MUSGRAVES)

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began motioning with a back-and-forth wave. Although I think the engineer was slowing down anyway to pick us up, I sure as heck couldn’t miss the chance to say I actually flagged down the train.

As the train slowed to a stop, I noticed a few familiar faces waving out the baggage car door at us. My wife, Hannah, and Paul’s wife, Sparrow, and their twin boys had decided to ride on the railroad and meet us at our flag stop. It was a terrific surprise. Sharing the ride back with our loved ones on the turn train put frosting on the cake of this trip.

Climbing aboard Alaska’s Hurricane Turn Train for flag-stop fishing with my friends won’t soon be forgotten. We shared good times and outdoor adventure – hiking the scenic trails and riverbanks, catching beautiful rainbow trout and aggressive king salmon swimming in crystal-clear water, and waving down a passenger train for a ride back to civilization.

Alaska’s vast playground presents

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Waiting for the train to come. All it takes is the wave of a flag – or in Dennis’s case, a hat – and you can get right back on track after some epic fishing. (DENNIS MUSGRAVES)

many great outdoor experiences. If you’re headed north out of Talkeetna, take the Hurricane. Getting there and coming back is half the fun. ASJ

AUGUST 2015 | aksportingjournal.com

Editor’s note: For more Last Frontier angling adventures of author Dennis Musgraves, check out his fishing group’s website, alaskansalmonslayers.com.

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The Alagnak Lodge is “where the fish come to you.” At the lodge it is generally simple: The tide brings in the salmon, you finish your meal and do your own preparations, then walk for about four minutes from the lodge door to your boat. Your fishing destination can be as few as five minutes away to up to 20 minutes, depending on your fishing desires and the timing of the tides.

The best fishing is very close to the lodge.

Many clients will come in at midday to have their catch processed while they take a short break, then they are quickly back in the fishing action. Many also skip the afternoon session to enjoy the solitude of the evening session. While the guides suggest the best time to fish, you, the client are, in control.

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BUGS, BEARS AND BRISTOL BAY’S BOUNTY

NO-SEE-UM N. NOUN 1. A MINUTE BLOODSUCKING INSECT, ESPECIALLY A BITING MIDGE. 2. TINY MOSQUITOES THAT COME IN MASSIVE SWARMS AROUND YOUR FACE; SO SMALL THAT WAVING YOUR HAND TO WIND OFF OR TRYING TO SWAT HAS ALMOST ZERO EFFECT; MOST ANNOYING OF ITS BREED.

The author caught this pretty sockeye, the salmon that Bristol Bay is most known for.

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AUGUST 2015 | aksportingjournal.com

No See Um Lodge owner John Holman (right) joins the Nicks, a father-and-son tandem from Hawaii, on Naknek Lake.

Not a bad spot to have a shore lunch. The view from the Iliuk Arm of Naknek Lake.

PHOTOS AND TEXT BY BECCA ELLINGSWORTH

E

ver since I became an angler I have wanted to catch the famous fish of Alaska’s iconic Bristol Bay system.

When my chance finally came, I made sure to find the perfect lodge for me.

I knew I wanted a place that was serious about fishing for a good variety of species, and that I’d end up with a nice box of salmon to take home. I also wanted a luxury lodge, where I would be spoiled with good food, wine and fine times. Though I did not have experience fly fishing, I wanted to learn, so I added that to my search requirements. I figured it would take several weeks to find that special place to balance my dreams of the perfect fishing getaway with luxury accommodations.

In my research, I found No See Um Lodge (907-232-0729; noseeumlodge. com). I have to admit that the idea of going to a lodge named after the most annoying mosquito alive didn’t exactly warm me up. But with all the positive reviews and a 70-percent-return booking rate, I had to look into it.

I hope I am not considered old, but I do believe in the good old-fashioned phone conversation to make decisions on where and what I am spending – not only money, but my time. This was one of the most anticipated weeks of my life.

When I called, owner John Holman answered the phone, which was the case for every call to this lodge. This was the first of many actions John takes in a process that makes you feel significant and confident here.

When I asked about certain weeks of availability, John not only went into space, but also what kind of group would be there and what fish were likely to be available that week. It was way more information than anyone offered anywhere else I called. When you get this kind of attention with an inquiry, you just know you’re going to be taken care of when you get there.

Needless to say, I booked. Take a look at these and the following pages for a small taste of my week in Bristol Bay.

Bears were omnipresent during a fishing excursion to Katmai National Park.

Editor’s note: Becca Ellingsworth is an account executive for Alaska Sporting Journal.

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THE ADVENTURE BEGINS The view flying into the lodge, which provides a small, intimate experience accommodating just 12 each week.

Retired lawyers Ron and Tom enjoy a meal at No See Um Lodge.

Visitors and lodge staff had a week to remember.

Three Beaver planes were loaded up in King Salmon and transported the lodge’s group for a 30-minute flight to the heart of Bristol Bay.

B

ristol Bay was only hours away as I awoke early Monday morning in my downtown Anchorage hotel after flying up from Seattle the night before.

Was I really going to be on the rivers of Bristol Bay today? After all the years of wanting to get to this far-off fish gold mine and all the research to find the lodge to complete the dream, today was the day. I have to admit, I had butterflies!

I looked over to Chrissy, my fishing partner for the week. “Ready?” I asked.

“Yep,” she replied. We were nursing slight exhaustion from all the fun Anchorage had offered us the night before.

“OK, let’s do this!”

We arrived at the airport, where all arrangements had been made for us with TransNorthern Air. It was a gorgeous day – the sun shining brightly – as we walked down the runway to see our famous and beautiful Super DC-3 aircraft, red stripes racing down its sides. I was feeling super excited and eager for

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what we would experience next.

The approximately hour-and-a-halflong flight was smooth sailing, and we landed in King Salmon, where we were greeted by owner John Holman himself. After a quick introduction we were whisked off the runway in a fleet of vehicles, including a white passenger van, a black Nissan King Cab pickup and an additional silver truck. With a 30-minute wait for the floatplanes, we stopped at a small café in town.

When I stepped outside, my head was instantly swarmed with no-seeums! As I was attempting my swatting technique with little success, I looked around and saw that nobody else was being bothered by mosquitoes. Hmmm.

I had to believe it’s because I’m so darn sweet. But still, there was no need to waste my sweetness on the bugs.

I pulled out my homemade essential oil concoction (the one everyone told me would not work). I applied it that

AUGUST 2015 | aksportingjournal.com

morning and every day after, and never had another issue.

From the café, we loaded back up and headed for a small cabin on the river. A short walk down a ramp took us to a floating dock, where a squadron of deHavilland Beavers awaited. The three planes were shined up – white with bright red stripes down the sides. Each Beaver holds a two-person crew and four passengers.

We loaded up with our pilot Steve, a taller middle-aged man who has been flying most of his life. He’d fly myself, Chrissy and two other passengers, Ron and Tom, who were in their upper 70s.

Both of the guys were retired lawyers with senses of humor that leave a smile on your face for a week.

Third to take off, our plane raced down the river and we enjoyed an amazing 30-minute flight to the lodge with scenery everywhere – miles and miles of rivers and tundra.

FISHING BRISTOL BAY

Guides and anglers prepare to launch on the Nushagak for a day of salmon fishing.

A nice Nush ’Nook in the net!

F

ollowing a quick lunch, we were off for our first day of fishing – or should I say, Chrissy’s and my fishing lesson.

The day was really just to get out, make sure we had all our gear and get a handle on everyone’s skill level. I appreciated this, as it set the stage for the week.

Our guide for the day was Justin, a younger guy with an ever-so-popular beard. He did a great job instructing with

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zero judgement. With the simplicity of the lesson, we were both able to pick things up quickly. Grayling turned up everywhere, including the end of my line!

The weather for the first half of the week was sunny and warm. We fished the Nushagak the first couple days to make sure we filled our box with kings.

This was my comfort zone, and my prize 30-pounder with some nice 12- to

AUGUST 2015 | aksportingjournal.com

17-pounders were to follow.

On day three, the iconic sockeye were in! We flew upriver and found a couple great sandbars that had red salmon running just 4 feet from the bank. My fly rod lessons prevailed on this day. These suckers have a great fight! Most were around 6 to 9 pounds, but fought like they were 25-pounders. I landed 15 that day, kept five and iced my arm that night.

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URSINE VISITORS GALORE

W

e went to Brooks Camp in the Katmai National Park, on Naknek Lake. We knew we would see bears, but we had no idea what we were in store for! We had a taste upon landing, when four bears watched us unload There are two spots to fish: the upper falls and lower falls. The bears also feed at the falls. The females go a bit downriver with their cubs to fish. Our initial hike was above the falls, which was scary. We woke a sleeping bear as we walked by, but didn’t know it until I looked back at our guide Caleb Hitzfeld, who also guides for steelhead in Forks, Wash., in the winter (360-640-8513), to say something and saw the bear poke its head up. Then it followed us! At least I had Caleb between me and the bear, which was all of 6 feet back. We kept walking until it lost interest in us.

