Filet-O-Finger

The summer is trundling along right on schedule up here in the North country, including the appearance of the Red Salmon in the Copper River. I've got to confess that fishing with a rod and reel doesn't really wind my crank most days, but dipnetting is a totally different matter. Something about dipnetting is so primal, so active- that it appeals to me greatly. I also love eating reds- so that draw is ever present there too.

So after a long work week keeping one eye on the ball and another on the Miles Lake Sonar charts, I decided on an impromptu trip with my son- his first dipnetting adventure. I decided on a backpack trip to test some new gear as well. We made our way through the town of Chitina and in the late evening we had our gear on and crossed the footbridge at O'Brien Creek. After a short distance I began to explore some of the side trails that led down to the river. These trails vary from the mildly dangerous to the fully technical- requiring descent and ascension gear to navigate to the waterline below- not my idea of a good time in my middle age. Every year I'm amazed at seeing several young men (always men oddly) in full mountaineering harness dangling precipitously off the rocks dipnet in hand over the cold boil of the Copper.

On our third attempt we found a trail that wound protected through the sparse forest and although steep, looked safe enough for an approach. At the bottom I was delighted to find a reverse eddy with a flat shelf to stand on with my son. I briefed him quickly on the protocol of what to do when we landed a fish and exactly what his responsibilities were. I assigned him the beginner task of clipping tail fins while I handled the heavy lifting. We sorted out our gear and settled in for a brief period of fishing.

BUMP! Within a few moments a red salmon had hit the net like a floating anvil and Evan whooped with delight as I pulled the 8 pound red from the water and placed him on the rocks near our processing gear. I showed him how to quickly and humanely kill the fish with a quick rap on the skull with an appropriate rock and then slip a knife into the gills to bleed it and preserve the meat. He then clipped the upper and lower tail fins to mark this fish as "personal use" and marked it on our tally sheet. I was pretty happy that he didn't shy away from the tasks although he declined to wield the knife on our subsequent fish. We were treated to a display as a river otter swam laps in our eddy, checking out the newcomers to his beach with a net full of fish- we hauled in our net until he left for fear of tangling him. After he departed for more private waters we fished for several more hours and then turned in for the night, exhausted with a full bag of fish.

The following morning we began the arduous pack back to the van. I normally haul out fish whole to prevent having to do the messy chore of filleting or gutting in the field. For me, fish are difficult to clean- slippery, hard to hold and generally requiring a lot of delicate cutting- its a task I prefer to do at home.

I was happy that I waited on this occasion.

Arriving home I set up a plastic table in the drive and got out the water hose and started about the filleting process. I was halfway complete and had a nice stack of red fillets on a cookie sheet when trouble began. The knife hung on a bone- one of the junctures of the ribs and spine and while on a smaller species of fish the knife would have easily sliced through on the large rooster the blade was stuck fast. I made the mistake one should never make while filleting- I applied more pressure. At the precise moment the rib severed the razor sharp tip accelerated and the slippery fish moved- placing my right index finger ( I hold the knife left handed) in its severing path.

I can't say it hurt immediately, it felt like pressure of something tugging on my fingernail. As I pulled my hand from the fish the fish blood and slime made assessing my injury somewhat difficult. As the tip rotated and the wound bled in earnest I knew I'd seriously goofed up. Rushing inside clutching a bloody and gore covered hand I held it under running water to cleanse the wound while I had Evan call "Dr. Mom" to come look and check out the damage. After she arrived a few minutes later I was in the van and bound for the local clinic with a "mostly" severed finger tip.

The doc met us in the parking lot and after fighting the urge to just pull the barely dangling piece off and send us on our way, we went inside and the prognosis was what I expected- there was no point sewing it back on. It was a small piece and the cut was on the bias, through the nail, missing bone but painfully large. It would be unlikely to reattach and upon further examination a scant millimeter of the dermis was holding it on. He remarked that this injury was something he saw quite a lot every summer as people are fishing constantly and then a brief moment of inattention with the blade. A second with a pair of surgical scissors and I was very awkwardly looking at a piece of my index finger lying in the tray. Finger severed, ego thoroughly bruised the doc asked me, "When was the date of your last tetanus shot?"

