A Double On Booners

Obviously I must be strangely compelled to keep returning to our continent`s northern regions to chase moose and caribou. After four caribou hunts and several unsuccessful attempts at moose, I found myself once again preparing for a trip up north to test my luck on these beautiful creatures. It`s not a great hardship to convince myself to hunt for caribou again; I think they`re lovely, tasty, and make a gorgeous mount. Plus the hunt is usually a lot of fun, and there`s a good chance of seeing other neat critters like grizzlies, wolves and wolverines. As for moose, well, I hadn`t had much luck in that department so far, but I was willing to give it another try.

I arranged my caribou hunt with John Andre of Shoshone Wilderness Adventures, who owns the Courageous Lake Caribou Camps. I`d hunted up there a couple years previously, and had great luck in getting two nice bulls. I also enjoyed the camaraderie of the large camp full of eager hunters and lots of activity...since I`m an artist and work at home I`ve discovered that the social aspect of hunting is often quite appealing. I headed up to Yellowknife, NWT in mid-September, looking forward to the fall tundra colors and full of visions of big caribou bulls on their way to their wintering grounds. There were 11 hunters in camp for this last week of the season, and we all clambered aboard the big Beaver float plane and headed out of Yellowknife for an hour`s flight northeast to Courageous Lake. After settling into our cabins, sighting in and stuffing ourselves with a great dinner, we were all prepared for an early start.

The best method of hunting in this land of lakes is by boat. Each pair of hunters, escorted by a guide, cruises the lake shore, climbing out at strategic glassing points to look for the herd. Our first few days were a tad short on sightings, although I did get good looks at several wolves and grizzlies that were also searching for the caribou. On the third day our luck changed when a big herd with many bulls moved into the area on the west side of the lake. I planned on being fairly selective, having five lovely mounts at home already, but when I saw a bull with good mass on top of his antlers, I decided he was worth a closer look. My guide Bergy and I crept onto some rocks 250 yards away, glassing the herd and trying to get a good look at this bull. He seemed to have a lot going on with his bezes and shovel, but we couldn`t really tell any details. After an eternity, he finally stood clear of his herd mates, and I took the shot with my Tikka .280. I was quite excited to see what he looked like up close, and boy, I wasn`t disappointed. Aside from his gorgeous glowing white cape, he had no less that 62 scorable points, most of which were on his bezes and double shovels. With the Boone and Crockett minimum score for central barren ground caribou being 360, he easily made the book with a score of 399 6/8, the largest bull I`d taken.

Two other bulls over 360 were taken as well, and we were a cheerful crowd that night.

In the nomadic way of caribou, the large herd disappeared that night, and it took a little doing to fill my second tag the next day, but I got another lovely bull for the wall. Everyone had tagged out, and the weather had been perfect, considering that winter was just around the corner. The staff and accommodations at Courageous Lake couldn`t be nicer, and it sure isn`t too hard to imagine coming back again someday.

After a flight from Yellowknife to Edmonton and a 10 hour drive home to Hamilton, Montana I was frantically preparing for my next adventure, a 10- day horseback moose hunt in northern British Columbia. I booked this hunt with Troy and Lori Ginn of International Outdoor Consultants, and they had had good results at their camps in the Cassiar Mountains. They offer moose, grizzly, goat, stone sheep and mountain caribou, but I had decided a nice moose was enough to keep me busy. Only three days after returning from the NWT I flew from Missoula through Vancouver and up to Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, where I and several other hunters were transported to Atlin, BC for the plane flight to the main camp on Tuya Lake.

Most hunts take place in spike camps on different lakes in the area or a day`s ride from the main camp, but it was decided that I would hunt right out of the main camp. I got settled into my cabin and hoped that my string of bad luck with moose hunting was over.

The first day was sunny and cool, and I got acquainted with my horse, Joe Dirt. I was amazed at the trails we traversed; they were knee deep in icy,sucking mud and transected by huge tree roots, and I was grateful that Joe seemed fairly sure footed, although he wasn`t too aware of how close he could walk to the spruce trees that lined the trail with me aboard; ouch!

The moose rut seemed to be ending; my guide did a little calling, and we observed several smaller bulls in the meadows that surrounded the lake. All was well, until I had a slight mishap in mounting my horse and twisted my ankle something terrible. Unsure of how I could ride, I was seriously concerned that my hunt was effectively over. I couldn`t walk the next day, but one of the guys in camp made me a handy crutch, complete with a soft pad of genuine moose hide as a cushion.

I determined that as long as I could sit the horse, I`d manage somehow. So out we went for the next 5 days, riding to high points to glass for bulls. I couldn`t have done a thing without the kindness of Jim, another hunter staying in camp, who lent me his size 14 boot for my swollen foot. We continued to see 2-4 bulls a day, all fairly small, but it was nice to see them; my last two-week moose hunt to Alaska hadn`t resulted in a single sighting.

My foot was quite sore, and my spirits were flagging a bit, but we took off on the seventh day as usual to slog through the horrid trails and get to higher, drier terrain. As we came around a bend in the trail, I saw a cow and calf traversing a meadow, and following behind was a HUGE bull. We bailed off the horses, and I wrestled my rifle out of the scabbard and hobbled up to a small scrubby hill for the shot. The bull finally stood briefly, and I made a less than perfect shot, which sent him into the woods. We could see him standing in there, and it took forever for him to step out far enough for me to finish him off.

What a monster. I had wanted to hunt an Alaskan moose, since they`re the biggest, and I only have room for one (actually, that`s a lie, I don`t have room). But this boy seemed to be just as impressive. He measured 64 inches across and scored 214, well into the record book for Canadian moose. Truly a magnificent beast. Being that we were only a half hour out of camp, the boys made short work of getting him out, and I couldn`t stop admiring his rack leaning against the meat shed.

It amazes and humbles me that my taking of these two magnificent bulls was really nothing better than simple luck. Anyone who hunts a lot has their turn with Lady Luck, and we all hope to be blessed from time to time with impressive trophies like these. I`m so grateful for the chance to pursue them, and I cannot wait to have them properly and lovingly installed in my house... which now must have yet another trophy room added on.