After making it to the upper falls alive, the fishing was fun. The fish were on the

smaller side, but there was plenty of challenging casting under trees and bushes, and no lack of fishing holes to discover. I caught mostly grayling, while others landed rainbows and char.

When we went back to fish the lower falls (did we really decide to do that?!?), we fished between the papa bears about 150 yards upriver at the falls and the mama bears about 100 yards below us.

“This cannot be good,” I was thinking.

To be honest, I thought about putting my line in, but couldn’t do it; I was too scared.

We had the bears closing in, with one coming right up to us as we were trying to give him the right-of-way. We had to get out of there, but to get out we actually had to follow two bears downriver, as two more were behind us.

We made a cut through the path, but ran into an approximately 800-pound grizzly standing his ground in a freshly stolen fishing hole. That’s when I heard

the roar and the other bears were not going to take it. The big bear roared back and moved to challenge. As eight to 10 more teamed up to get the big guy out, there was a full-on, stand-up bear swat fight right in front of my eyes!

Needless to say, we made it out of there and flew to another little spot on the Naknek referred to as Margo. We had a great lunch and found a good little river mouth that served up grayling, rainbows and char. The Nicks, a fatherand-son duo from Hawaii, caught a beautiful 28-inch trout.

The rest of the days were filled with flyouts to the Kvichak and Alagnak Rivers to catch rainbows, grayling and king salmon.

A regular bear throwdown occurred right around this moment, as a bunch of bruins converged on a prime fishing spot.

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A FIRST-CLASS EXPERIENCE Cabins at No See Um Lodge sitting over the Naknek on a warm early summer evening.

T

his was our typical itinerary during the weeklong trip: a wakeup knock at your door at 6:45 a.m. with coffee set out. Breakfast to order, with a daily special available at 7 a.m. Load onto the planes at 7:45 to head to your

The Fourth of July feast included baby back ribs, sweet potato hash with pork belly and corn on the cob.

What’s a Fourth of July in Alaska without firing off a few rounds?

fishing spot of the day. Lunch served on the river – either a prepared pack lunch (more than you can eat) or your morning catch cooked up right on the river.

Land back at the lodge around 5:30 p.m. Relax in the guest cabin for cock-

tail hour and hors d’oeuvres. Dinner is always ready at 7 p.m. This meal is a big production, and you are welcome to put on some jeans and a decent shirt or just show up in your sweats.

There’s a three-course meal every

There’s nothing better than pulling salmon from the river and then cooking them for an alfresco lunch.

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JAIMELYNN CHARTERS Captain : Joshua Hughes | Boat : “Jaime Lynn”

• Gulf of Alaska Fishing!

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61

When they weren’t catching fish in bunches, the guests were on the green lawn pitching horseshoes and playing cornhole. Card games were also a favorite evening pastime.

night, as well as time to share stories about your day and plan for your next adventure. After dinner you might retire to your room or sit in the screened-in gazebo with a fire pit, play some horseshoes or just hang out in the main lodge for some poker action.

Being at No See Um for the 4th of July was a real treat. After consulting the group about their comfort level with guns, John decided to break out the AR15, M-5 and clay pigeon rifles!

We all had a blast shooting bottles in the river and trying our skills at the clays.

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I did well with the AR-15, but I don’t think I will be hunting any real pigeons – or game birds – in the near future.

We also had a full fireworks display put on by our trusty guides. In order to protect the guilty, I cannot give details on our grand finale, but let’s just say that I’ve heard gasoline, propane, diesel, Tannerite and an AR-15 can combine for a really awesome explosion.

It’s no wonder why people return every year to enjoy a week at this beautiful lodge. John and his family have owned the No See Um for years and you can

AUGUST 2015 | aksportingjournal.com

see and feel the special care and attention he puts into making this “your trip.”

You know he truly enjoys your company and wants to not only cater to your needs and wants, but to get to know you, which carries through to the entire group too.

Having only 12 guests per week and with John being one of your guides at least once or twice in the seven days keeps this a very intimate trip. Everyone feels like family and friends for life by the time you leave. Can’t wait to see them all again! ASJ

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fishing

BRISTOL BAY

Sunset on Lake Aleknagik in the Bristol Bay watershed makes for quite the gorgeous setting for the center of Alaska’s salmon-fishing universe. (MARK TITUS/THE BREACH FILM)

Though most famous for its large run of sockeye salmon – this year’s is forecast to be a record – kings like this beauty caught on the Nushagak are still royalty for anglers heading to Bristol Bay’s rivers. (BRIAN LULL)

Fish-run Timing Bristol Bay’s maze of tributaries include the Nushagak, Togiak, Egegik, Kvichak, Naknek and Ugashik Rivers. The following table lists general salmon-run timing for the Bristol Bay region as a whole, as well as prime months for nonocean-migrating species. There’s no guarantee you’ll limit, of course, but follow these guidelines for the best opportunity to catch your Alaskan trophy.

Huge Sockeye Salmon Run Expected The Alaska Department of Fish and Game has forecasted a massive 2015 summer salmon run to Bristol Bay. A record total of 53.98 million sockeye are expected, with roughly 14.39 million of those predicted to escape commercial fishing harvest and head upriver to spawn throughout the pristine watershed.

“This prediction is 40 percent greater than the previous 10-year mean of total runs, and 51 percent greater than the long-term mean of 32.43 million,” ADFG said in its projection report for 2015. “All systems are expected to meet their spawning escapement goals.”

- Fishing peak

FISHING CALENDAR

Aug.

Sept.

Oct.

Nov.

Dec.

King salmon Sockeye salmon Coho salmon Pink salmon Chum salmon Dolly Varden/Arctic char Steelhead Rainbow trout Lake trout Northern pike Burbot Grayling Whitefish

- Fish present

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World Class Trophy Fishing & Lodging Cabins HOMERFISHINGCHARTERS.COM BIGHALIBUT.COM | C-VIEWCABINS.COM

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SILVER HISTORY CASH PRIZES, FISH RESTORATION IN SEWARD HIGHLIGHT POPULAR SUMMER DERBY

BY CINDY CLOCK

T

Big numbers of coho have attracted anglers since the 1950s to attend the Seward Silver Salmon Derby, which kicks off on Aug. 8 in the Kenai Peninsula port city.

(SEWARD CHAMBER OF COMMERCE)

he Seward Ch a m b e r of Commerce, Conference and Visitors Bureau is a voluntary partnership of the business community, uniting the efforts of business, industry and individuals to ensure a strong economy for the region.

We represent and promote the area’s business sector and encourage business investment and economic development, broadening the tax base and providing employment opportunities.

The Seward Silver Salmon Derby, organized by the Seward Chamber, is one of the oldest and largest fishing derbies in the state and takes place this month from Aug. 8-16. Seward’s derby is equally popular with locals, other Alaska residents, and visiting anglers from around the nation and world. Anglers vie for the largest coho and try to catch tagged fish worth prizes. Anglers turn in their fish daily, and the catch is sold to raise funds for fish enhancement efforts.

The first derby kicked off in the summer of 1956. Former Seward Chamber of Commerce president Larry Urbach, along with Juneau’s Jim Wellington and Seward resident Jack Werner, dreamed up the idea the year before.

Those founders hoped to increase tourism to Seward, then a bustling port town founded nearly 50 years earlier as the ocean terminus of the Alaska Rail-

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67

When anglers bring a salmon to the derby weigh-in station, they are asked to pay a $5 “buy-back” fee to keep their fish. If they do not want the fish, it is sold to a local seafood processing plant as part of Seward’s Fish Restoration Fund. (SEWARD CHAMBER OF COMMERCE)

road. They also wanted to boost salmon populations in and around Resurrection Bay. A $500 loan from the chamber and

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a lot of teamwork hatched the derby.

That first year drew a thousand anglers vying for the grand prize: a 1956

AUGUST 2015 | aksportingjournal.com

Chevrolet Bel Air. Anchorage’s William Kupfer drove off in the Chevy with a 15.08-pound silver. These days, nearly 10 times the number of anglers descend on the derby every year.

So how does funding for fish restoration work? When anglers bring a salmon to the derby weigh-in station, they are asked to pay a $5 “buy-back” fee to keep their fish. If they do not want the fish, it is sold to a local seafood processing plant.

Money from the buy-backs and the seafood processor help to fund the Chamber’s Fish Restoration Program, which puts more silver salmon back into Resurrection Bay. For the past two years, a very popular limited edition of the silver decal has been sold for $5 only during derby days, with all funds raised going to fish enhancement projects.

Since 2012, as well as in years past, the Seward Chamber of Commerce Fish Restoration Fund has paid to have Cook Inlet Aquaculture Association’s Trail Lake Hatchery raise and release extra fish at Bear Creek to ensure a good re-

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turn of silvers. The success of this program is what has led to the six-fish limit in Resurrection Bay. The William Jack Hernandez Hatchery in Anchorage also raises salmon, releasing smolt into the ocean at Seward Lagoon.

