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I first saw “the bear” while
guiding my friend Gary Killian. It was the last afternoon of
Gary’s 10 day hunt and it looked like lady luck was finally
smiling on us. Snow, sleet, and rain combined with 40-60 mph
winds, had kept us pinned down in our tent for most of 9 ˝
days. When there was a rare break in
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Gary
and Gerald in sleet storm |
the weather we would quickly grab
our gear and slip out to glass for distant bears. During these
brief moments we did see a few bears but they were either sows
with cubs or bears so distant that they offered no opportunity
for a stalk. Then in minutes, rather than hours, the clouds
would once again lower their veil and visibility would be
reduced to nothing. Snow and sleet would soon begin blowing
sideways again stinging our faces forcing us to beat a hasty
retreat back to the sanctuary of our tent. Once inside we would
both wonder out loud why the “bear gods” were so mad at us.
Why couldn’t Gary’s luck be like my first hunter’s?
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Gerald Farris arrived in Alaska to find mild 65 degree temperatures. No clouds, no fog, just severe clear. The first day we saw three bears. A light colored sow with a matching cub and a dark brown 8 1/2ft boar. The second
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Gerald
with his bear |
morning of our hunt Gerald tagged out on a nice boar not far from camp.
Now, with our new found luck, Gary and I were looking at a really huge boar ambling slowly along a barren ridge a half mile away. Here we were in the 4th quarter, 2 minutes left in the game and only 10 yards to the goal line. Gary’s ten day hunt had all come down to this. We quickly closed the distance, working the wind trying to cut the bear off before he entered an endless sea of spruce trees and unforgiving alder patches. When we reached the planned ambush point the big boar had vanished. Tired, dejected and beaten, Gary’s hunt came to a close.
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The next day I flew Gary back to semi-civilization and picked up Barry Cooper. For those who remember the movie “The Green Berets” starring “John Wayne”, Barry did most of the special effects. He blew up bridges
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Barry
Cooper |
along with numerous V.C. and even made the infamous “bamboo booby trap” that skewered the likeable Green Beret called “Peter Son”. You see, Barry himself was a real life Green Beret on loan to John Wayne as a technical advisor, compliments of the U.S. Army. Barry was a demolition expert and master in hand to hand combat. Now, 34 years later, Barry’s flying shotgun as I pilot the Piper Super Cub, 250ft. over the Mulchatna River. Not nearly as exciting when compared to clutching an M16 while doing a balancing act on the wet skids of a helicopter gunship that’s skimming Vietnam’s jungle treetops at 120mph while getting shot at! But heck, everyone has to slow down at some point in their life.
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We flew for many miles gazing through smudged plexiglass windows
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Flying
along the Koktuli River |
at numerous moose
and bald eagles. A few miles further our attention was suddenly diverted to a cow and calf moose crashing wildly through the
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Bull
moose in Mulchatna River |
shallows that line the twisted river. I banked the plane to further investigate. As we closed the gap on the racing pair a large bear exploded from the thick alders in a full gallop. The sight of the charging brute was awesome. His powerful back legs through rooster tails of gravel and mud high into the air as he pursued the fleeing moose. Seconds later the race ended as we passed overhead on our way up river. The endless struggle of life and death would continue another day. I hoped out loud that this was a good omen for our upcoming hunt. |
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We began our hunt in the same area that Gary Killian and I had hunted. Despite our best first day efforts we never saw the first bear. Over supper that night Barry asked me what the game plan was for the following day’s
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Home
Sweet Home |
hunt. I told him I wanted to go back to the same area. I just had a good feeling about it. I had located a vantage point overlooking where three valleys came together. One valley was fairly open, another heavily timbered in spruce trees and the other thick with alders. All three valleys drained into the clear waters of the Koktuli River. It was good looking bear country and I was hunting “the
bear" that Gary and I saw two days before.
