Post by Hunter on Sept 28, 2007 13:23:10 GMT -5
In the beginning of this trip the Indians, weather and the bou were very uncooperative. The Indians who control the town of Sheffervill Que. shut down the pontoon plane port a few days before we arrived. We had delays of hours to days on every flight because all the outfitters in Shefferville had to move their operations to Loc Poe. The weather was bad...as it has been every time I've been Bou huntin.
If you ever plan to Caribou hunt You have to have the best rain gear and rubber boots. It's wet...every where... all the time.
When the outfitter got us a flight out to the bush he told us he was sending us to a camp that was just opened two days ago. He also was honest with us and told us he had six hunters there for two days and the camp was dry. He would move us in two days if the bou didn't hit. So we arrived at Wendell Lake.
The camp was as he said it was... no Bou. The first day we all headed out optimistically. After a day of hunting and scouting There was no sign of bou. Pete did a spot and stalk a Bear...but could not close in on him before dark. I had the chance to hear two wolf packs call to each other and come together to form a hunting party. It was a sound and experience I'll never forget. I never caught sight of them but did find their tracks. The next day it rained and the wind blew all day. Only Pete and I ventured out and got nothing but real wet. The next day it snowed horizontally all day and I was the only one to hunt that day...all I got was really wet. I did to get to see some ptarmigan grouse up close and personal.
Hanging out in the cabin feeding wood into the stove and swapping hunting stories is only entertaining for so long.
We got bored. So we found ways to entertain ourselves. We had two taxidermy guys with us...so we caught a brookie and had lessons. Pete an Jason showed us how...with a chunk of broad head target, butter knife, pliers, and a needle and thread...lol We presented our guide Brian with a gift.
These two taxidermy men are good. I gotta say I never saw a critter mounted in a remote hunting camp.
It got so bad I built a Caribou Goddess an when she melted away... we flew away to the bou.
Finally the next day we moved out to a camp fifty miles north that had tagged out.
Things started to improve at Lake Marilyn. I saw my first bou {cow} and Brian shot two nice bulls. I saw many bou tracks and you could just smell bou on the wind. This camp had deep, wide, and ancient caribou trails criss crossing every where. The country side was as raw and wild as it was beautiful.
But...unfortunatlly some of Dads gear was lost on flights...only his bag with his clothes the black powder for his shootin iron. He used the 270 short mag and I borrowed the guides 30-06.
{Below is a picture of my Dad 76 years young and still hunting with me and my son...He's my hero.}
The next and last day of our hunt...a Bou hunters dreams came true. Our camp was hit by a mass migration. It was like nothing else I've ever seen. three thousand bou's passed before our eyes that day. The mountains seemed to move with bou...trains of endless bou swam the lakes...we were surrounded by BOU.
It happened so fast...me and Dad shared the .270 short mag and an experiance....thats hard to explain with words. It's like an out of body experiance...kinda surreal...kinda dream like. They were every where. Dad picked out a Bull and put him down.
Then it was my turn.
Once the adrenaline and testosterone settled down a little...Dad and I checked out our bulls. We settled in and tried to pick out a better one than we had. I glassed a good one for Dad. He was a fine old bull that was almost the whitest big belled bull I ever saw and he put him down.
Then it was my turn. I saw one in full velvet that I just had to have.
I wanna tell ya boys...in four hours we had twenty two bulls down on the ground. What a day....but as they say...when the bull drops the fun stops. Once my head cleared and I stood there with four bulls at my feet and reality set in. I realized I had four bulls to quarter, bone out and carry back to camp...I had some work to do....but I Got-R-Done...even helped the guide get three other hunter's bou's outta the bush before dark.
The flight outta the bush was as eventful as the rest of the trip. We flew out and half way back to the next flight we ran into a white out blizzard. The pilot was skimming trees and hugging hills to get us back. I don't know what these krazy some beaches git payed...but I can tell you it ain't enough.
The only bummer of this trip is I got home four am this morning and I gotta be in my tree stand four am tomorrow morning for the opening day of archery white tail...lol
guess it don't always suck too be me
If you ever plan to Caribou hunt You have to have the best rain gear and rubber boots. It's wet...every where... all the time.
When the outfitter got us a flight out to the bush he told us he was sending us to a camp that was just opened two days ago. He also was honest with us and told us he had six hunters there for two days and the camp was dry. He would move us in two days if the bou didn't hit. So we arrived at Wendell Lake.
The camp was as he said it was... no Bou. The first day we all headed out optimistically. After a day of hunting and scouting There was no sign of bou. Pete did a spot and stalk a Bear...but could not close in on him before dark. I had the chance to hear two wolf packs call to each other and come together to form a hunting party. It was a sound and experience I'll never forget. I never caught sight of them but did find their tracks. The next day it rained and the wind blew all day. Only Pete and I ventured out and got nothing but real wet. The next day it snowed horizontally all day and I was the only one to hunt that day...all I got was really wet. I did to get to see some ptarmigan grouse up close and personal.
Hanging out in the cabin feeding wood into the stove and swapping hunting stories is only entertaining for so long.
We got bored. So we found ways to entertain ourselves. We had two taxidermy guys with us...so we caught a brookie and had lessons. Pete an Jason showed us how...with a chunk of broad head target, butter knife, pliers, and a needle and thread...lol We presented our guide Brian with a gift.
These two taxidermy men are good. I gotta say I never saw a critter mounted in a remote hunting camp.
It got so bad I built a Caribou Goddess an when she melted away... we flew away to the bou.
Finally the next day we moved out to a camp fifty miles north that had tagged out.
Things started to improve at Lake Marilyn. I saw my first bou {cow} and Brian shot two nice bulls. I saw many bou tracks and you could just smell bou on the wind. This camp had deep, wide, and ancient caribou trails criss crossing every where. The country side was as raw and wild as it was beautiful.
But...unfortunatlly some of Dads gear was lost on flights...only his bag with his clothes the black powder for his shootin iron. He used the 270 short mag and I borrowed the guides 30-06.
{Below is a picture of my Dad 76 years young and still hunting with me and my son...He's my hero.}
The next and last day of our hunt...a Bou hunters dreams came true. Our camp was hit by a mass migration. It was like nothing else I've ever seen. three thousand bou's passed before our eyes that day. The mountains seemed to move with bou...trains of endless bou swam the lakes...we were surrounded by BOU.
It happened so fast...me and Dad shared the .270 short mag and an experiance....thats hard to explain with words. It's like an out of body experiance...kinda surreal...kinda dream like. They were every where. Dad picked out a Bull and put him down.
Then it was my turn.
Once the adrenaline and testosterone settled down a little...Dad and I checked out our bulls. We settled in and tried to pick out a better one than we had. I glassed a good one for Dad. He was a fine old bull that was almost the whitest big belled bull I ever saw and he put him down.
Then it was my turn. I saw one in full velvet that I just had to have.
I wanna tell ya boys...in four hours we had twenty two bulls down on the ground. What a day....but as they say...when the bull drops the fun stops. Once my head cleared and I stood there with four bulls at my feet and reality set in. I realized I had four bulls to quarter, bone out and carry back to camp...I had some work to do....but I Got-R-Done...even helped the guide get three other hunter's bou's outta the bush before dark.
The flight outta the bush was as eventful as the rest of the trip. We flew out and half way back to the next flight we ran into a white out blizzard. The pilot was skimming trees and hugging hills to get us back. I don't know what these krazy some beaches git payed...but I can tell you it ain't enough.
The only bummer of this trip is I got home four am this morning and I gotta be in my tree stand four am tomorrow morning for the opening day of archery white tail...lol
guess it don't always suck too be me