In other enhancement efforts, in the autumn of 2011 the Seward Chamber chose to support the RBCA Scheffler Creek streambank revegetation project by funding the educational signs located at the new bridge. They approved $4,000 for two 3-foot-by-2-foot weatherproof signs.

The Fish Restoration Fund also provides up to two $2,000 scholarships each year to graduating Seward High School seniors enrolled in a college-level marine science or related field of study major. ASJ Editor’s note: Cindy Clock is the executive director of the Seward Chamber of Commerce. Find out more about the Seward Silver Salmon Derby at (907) 224-8051 or seward.com.

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Last year a 17.67-pounder took first at the derby, and in 2013 a 21.25 claimed top honors. The largest ever weighed in was 2002’s winner, a 22.24-pounder.

(SEWARD CHAMBER OF COMMERCE)

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KENAI PENINSULA

Both Homer and Seward host derbies this month – halibut in the former, and silvers in the latter. Both offer great chances to win some cash! (BIXLER MCCLURE)

When To Catch ’Em On The Kenai Peninsula From its rivers and lakes to the seaports on Cook Inlet and the Gulf of Alaska, the Kenai Peninsula offers great access to lots of finny species. Of course, catching one is never a guarantee, but this chart provides a glimpse at the best months on salt- and freshwaters:

FISHING CALENDAR

Aug.

Sept.

Oct.

King salmon Sockeye salmon The Kenai River’s run of silver salmon is traditionally strongest in August and September.

Silver salmon Halibut Rainbow trout

(STEVE MEYER)

Upcoming Kenai Peninsula Events Aug. 1-2 Salmonfest, Ninilchik Fairgrounds (salmonfestalaska.org) Now-Sept. 7 Homer Jackpot Halibut Derby (homeralaska.org/visit-homer/events-homer/homer-jackpot-halibut-derby) Aug. 8-16 Seward Silver Salmon Derby (seward.com)

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ALCAN HIGHWAY

TRAVEL GUIDE

Delta Junction marks the end of the line for the iconic Alaska Highway. Shorter nowadays than at its inception, it’s still roughly 1,390 miles from where the road begins in Dawson Creek, British Columbia. (WIKIPEDIA)

WHAT TO DO AND SEE ON THE JOURNEY FROM DAWSON CREEK, B.C., TO DELTA JUNCTION, ALASKA PART IV OF IV: Whitehorse To The Yukon/Alaska Border

W

ell, fellow virtual travelers, this is it. We’re nearing the end of a grueling journey through one of the most iconic stretches of roads in North America: the Alaska Highway. We started our four-part journey in Fort Nelson, British Columbia, ate a Canadian donut classic and stared at the world’s largest golf ball. Then we entered the Yukon Territory, got a glimpse of Native Tlingit life, saw road signposts from around the world and got a little culture in Whitehorse, all while taking in some gorgeous scenery.

And now, we’re back in the good old USA, Alaska-style.

We’ll finish off our Alcan Highway trip planning by covering the area between the U.S./Canada border (Mile 1,221), all

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AUGUST 2015 | aksportingjournal.com

the way to the “official” end of the line for the Alaska Highway in Delta Junction at historic Mile 1,422.

Mile 1,221: Keep It Cool At The U.S./Canada Border Patrol In spring 2013, a writer for this magazine and his dog traveled through the border crossing near Blaine, Wash., on the way to Vancouver, B.C. And what he remembers most was being asked to put his poor pooch in a little crate while he walked inside the building for a quick chat with a Canadian agent, who asked the usual questions (What’s the reason for your trip?

Are you doing business here? Where are you staying?).

It was a lot easier getting back into the U.S. with his Amer-

This circa 1950 photo features two U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service vehicles at the Tok Cutoff/Alaska Highway junction at mile 1,314. (USFWS)

The Alcan travels through the Tetlin National Wildlife Refuge, which covers 682,604 acres in the Tanana River Valley. (USFWS)

ican passport, but just know that it could take a little while if there is a backup of cars. But it’s all part of traveling. If you didn’t want a little excitement you could have just flown to Orlando and gone to Disney World.

Mile 1,229: Stop By And See The Tetlin National Wildlife Refuge Visitor’s Center This is your welcome-to-Alaska moment. You’ve just found yourself in this beautiful state for the first time and you want to get a glimpse of Alaskan nature. It’s only fitting when 8 miles after the border you run into this pristine national refuge, government land full of flora and fauna and protected by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.

“The Alaska Highway is the northern boundary of the 682,604-acre Tetlin Refuge for 65 miles northwest of Alaska-Yukon border. From scenic overlooks you can view wetlands important to breeding waterfowl, and boreal forests and alpine habitats important to moose, caribou, grizzly and black bears, wolves and Dall sheep,” writes the refuge’s website (fws.gov/refuge/Tetlin/about.html).

“The preservation of these lands for wildlife represents the legacy of early conservationists. Our responsibility is to bequeath these lands and the animals living here to future generations.”

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The Burnt Paw is a bed-and-breakfast lodge in Tok that specializes in cozy cabins and raising sled dogs for winter mushing. Some of their husky pups are around the property in summer for guests to watch frolic as they also train for the Alaskan winter.

(BURNT PAW CABINS)

There is fishing inside the refuge, and hunting opportunities for caribou, moose and waterfowl are available. Bird watching is also in vogue here. According to the USFWS, species such as redwinged blackbird, sharp-tailed grouse

You’ve come this far, so you might as well stick around The Last Frontier and make this long drive through two Canadian provinces and the 49th state worth it and find some time to hunt or fish. (USFWS)

and blue-winged teal are not generally located in other areas of the state.

Mile 1,264: Not A Lot To Northway, But There’s Gas! There isn’t a lot of civilization through-

out your journey. So even in a town of about 70, Northway is an opportunity to stop and perhaps meet another human being. There’s what you would expect in a “city” with less than 100 residents: a campground, a gas station and a store.

Mile 1,314: Tok – Named After A Camp Or A Dog? The Tok Chamber of Commerce website (tokalaskainfo.com) refers to this city of about 1,400 as “the coldest inhabited community in North America.”

It’s also a community that was developed solely for the construction of the Alcan and Glenn Highways.

How the city got its name is up for debate.

“The name Tok was believed to be derived from Tokyo Camp, which was a road construction camp in 1943. The camp was part of improvement projects on the Alaska Highway. During WWII Tokyo Camp was shortened to ‘Tok,’” reports the website alaskacenters.gov.

“Another story in circulation is that Tok was actually named after a husky pup. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers were not only building the Alaska Highway but naming points along the way.

The young pup, named Tok, was their beloved mascot and it was unanimously decided to name the junction after the puppy.”

We hope the puppy version is the 80

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real origin of the city. Speaking of dogs, the Burnt Paw (907-883-4121; burntpawcabins.com) is a Tok bed-andbreakfast lodge that also specializes in raising and racing sled dogs.

Mile 1,317: Mukluk Land Now we’re talking! This theme park’s website (muklukland.net) describes itself as “Alaska’s most unique destination.” Who are we to argue? There is a miniature golf course (imagine bragging to anyone who will listen about that world’s largest golf ball sighting back in B.C!), an arcade and a museum that owners George and Beth Jacobs refer to on their site as “unusual collections.”

Slate.com paid a visit and cited a doll collection, a giant cabbage and “an impressive collection of beer cans and a ceiling plastered with flattened cereal boxes.” The website calls Mukluk Land “the most bizarre theme park around.”

Sign us up.

Mile 1,422: Delta Junction – End Of The Road/Beginning Of The Rest Of Your Trip Success! It hasn’t been an easy trip.

There have been stretches of empty highway, sporadic opportunities to stop and get a soda or water, or even find a place to bunk for an evening and find a good draft beer or glass of wine with your dinner. But isn’t this what travel should be about? The last thing you want is a predictable and tourist-infested Club Med-like atmosphere that seems scripted from the get-go.

Instead, come prepared with your own snacks; get gas when you have a chance; find a quaint little B&B and say forget about the lack of Yelp ratings. Eat at the little mom-and-pop diners and stop at the quirky one-room museums and soak it up.

But if you’re too tired after all this small-town North America experience, you can always merge onto the Richardson Highway and head the extra 100 miles or so to Fairbanks, which with a population of 32,000 and change might feel like midtown Manhattan after the country you’ve just driven through. ASJ

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THE BULL

MARKET RECOLLECTIONS OF AN ALASKAN MOOSE HUNTER

A big Alaskan bull moose emerges from willows.

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(PAUL D. ATKINS)

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Moose camp may not be much to look at. But this place is special and holds a lot of memories for author Paul Atkins. Old campsites can be found along many Alaskan rivers and are there for a reason. (PAUL D. ATKINS)

BY PAUL D. ATKINS

T

he commotion outside seemed to shake the entire tent. I was fast asleep in my mummy bag, all wrapped up dreaming about the day to come, when I could feel the ground shake below me.

