king' s outdoor world - Index

king' s outdoor world - Hunting Illustrated April/May 2008 - Index

the knoll. We climbed to the top of
the knoll and all three of us began
to glass for caribou. Unfortunately,
after two hours of glassing, it became
clear that all of the caribou in the area
were small at best. We decided to go
back to the boat and move upstream
to fi sh for silvers. We traveled two
or three miles upriver to a sandy spot
of fast moving water and stopped
to fi sh. The area was quiet and very
beautiful. The trees and bushes
were lush and the water was a deep
emerald green with veins of darker
and lighter green running through
it where the water runs deeper and
shallow, like so many grain layers in
wood. After a brief time, J.J. had me
standing in the shallows rigged up
and was explaining how the fi sh hide
and where I should expect to get hits
from these river torpedoes. Picture
this, a blonde from California, who
has never caught anything larger than
a fresh water crappie, attempting
to land a silver salmon. The very
thought of catching a big fi sh was very
exciting. I began casting that Rapala
Striped Devil lure into the current. It
was not long before I was hit and in a
battle with a nice-sized silver salmon.
My fi rst fi sh was so magnifi cent that
I could hardly believe I had landed it.
I caught more fi sh, and only lost one.
I was tired, excited, and addicted to
fi shing. I saved some fi sh to take
home and then we packed up and
went back to the lodge.
When we got to the lodge, we
discovered that Rick Lamb and Mike
Woodin had both just called in with
phenomenal caribou. As luck would
have it, the herds with the big bulls
were out in their direction. Caribou
move at a constant ground-covering
pace that is almost impossible to
match. Catching up and getting a kill
shot can be quite diffi cult in this vast
open territory. Both Rick and Mike
had killed their caribou late in the
day, and were just now on their way
into camp.
The next couple of days
were fi lled with hard crawling, stalks,
and double-time jaunts after a couple
of herds that ended up containing
only small, immature bulls. I wasn’t
disappointed at all. In fact, it made
me more persistent in
my attempts to fi nd a
great bull soon. To treat
myself for the effort, J.J.
and I would quickly sneak
to the river near camp for
silvers and Dolly Varden at
the end of each day while
Steve fi lmed the action.
The next day was
a bit more productive, and
I actually got a good look
through my binoculars at a
really great bull. The bull was
really far away, and it was very
diffi cult to catch up to herd
he was with. After calling it a day, we
arrived back at camp to fi nd that Bill
Batchelor had killed a beautiful caribou
with a great set of antlers. Bill’s bull had
main beams that laid out fl at and low to
the sides before turning up. And, just
like Mike and Rick’s caribou, Bill’s bull
scored really well.
The next morning was rainy
and gray, with little hope that the weather
would clear. The gray, rainy weather
made it very diffi cult to judge antlers
with binoculars, not to mention walking,
stalking and staying warm. We went up
the river and tried glassing for several
hours, moving periodically to new areas.
The plan now was to go wherever we
wanted because there were no longer any
hunters to intrude on. By mid-day, we
had walked several miles and decided to
take a break near a salmon counter built
in the river. There was a small wooden
shed there that we rested against just to
break up our outline as we got a bite to
eat. The three of us talked and schemed
about which way the weather was moving
when suddenly, out of nowhere, a herd of
caribou materialized on the horizon. We
immediately bent over to minimize our
outlines and tried a fast sneak. I knew we
needed to get closer just to be able to see
the antler quality. The stalk was grueling,
to say the least, and trying to breathe
while bent over for long periods of time
was extremely diffi cult. As we glassed,
J.J. noticed that the herd was moving in
an arc and had not seen us. This meant
that we could head them off by going far
enough ahead of them on the arc they
were following. At fi rst, we stalked
of the
5NORTH BORDER5
slightly
parallel to the
herd to determine which bull had
the best antlers. For some reason, we
could not see any of the antlers on the
bulls at the end of the herd. J.J. and
I strained our eyes trying to see just
one defi nitive rack. After quite some
time and noticeable eye straining, I
suggested to J.J. that there were more
than two great bulls hanging out
together. The bull’s close proximity
to one another was causing the
confusing visual appearance of one
set of antlers. J.J. agreed with my
observation, but brought up some
good points. First, was that these
bulls must be massive and that we
needed to just close in and try to kill
one. Two, the afternoon was almost
gone and we had little time left to
make a stalk. And three, we only had
two days left to hunt and it appeared
that the weather was becoming less
cooperative each day. After thinking
it over, I suggested that we follow the
herd until dark, put them to bed, and
then try a shot at the bulls fi rst thing
in the morning. J.J. said that the herd
would still move in the dark and that
it was a long shot, but it was worth
a try. We followed the herd while
bent over for about an hour before
darkness set in. We put the caribou to
bed and headed home. After a long
hike back to the quad, we had a wet
bumpy ride over the tundra knobs
back to the lodge.
We got back to the lodge late
and, as was to be expected, everyone
else had come in at a normal time,
eaten their dinners and were resting. I
was almost fi nished eating when Mel
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