Return to Afognak

Meg flies to Kodiak tomorrow to see old friends over the weekend. In fact, she'll be spending time at a lodge on Afognak Island's Seal Bay. The bay faces the Alaska Current and may offer good beachcombing opportunities. This is her second time to Afognak after a summer trip in '09. I am excited for her to get out and see more of the island. In the meantime, here are a few shots from last month's elk hunt. Hopefully Meg will have pics to share when she gets back.

The Columbia anchored in Paramanof Bay

Patrick and the Shelikof Strait

Ray glassing for a herd

There is a rotting elk head in my raised garden bed. As I write this, I realize that such a pronouncement might not raise any eyebrows here in our adopted State. Bruce carried the massive head, trailing tendons and furry flesh, out of the mountains of Afognak—a hard won trophy.

The head has assumed quite a presence in our lives. We take people out into the garden to see it, and they remark on it – its size and smell. Surprisingly dark antlers erupting from the bed’s weedy soil. Everyone is politely interested. They ask Bruce to uncover it, so they can see the skull, which is now brown and stained with earth. Bruce tells his stories and everyone pays their respects.

I worked in the garden this weekend, digging up giant roots and ripping out stubborn raspberries. I worry that each of these recent beautiful weekends will be the last of the fall. Turning over the soil I wonder how old it is, and who brought it to the garden. The head reeks. Its odor mixes with the smell of a crock pot roast from someplace nearby. I think about the head, and develop allegories for it, what it symbolizes in my life, our life.

A friend who visited with the head last weekend writes this morning, telling Bruce that he can buy brain-eating worms from a taxidermist.

Pack animal

Take lots of rest breaks

Aim for high tide at pickup

Hang meat to allow for air circulation

Last night we hosted half a dozen friends for dinner to enjoy some of last week's elk harvest. Master hunter Patrick, who was in town for a conference, even stopped by to help Meg with the roast and joined us for dinner. It was quite remarkable to see our quarry feeding so many people and it got me thinking about all the energy required to bring the delicious roast to the table. On Afognak after successfully downing the animal the real work soon began processing and packing out the pieces. For instance, it took three of us about three hours to process, pack up, and hang the remaining parts in a nearby tree (the animal was too heavy to carry out in one trip). With each of us carrying well over 100 lbs. our progress was slow and we decided to camp at the valley floor. We encountered a sow brown bear earlier on the hike and were a bit anxious about having to keep so much game in camp. Normally, an electric fence would be used to protect us from any opportunistic bruins. However, our fence was wrapped around the remaining meat near the kill site. After an uneventful night we set out to the bay to rendezvous with the fishing boat that served as our base camp. For five hours we bushwhacked our way to the bay, following game trails and an old logging road voraciously overgrown by alders. We arrived to find the water at high tide - perfect for an easy pickup via fishing skiff. Once on board we were happy to unload our packs and enjoy a cold beer. Yet we knew that a full day of hiking awaited us the next day as we had to return to the kill site to pack out the rest of the quarry.

Afognak elk hunt: success

Last week I was lucky enough to join a group of veteran hunters for a week-long hunting trip (watch) on Afognak Island. Located north of Kodiak, Afognak Island is remote and relatively wild - a logging camp is its lone settlement. Unlike other hunters, who fly in on a float plane and hunt near larger lakes on the island, we traveled to the island on a 50' commercial fishing boat. The boat allows us to explore several different areas during the trip. We pack enough gear to camp for three days and get dropped off on shore, striking out on land to scope hillsides and valleys for groups of roosevelt elk that live on the island. And when not hunting, we try our luck fishing for halibut and cod.

While hunting we found a group of about 25 elk on the morning of our second day. We approached the herd from a peak above as the animals grazed near a lake. I was able to get within 100 yards of the herd when a large bull singled himself out from the rest of the group. Luckily, my rifle shot true and we soon had a large animal to process and carry five miles back to the boat. More pictures and descriptions of the hunt coming soon.