What the hell was making all that noise outside, I thought? Like so many times before, I knew it could only be one thing: bears. It’s a bruin – it’s got to be a bear, and he’s probably tearing up Lew’s boat or he’s found our food cache. Carefully unzipping the tent, I peered outside to see what was going on. The sight was amazing.

AN ALASKAN TRADITION Moose hunting has always been one of my favorites, even more so today than many years ago when I first came to Alaska. In those days, it was all about caribou and seeing the magnificent herds that roam this part of the world.

Taking that symbol of Alaska was my primary goal, and seeing a sea of antlers each time I went out was a sight unto itself. But like grand sunsets, things never last and those same herds now take a different route and are harder to get to than they used to be.

Hunters themselves have changed too, especially here in my neck of the tundra. Moose have now become the primary quarry, resulting in boats and planes filled with what I consider the best meat on the planet.

The monsters that once roamed the

far north, specifically in Northwest Alaska, aren’t as common as they once were.

Granted, the moose are there, but to truly find a big boy can be tough at times. The vastness of Alaska is huge and, yes, there are places where they die of old age, but getting to those places can be quite difficult, even if you have a tag. Brave or not, hiking or flying into a location where most won’t go can be scary; it can be even tougher if you happen to score.

Back in the old days, when tags could be bought over the counter and hunters flocked here by the hundreds, moose were a common bag. If you planned a trip to the Arctic it always included moose and many were taken quite frequently. These days, tags are draw only for nonresidents, and resident hunters can only hunt between Sept. 1-20, unless they have a special subsistence tag that’s good for a larger portion of the year. One thing’s for sure: finding a bull that is at least 50 inches has become a tough endeavor these past few years.

CHASING GIANTS I’ve been on many memorable moose hunts throughout my career and lucky enough to take a few, either on my subsistence tag or meeting the minimums.

But I’ve never taken a giant bull – not even close to taking one. I admit that I like antlers, but it has never been truly about that. It can be expensive to live in the bush of Alaska and it has always been about filling my freezer and providing food for my family throughout the year. This land has provided well and it

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has been a pure joy to experience it.

Over the years I’ve had friends and acquaintances venture north to fulfill their moose wish, but never have I achieved the kind of moose that I wanted to hang on the wall. During this time I didn’t really need to. My freezer was always full – or at least half full anyway – thanks to those same friends. I was always glad to get it too.

It all started with my first bull, which took place long before there were any restrictions. He was a young bull with barely enough horn to be called a bull, but he fit the bill and filled my freezer.

We were on a subsistence hunt, boating down one of the many unnamed rivers in search of caribou. Traveling up a river in early fall and looking for caribou goes hand in hand and the notion of taking a moose was only an afterthought. I had just become a resident and was still a novice to the dos and don’ts of boat hunting in the Arctic.

It was a great time on the river, except for the mosquitoes that tormented us. I would have done anything for a Thermacell back in those days, but a can of Deet had to do, even though the bugs seemed to chew through every application.

The willows were glossy green and summer was still evident everywhere you looked. We were on the way back to camp and there the bull stood, feeding on the green grass in the shallows of the river. My partner and boat captain dropped me off and I made my first

Good optics are key to locating most game in Alaska, and moose are no different. With bulls typically feeding where willows are tallest and densest, it pays to find an elevated spot to glass from. (PAUL D. ATKINS)

Alaskan stalk. I really didn’t know if I was doing it correctly or not.

As I made my approach, the bull never even noticed me and was as surprised as I was when the newly purchased .300 Win Mag rang out. He dropped in his tracks and I had my first Alaskan moose.

Many more have fallen since then, and most were taken in the same places as before. Good moose country is usually always good moose country, and I’ve learned it’s always a good bet to check those same areas every year.

The season doesn’t matter either – I’ve taken them early, like my first bull, and also as late as December and January, when snow is on the ground and daylight is minimal. Those hunts are a lot of fun and different in every way, but

Good moose hunting areas are usually productive year in and year out. Remember those by marking those spots and keeping them secret. (PAUL D. ATKINS)

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each animal tasted as good as the last.

STUMBLING ONTO A BULL Most of the moose kills I’ve been associated with have been a surprise, and most happened while hunting something else. Very few times have I actually killed a moose while looking for one; most times it’s been under bizarre circumstances or by sheer luck.

A few years ago I had a good friend up from the Lower 48 wanting to experience the wilds of Alaska. We flew to a great spot, watching caribou all the way and even seeing a grizzly or two as the Cessna cruised above the river valley. The fishing was excellent and the weather was perfect; and we each had a pocket full of tags.

The first couple of days were pretty much action-free, but after a late lunch on the third day we headed to a small hill on the tundra to glass the valley below us. I was glassing the far side of the river when I noticed a small group of caribou feeding along a willow patch.

It was over a mile away, but I could see the group held a couple of large mature bulls mingled with about 10 cows.

Knowing dark would be setting in soon and with nary a moose in sight, I talked my friends into trekking over to see just how big those caribou were.

Our primary goal had always been moose, but we also had several caribou tags between us. The idea of scoring on a couple of nice bulls would make the

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hunt more enjoyable and successful, especially if we could fill the freezer back home.

We cinched up our hip waders and took off, crossing several rivers and deep streams to get there. Finally, we made it to the area where we had last seen the small band. Crawling through the last batch of dense willows, the bulls came into view minus the cows, leaving all of us feeling pretty lucky.

At the time we only had one rifle that was primarily for bear protection, even though we hadn’t seen any bruins yet. My friend Garrett had his bow, but bow range was out of the question and we both knew we couldn’t get close enough with an arrow.

We picked out two bulls close together, giving us the best chance at taking both. I put up the tripod, eased the gun up and settled in. The shot found its

mark and the bull dropped in his tracks.

I quickly handed the rifle to Garrett and the second bull fell not 10 yards from mine. It was a great moment. Two big bulls that would fulfill most hunters’ Alaskan dream lay before us, surrounded by an incredible view of the river and mountains. It wasn’t until minutes later that we realized the real action was about to begin.

We took pictures and began field dressing, when I happened to look up and see an expanse of brown hide and palmated antler moving through the willows. He was massive, but this beast of a moose didn’t seem frightened by us at all.

It was surreal as the bull swung his massive head from side to side, slobber flying from his mouth! Looking back, I don’t know if he was looking for a fight or thinking we were another moose – all I know is he continued to march, which

Early-season bulls can be found along waterways where browse in the form of willows and aquatic vegetation is plentiful. Hunting by boat, like Lew Pagel and the author do frequently, can be very advantageous when it comes to finding these types of bulls. (PAUL D. ATKINS)

r day Fo Call To ional Addit turer c Manufatives! n e c n I

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ended up being a final mistake.

With plenty of shooting light left, I grabbed Garrett and we headed towards him, using willows for cover.

When we got to within 100 yards, I handed Garrett my rifle and boom – the big bull was down.

It was a true trophy: 65 inches wide and close to 2,000 pounds of pure Alaskan muscle! Getting him and the two caribou packed out was an event all itself, taking about three days to complete. It was well worth it!

NOT JUST A SEPTEMBER HUNT Searching for moose with snow on the ground and temperatures way below

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Checking to see if he distributed the weight correctly, Lew Pagel makes a few passes along the river before crossing a lake to get back home. Packing a boat, raft or even plane can be critical and should be taken seriously. (PAUL D. ATKINS)

freezing takes a totally different mind set than hunting them in September.

I’ve done it many times. You dress differently and your mode of transportation changes from a boat or bush plane to a snowmachine. Hunting is pretty much the same, using the spot-andstalk technique to get close.

My first late-season bull happened in December many years ago.

We loaded our sleds and headed north. Luckily, we found two bulls early when we still had plenty of day-

Bad place to pick a fight. This bull and another battled behind the tent of Atkins and good friend and hunting partner Lew Pagel (left). (PAUL D. ATKINS)

light during the short winter days.

The two bulls were standing side by side and one was quite a bit bigger than the other. The big bull only had one antler and lost the other somewhere on the tundra.

I decided to take the smaller bull, which appeared to be a lot younger and would taste better anyway. The shot was long, but the bull disappeared into the willows. It was a great hunt resulting in a great bull. We got home long after dark.

Other than the searching part, hunting and shooting a respectable bull has always been the easy part for me. It’s after the shot when all the work begins.

Most people can’t quite understand or comprehend the sheer size of one of these monarchs.

A big bull can weigh close to a ton, a smaller one not much less. Unlike a deer or even a caribou, a moose produces a lot of trips to the boat or backbreaking walks to the landing strip, plus you use a lot of game bags!

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THE BATTLE BEHIND THE TENT The noise that awoke me last September wasn’t a bear or even a group of bears. It wasn’t the herd of caribou that I had been dreaming about in my mummy bag. It was a moose, two of them, in fact, standing right outside the tent battling like a couple of UFC fighters pounding each other in the octagon.

