Top_Heavy's World

"Wow, look at that bull!" unsure who said it, but the excitement in their voice, was enough to pull me away from breakfast. I raced around the alder patch and got in line with my hunting partners to view a large herd of caribou on the next mountain. The herd was huge, almost 100 animals strong, mostly cows, but there was one really wide bull. He was so much wider than any we had taken so far that we all were looking to fill our second tag. "Pat, you came all the way to Alaska for a caribou, why don't you go shoot that one?" "No, I don't think so, it's been a great trip and I just don't think so, there isn't much cover... " Pat trailed off, he was worn out. The week of climbing and extreme exersion had finally taken it's toll on him, and he was now mentally worn out too. "Pat, I will carry everything, you just stay with me and we will get that 'bou" I said. I had been lucky enough to be with everyone in camp, as they shot their bull. I was feeling lucky and this bull was visible, a usually fatal mistake for any animal I go after. Pat looked at Lazlo, a close friend and very successful hunter from Colorado, "I wanted one with a bow" I believe he was looking for acceptance from Lazlo, a rifle hunter turned archery purist, for using a rifle like the rest of us did. "You traveled all the way up here, you have one day left and that is a great bull. You can't go home empty handed, Pat" was the response. Pat's mind was made up. "Lets go, Yami, what do I need?" I was already packed, I wore my favorite pack frame and meat sack, I had the 7mm STW and bullets, the camera, my custom long bladed skinning knife and a bottle of water. "Grab a bottle of water for yourself and follow me"
We marched down the open side of our mountain to the thickets below. We used the cedar and alder cover to hide our approach. This was the mountain that Jasoon had taken his bull on, I had hunted this direction many times, so I had a plan. We came out of the thick stuff on to the open tundra. I stopped to let Pat catch up and show him my plan. We were now out of sight of the herd, we were on the right side of the mountain, as seen by the guys anxiously watching from camp. We worked our way up the lower part of the peak the bull was on. As the ground got steeper, we had to zig zag to avoid sliding back down. I looked back at Pat and I got nervous. Pat's exersion was really showing now; his glasses were steamed to the point of unusable, his shoulders were now hanging and he was wet with persperation. "I am getting worn out Pat, let's stop and eat some blueberries and catch our breath. That herd isn't going anywhere." We sat for a few minutes and devoured the plentiful ground fruit, dark and flavorful. Pat finished his water and I put the bottle in the meat sack. With a fresh set of legs we stood up. "100 more yards Pat, that is all we have to go up, 100 more yards." I tried to make the final approach more achievable. We were over a half mile from the caribou, and most of it was up! We passed the 100 yard mark and I took a trail that ran parrallel to the peak. We were almost to the edge of the rock slide, where Jason had taken his bull, when I saw cows trotting below us. They were cuttting down the slide and below us... had they smelled us? The winds swirl a lot in the rugged peaks, but they shouldn't have smelled us! We stopped and I gave Pat the rifle. His glasses were steamed over again, and the weight of the rifle was more than he could shoot off hand, in this condition. The wide bull appeared in front of us at less than 100 yards. We could see the upper half of his rack, but the rest of him was hidden by boulders. The bull looked after the cows that had parted and finally turned and went back up hill to where we had first seen him! The hunt was on again. I took the rifle back, Pat had seen the bull and had a renewed sense of excitement. "He is huge" Pat whispered. "He is 40" or better, I guarantee it Pat, he is awesome. We are almost there, just one last move and we will be on them." I encouraged him further, he was ready. We turned uphill, I figured to move to the highest ground and look over the top, from there we could either shoot the bull or move to one side or the other for a shot. We came over the top, a stiff wind in our faces... they were gone. Did they push off the side? Did they pass below us with out me seeing? I didn't show my doubt, they had to be here. "There is a bowl in the ground, maybe 50 more yards, they have to be in that bowl due to this wind." I said it more confidently than I felt, I pointed towards the rock outcropping that would put us right over the bowl. We were just short of the rocks when the herd moved into the open. One of the cows must have seen us and they ran to open ground. The entire herd stopped and looked back at us. Handing Pat the rifle, I was nervous. The end of the barrel swung in a loose circle, even at the close range I wan't sure he could hit his target. "He isn't clear, do you see him in the scope? Don't shoot... are you sure you are looking at the wide bull?... They are moving, I will stop them, get ready." I whistled and Pat jumped. He wasn't sure how I was going to stop them and I caught him off guard. I nearly laughed as I watched the barrel jump. "Not clear Pat, hold on, he is moving again" I whistled again and the bull finally was close to the edge of the herd. He took a few extra steps and seperated further from the closest cow. He was broadside and looking right at us. 80 yards and standing.... the gun waivered, the gun swung in a big circle... the gun... BOOM... went off! I caught the bull in my vision just in time to watch it fall! Pat had done it, he had pulled off an offhand, 80 yard shot that spined the bull, dropping it in it's tracks. We could hear the guys back at camp. I turned to my left and they were all jumping up and down and waving their arms like crazy. In our focus on the bull I didn't realize we were about as high as them and totally visible. They had laid behind binocs and spotting scopes to watch the entire hunt unfold! Now they were gathering packs and cameras and they started down the valley towards us. Pat and I went to his trophy bull, with 42" inside spread, it is a monster! I stood back as he got to know his trophy. We had done it. I felt as much joy in helping all of my friends to harvest great bulls as I did in getting one myself. The gang arrived, with hugs and high fives, we told and retold the story as seen through each set of eyes. This bull represented alot of things to our little group, special things of friendship and companionship, only earned through hard work and team play. We had each worked to help the others and we had survived, succeeded and become closer. The best reminder of our trek was the picture of the 4 of us, with Pat's monster, on the last full day of hunting in Alaska!