"I'm guessing that'll be today...", I replied sheepishly. Sometimes we teach our kids what to do. And sometimes we teach them what to don't.

Limited Equipment -Subsistence Hunting Pt 1.

In the last couple of weeks, something unusual has happened- I’ve been watching television. In general, I’m not really a regular TV watcher but the last few weeks my Netflix account has had some interesting selections become available- namely History Channel’s extremely interesting series “Swamp People” and “Medicine Men Go Wild”. “Swamp People” deals with life in rural Louisiana swamp country, featuring particularly the commercial alligator hunting season and the people who work it. “Medicine Men Go Wild” follows a couple of British physicians as they travel the globe and study indigenous cultures’ medical and health practices- the particular episode I watched portrayed the Chuchki of Eastern Russia, very similar to Alaska’s Inupiat people.


What I found interesting about both shows is the relationship of their subjects to their environment and how both explored hunting cultures in the field. Of course, being the gun nut that I am I was amazed at the variety of weapons being utilized by these folks and just how pedestrian they were when compared to the armament of a typical Western sport hunter. I was also fascinated by the remarkable similarity to my own experiences within the indigenous and subsistence hunting community of rural Alaska.

The first example was the weapons utilized by the “swampers” of Lousiana- primarily a variety of inexpensive .22LRs in all action types. Given the condition of the weapons it’s apparent that gun care isn’t really a priority with most of them. The largest rifle I could identify was a .223 Mini 14 rifle wearing a fairly optimistic scope and much reference was made to the “Magnum” which referred not to some big brass bottled centerfire rifle, but rather the rather humble .22 Magnum. That’s hardly a hot number by any means when you consider the size and weight of a full grown American Alligator. I also noticed the ranges were remarkably short despite the on-camera chatter about marksmanship- most of the hooked alligators were shot at point blank range. Not to oversimplify that statement- keep in mind the alligator was often a violently moving target and the vital zone was a small area on the back of the skull, but talking of marksmanship at contact distance seems a bit odd. A few alligators were shot utilizing the Mini 14 and an unidentified bolt action at a range of perhaps 60 yards or so…again a rather close shot for a scoped centerfire rifle despite the target being small.

As a second example, the weapons utilized by the Chuchki were even more basic. Being located in remote Eastern Russia (surprisingly close and nearly identical in many ways to Western Alaska) the weapons had even less diversification. The indigenous hunters there survive on a diet primarily of fish and sea mammals with the odd caribou throw in for a bit of variety. Fascinatingly, one hunter described the villager’s rationale for using the spear (despite contrary government regulation) over the rifle to hunt walrus. A herd of walrus apparently spook and stampede easily at the sound of gunfire but not the silent efficiency of the spear. The film showed a rather graphic (for television at any rate) segment of a walrus kill using the spear and even I was rather amazed at the speed and efficiency the hunter possessed. After thinking a bit I was pretty convinced the guy had a fair handle on the anatomy of the walrus too- he struck behind the ribcage (far too aft in my mind) but drove the spear forward- penetrating the diaphragm, the lungs and the heart. Death of the huge mammal was remarkably quick. On the ocean much use of the harpoon was shown on both walrus and a gray whale- not as killing instruments but to affix large floats to prevent the animal's escape and tire them quickly so they could be safely approached and dispatched with a rifle. In pre-modern times the large plastic floats would instead be made of inflated seal skins and the steel points would have been bone but the concept remains unchanged and remarkably effective.