Standing there in my long underwear watching the event unfold was surreal, to say the least. The early-morning light combined with the fog rolling off the river made it feel like a dream. The big bulls were close to the same size, and with each charge the echo of their antlers rattled the water along the shore of the adjacent river. Not really knowing what to do next, I finally came to the conclusion that I should try and take one of the bulls.

As I headed back to the tent to grab my rifle, I noticed my bow case laying on the bow of the boat not 30 yards away.

I knew this would be over soon and decided it would take too much time to get the bow and get back in time for a

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shot. I wanted to get this on film too, but my camera was buried in my pack and would take a lot of time to get it set up. Looking back, I wasn’t prepared and

fighting behind the tent man…get up quick, you got to see this,” I told him.

I grabbed the rifle, jacked a shell and headed to the back of the tent. Lew The primary goal has always been to fill the freezer. This bull did that and more. The author has eaten a lot of big game in his lifetime, and this bull was by far the best ever.

(PAUL D. ATKINS)

I should have taken the time.

I stuck my head in the tent just as my good friend and hunting partner Lew Pagel was starting to stir from all the commotion I was making.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“There’s a couple of monster bulls

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followed. Both of us were barefoot and wore nothing but long underwear and T-shirts.

The bulls began to back off and the bigger of the two broke and made for the willows across a shallow pond. He was enormous and would have been the

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The pack out after taking a nice bull is exhausting – and a great feeling. (PAUL D. ATKINS)

shooter had he given me the chance.

The second bull stood there in all his glory and gave me the perfect quartering-away shot. All I could see was the right side of his antler crowned with six brow points forming what appeared to be a soup bowl.

I looked at Lew and he stared back in disbelief. My first thought was I wished I had my bow; I raised the rifle and found

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the bull in the Trijicon scope. The loud boom vibrated through camp, the big bull swirled and fell. It was unbelievable to say the least. Here we were on the first morning of our hunt and we had a big bull down right behind our tent not 40 yards from the boat. How lucky can a couple guys get?

The second bull didn’t go far. We could hear him a short distance away, crashing

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and thrashing the dense willow. Lew made a couple of calls and the bigger bull decided to reappear. He was coming closer when Lew and I decided that one bull was enough. The idea of getting two back across the vicious lake we had to cross might spell doom for the both of us. But we never had the chance. The big boy had had enough and ventured onward and looked for another foe.

Even though it wasn’t in the “classic” hunting style, I finally had my moose, the big boy that I had searched for all these long years. Measuring at 62 inches and weighing upwards of 1,500 pounds, the bull was an easy pack to the boat, but only after Lew and I had our coffee and Pop-Tarts – the cherry kind. ASJ Editor’s note: Paul Atkins is an outdoor writer, author and part time TV personality who contributes each month to Alaska Sporting Journal. He has written hundreds of articles on hunting big game throughout North America and Africa.

Paul lives in Kotzebue, Alaska.

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THE

LEARNING AN ASPIRING HUNTER BEGINS TO FIND HIS GROOVE ON FLOAT TRIPS | PART II OF III

BY LOUIS CUSACK

N

Editor’s note: Part I appeared in the June issue of Alaska Sporting Journal.

ow I’d done it! One remote wilderness hunt north of the Arctic Circle, and I was hooked. I just had one question: How do I go about leading an expedition myself?

In my neck of the woods, a single invite does not make someone a card-carrying member of a hunting party. I was still scratching my head and burning a few brain cells on this one when I received a call from Gary Herring, who invited me over for a dinner party to celebrate our hunt. This is another tradition for Gary and Mike Thorne. They had gathered all of our pictures and video, then put together a video compilation and a slide show to capture the memo-

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ries of the hunt.

Little did I know at the time that one of the tricks these characters play on the new guy is to sneak back into camp while he is out hunting, and then place a couple of blow-up dolls in their tent.

Well, in this case, the new guy was me!

Yes sir, there they were for all to see – “Molly” and “Kasandra,” all snuggled up in my sleeping bag awaiting my return.

Everyone got a big kick out of that.

Heck, I enjoyed it as much as anyone else did. These pranksters were about as good of folks as I have ever met and I can honestly say that I have known very few people who celebrate someone

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else’s success as if it were their own.

These guys are great folks to ride the river with.

During our little dinner party I broached the subject of possibly going hunting the next season. To my disappointment, Gary and Mike did not have any plans to hunt moose the following year, but they were gracious enough to give me permission to plan and hunt their location on my own.

Joining in on a hunt as a guest and planning your own remote wilderness float hunt are two very different things, and I would soon find out that there is a lot more to one of these hunts than most people would ever imagine.

My first challenge was figuring out whom to go with. I wanted to take

The author (far right) is a “Ragin’ Cajun” from Louisiana who found his niche in Alaska, where he now hunts with friends on a regular basis. (LOUIS CUSACK)

YEARS

someone with good wilderness skills and someone who I could count on to honor my commitment to Gary and Mike. This turned out to be the easiest part of the whole shebang, as Steve Sanders and his son, Jeramiah, a captain in the Air Force, readily accepted the invitation to join me.

From the start, we hit problems with timing and transporters. In fact, our transporter closed up shop, delaying our hunt to the following season. So it was 2004 before I officially started planning my own trip into this area, and thus began what I call “The Learning Years.”

I can tell you that looking back on those years today, I didn’t know squat back then and I am grateful for the help I received along the way.

THE FOLLOWING YEAR, my friend Jeff Spitler agreed to join me. Jeff’s an archery hunter from Colorado by way of Texas.

He’s a rangy Western-hunting type of guy with a thirst for adventure and hungry to take on all that Alaska has to offer. Jeff and I would spend the next several seasons hunting this river, learning float and moose hunting tactics together and having a blast doing it.

My first priority for my second attempt of putting this hunt together was to get the right raft, one well suited for this type of hunt. I’d been following the Pristine Ventures forum and speaking with owner Larry Bartlett, whom I’d met at the Great Alaska Sportsmen’s Show.

Larry sells high-quality outdoor products and even offers hunt-planning services.

After talking to Larry and getting advice on rafts best suited for our hunt, I landed on the Soar Levitator, which seemed perfect for the river we hunt.

The river is low, it’s slow, and if the wind comes howling in out of the north, you’ll spend more time walking and pulling than paddling.

All of the benefits of a true whitewater raft are outweighed by this flat raft’s 22-inch tubes and 8-inch inflatable floor’s ability to virtually float a house in extremely low water. I still own and use this raft today and it has more than paid for itself. It’s been a great rig for this type of a hunt.

On our first hunt together, Jeff and I encountered unusually warm weather.

We were hunting during the right time of year, but Mother Nature had decided to throw a little monsoon our way.

In this country, warm weather means black flies and white socks. Those little buggers about tore us up, but boy howdy, did they have those caribou moving.

That season we experienced the best caribou hunting out of all of the seasons I had hunted before or since.

Caribou were pouring through camp, with ridges running on either side of the river. We were able to sit up high away from the bugs and watch small groups of them filtering down through our valley, crossing the river just below us. Interestingly enough, it seemed that seven out of 10 small groups traveling through would follow almost the exact same trails, making them fairly easy to pattern.

We just sat there until a group came along with a bull in it that we wanted to take, and then one of us would slip down to the river and attempt to intercept them. Jeff was the first one up and after spotting a group with several nice bulls in it, he headed for the stream with his bow, hoping for a shot opportunity.

It was pretty cool to sit up high and watch Jeff’s stalk unfold. Once he reached the river, the caribou winded and busted him, turning back on the tundra and crossing about 300 yards upriver.

Then a funny thing occurred just after they crossed. These caribou seemed to be bound and determined to follow a specific path and I’ll be doggoned if that

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When the river is low and slow, and the wind comes howling in out of the north, you’ll spend more time walking and pulling than paddling with such a full raft. (LOUIS CUSACK)

group of bulls didn’t turn back and recross the river, ending up directly across the water from Jeff.

Something just told those knuckleheads that they had to cross right there and no place else. This time when they winded Jeff and bunched, one of the bulls stood just off from the group, presenting Jeff with a clear shot. At 45 yards on the rangefinder Jeff pulled to full draw, held center between his 40and 50-yard pins and made a perfect shot. That caribou only took about five steps and piled up on the gravel bar.

A day or two later – or maybe even three days, I can’t remember anymore

– I put my spotting scope on a beautiful caribou bull. He was about 3 miles out, walking the walk that would take him right below our glassing ridge.

I began praying that this old boy would make it to where I could put on a successful stalk. He was with 16 other bulls. His top on one side was palmated with double-fork tines, making him easy to spot from his buddies. It took them a long time to finally make it to our position, and by the time I headed to the river I knew enough about him to easily pick him out. I shot and dropped him in almost the same spot as Jeff’s bull.

We each had a great caribou, so we

packed our gear, loaded the raft and headed downriver to our second base camp. We stopped and called several times while floating. Every place we stopped was covered with caribou, moose, wolf and bear tracks, but we did not see a single human footprint, nor did we see a plane for the first seven days of our hunt. I am pretty certain that we were the only party to float that year, and it was a truly awesome feeling to think we were the only two people anywhere near this area for the season.