The Hunters of Greenland

The Kodiak birthday hunt seems balmy compared to these conditions

After reading the morning paper I just had to share what I found. That purveyor of yuppie cool, The New York Times, features an incredible album of black and white photos depicting Inuit hunters on Greenland. The Icelandic photojournalist, Ragnar Axelsson's photographs capture the arctic's stark beauty with an intense immediacy that seems to belie the toilsome work of procuring food in such a harsh climate. Make sure to read the blog post and visit Mr. Axelsson's own site.

Harvesting a narwhal (Monodon monoceros)

Video of the Birthday Hunt

Thanks to Patrick for leading the excursion and creating the video.

Sharatin Bay Hunt

Loading up in Anton Larson Bay's calm waters

In an effort to augment our winter cache of salmon and halibut Meghan sent me over to Kodiak to hunt for deer. I made plans with Patrick, an avid backcountry hunter and camping fanatic, to kayak to Sharatin Bay on the north end of Kodiak Island. We planned to camp and try our hand at a late fall hunt. Although my interest in hunting had been piqued by last month’s successful ptarmigan hunt and I was looking forward to learning more about pursuing larger game, I found the kayak leg of this brief expedition most appealing. Our paddle began in Anton Larson Bay after a drive over a mountain pass with the same name. As we crested the pass and glanced toward Pyramid Mountain’s white slopes we felt a bit confused, as if we should be preparing for a ski tour rather than a kayak camping trip.

Arriving in Sharatin Bay, rifle on the bow and Elbow Mountain dead ahead

Reaching our intended hunting spot demanded eight solid miles of paddling, most of it unprotected. As we paddled out of Anton Larson Bay and into open water Brother Wind threw down the first gauntlet. Strong northwest winds churned up a confused sea that sent waves in every direction. Our large double-hatch kayaks, however, felt stable in the unsettled seas. Once we found the “rhythm” to the arrhythmic waters we were able to enjoy, as much as possible, the sea life floating and flying all around us. Curious seals and sea otters looked to Patrick’s boat then mine, then back again and dove out of sight. Cormorants and gulls passed overhead perhaps looking for a free scrap of food tossed overboard. Our hands gripped the paddles tight though, the swirling seas allowed no time for eating or even snapping a quick photo. In the distance a pod of whales spouted and breached, enjoying the mid-November sun, while a bald eagle perched on the edge of a tall grassy island surveilling the scene.

Patrick on the hunt

After two hours of sustained paddling we reached our intended destination a bit cold, but prepared to hunt. We decided to set camp first and after clearing the snow away from our tent site we began our foray into the hills above. We climbed steep slopes and bushwhacked through dried alder and salmonberry thickets to reach the top of a long ridge. On several occasions we spotted deer in pairs, all well out of range. We continued to hike through dry snow, looking down at the occasional deer, rabbit and brown bear track and looking up at the sun sitting poised to drop behind Kodiak’s craggy peaks. Then Patrick suddenly raised his binoculars and in one determined motion dropped his pack shouldered his rifle and lined up a shot. In a brief second he fired one shot and downed a doe on a lower ridge. We then decided to split up – Patrick would claim his quarry and I would trace a larger arc across the valley to look for another deer. As I continued climbing up the ridge I soon heard another shot, Patrick had scared up a second doe and dispatched it from about 100 yards. We reunited at the second animal and decided to bring the two deer together to clean and load onto our packs while keeping an eye out for any nearby predators. We soon realized that we had precious little daylight left and the timing of the two kills was impeccable – another 30 minutes and we would be harvesting our quarry in the cold, dark Alaskan night. We bushwhacked our way back to camp in the fading light and loaded the quarry into the front hatch of our boats – just as planned – and settled in for the night.

