Success on Day Two

The morning started out with a really hearty breakfast after a great night of sleep.  Hiking over the tundra took it's toll on my body, but a good night's rest corrected all the pain and I was ready to go.  It was two hunters per guide.  Since I came alone, I was teamed up with a gentlemen from San Diego.  He was a very nice outdoors man with a lot of hunting experience.  He was also in great shape and considerably younger than I, but moving at my own pace did not get me too far behind.  

What did happen was a heavy mist formed and there was a lot of fog and wind.  The weather just could not have been more miserable.  We moved up some hills to the top of ridges where the caribou had been seen only to find nothing.  The fog made it really difficult to glass the top of the ridges and the mist now seemed to come in sheets.  We would be in dry air except for the fog, then a sheet of mist would descend on us and come in waves.  Staying dry was no problem as I was wearing a waterproof shell consisting of top and pants that were purchased years ago and were resurrected for this trip.  It pays to buy and hold on to our hunting gear.  We must also remember, we cannot have enough gear. 

After climbing several hills and slogging through ground that looked like it had been plowed, the iron in by blood had turned to lead in my backside.  We found another place to park the boat and we marched up to a small hill that overlooked a beautiful valley.  The guide told me we were heading for the ridge about a mile or two away and asked me if I was up for it.  My answer was," No."  He recommended that I stay right in the immediate area and they would be back in a couple of hours.  There was so much mist that only one picture was taken of the hill behind me.  I was told the caribou might come down the ridge and then to the lake below to drink.   

There was so much mist that I did not want to get the camera wet, and this initially was the only picture taken looking back over my right shoulder.

What I saw was a valley about one half mile wide with a stream running down the middle.  Behind me was hill with rock and tundra, in front was the valley with marsh and tundra.  Beyond was a grove of pines that paralleled the valley.  The guide indicated that caribou would migrate to the valley and recommended a couple of places to hide.  

While I waited a couple of hours, caribou moved up and down the valley, but none came within gun range.  A group of five came out of the pines opposite my position, started toward me, then moved going upstream away from me.  They might have been 400 to 500 yards out, but with the wind, it would be a bad shot and presented the chance of wounding one.  That was not wanted. 

Soon the guide and my fellow hunter came trudging across the tundra and it was plain to see a really nice caribou was harvested. The antlers were carried on his back behind his head with his hands hanging on to them.   My partner had made a 200 yard shot and dropped a really good size animal.  As they reached my position, they noticed up on the ridge behind me about six animals.  We all got down, binoculars were pulled and their direction was studied.  It looked at first like they might be coming directly toward us.  Then they moved back over the ridge.  The guide said to me, "Drop you pack, hunker down low, and stay right behind me."  

Up the ridge we moved, until we got to the top.  It appeared they were going to go by us, and one really small animal did, but was not worth shooting.  Then we moved back to the top of the ridge.  I need to point out that when I got toward the top of the hills or ridges, the walking became much easier than slogging my way across the swampy marshland and tundra.  Still, I was huffing and puffing.  Then I broke my shooting sticks.  The shot would have to be made without them.  

At the top of the ridge came the small herd of caribou with a decent size one in the front.  At about 100 yards, a round was sent and the animal folded and went down.  The guide said he dropped like a sack of bricks.  The herd only moved off about 50 yards and stopped and stared.  They may have never seen a human being before.  Up close the animal looked good.  

My first Caribou.

The meat on the animal was then removed from the bones and packed into large plastic bags.  The guide then packed all the bagged meat into his back pack and off we walked to the boat.  The antlers were put over my shoulders, and I carefully made my way to the boat.  

Back at camp, the meat was then removed from the bags and hung outside along the side of the lodge.  It was then allowed to drain and start the aging process.

Several animals were harvested today. 

As each boat came back to the lodge, there were a number of animals harvested, and it was a successful day on the tundra.

Carrying Caribou horns back to the camp. 

Dinner never tasted better, and the bed never felt better as everyone turned in for the night.