As to firearms utilized among the Chuchki, given their location in Russia, I was not surprised to see the single example being a Kalashnikov variant. I was however surprised to see the rifle being utilized for animals as large as walrus, caribou and to deliver the killing blow on a gray whale. Bear in mind the mild ballistics of the 7.62x39 round are about equivalent to the old American cartridge the .30-30 Winchester and these days it is often bashed among American sport hunters as being inadequate for such nominal critters as whitetail deer and black bear much less creatures that weigh in excess of 800 pounds. Although the show didn’t explicitly talk about it- the Chuchki live in an area that is well inside the ranges of both the Polar and Brown bears, hardly what we’d consider within the capability of the 7.62x39 round but the Chuchki remain apparently unconvinced.

Within the realm of my own experience, I’ve travelled within rural Alaska and the subsistence hunting community. The subsistence community is a mixture of Native subsistence hunters living in what you could consider a traditional community as well as non-Native “bush dwellers” who live at least a partially subsistence hunter/trapper lifestyle. Without a doubt the single most common rifle I’ve found in the Native communities is the Mini 14 in .223/ 5.56 NATO. In fact, in several villages the stainless Mini 14 was the only centerfire rifle I’ve seen. None of the rifles in those villages were equipped with a scope. In the typical village store the only rifle for sale was a Mini 14 equipped as well as 55gr FMJ ammunition being the only available cartridge. While that is certainly not a choice I would make, the meat racks in the village were full of caribou so apparently it works despite what I might think. Other weapons were almost exclusively 10/22 rifles and Remington 870 shotguns sold in those same village stores. Without exception every one I examined was battered beyond belief.

I’ve seen and heard a tremendous number of stories about those hunters and their marginal rifles and I've seen taken game that includes everything up to grizzly and polar bear. I remember seeing one picture of an 11 year old girl with her Dad’s Mini 14 and one very dead polar bear and I couldn’t help be think that my .375 might just be superfluous after all. I’d hate to think of the outcome if that’d gone wrong though since it was a single shot at 20 feet through the brain that did the trick. I don’t know what makes the smaller calibers so prevalent among the subsistence users but one thing is certain- they know how to make them work for them.

After some time among subsistenece hunters my thoughts on appropriate weapons has changed somewhat as has my view on the tactics of subsistence hunting. When one looks at the subsistence hunting community, it's more that weapons that make up the package that yields so much success. That'll be the topic for a different day however.

Next post: Habits and skills of the Subsistence hunter that sets them apart from a more typical “sport hunter”.

Vanishing....Tracking the Grizzly.

Dear friends- sorry for the dearth of posting lately. You've caught me in the Arctic Spring and inside writing is the last place I want to be. I'm also mid stride in training for my fall sheep hunt and smack dab into spring bear season. Lots of stories but not much time to tell them yet. A sample follows.

The morning began just like any other- up early, shower, drive to work and get there before the crew arrives. Then check email, make a few notes, have my morning tag up and get the crew moving in the direction they're needed most. After the brief flurry of activity that accompanies my morning, I usually get a few minutes between crises and the routinely urgent to drink a cup of coffee and catch up on Facebook. I popped open the computer and took a long sip of the cheap swill that passes for coffee in my office these days and my eye was immediately drawn to a message from my good friend and frequent hunting partner, Bill. The message was brief but immediately got down to the point- "Shot a bear last night, lost it on the follow up. Need help. Went in thick alders. Let me know? Need a buddy I can trust."

Anybody who has ever followed a bear into the alders generally ranks it as one of their least favorite activities...ever. Bears will dive for the thickest piece of brush they can get to when frightened or wounded and ferreting one out is a long and tedious process not to mention that depending on the wound and the individual bear- can be quite dangerous as a bonus. Walking through alders can be exhausting, adding wet snow and an angry bear only compounds the problem. I was gratified that Bill had deemed me a trusted hand for such a task but I was apprehensive. I'd done this before and I can't say I enjoyed it. Not at all.