After a very cold 16 degree moonless night we quickly packed up camp and dragged our boats down to the water’s edge, taking several more steps than when we arrived at high tide. Brother Wind blew down the bay and we paddled hard, perhaps somehow knowing that we would need to be in the right spot at the right time during our return paddle to make it home safely. As we exited Sharatin Bay and returned to the open water we soon realized that we were dealing with a different animal than the confused sea during our earlier paddle. A strong wind whipped waves into a frenzy, many of the larger whitecaps broke over the deck of our boats and coated the entire topside of the kayaks in ice. Our adrenaline surged as we tried to both enjoy the spectacular show of sunrise on white peaks across the larger bay and keeping our fully loaded kayaks upright. Patrick and I paddled in parallel, tacking to face the large waves and riding away from the smaller ones. Once I looked over to see Patrick with a look of surprise. He pointed in my direction and said “Look!” I assumed he was making reference to the increasing size of the waves. I shook my head in agreement as a whitecap broke over the hatch where I was sitting. Relieved to be upright, I glanced back to Patrick and realized what he actually meant by his exclamation. A fin whale, second only in size to the blue whale, surfaced 100 yards to my left. I now had to focus on paddling in tormented seas and avoiding a curious 60 foot whale. Then, in the most exhilarating moment of the entire trip, the whale reappeared this time at half the distance it surfaced before – its back seemed to roll forever out of the water. I tried to stay as calm as possible and focus on the deep blue water breaking all around me.

The last straw, breaking the ice

Eventually we rounded the last exposed point of our journey and slipped into the protection of Anton Larson Bay, sheltered from the wind. The adrenaline that had propelled us through the turbulent open water soon wore off and we had to dig deep to paddle the last section of the bay. As we made our final turn toward our launch point we were shocked to see that the water had frozen solid overnight. Although a skiff had broken a small path through the brackish ice, we were forced to scrape and crash our way through the icy bay. With the little strength we had left Patrick cleared a path and I followed, nearly exhausted. We found our way to shore and dragged the boats to the truck, not quite sure how lucky we really were to be on dry land.

Mount Eklutna Hunt

Looking across the Inlet to the Lake Clark Wilderness

Sunday offered a chance to hunt with Eric, a friend of the clerk now occupying Meghan's former clerkship in Kodiak. Eric and his Setter Birch took me up Mount Eklutna to try our hand at grouse and ptarmigan hunting. I was pleased to join a seasoned professional - with a working dog no less - for my first Alaskan foray. After a stop at Fred Meyer to purchase my hunting license ($35) and a sandwich ($5), we drove to the trail head and began our hike up Mount Eklutna (priceless).

Eric and Birch with the day's first quarry

We climbed a steep slope to reach Eklutna's wide western ridge and, as small flakes started fly, we thought we would be hunting a white bird amid falling snow. We continued to angle across the peak's high shoulder over soft subalpine vegetation. Low lying thickets of black crowberries dyed the white fur on Birch's legs purple. The snow let up and Birch soon found a bird. Walking towards the bird and Birch, we were still a good distance off. The lone ptarmigan's only chance was to take wing before Eric had a chance to get within range. The bird froze, however, allowing Eric to get within firing range and Birch flushed him. After a single shot we had a bird in the bag. We soon spotted a pure white covey of about dozen birds fly from a nearby saddle. Several birds dropped out of the covey and Eric and I split up to maximize our chances. Like the first quarry I was able to stalk a lone male and harvest him with one shot.

A bird in the hand...

Alaska Hunter (almost)

Meghan really liked the ptarmigan patch awarded to each participant

Last Spring Meghan's mom and dad dropped off a 12 gauge and a rifle during their visit to Kodiak. Meghan's family harvests about five deer each Fall from their wooded and hilly 90 acres in southwest Wisconsin. Sometimes Meghan's Mom is known to "bring home the venison" when the boys come back empty-handed. So, eager to provide Meghan a healthy alternative to the increasingly synthetic proteins found in supermarkets (aka chicken and beef), I completed an Alaska hunter safety course on Saturday. Provided by the state's Department of Fish and Game and delivered by an all-volunteer crew, the course was a great introduction to Alaskan hunting. For instance Bob, one of the instructors who sits on the much maligned (depending on which side of the fence you're on) Alaska Big Game Board, shared years of helpful know-how on the state's rules and regulations.

Looks like I'll be asking for some cammo this Christmas

During the course we handled several different firearms including an old Winchester lever action rifle (as seen in True Grit). We then walked a field course to identify several different species of game and discussed whether it was safe, and legal to take a shot. After a short "written" (50 multiple choice questions) exam, we picked up rifles and took the marksmanship qualification exam at the range. From three positions, standing, kneeling and sitting we aimed to place four shots within a 4" target. I successfully completed the course and look forward to putting my new knowledge to use.

The "P" stands for Pass