Alaskan Black Bear Hunt: A 20-Year Dream Come True
My dream of 20 years, to kill an Alaskan black bear was nearly reality. I could hardly wait, I was like a child at Christmas time! The following April, I set off to Petersberg, Alaska. I arrived about 2:30 in the warmth of the afternoon, flying across thousands of miles of rugged, beautiful, untamed, Alaskan remote wilderness.
I boarded the luxury yacht. It was a full service floating lodge. The crew and fellow Alaska hunting companions generously outfitted me, better than what I had packed. The Northern Pacific waters are paradise. A contrast to Southern Wyoming. The azure waves with the whales, porpoises, and sea otters were a treat from my customarily encircled sage-covered hills. A playful black and white Orca led the luxury yacht while many eagles and seagulls flew around us. I photographed everything, even if at times I had to hold my raincoat up over the camera!
After several hours cruising the pacific inlets, we anchored into one of the ocean’s tributaries. A 16-foot aluminum boat took us ashore. The engine was cut before we reached the shore, in order not to scare off the Alaska black bears. Each day, my hunt was a unique voyage of discovery, like living with a gift of surprise. An experience that remains undiscovered until you do it yourself. The happenings and events seemed to leap off the page with colorful, picturesque Alaskan settings.
Because of the northern latitudes, we had a great deal of daylight. Time got mixed up for me. We would leave the yacht about 3:00 p.m. and return sometimes after 11:00 p.m. It would be 1:00 a.m. or later before I retired. Most days, we had spontaneous downpours. Many afternoons, it rained so hard it was like sheets of water drawn in front of my eyes. After the rains, the crisp air swept over my cheeks and the fresh smell added to my excitement.
It wasn’t long until we came upon several Alaska black bears casually grazing on the sedges and grasses on a remote beach only minutes away. My hunting companion, Fred White, took advantage of this opportunity, made a perfect shot, and killed a seven-foot black bear. While Bruce caped out Fred’s bear, another bear looked on. Then I remembered that I had left my camera in the skiff. We ran quickly back toward the boat and came nose to nose with another enormous Alaskan black bear.
Black Bear Hunting: A New Adventure Each Day
In a flash, the bear was swallowed by the forest. Shortly after, it reappeared probably to satisfy its curiosity. When it sensed no harm, it continued feeding, giving me an occasional glance. I gave up on the camera idea. I sat mesmerized, absorbed in watching the bears, the clear skies, vast horizons, rambling mountains, and sinuous river until the day was consumed by the darkness. Every evening unveiled a new adventure greater than the first. Not one bear eluded Bruce’s eagle eyes and expertise.
My moment came on the third day of the hunt. While stalking through creeks and hip-high grassy flats. I followed Bruce so closely that I was sure he could hear my heartbeat and the quickening of my breath from the rush of adrenaline pumping. Twenty years is a long time to wait, and the obsession and passion to collect a trophy Alaska black bear had taught me to be extremely cautious and alert as we picked our way over the rocks, shells, mosses and sea weed that exploded like a firecracker if stepped on. All of a sudden, about 80 yards across the creek stood what appeared to be a huge, massive stump. It moved. It was a magnificent black bear.
The Thrill of Alaskan Black Bear Hunting
My moment came on the third day of the hunt. While stalking through creeks and hip-high grassy flats. I followed Bruce so closely that I was sure he could hear my heartbeat and the quickening of my breath from the rush of adrenaline pumping. Twenty years is a long time to wait, and the obsession and passion to collect a trophy Alaska black bear had taught me to be extremely cautious and alert as we picked our way over the rocks, shells, mosses and sea weed that exploded like a firecracker if stepped on. All of a sudden, about 80 yards across the creek stood what appeared to be a huge, massive stump. It moved. It was a magnificent black bear.
Bruce stopped immediately. He quietly told me that the bear was at least seven feet with good thick, long fur. He asked, “Do you want him?”
“I want him!” I was ecstatic. He was a grand specimen. Without hesitation, ignoring the stirrings in my stomach, I sat and carefully aimed my 270 rifle across the Alaskan tundra with great precision. I unconsciously pulled right and hit the front part of the shoulder, breaking it. The 130-grain bullet penetrated the vital organs, making an instant kill. Shaking worse than a nine-point two earthquake, I came to the realization that I had hit it. I pulled myself numbly to my feet and let the feeling of relief wash over me.
As I stood in the pouring rain, soaked, admiring my trophy black bear, pleasure and sadness hit me at the same time. The whole experience left me on an emotional high from the very first moment. My twenty-year dream had been fulfilled beyond my wildest imagination. I had my huge trophy Alaska black bear.
On May 4th, my seven day hunt concluded all too soon. Each time I look at the luxuriously full and beautifully shiny black 7’2 1/2″ rug that is hanging in our Wyoming lodge, the indelible memory of all the bears, mountain goats, deer, birds, glaciers that filled thousands of valleys and canyons with ice, the sparkling waters, and especially the peaceful connection I felt with nature fills my mind. Alaska has given me a valuable gift. The vignettes of life perpetually unfolded before me, making me probe the meaning of life. The tremendous diversity of the web of life and of man’s role in the universal scheme. Someday, I’d love to go back, where nature’s a cyclic poem of sculpture written by time. It’s truly the last of the frontiers.