My hand was on my phone and in a moment had Bill on the line to nail down the details and make a plan. He'd spotted the bear late in the day, about an hour before sun down and made a stalk. He'd had some trouble wading the now melting river- ice clinging on the bottom, flowing water on top- and practically had to sprint a mile to catch up to the quick moving bear. The wind was blowing briskly and the bear was headed upstream searching for new grass and forbs on the now thawed riverbank. He'd given Bill an opportunity when he stopped abruptly to look at some unknown morsel on the ground. Bill weighed his options, leveled the rifle and fired three times emptying his weapon's magazine. The bear turned on his heel and leaped the twelve foot cut bank then vanished into the ten foot alders above.

Let me say up front, prior to any temptation for Monday morning quarterbacking, that Bill has killed and participated in killing more grizzly bears than any one I know outside of the professional hunting guide industry. He is also a first rate woodsman and hunter as well as an excellent shot. He reloaded the rifle and followed the bear to where it vanished. As he peered into the alder jungle he wisely considered his options- he was on the far side of a rapidly rising river, he was wet, it was getting dark and he potentially had a wounded bear in an alder thicket, and he was well outside of any community or even within cell phone range. Discretion being the better part of valor- he retreated until he could arrange for backup.

We discussed the situation that morning. The bear had been shot at  sometime just before 11pm (about 1 hour before dark this time of year) and was really big. He was unsure of his shot based on the lack of blood or other signs on the small patch of bank the bear had been on just after the shooting had occurred. We decided the best course of action was to leave the bear until late afternoon in order to not pressure the animal and push him out- often wounded bears will hole up in brush and the blood loss (even from serious but non fatal wounds) will cause them to stiffen up. If I'm going to tangle with a bear in the tangles- I want him at every disadvantage I can get. The bear, if not seriously wounded, could have recovered and left the area by the time we got there.( Don't confuse that with a cavalier attitude about potential suffering- bears significantly injure each other all the time in the wild and frequently recover none the worse for wear- a shallow flesh wound would heal readily on a healthy bear). The bear if significantly wounded could also very well just bleed out and expire quietly. On the northern face of the drainage under the brush there was still two to three feet of dense snow- tracking a wounded animal should be a relatively straightforward process in those conditions.

We travelled to the river ford late that afternoon and donned waders for the trip across the river. The days bright sun and warm temperatures had caused a rise in water level since the day prior- a few more days of this and the ice would go out altogether. We trudged about half a mile through the ankle deep slush- ice particles suspended in water before we got to the first flowing channel. As we entered the icy stream a genuine item of concern became apparent- the increased current began to overcome the meager traction of our waders on the bottom ice and push us downstream! After several harrowing moments we came to a spot where the white bottom turned black, a gravel bar, and we made it safely across. We crossed several such channels, one about a hundred yards wide before we got to the far bank, it had taken two exhausting hours.

After a brief rest and shedding all of our loose gear we had came to the spot the bear had entered the brush. On the twelve foot bank the fleeing bear had touched down one time and left a well defined rear track as he sprang for the safety of the alders. By contrast, as we struggled up the bank we left what looked like a buffalo trail of overturned stones and dislodged debris. On top we had no trouble locating the bear's trail, the bear was large and in his haste to escape had left a path through the snow and alders a blind man could have followed. We were stripped down to t-shirts and pants, no jackets, no packs, no slings on our rifles- nothing to catch on the crazy shaped trunks and branches. While it would have been relatively easy to just noisily plow ahead from one track to the next, following up a bear requires a little more finesse. Each time the bear touched down he left a print, we looked at it for signs of blood or hair, the considerable distance between the tracks was looked over as well- was there blood, feces or hair there too? All the while one of us was scanning the limited visibility for signs of the bear and looking for broken trees that marked its path of travel. We didn't speak so we wouldn't alert the bear or mask the brief seconds of cracking branches as it fled or charged.

We also had to be cognisant of each other, to not cross the muzzles of our rifles over each other as we wove our way in and out of the trees and post holed through the snow. We were a long way from civilization here- an accidental rifle shot was as bad a prospect as a bear mauling. I normally hunt alpine country with long vistas and limitless views carrying a rifle with a loaded magazine and an empty chamber. Here it was different- occasionally Bill and I would drift about 20 yards apart and completely lose sight of each other- there was no limitless vista, a bear could be on us in the matter of seconds if it were in here and so inclined. In the gloom it was chamber loaded, safety on, finger alongside the trigger guard, thumb immediately behind the safety- ready to unleash the rifle's power in a moments notice.