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| The morning flew by with brief sightings of moose and a couple dozen caribou. The wind continued to pick up throughout the day. When it finally reached 35mph Barry and I took shelter in a rocky outcropping that overlooked the three valleys. About 2:30pm we finally spot our first bears, a patient sow with two lively cubs 2 miles away. At 6:30pm we located a large dark colored bear moving down one of the long valleys a mile or so away. Barry and I excitedly took turns peering through the shaking spotting scope. We both marveled at the bear’s size and ground consuming pace. Helplessly we watched as the bear worked his way towards our downwind side leaving us no option for a stalk. Suddenly, and for no apparent reason, the big bear turned 90 degrees and started heading in our direction. As he closed the distance between us the bear simply continued to grow and grow. When he reached a small clearing half a mile away, I knew without reservation that this was “the bear” we had been searching for!
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| The bear continued heading in our general direction, occasionally raising his stove pipe size nose to check the wind. For brief moments he would disappear in the thick alders and scattered spruce trees that
blanketed the valleys bottom. Then, in a little while he would pop out of the cover 100 yards or so closer to our position. His deliberate stride left little doubt of his dominance. Then he changed his direction once again and began climbing up the hill towards our vantage point 400 yards away. Barry and I hurriedly put on our packs and stalked down the mountain and set up an ambush for the big bear. Two hundred yards away an immense head with grey tipped ears peered out of the twisted alders. Thinking the bear would come closer Barry held his fire. Then, as quickly as he had appeared, he disappeared. |
| I was really beginning to believe the bear had nine lives. We quickly ascended the mountain once again to our rocky vantage point. Tired, sweaty, legs burning, we franticly glassed the surrounding area but to no avail. Thirty minutes passed and still no bear. The unrelenting wind stung our faces and burned our eyes. A few minutes later we saw movement on a hillside 500 yards away. A bear cub? Where did he come from? Wait, two bear cubs! Where is their mother? We watched as both cubs, hair bristled, squatted and urinated in unison in apparent fear. Their small mouths were ringed with white froth, a visible sign of fear and extreme stress. Right below the cubs a dark shadow passed through the leafless alders that ring the base of the bald hill. When the shadow finally escaped the alders it materialized into “the” huge bear. We stared helplessly as he tried to catch, kill and eat the two motherless cubs. Apparently the big boar had smelled the cub’s mother and that’s why he made the 90 degree turn into our valley. He knew if he killed the two cubs the sow would come back into heat, for this is nature’s way. He had apparently killed the sow as she tried to defend her cubs. Even with her gone, some primal urge was still pushing him on to finish the job.
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| With a sinking feeling in our stomachs we could only watch as the two cubs fled for their lives with “our” determined boar in tow. In a few minutes they all disappeared into the alders three quarters of a mile away. We knew we couldn’t catch the trio. The adrenaline rush had gone leaving our bodies cold, tired and beaten.
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| We drank the last of our water and saddled up our packs for the long hike back to camp. We traversed the same hillside the bears had crossed a half hour earlier. There in a patch of snow were the tracks of the big boar. His front pad measured 9 ˝ inches across. We caught our breath while glassing for the bears. Our spirits soared when we spotted one of the cubs a half mile ahead.
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He was sitting like a dog on his haunches starring intently below him. I told Barry, “I bet that’s where the boar killed the sow and now he’s feeding on her carcass!” The adrenaline began to flow as we stalked the long half mile into
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Valley
of "The Bear" |
the driving wind. We finally reached the head of the valley whereby we cautiously peered over the edge into the alder thickets. Something looked out of place in a small clearing below. We both lifted our binoculars and discovered it was the big boar taking a nap. We quietly removed our packs and took up prone shooting positions on the sloping hillside 200 yards above the bear. Barry readied his .300 Weatherby Mag while I whistled trying to get the bear to stand up. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the bear groggily rose to his feet.
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What was once an un-discernable small brown spot was now a full grown
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Barry
& "The Bear" |
Volkswagen of a bear! Barry quickly gathered the bear in his scope
, adjusted his aim for the stiff crosswind and squeezed the trigger. At the shot the bear bit savagely at his right side where the 200 grain Nosler Partition bullet had stung him. He spun around one full circle then dove headlong into the endless sea of alders. Lead flew freely as we both tried to stop the disappearing avalanche of bear. Fourteen shots and 300 yards later, Barry had his bear, a very big bear. Gary’s bear!
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| P.S. Don’t ask how many times we actually hit him.
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