 
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Good hunting, good fishing, and good luck.  Hank.

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The Hunt for the Caribou is On

Right after all the business was taken care of, we donned our clothing and started the hunting process.  The animals we would be hunting are part of the Qamanirjuaq Caribou herd with over 400,000 migrating animals. Hunting them consists of exploring the hills and areas around Commonwealth Lake by boat.  Moving slowly and using high powered binoculars, we studied the terrain.  If Caribou were spotted, we would  bypass their position and move downwind if possible and put the boat ashore.  Then the work started.  

The tundra is spongy and there are small puddles of water everywhere in the lower levels of the gradual sloping hills.  The object was to move to the top of the ridges and check on the Caribou that were just spotted.  Besides the spongy walking, we encountered small boulder fields that had to be circumvented.  Walking across was a good way to have a fall.  The question was asked, "Who put those there?"  The answer was, God.  At times we walked across areas that looked as if they had been plowed up by a mold board plow.  The question was, "Who plowed this ground?"  The answer was, God.  The ground had probably been that way for centuries or longer and had been formed by the glaciers.  The sky remained gray and a light mist would come and go constantly.  Having waterproof clothing is a must. If you hunt in the north without it, you will be wet.

As we approached the top of the ridge the ground turned from spongy to very firm.   We walked on the surface that was gravel and hard rock mixed into the surface.  This was great and was more like walking on a sidewalk at home. 

Behind the lodge was a high hill that was a very prominent feature of the area.  Initially, we climbed up the hill and then studied the tundra for any movement.  You must use a very good pair of binoculars that will provide viewing from a distance.  The man sitting there is my guide.

Another view of the tundra from the high hill behind the lodge.  Caribou would be routinely seen from this vantage point.

We saw nothing and moved to the boat to work along the shoreline.  

Moving slowly out about 50 to 100 yards,  the bank was studied to locate Caribou.  We finally spotted a small group on the top of one of the ridges.  They appeared to be grazing and moving very slowly along the top of the ridge.

Putting the boat ashore,  the stalk began as we got  their location.  Carrying the gun, the pack, all the clothing, and wearing the knee high boots was a lot of work going up the hill.  We reached a point where we could spot the animals, but they did not see us.  I shed my pack, and if it had not been so cold and wet, I would have shed all my clothes.  Then we began crawling up to a good shooting position that would be about 150 yards. I have not crawled since I was a baby, and it was a lot of work.  The guide moved ahead of me. Then he got on his knees to take a better look and stopped.  After setting up the shooting sticks, I got on my knees and laid the rifle into the V.  

This is the ridge I walked to and crawled almost to the top.  The Caribou were off to our right and we had to angle to that direction.  This view is right after getting out of the boat and getting up on the bank. The photo is very deceiving. What looks like an easy stroll is a lot of heavy walking across the spongy ground and other obstacles lying low on the surface of the tundra.

 The guide took another look and off to our left came 2 hunters from our group with their guide.  They obviously had not seen us initially until my guide rose to his knees,  but they were studying the same  animals we were stalking.   My guide said they were closer but we would take a shot if the animals moved at least 30 degrees to our right and started down the hill where we were set up.  They did not and the other group missed on their shots.  We did not fire and did not move from our position until the action was over.  It was all about safety first and courtesy to the other group. 

We walked to some more areas but did not spot any Caribou.  The rules were to be off the lake by 6 PM,  so we headed back to the lodge.  The mist and the fog had picked up, and even though I was dry, it was chilly.   I was really hungry from all the walking and the long day. 

The kitchen.  The camp manager was the cook and he did an outstanding job.  The meals were all heavy, hearty and very good.  After being out in the cold, damp and wet all day, I built up an appetite. 

My bunk where I slept 5 nights.  Doesn't look like much, but when you are worn out anything will do. There are two bedrooms each holding two bunk beds, so you could have up to 4 hunters in a room.

 No one had success that first day, but it was an opportunity to get our legs and lungs ready for what was to be the next day. 