The yards passed painfully but after an hour of tense but steady ascension up the drainage the alders gave way to cottonwood and the dense growth opened up a bit. Our anxiety level backed off a tick as well. We quietly discussed the spoor we'd been following for the last hour- no blood, no hair, no feces. The bear never stopped and sat down to lick a wound. I was feeling better that we weren't sharing our immediate real estate with a marginally wounded and angry bear. Bears have a tendency to not be good bleeders, particularly in the fall when thick layers of pre-hibernation fat clog wounds and prevent blood trails. But this was a spring bear, lean in his post hibernation condition; there would be little sub-cutaneous fat to clog the wound and there would be little fat between the internal organs so even on a bear this large the bullet should have left both an entrance and an exit wound.

A bear with a lung shot will only go so far before his lungs fill with blood and he coughs some up- the bright crimson and pink froth of a bleeding lung would have been unmistakable on the white snow. Likewise, a gut shot bear's tract will fill with blood and trigger a bowel spasm- leaving a large bloody stool in his path. A bear with a muscular wound will generally stop once he feels he's not in immediate danger and lick and gnaw at his wound, leaving fur and sometimes bloody saliva on the ground. We saw none of those things. Amateur ballisticians like to talk about the concept of "overkill", but when you're prowling the alders with a big fanged animal "not dead enough" is a much bigger problem than "too dead."

We pursued for another half mile up the drainage, steadily climbing until at last the cottonwood gave way to bare rock and clay of the alpine tundra. The bear's tracks were now predictable and evenly spaced as he plodded on up the canyon to the summit and beyond. It was with some disappointment and no small amount of relief as we turned and headed back off the mountain in the fading light. We measured a front track in a barely thawed patch of clay- nine and a half inches across the front pad- an extreme specimen in the Interior, likely squaring over nine feet. They just don't get much bigger up here. The famed Frank Glaser shot a ten footer about 8 miles to the north of this drainage, in the early 1900s when the country was much wilder. In the modern era any Interior bear over 8 foot was a trophy to be prized.

As we arrived back at the swelling river, I rolled my waders and attached them to the outside of my pack. We had a mile of river and slush to cross to get back to the truck and I would rather get cold, wet feet than fall into this churning cauldron due to bad footing on the clumsy waders. As we entered the first stream and the ice cold water topped my boots and ran down to my toes, the tedium of the past several hours drained away. Bill looked back and said, "I'm just as happy that big guy got away clean, what a magnificent animal." I agreed, the loss of such a grand animal was disappointing but to know that he was running wild and unencumbered by a improperly placed bullet was a relief. We'd likely never see him again. To know what had Bill's shots flying wide that night- whether a scope out of alignment, extreme fatigue and heaving chest or whether the master hunter succumbed to "buck fever" I'll likely never know.

But I can't help but feel a little bit happy that it happened just the way it did.

Do Bears...?

Why yes, yes they do.

Osama Bin Laden- Dead.

For those of you living under a rock.

Osama Bin Laden was killed in ground action with U.S. Special Operations forces, who then took custody of his body for identification.

The mastermind of the 9/11 attack was killed by an American rifleman.

I've got to say that I find his death by gunfire strangely gratifying in this age of Predator drones and cruise missiles- killed eyeball to eyeball by a warrior.

Good Show Fellas.

Guided Bear Hunting- A Primer

I received some correspondence a few days ago that asked about bear hunting- specifically for folks who aren't Alaska residents and who aren't U.S. Citizens. The fish and game laws in Alaska are somewhat peculiar in that regard so I'll give it my best go, of course the usual disclaimer of "use at own risk" and "contact an expert" prior to using this information applies. To point out, I am not a guide nor do I have any financial ties to any outfitter or guide service so the net benefit to me is zero. Much of the information I've presented comes from talking to numerous guides, both in and out of the field.