We hunted until it was time to head to the pick-up point and saw a number of bull moose and plenty more caribou, but nothing that really caught our eye, so we let them walk, hoping they’d be bigger the next season.

The morning we packed camp and started floating was almost like being in Pamplona, home of Spain’s running of the bulls. It seemed like someone had kicked the gate open and turned the rut on in full force. We called and spotted three different bulls within a mile of camp and spotted a total of six bulls during our float down. We even called one up to the raft. This little guy was spoiling for a fight until the raft turned and he saw the blinking red light on my camera. He took off like his hind parts

DON’T SKIMP ON GEAR QUALITY I have come to learn the importance of having a good gear list to guarantee a successful Alaska hunting trip, especially when considering the logistics, including the shipment of heavy items like rafts. Preparation for transport of hazardous substances like raft repair glue, propane (believe it or not) and Coleman fuel via air cargo is very important.

In fact, many items cannot be shipped on passenger flights and must be either purchased locally or shipped. I’ve learned that shipping my gear well in advance and ensuring it has arrived prior to my departure can make a hunt go a whole lot smoother; many transporters will pick up your gear from air cargo carriers on your behalf.

The next step is to find a transporter, preferably one with both float and wheel planes. For me, this turned out to be the hardest part, and for several years I used two separate transporters to get my party and I in and out of the field, but by God it worked!

The first year I hunted this area, I packed friend Mike Thorne’s 130-pound raft 1 mile to the river and I thought I could avoid that little party again by using a lighter raft with a standard floor, which would be much easier to carry. This was prior to the days of the super lightweight rafts we use today, but later I found out that the raft I purchased for this hunt simply would not cut it.

Hunting partner Steve Spitler and I could not get our schedules aligned to hunt during the prime rut and we flew into the field with veteran hunter Gary Herring’s words still ringing in my ear: “You’re going too early, Boudreaux; it won’t be the same hunt.”

Needless to say, Gary was right. We saw nine different bulls on this hunt, but we never found one that we felt comfortable pulling the trigger on, and we were way too early for caribou.

We had a great hunt, but unfortunately we returned empty-handed. This would be the only time I hunted this early and the only time we came home without any game.

I learned a lot on this trip, mostly what not to do! I learned a long time ago that skimping on gear in Alaska is never a smart decision. It’s a land that can do a lot more than make you miserable if you don’t have the right gear. She can kill you, and being 100 miles from the nearest road, it’s not like you can jump in the truck and go get what you need. If only I had applied this logic on my raft choice! -LC 104

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were on fire when he saw that light!

It was getting late in the evening, and the sun was starting to set. My GPS was reading less than a mile from the takeout when a bull moose stepped out on a gravel bar. This close to the takeout in the last hour of the last day was just too much pressure for this old boy, so I bailed out of the raft and dropped the bull right beside the river.

We floated into our pick-up location the next morning with the Levitator squatted down with a full load, and that year we left the field feeling really good. My new raft was just the ticket for this hunt, and we were getting the logistics dialed in. We had also learned a lot more about hunting the area.

Every year I learned more and improved my skills at hunt planning, logistics, gear selection and moose hunting, but there are two very special years during my most formative float-hunting period. The first was in 2007, when Gary Herring and Mike Thorne joined me for another hunt and the second was in 2009, which was when I got a great

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education on moose hunting. This hunt significantly improved my moose hunting skills and you can easily see the results during the years that followed.

One year, Jeff Spitler and the author hunted during unseasonably warm conditions and had to deal with more bugs than usual – but they also enjoyed excellent caribou hunting that season. (LOUIS CUSACK)

I WAS REALLY excited to hear that Gary, Mike and a whole slew of Thornes would be joining us. Since this was their area, I offered to skip a season to let their party hunt, but these guys wanted nothing to do with that. As Gary likes to say, “I’m just there for the camaraderie and to sit around the campfire with everyone, giggling like school girls.”

I laugh every time I think about this, since Gary is actually one of the hardest workers of the party. He’s the first one up every morning and the last one down at night. I was looking forward to our early-morning coffee time! I was

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also looking forward to a little payback.

Gary and Mike never let me pay them one cent for the cost of shipping our gear to the field or for the food on our first trip. This one was on me, and I was also looking forward to showing them how much I had learned.

Jeff and I flew out a few days in front of Gary’s party, encountering a really good bull moose on the first day we could hunt, but he managed to put the slip on us. We’d see him again!

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The weather was cooperating and the grayling were biting as though they hadn’t eaten since we left the previous

The author with his best caribou yet, which was among a group of 16 bulls.

(LOUIS CUSACK)

year. Jeff and I took advantage of the fishing and spent the first couple of days hunting, packing and floating into our first base camp.

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We started hunting from a place we call Wolf Point, which is nothing more than a rock outcropping where Gary had ambushed a couple of wolves on a previous hunt. From Wolf Point, we could see our dropoff location and we got a big kick out of watching Gary and Mike pack their gear to the river. We were both happy that it was them instead of us after having just gone through that marathon event a couple days earlier.

Getting gear to the river can be more than half the battle. Most hunters would rather land on a bar beside the river and not deal with the packing, which helps avoid overcrowding the area.

It wasn’t long before the whole gang was in base camp and we had a grand old time. We caught up on our hunts, shared meals and campfires, and did our best to pull a few pranks on each other.

One particular prank they pulled on me happened when Mike’s son Shawn shot a grizzly right next to our rafts.

He had been glassing most of the morning and was taking a bit of a midday siesta when he woke up looking at a

grizzly that was less than 17 yards away!

Shawn didn’t hesitate to shoot, taking his very first barren ground grizzly.

Mike, Gary and Shawn were taking pictures and skinning Shawn’s bear when Mike looked over at my raft. “Hey guys, we can’t pass this opportunity up,” he said.

Mike’s idea was to let all of the air out of two tubes on my raft and to set it up to look like the bear had torn into my raft before Shawn got a chance to put him down. I just about had a heart attack when I walked into camp and saw my raft deflated and looking like it was torn to heck and back.

They really laid it on thick, looking at me with big, long faces and making comments like, “Man, I’m sorry we didn’t get here in time.”

Yes sir, they got me good with that one!

The next morning the bull that had slipped by me and Jeff earlier in the trip made his way back to us. We were in camp having breakfast and coffee and Mike had just returned from the river

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bar after finishing his first calling sequence, when we heard an “ooh ah” – a bull grunt (not ours) – and he was coming right into camp. Maybe he wanted breakfast! Hunters grabbed rifles – I grabbed my camera – and we all headed to the bar hoping to call him into the opening.

Mike set up and this bull came in grunting like he was on fire. We had four guys with rifles and moose tags standing there with a 60-inch bull with six brow tines on each side in front of us. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been in a few camps where this could have been a real problem, but absolutely not in this camp. I remember that the guys were spending so much time trying to offer each other the shot that old Mr. Bullwinkle might have walked right out of the shooting lane.

The shot was finally given to Jeff, and he dropped him right on the bar. We had another long pack on our hands. It was about 5 yards, if I recall it correctly. I was so honored to have witnessed such an amazing act of good sportsmanship.

We had agreed prior to the hunt that we would spend several nights in each base camp together, but we would daisy chain our floats so that we were covering more ground. The next morning, Jeff and I loaded up, bid farewell to our hunting pals and headed downriver.

One other event stood out in 2007: Jeff and I had worked our way up a drainage just behind our second base camp. We sat on a ridge watching small

groups of caribou filtering through the basin and crossing a ridge just to our right. I was watching a small group in my binos that were about 1,100 yards away, according to the rangefinder.

They suddenly scattered and started running like someone had dropped a bomb on them. I got my spotting scope on the area and saw two wolves taking down a caribou.

At 1,100 yards we knew that makJeff Spitler’s bull moose came during a frantic trip that included a confrontation with a bear and another massive bull that wandered into camp.

(LOUIS CUSACK)

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ing a successful stalk was going to be a longshot, but we beat feet down the ridge. As luck would have it, we made a successful stalk and I managed to get one nice-sized male wolf down. We found over 20 kill sites in this immediate area, and while we were making the stalk, we watched the two wolves hide behind a small clump of spruce to let other caribou walk by. They were obviously planning to do more damage and we were happy to interrupt their plans!

It had been a great year. Mike’s son Shawn managed to take a 63-inch bull later in the hunt, and we went home with another great adventure under our belts. We scored some nice trophies and everyone in our party had shot opportunities on both moose and caribou.

I’D LIKE TO think that 2008 was the year that I finally got it all dialed in. This was the year that I really learned a lot about moose hunting, specifically about calling in cows during the rut.

Ed Bulawa, a friend from work, joined me on this hunt. Ed is 6 feet, 9 inches

tall, an ex-Army jock and basketball player. He has thighs about the size of a Kentucky Derby winner and he floats across the tundra with a 100-pound pack like a fog bank. He covers country a bit like a big bull moose or brown bear, meaning that while it doesn’t look like he’s going too fast, after five minutes you notice that he’s about 500 yards out in front of you.

