2006 ADAK ALASKA CARIBOU HUNT

On the far end of the Aleutian islands, some 1300 miles west of Anchorage Alaska, lies the 30 square mile island of Adak, the last outpost of civilization this side of Siberia. The steep grass covered mountains go from sea level to 3200 feet straight up and down with no flat valley's.



During the cold war it was a naval base that supported our military who spied on the Russians
from the far end of America. Now the Bering Straight Fishery is the mainstay of the economy and about 100 people eke out a tough living in the harsh environment. Adak is now mostly a wind blown ghost town, lost-to-time but with a undeniable whisper of history. The people who live there call it the "Birth place of the winds." The military planted 30 caribou calves for a food source and recreation in 1958. The Naval base finally shut down in 1996 and with no predators on the island the caribou herd grew from 700 to 3,000 animals. With the population explosion came overgrazing and erosion. Sportsman started hunting the herd in 2002 and several near world record bulls were harvested .



In 2006 my son Kelly and my two son-in-laws Shane and Tom and myself planned a hunt to the island and this is a story of our adventure.
This was a do-it-yourself hunt, so we started gearing up for our trip in 2005. Purchasing licences, tags, and maps of the island, and getting our airline connections well in advance. The planning of a hunt has always been something I have enjoyed.
With high expectations we started our long trek from Salt lake City to Adak Alaska, a journey that spans three time zones, and ends closer to Russia than to Anchorage.




After spending the night in Anchorage we boarded Alaska airlines for our 1300 mile flight to Adak. As our airplane touched down on the old naval air strip, a few of the friendly locals greeted us and helped settle us into our housing in preparation for our trip around the island. We rented an old beater truck that was as rusty and weathered as the rest of the town. Then we went down to the local grocery store and purchased a few items for the hunt. We found out the cost of living on the far end of America was outrageous.

The next morning we went down to the docks and woke up Dan, our crusty old skipper who had quite the hang over from the night before. He was a good natured seaman that we dubbed "Captain Dan ." Despite the hang over he seemed to be in good spirits, considering the boats batteries were almost dead and the engine would not turn over. Several hours later and a lot of coaxing she finally fired up. Stowing our hunting gear, we headed south in our boat the "Northern Venture." Climbing onto the top deck we settled in for a long ride as we pulled out of Kuluk Bay. In the chill on the outside deck, the throb of the engines rumbled a dull noise that smothered the small talk, a vacancy I filled with dream caribou, with double shovels, bez points, and back scratchers, none of course are small.

Our ride was a 32 foot fishing boat with "Captain Dan" at the controls. We would soon learn to trust him with our lives as we headed into the storm tossed sea. It was obvious the seasoned veteran had a lot of confidence and could read the water like no other. The sea we were on is where they filmed the "Deadliest Catch," and was a little nerve racking at times, as rip tides, and under currents tossed the boat around like a cork.

I actually savored the ride around the island to our drop camp, the boat cutting a wake through 4 foot swells of emerald green water that originated from hundred thousand year-old glaciers.
The Aleutians Island Wilderness is a majestic part of the world. Creek mouths slide into bays that begged to be fished. Low lush green hills with rounded shoulders, and grassy ridges, scream to be hunted.

After a 25 mile loop around the island, chugging along at the blistering speed of 5 miles an hour we finally arrived at Beyer Bay, etched into the shoreline on the south side of the Island, and our home for the next 5 days. The Bay gave us protection from the elements and a view of the island that was breathtaking.

The most dangerous part of our trip was when we loaded our gear from the "Northern Venture," into a small boat and shuttled it to shore. We found an optimal place to setup our camp on a grassy flat, a stones throw away from the sea, and just above the high tide line. It felt good to stand on solid ground and I savored the fact that we were finally there, but a few hundred pounds of camping gear lay scattered on the ground, demanding attention. The chore of setting up camp consumed the remaining daylight hours. Camp consisted of two sleeping tent, an outside kitchen, a shower, and a privy. I'm no spring chicken so it was nice to have a comfortable camp to come back to after a hard day of hunting.

The open steep landscape would be the chess board where our challenging hunt would be played out, and our stalking skills put to the test. Our strategy was to hike from high point to high point and Glass for caribou, then plan a stalk, or hike to the next vantage point. Kelly and I partnered up for the first day's hunt and headed west on a hike through some steep unforgiving country. After several hours we spotted our first caribou, a group of three, with a young bull that begged to be shot. We passed on the opportunity as visions of wall hangers were still in our heads. We hunted hard for the rest of the day and glassed several small groups of caribou, but still no large bulls to be seen. We hunted hard for two more days and it became obvious the large bulls had been harvested in that area of the island. I was disappointed but to me hunting is more than just harvesting an animal. For me the success of the hunt is measured by the overall experience, the process of the hunt, and spending quality time with family and friends.

The last day found us all together and as luck would have it we came upon a young bull feeding in a small valley. He was in a good position for a stalk so Tom decided to give him a try with his bow, and after a long sneak he had closed the gap to under 100 yards. As he tried to slip in closer, the bull sensing something wrong, moved up the hill and out of archery range.

Every do-it-yourself trip I've been on whether an animal is harvested or not is packed full of memories. Some stand out in my mind more than others. This particular trip was like a vacation, adventure all wrapped into one. There was beauty all around. Every time we would stop and glass we could hear the ocean roaring in the background. This was one of life's journey's that will always hold special memories that I got to share with the boys. I think we discovered as much about ourselves as we did about places favored by caribou.