Alaska Fish and Game categorize folks looking to hunt in Alaska into three categories, they are:
Residents- folks who reside, work, play and otherwise make Alaska their permanent home, have done that for at least 12 months, and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future. For the record on this- I am a resident.

Non-Residents- are folks who make their permanent home somewhere other than Alaska but are citizens of the United States. Being a non-resident has nothing to do with where you've been living- for instance an out-of-state worker can be in Alaska for 12 months but if they make their permanent home in another state, they're a non-resident. Many folks try this angle every year and ADFG make multiple citations in that regard.

Non-Resident Alien- are people who live outside Alaska and are not citizens of the United States. These would be considered the "International crowd". My blog has a substantial readership outside of the U.S. and most of those folks reading this will fall into this category.

Residency is a tricky issue and I highly suggest you go to the Alaska Dept. of Fish and Game website to read the rules on this matter. You may be asking yourself, "But Hodgeman- why does it matter?". Well matter is does since the fee structure and guide requirements differ for each one. In fact, in many units there are separate seasons, drawing tags, and harvest allocation for resident and non-resident hunters. Since this particular post is to be thought of as a primer, and was specifically requested for bears, I'll attempt to stick to that. I won't try to discuss the various seasons and limits for each unit- since Alaska is so large, with such a diverse number of creatures and environments- the seasons and limits vary widely. Please consult ADFG for more information on the area you particularly want to hunt.

For the specifics-
Black Bears, are found nearly everywhere in the state and can be hunted by residents and non-residents without a guide. Non resident aliens however must hire a registered guide to hunt black bears with- in fact, non-resident aliens must hire a guide to hunt any big game animal in Alaska. Alaska has a strict licensing requirement on hunting guides and while there are a few dolts who slip through the cracks, the majority are hard working and knowledgeable folks who are there to help you get your game and get home in one piece.

While black bear hunting is, in itself, a relatively safe pursuit given that black bears are generally not "fighters" and tend to run off to die after being shot- the environment they're found in can be subject to the worst Mother Nature has to offer. Other, more germane areas that house bears require unique methods to effectively hunt bears with (such as calling or baiting) that it often is beyond the skill set or time allotment for many out of area hunters. Prices for guided black bear hunts vary widely throughout the state and many outfitters don't offer them at all. The most common method of guided black bear hunting is via ocean going vessels hunting the densely wooded coastal temperate rain forests. This is a great way to hunt in relative comfort- living shipboard and ferrying out to hunt each day. As a bonus the fresh caught seafood served by many outfitters is a treat in itself. A quick check of pricing on the Internet shows an average of about $5000 U.S. for a guided, vessel based hunt on Prince William Sound/ Katchemak Bay, bear in mind that the geographic area of Alaska will have substantial price variations and any maritime based adventure will be subjected to fuel price increases.

Brown/ Grizzly Bears, truly fall into the category of dangerous game. Only residents can hunt these without a guide and both non-residents and non-resident aliens require a fully guided hunt for these creatures. As an aside- the bears generally referred to as Brown Bears are coastal specimens and eat a diet with a lot salmon in it. With nearly unlimited protein and short hibernation periods (some island residing boars do not hibernate at all) they can grow to truly massive (and fearsome) proportions. Grizzly bears on the other hand reside in Interior areas and live a much harsher existence- they eat a poorer diet, have longer hibernation periods and, as a result, are usually much smaller.
While a coastal bear can reach proportions of incredible size, an "8 foot" 500 pound Interior grizzly is a very nice bear indeed. As a word of caution- the Interior grizzly has a much more dangerous reputation than the coastal bears, their harsh conditions and sparse environment make them more aggressive overall than their coastal dwelling counterparts. Many bear hunters rank a fair chase Interior Grizzly hunt as one of the more exciting types of hunting here given the bear's sulkiness and the wide terrain. Aside from diet, attitude and resulting size- these are genetically only one species of bear. Much like a slight built Finn and a hulking Samoan are both genetically humans, they can be very different in appearance.