Right off the bat, we spotted a bull over a mile away and walking dead away from our area. This wasn’t a bull we were interested in taking, but up until this point it would not have mattered.

I’d had some success bull grunting, but I had never mastered cow calling or hunted with anyone who had. Up to this point, bulls that were far away and going in the opposite direction were a pretty safe distance from me. Just then, Ed pulled a bull magnet horn out of his pack and laid into his version of a lovesick cow. What the what?

That bull stopped and looked directly at us and, after a few more calls, turned and started coming in like he

was tied onto a yo-yo string. Ed called him in to less than 100 yards and played with him a little while. The only thing that bull wouldn’t do was climb up Wolf Point with us.

Ed Bulawa (left, with the author) with his 55-inch-wide-racked bull moose.

(LOUIS CUSACK)

I watched Ed do this a number of times on this trip, including with a bull he called in from well updrainage to the beaver pond beside our river where Ed had set

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bull, less than 50 yards from the river.

Ed taught me more about moose hunting and the art of calling moose on this hunt than I had learned in all of my previous hunting trips put together.

I would prove to be a good student over the next couple years.

I passed on several good bulls, including one that my buddy Steve Tousignant from Minnesota, who joined us on this trip, still calls me crazy for passing up.

However, with Ed’s bull on the ground, we had plenty of meat and I had promised

myself that I would not take one unless we either needed meat or if he was that oncein-a-lifetime bull we all yearn to shoot!

I always want to do my best to ensure I have a tag in my pocket in case I come across that special bull. I’d much rather not pull the trigger and go home empty-handed than to have to stand and watch my bull of a lifetime walk off into the sunset.

Steve and I both took really great caribou bulls on this trip, and once again we left the field after having a grand old ad-

The author (left), Ed Bulawa and Steve Tousignant enjoy not just the scenery, not just filling their freezer with tasty meat, but also the camaraderie of their hunting trips in Alaska. (LOUIS CUSACK)

venture and taking a few good trophies, but this time when I left I was determined to improve my cow-calling skills.

I was learning and each year I found one or two more things I could improve.

I knew that I would do this hunt as often as the good Lord was willing to provide me with the health and good fortune to do these remote wilderness adventures.

I had clearly fallen in love with this river, the country and the hunting. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was soon joined by a lady who became the new love of my life. She is a woman who shares my passion for remote wilderness hunting and my affection for this river.

What had become my hunting tradition was about to meet Mrs. Ruth, and together we would build a family hunting tradition, one we look forward to from the day we leave the field till the moment we step back on the tundra!

More to come. ASJ Editor’s note: Look for part III of this series in a future issue of Alaska Sporting Journal.

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FIELD

HOLY COW, THIS HUNT'S TOUGH

ADAK ISLAND IS NOT AN EASY PLACE TO CHASE CARIBOU, BUT THEY ARE AS TASTY THEY COME

BY SCOTT HAUGEN

O

ne week, three hunters, three cow caribou. That’s it.

That’s what my buddies and I came away with on a hunt last fall on Adak Island, and all three of those cows came from one herd and all were taken at the same time.

Honestly, I got a bad feeling about the hunt the moment our Alaska Airlines commercial jet touched down on Adak.

While two groups of hunters got off the plane, three other groups were boarding for the return trip to Anchorage. I wasn’t expecting to see that much hunting pressure on this remote island that is halfway down the Aleutians to Russia's Kamchatka Peninsula.

A drive through the ghost town – once an active military base teaming with tens of thousands people – enlightened me further of what to expect in coming days. One group of hunters I spoke with had been there nearly a week and hadn’t seen a single bull caribou. They had two cows to their credit, but averaged nearly 13 miles of packing boned-out meat per animal.

Another party of two hunters each had a cow apiece, and they also logged several miles on foot to fill their tags. They hadn’t seen a bull either.

Each day we saw hunters, and it was often a race to the trailhead where the hike began. Some mornings we couldn’t hunt where we wanted to because people were in the area.

To make things worse, some land had recently been blocked off, unannounced, forbidding ATV access to the best hunting grounds north of the Alaska Maritime National Wildlife Refuge. This meant walking was the only way to reach prime hunting grounds, and to get to the best spots days of hiking and spike camping would be required.

HERDS MIGRATING SOUTH At the end of the week we talked with fellow hunters who went to the southern part of the island, traveling by both boat and ATV. They all got caribou – despite no big bulls – but the hunt was challenging and downright miserable during the times they were stuck in their tents, waiting out storms.

You’ll spend a lot of time hiking and glassing Adak Island in search of pressured caribou tucked into tight places. Bring good optics and be ready for a workout. (SCOTT HAUGEN)

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FIELD

A TASTE OF EUROPE

BY TIFFANY HAUGEN

W

ith big game season upon us, now is a great time to get the most of that fresh meat. Like many of you, our family lives on wild game, so we’re always looking for new and flavorful ways to prepare our meals.

This one came by surprise.

The French gave us the word roulade (to roll), but the Germans added the pickle.

We first enjoyed this creation made with kudu while staying with German friends in Namibia. Whether caribou, moose, deer, elk, muskox or African big game, this easy, slow-cooked dish is a winner.

6 venison steaks 3 tablespoons Dijon mustard 6 slices bacon

(TIFFANY HAUGEN)

6 tablespoons sauerkraut 6 small dill pickles 4 tablespoons flour 2 to 3 tablespoons olive oil 2 cups beef broth ½ cup red wine Salt and pepper to taste Pound venison steaks to one-thirdinch thickness. Salt and pepper to taste.

Spread mustard evenly over each steak.

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es Cut bacon slices g in half, placing 2 short stripss over mustard.

Spread sauerkraut evenly lace pickpick over bacon. Place les on one end of each steak. Roll steaks tightly over pickle, all the way to the end.

Secure with a toothpick or butcher’s twine. Coat rolls in flour. Heat oil on medium-high and brown rolls one to two minutes per side.

Place rolls in an ovenproof casserole dish. Pour beef broth and red wine into the pan used for browning and scrape up any brown bits. Bring liquid to a boil and pour over rolls. Place in a preheated 350-degree oven. Bake 60 to 90 minutes or until meat is tender.

Serve as is or remove rolls and make sauce from the liquid. To make sauce, add liquid to a saucepan and bring to a boil. Reduce five to 10 minutes. In a small bowl, whisk 2 tablespoons flour with twothirds-cup water. Add flour mixture to boiling liquid while whisking constantly.

Place rolls in sauce to warm or pour warm sauce over rolls and serve.

Editor’s note: For 100-plus more great recipes and signed copies of Scott and Tiffany Haugen’s popular cookbook, Cooking Big Game, send a check for $20 (free S&H) to Haugen Enterprises, P.O. Box 275, Walterville, OR 97489 or order online at scotthaugen.com.

Tiffany Haugen is a full-time author and part of the new online series, Cook With Cabela’s. Also, watch her on The Sporting Chef on the Sportsman Channel.

Because we were filming the hunt for Alaska Outdoors TV, we were limited on what lands we could hunt, so that didn’t help our cause. For that reason, we had to stay off the refuge. But for friends Paul Atkins, Cory Kittle and I, we were surprised at the lack of caribou we did see; we hunted what were considered the best places, off the refuge. When it was all done, we’d seen a single cow, a group of three cows and a herd of just over 20, which we got the three cows from. We didn’t see any single bulls the whole trip – and yes, we did cover a lot of ground.

All of us were in good shape and were able to get to where we wanted to; the caribou just weren’t there. Talking with some of the residents, it seems most of the estimated 3,000 head of caribou had moved to the southern end of the island, where they are extremely difficult to access.

The locals say hunting pressure has pushed them there. The beaches are so rough there’s nowhere to moor a boat.

The land is so rugged there’s no place to land a bush plane. The only option is to take ATVs as far as possible and walk from there.

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FINEST CUISINE, BUT A TOUGH HUNT While it’s a lot of work and not cheap by do-it-yourself standards, I will say the meat was the best-eating caribou I’d ever had. No predators, a mild climate, no migration and loads of food means these caribou grow big and healthy.

According to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, the largest taken as of 2012 was a 700-pound bull.

My wife and I lived on caribou meat during our time on the North Slope, and those caribou weren’t even a distant second to those we ate from Adak.

It’s some of the best venison I’ve ever had, period.

Honestly, if you look to hunt Adak caribou, I’d suggest waiting. Let the word spread of how tough the hunting is and maybe pressure will be alleviated to the point where the animals will move back to the more accessible part of the island, where they used to thrive.

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Haugen and hunting partner Cory Kittle worked hard for this Adak Island cow. While caribou numbers are solid here, they live in very difficult-to-reach places, making the hunt tougher than what many hunters anticipate. (SCOTT HAUGEN)

floating around, as caribou are starting to swim to neighboring islands, which isn’t wanted.

