Crispy Alaskan Capers
Gram-pa's Cool Arctic Adventures
by
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In the Fall of 1966, Wes and I were itching to go hunting for a huge Alaskan moose. My brother Tom was attending the University of Alaska that Fall so I asked him if he would like to go along. He couldn’t say, -’absolutely’, fast enough.
As the hunting area was nearly 2.5 hours away, we all got an early start from the musk-ox farm while it was still dark outside. By the time we arrived where the dirt road left the main highway, the sun was starting to make its debut so it was now plenty light enough that we could properly locate the correct area according to the map topography as well as the exact designated road.
As most of the scattered brush covering the countryside was only about 4 feet tall, any moose in the area would stand out like a sore thumb. We kept the speed of my rig at a snail’s pace and the 3 of us were scanning both sides of the almost abandoned dirt road, for all we were worth. If there was any moose with-in visibility, we would most likely spot it immediately.
And suddenly, we did. There ahead of us and down on the left side of the road was a deer-like animal as big as a horse. It was pointing mostly away from us with its head down in the brush and apparently did not hear us. In 4 or 5 seconds, the big moose raised its head and the big, long paddles on his head stood out like over-sized boat oars. At the point we first saw him, he was easily 120 to 140 yards away from us.
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I continued my stealthy stalk, keeping well hidden and creeping slower than a crippled cricket. When I was about 35 yards from the feeding bull, I had an open area to the big boy that would be a sure shot. A 15 foot tall lanky spruce stood stationary a step ahead of me. I quietly stepped forward to lean my rifle against the tree for a steady shot when I heard Wes’s ‘cannon’ roar. Immediately, the bull dropped to the ground like a ton of bricks. Wes had beat me to the ‘shot’ by about 4 seconds.
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Wes stated that if we cut the heavy bull in half, strap the rear half onto Wes’s pack-board and help him get to his feet, he would be man enough to carry the entire rear half up to the road. This I wanted to see! Probably, one for the ‘Guinness Book of Records‘.
Wes’s pack frame was placed on the ground, then 3 of us lifted the rear half of the big moose onto his pack board and securely lashed it down as snugly as we could. Next, we rolled the ½ moose over so the pack board was now up on top of the moose and the arm straps were showing.
Wes laid down with his back on top of his pack frame and Tom and I secured the shoulder straps to Wes’s shoulders. His pack frame even had a husky waist band that we strapped around Wes’s waist. Then with much effort, Tom and I rolled Wes over on to his belly. The test was about to begin.
With more grunting, heaving and groaning, and ‘noises’ than I have ever heard in my life, Tom and I gradually got Wes up and on to his feet. He was about ready to make his ‘½ moose’ back-pack hike debut. I probably should have made a ‘bet’ with Wes.
When he was ready, Tom and I took our hands off of him. Wes was now on his own. His first few steps were kinda quick and short; mostly short. He managed to take a good 8 or 9 ‘baby’ steps when somehow, his one foot tripped on something. He couldn’t catch his balance fast enough and almost immediately, he was heading for the ground, face first.
Both Tom and I raced to the rescue. All kinds of noises were emanating from Wes; all bad. We very quickly rolled him back over on to his back so he could breath and rapidly started to un-strap him. When back on his feet, we looked at Wes’s pack frame. It was now busted; the big fall had cracked it nearly in half.
Wes said he was not really hurt, maybe just slightly bruised. We obviously would have to go to ‘plan-B’. After a brief discussion, we decided to do a 2-man carry of each half up to our rig.
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About the Book
Many readers are thrilled to immerse themselves in the tales of years gone by, concerning deeds they wished they could have done, but never did. When living in frigid Alaska, we submerged ourselves in almost any adventure that presented itself. The wild Arctic Alaska with its colder temps, thicker and more prevalent ‘ice-fog’, considerably larger moose, huge schools of lively salmon and seemingly unending miles of spacious tundra elicits a symphony of crisp adventures, unparalleled in any other state. They were presented to us on a platter. We didn’t shy away. We attempted them with a near voracious appetite and claimed our fill. In fact, we went back for more; with gusto.
About the Author
Having grown up in the country-side of rural New York State, the author was very familiar with the typical snow and ice that is prevalent most every winter. Little wonder then that the giant state of Alaska, with its often 6 to 7 months of freezing temperatures was a natural drawing card and was practically begging him to come to the cool climate country. To attend the University of Alaska in Fairbanks was the excuse used to travel there. To revel in the Land of the Midnight Sun was the real reason. Undaunted adventures were pulling him to the ‘north-land’ . He willingly followed, like a puppet on a string and never once regretted it.