For the guided hunter these hunts are often the most expensive and frustrating experience of their sporting life. Many (wealthy) hunters may return several seasons to harvest that true "10-footer" after repeatedly unsuccessful trips. A quick check on the Internet shows that coastal bears command a higher price overall - about $20,000 U.S. on average for a 15 day hunt while Interior grizzlies are somewhat less expensive. Hunting brown bears is an often unsuccessful hunt, even using a guide with tremendous experience. As a large apex predator their densities run extremely low, the animals are reclusive and true trophy specimens somewhat more so. Many frustrated sportsmen may spend an entire 15 day hunt in a great location and never see a single bear.

For further consideration:
For the non resident or non resident alien who may have never been to Alaska, it is important to rely on and work with your guide and his staff to make your hunt pleasant. I can confess I've never been on a guided hunt but I know and am friends with many guides and often hear the guide's version of unsatisfactory hunts. You're paying your guide for his knowledge and expertise- USE IT. Ask his opinion about everything you can possibly think about- right down to what kind of boots to wear. Your guide will spend more days in the field than many sportsmen hunt in a decade and he's seen people show up with any and every kind of equipment imaginable. Many reputable guides will literally provide everything you need except the clothes on your back and most will be very forthcoming about what they are going to provide and what they expect you to show up with. Remember-this is what these guys do for a living. If you show up to camp prepared, with some experience in the field, can follow his directions, and are willing to work hard for your animal you will be a delight to your guide and the entire hunt stands a much better chance of success.

When it comes to importing firearms into the U.S., I've often heard visiting non-resident aliens bemoan the laborious process of getting a firearm into the United States. I have no personal experience with such matters but I bet your guide has...ask him. While obtaining a rifle in the U.S. is as easy as it gets anywhere in the world as a resident, I've heard getting one in from another country is rather a pain. I would ask your guide to provide advice if you have a special rifle you want to use and just flat ask him to loan or rent you one if you don't. It's a good idea, particularly if you're hunting brown bears- it is unlikely many European hunters would have an appropriate rifle for such a beast just lying about. Many African rifles will have the right ballistics for bears but African hunting is generally dry and easy on guns- Alaska hunting is usually a wet nightmare. If you have a wonderful old Hollands it simply may be too valuable to bring here.

For the non-resident flying in from the Lower 48, transporting your rifle as luggage on your flight up is a piece of cake. I've done it often enough that its now routine for me. The Anchorage and Fairbanks airports have a streamlined process since there are so many firearms in transit here but your local airport may not- it would be advisable to check prior to your departure to see what they have in place. As a final note on firearms- it is not unusual for a guide to ban handguns in his camp and its his prerogative to do so. I carry a handgun when I don't expect to see a bear and that isn't when I'm bear hunting. Many guides are reluctant to have a camp full of tenderfoots sleeping with pistols under their pillows. I don't blame them. If your guide says handguns are not allowed- leave it at home, they are frequently nothing but dead weight on a hunt anyway.

Prior to choosing a guide it would pay to check around with some of his past clients, many will provide referrals upon request and I would be suspicious of one who wouldn't. Given the popularity of hunting forums on the Internet, I would certainly search out everything I could find on a guide prior to booking an expensive and, frankly, dangerous hunt with him. I would also suggest that you use good logic when sorting such unsolicited referrals because it is quite possible for a guide to work his tail off, do everything right and a client leave empty handed and unhappy through no fault of the guide's. Many guides will be forthcoming about such hunts and after meeting some guided hunters in the field it is a wonder that as many harvest game as they do. Unfortunately, bear hunting is often the ultimate expression of ego-maniacs who care little about hunting but want a "10-footer" for the office lobby to show his prowess. I would be leery of that person in any endeavor.