 
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Good hunting, good fishing, and good luck.  Hank

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Up to the Tundra

It is August 29th, and I am off on a 1200 mile journey to Thompson Manitoba in northern Canada for the flight to Webbers Lodges on Commonwealth lake.  The fly in is scheduled for August 31st and includes the first day of hunting Caribou on the tundra, but first you have to get there.

The trip up I 29 to the border is uneventful as part of that route has been traveled before, but beyond the 207 mile marker in South Dakota, it has been years since I've been up on that route.  Nothing has changed.  You move from hilly traveling to ground as flat as a pancake in North Dakota.  

Fishermen had told me of the trouble in crossing the Canadian border since the attacks of 09-11,  so I was prepared for delays and shakedowns to get across.  You can bring a firearm into Canada, but you must complete their form for that purpose and not sign it.  You sign it in front of the officer at the border.  The biggest problem was the long line of cars going north.  Most of them were Canadians that had been shopping in the States.

When I finally pulled up to the booth, the officer could not have been more friendly and helpful.  I was merely questioned about where I was going and what I had planned to do in Canada, after presenting my passport.   When I said, " Hunting,"  he immediately said "Oh, Caribou."  He directed me to pull over to a parking area and take my paperwork into the officer at the desk, which I did.  He asked me to sign the declaration of the rifle I was bringing into the country and gave me a receipt to show customs in America when I returned.  I was off and running.  The whole exercise did not take 15 minutes once I got to the booth.  If you have hunters and fishermen tell you of being hassled at the border, I did not find that at all, in fact the Canadians could not have been more helpful and courteous. 

After a night in Winnipeg, I drove another nine hours to Thompson, checked in at the hotel Webbers Lodges had arranged for me, and contacted their facilitator.  This is a lady that organizes everyone at the airport.  She told me she would be at the hotel by 6:30 AM the next morning to get everyone loaded on the plane and off to the tundra. I found out there were five other hunters in our party making a total of six for the trip in. 

To my surprise we would be flying the first leg of the journey in a King Air 100 to an airstrip on the Tundra next to a fishing and hunting camp called The Lodge at Little Duck. This would then place us about 150 miles northwest of Churchill, Manitoba on the Hudson Bay.  

The King Air we flew in the first leg. There were six hunters plus all the gear.  Look at the runway.  It is sand and gravel.

Looking down the runway which ran up and down hill.  This in itself is exciting.  This is the airport at Neganilini.

Cold misty and gray was the weather upon landing.  Our gear was then transferred to a float plane for the 30 minute flight to Webbers Lodge on Commonwealth Lake.

The float plane is a modified Beaver converted to a Jet Prop.  

We flew low over the Tundra and the first thing I noticed was the amount of water.  There were large and small lakes everywhere.  In addition, I thought the tundra would be flat,  but it was rolling with different shades of plants and ground cover. 

The only trees you see are located right around the lakes and consist of pines. 

Flying low, we had the opportunity to see some Caribou, but we were told the migration had not fully started and the lodge sat in a staging area where they assembled.

Upon landing at the lodge, we were met by the staff and introduced to our guides.  Licenses were filled out and the camp manager discussed how the hunts would take place.  He also stressed safety in hunting and went over some good tips to make the hunt a good one and most important, a safe one.  I really liked his discussion.  

My guide is on the left.  The ballistics expert is on the right. 

The next thing we did was sight in our rifles.  I thought mine was pretty well tuned, but it turned out it needed some adjustment.  One of the guides had excellent knowledge of ballistics and scope adjustment, and with a couple of minor adjustments, my shooting was dead center on the targets. 

Home for the next 5 days. Notice the water tower at the top of the picture.  We had running water, plus a propane hot water heater.   With a flush toilet we had all the comforts of a five star hotel.  More pictures of the inside will follow.

After getting our gear stowed, we did what we came for.  We went hunting.

 

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Good hunting, good fishing, and good luck.  Hank

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