As for hunting season on Adak, because caribou were introduced, season

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is different than in other parts of Alaska.

Cows are open year-round, with no bag limits, while bull season runs Aug. 10Dec. 31, with a two-per-year limit. Due to the sensitivity of this herd and how it’s

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managed, check the Alaska Department of Fish and Game (adfg.alaska.gov) and the USFWS (fws.gov/refuge/alaska_ maritime/adak_hunting.html) websites for the latest hunting information.

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Though caribou abound on Adak, the shifting cycle of where they’re living makes accessing them tough. If you can walk miles each day and like hunting from a spike camp, this hunt might be what you’re looking for. ATVs can be rented from a few locals, which is essentially a must to have any prayer of filling multiple tags.

Will I go back to Adak anytime soon? No, not likely. But I’m glad I did it. To see the rich military history of this place, walk through what feels like a ghost town on a Hollywood set and see some of Alaska’s most captivating bird life was worth it. We also experienced great ptarmigan hunting, which helped ease the pain. But for me, I’ll let Adak be for a while and pursue caribou interests in other parts of the state. ASJ Editor’s note: Personally signed copies of Scott Haugen’s best-selling book, Hunting the Alaskan High Arctic, can be ordered by sending a check for $35 (free S&H) to Haugen Enterprises, P.O. Box Walterville, OR 97489, or order at scotthaugen.com.

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Scott Haugen and fellow Alaska Sporting Journal correspondent Paul Atkins with the last load of the day. If looking to hunt Adak Island caribou, be in shape and prepared to walk many miles. (SCOTT HAUGEN)

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DECLINE OF THE NO SYMPATHY

OUTDOORS

CULTURE

BY STEVE MEYER

A

while back while talking to a friend who is an icon in the world of hunting and fishing outdoor media we were discussing hunting and equipment. After I declared my personal preference for long guns, he said that he never had much choice in what he used, as sponsors or advertisers dictated his “preference.”

I’m grown up enough to understand it takes money to buy whiskey, and without advertising revenue there would be no outdoor publications or outdoor video programs. But it still seems that in many respects the outdoor world has gotten to a place where the lifestyle is ignored in favor of sensationalism and “stuff.”

Sometime in the 1930s or early 1940s Aldo Leopold, one of the driving forces in conservation when wildlife populations were heading into the abyss, said something telling: “The sportsman has no leaders to tell him what is wrong. The sporting press no longer represents sport, it has turned billboard for the gadgeteer.”

This was from a time when covers of hunting and fishing publications still depicted the lifestyle in art that celebrated the experience. Imagine what old Aldo would think nowadays with the typical cover shot of some intrepid hunter squatted behind a dead animal and festooned with the latest and greatest gear. He grips and grins like the village idiot, or worse, and amongst the following pages, ads for products assuring an end to erectile dysfunction – in an outdoor magazine? Come on. Much of the storytelling of years’ past

was real literature, works of passion for the natural world as seen through the eyes of the hunter or fisherman with relationships to nature. It seems that the pleasure of just being there is now largely lost in the commercial bent of equipment and promotional opportunity.

The proliferation of outdoor video and “pro staff” writing has all but obliterated the reverence we once held for the outdoor lifestyle. (FYI: The pro in pro staff does not stand for professional, as one might expect; it stands for promotion.)

Of course, none of this is really anyone’s fault. Our outdoor culture is a microcosm of the totality of the values our culture has adopted. Money and the objects it will buy as quickly as possible seem like the driving force, and are reflected in every aspect of our world. We don’t much care about the cause and effect and we go along to get ours. The number of companies providing equipment and services to hunters and fishermen has exploded. Considering hunter numbers are down it is no small wonder these folks are hard pressed for a market share, and thus the bombardment of media that seems more about what we use than why we do it.

In many ways what is happening in our outdoor world mirrors the political arena. It seems safe to say most folks are disgusted by what represents our various forms of government, yet we haven’t done a damn thing to change it. We are too apathetic, too busy, too engaged in our own small piece of the pie to get involved deeply enough to expend the energy required to force change.

We are pretty comfortable and will remain so – until we’re not, when it may be too late.

This has been building for many years; it is a constant presence, a frustration of

will that seems impossible to change. It is shared by more than one might think.

When I talk to other hunters and fishermen in Alaska their feelings are very similar. This is a silent group of women and men who do care but haven’t the leadership that could, if it were present, provide direction to maybe salvage what is left of our outdoor heritage.

One has to wonder too, is the glitz and glamour that has become stock in trade in the hunting and fishing arena driven by catering to a largely urban population of outdoor users? Through no real fault of its own, it has nary a relationship with nature.

There is now a broad acceptance of game farms and preserves, where one pays to “hunt” animals or birds that are stocked and conditioned to feed plots or bait stations. If that is a hunter’s level of experience, is it any wonder that gadgetry becomes a critical element because there isn’t much else to it?

It seems the canned hunt experience that is so often depicted in outdoor media would lead those who don’t know any better to believe that is what hunting is about.

I’ve witnessed the evolution of Alaska hunting over the last 44 years, and it is evident that Alaska has not been nearly as subject to the things that are bothersome as in other places. But make no mistake: hunting in Alaska has fundamentally changed over the past four decades. Accessible areas have been hunted out, more areas are being accessed and the publicizing has led to more pressure.

Technological advances – gadgetry, if you will – has enhanced the ability to go further, be out longer and, of course, kill more stuff. Game populations are down – some from hunting pressure, some from loss of habitat and some it seems we aren’t sure the origin of.

Perhaps these are just the ramblings of an old man who is hopelessly in love with the natural world that seems to be going the way of the passenger pigeon.

But it does seem that in most chapters of life there are times when we need to stop, take a deep breath, and ask ourselves: What the hell are we doing? ASJ

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THEY CALL IT (TOUGH) PUPPY LOVE

BY CHRISTINE CUNNINGHAM

T

eaching a bird dog the art of being a bird dog is a messy business. There are plenty of books on the subject and plenty of experts who look really good standing next to a statuesque sporting dog that resembles an oil painting from the Renaissance.

How, I often wonder, do I get my unruly English setters to not eat my mail, roll in mud, and fart uncontrollably, much less do the honorable and sophisticated things for which they were bred?

It takes a lot of time and practice, but eventually, they will stand still for the photo. When there are five puppies to raise and train, the difficulty is compounded. Not just because they outnumber me, but because they have formed a team. They are a super pack.

In the wild, they might take down a moose. In the yard, they have been known to wrestle me dangerously close to a pile of poo.

My partner has given me helpful advice, such as, “Don’t let them do that.”

Instead of following this advice, I decided to learn more about my new generation of puppies so that I could better teach to their personal values and aspirations.

My dog family includes not just the five littermates but also a few other dogs of various breeds and ages. In order to assess the yard dynamics, I had to take into consideration the diversity of the yard, as well as all three of the generations represented: the baby benign tumors, generation ex-lax and the ex-lax maximum-strength generation.

The maximum-strength puppies, like the human millennials, were the first generation to be raised in a daycare

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environment. Because of this, they work better as a team. They are also more tech-savvy and more inclined to jobs that allow them a work-life balance.

The older dogs didn’t have things like GPS collars, electric fences and dog booties when they started their careers.

They remember the days of choke collars, high-fat treats and standing over a fax machine to receive a message on thermal paper. Somehow, they made it through life without a high-speed Internet connection and organic puppy treats. When they watch the younger dogs being trained with positive reinforcement, they think, “Kids today.”

When they were kids they had to work hard for every treat – now everyone gets a prize for participation.

This generational division in the yard has caused the super-pack of puppies to form an even stronger bond. If one of the older dogs tries to tell a story about making a blind retrieve in a snowstorm, the puppies attack. They are not going to compromise their personal safety to strive for career success. While the older dogs feel that the younger generation is spoiled and lazy, the puppies are confident in their abilities and feel that they can only be loyal and dedicated to pursuits that are true to their personal values of health and safety, time allocation and family relationships.

With my new understanding, I’ve changed my approach. Instead of commanding the puppies, I let them know their work matters. I provide a flexible training arrangement so they can spend more time with their friends. I take an interest in their individual aspirations.

When the adult dogs jumped up on me, I used to say, “Down!” and bring up my knee. But when the puppies (who

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The author and one of her canine pupils, which have tested her patience during training. (CHRISTINE CUNNINGHAM)

were no longer puppies) jumped on me, I would say, “Now, puppies, when you jump on me, I am less inclined to give you a treat.”

My partner looked on in amazement.

I wondered why the puppies weren’t jumping on him. “How are you getting the puppies to behave without them compromising their genuine selves?” I asked. “I don’t let them,” he said, as if he were repeating himself.

I thought about his approach. Maybe he was right. Maybe my hyper-sensitivity to their generational position in the world was slightly ridiculous. Maybe it was my generation that was the problem. Either way, training dogs is a messy business. Somehow, with enough time and determination, we hunt together in the field and everything comes together in a perfect moment. When that happens, I wonder how they ever got me to do it. ASJ

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