Which hunt would I choose? Frankly if I were a non-resident alien (or perhaps a non-resident) looking to experience Alaska hunting for the first time I would without hesitation go for black bears from a vessel. Moderate cost, high success rates, world class fishing and outstanding scenery are a wonderful experience no matter the outcome. Even as a resident, many hunters choose these vessel based hunts as a "hunting vacation" if you will. If I were someone with experience hunting in the American West or in other mountainous terrain I would most likely pursue Interior Grizzly as a secondary species with either a caribou or moose hunt. In fact, most resident hunters pursue bears as a secondary objective to other game- I know I do.  The hunting is often the same and many outfitters offer grizzlies and other predators at a moderate cost when attached to another hunt. For an outfitter primarily guiding moose hunters, a grizzly in their area may negatively effect the moose population and if they can sell you a trophy fee to bang a griz off your moose's gut pile the next morning its a real win/win as far as they're concerned. In regards to brown bear hunting, given the low chances of success, the considerable (!) expense, and the relative misery (think 15 days of rain and wind) of many coastal brown bear hunts it would take a very big itch for me to want to scratch it with that hunt.

Good hunting to you!

Petroglyphs and Gratitude

I just noticed that the hit counter on my blog crept up there past the 10,000 mark. Given that some well known blogs generate that many or more hits in a single day; that may seem a bit underwhelming at first read but I'm awed beyond belief that a mere handful of you folks would take the time to read any of my ramblings- much less 10,000 times. Along the way I've made several friends, maybe yet unmet and distant, but people I still call friends anyway.

I don't post nearly as often as many bloggers do and what I say perhaps isn't nearly as profound. I started this endeavor (and continue it, by the way) as a solely therapeutic pastime. Something to keep the mind and the heart and the will engaged on those long, cold nights and to share something precious and fundamental to me with the rest of the world. I don't do this for commerce or salary but for the pure joy of doing it. You see, my professional life entails a fair bit of writing- technical things mainly. Things about widgets and gizmos doing this and that in certain sequences and how the planet will counter-rotate if it doesn't happen in the prescribed Archimedian way. Things about risk analysis and economic profit and systems engineering. Things given to soulless, driven men who dissect and analyze and pontificate on- in order to chart a course and accelerate a plan.

Things without personality. Things without passion.

I fell somewhat headlong into that gig by dint of being something of a technical geek with a head for engineering and science, a background in construction and industry as well as having a small modicum of talent for crafting sentences together to form coherent thought- a witty nerd if you will. I had enjoyed creative writing in my college career and even had a Literature professor push me to devoid myself of all that silly engineering crap and pursue a rewarding career in writing, even though she thought I had a written voice that sounded like Billy Graham with an attitude problem. I didn't take her advice (at least not yet) but I managed to publish a couple of items along the way (among much unpublished garbage I'll add). A few years ago I turned back to more creative writing as a way to vent the content of my soul and soothe the aching and pondering that middle age brings to those paying attention as life blazes past.

Perhaps I share that need to vent, maybe along with just loving to tell a good story, with those primitive folks whose dabbling on the cave walls show the bison and deer, fish and mammoth that made up their daily sustenance. Without written word, their arcane sketching show how they viewed themselves relating to their world. Hunter and hunted, predator and prey, death and life- clearly portrayed even a millenia later. Maybe I am affected with that same need- a modern man scratching out digital petroglyphs to leave some kind of mark that said, "I was here and I ate the caribou."

When I first started publishing this blog, I thought to myself-"If more than a half dozen people ever bother to read it then I will be doing OK." That bar was passed a long time ago. I have to convey a debt of gratitude to all of you who take the time to read this out of the endless content the digital age provides. Everytime I receive some bit of correspondence or comment about something I've typed- I get excited. A petroglyph seen and understood, a sand painting comprehended, a campfire tale that was remembered. Excited to be involved in the creative flow of ideas and information and ...thoughts.

Thoughts on the Great Outdoors.

Thank You,
Hodgeman

Photo Credit- Uknown. Google Images.