I woke to the sound of the tent flapping in the wind. We had set up camp the night before as the last bit of sunlight left the sky. I had rolled up in my sleeping bag at around 6pm after having peanut butter and raisins, high energy food that doesn’t take much space. I don’t eat much when I am hunting, but eating before you go to sleep keeps you warm. The Temperature was -10 when I fell asleep, at 2am I could tell the temperature was warmer.

The night before my wife Addie and I hiked in at Eagle Summit, off of Steese Highway for the 40 mile caribou herd hunt. We found a lot of sign and as light was fading, we saw twenty to thirty caribou 2 miles away on a ridge. They were headed away from us. If caribou are moving away, trying to catch up to them on foot is nearly impossible. With snow shoes and dwindling light, I resigned to enjoying the sight through my binoculars.

But that doesn’t change what was happening. The temperature was up to 20. The wind was blowing. The snow was drifting, and I didn’t know when the next plow truck was going through on the highway. Addie was listening to me mutter to myself and eventually said something like: “are we going to leave or not?”

We packed up. Our tent was pitched right next to our Yukon. It was a pretty easy pack up… Then in the car and down the mountain to the valley. We watched the temperature drop as we descended. All the way down to -8 again.

Then we waited for light. We had settled in at a pull off, shut the car down bundled in our warm sleeping bag. I woke up as the terrain began to illuminate, started the vehicle and let it warm up.

Note: Some motor oils do not lubricate well until +50F degrees so letting your car warm up before acceleration is important. My vehicle uses 5W30 oil and lubricates at -22F but I still like to let it warm up.

We turned back to the highway. I was looking for tracks now. A few miles down the highway from where we had parked, we saw what we were looking for. It looked like a herd of thirty to fifty by the tracks. We found a pull off and quickly were on snowshoes trudging up hill in three feet of snow. As we hiked in, I was reading the topography. These tracks were headed in the general direction of what looked to be a saddle between two ridges, protected from the wind and no visibility from the road. About 2 hours into the hike I stopped for a moment, planned out my approach to the saddle, and then continued on. I had paused at times to take off layers to keep from sweating, and by the time that I reached the saddle, I was in a sweatshirt and canvas pants with my base layer underneath (the temperature was around -5).

Note: If you work up a heavy sweat on a hike in, and then have a time where you cool down, the moisture from your sweat becomes cold. That is why I choose to wear layers and then as I get warmer take some off. If you start to get cold, you can always put a layer back on.

As I reached the crest of the hill where I could see the saddle, with the wind still at my face blowing away from where I thought the herd would be, I slowed down. Directly in front of me I spotted a cow with her small twig like horns. Addie spotted her, stopping and allowing me to plan and execute a stalk.

I am not a trophy hunter. I was out to get meat. Food is expensive here in Alaska and meat is a staple of our diet, so I didn’t hesitate to use one of my two permits on a cow as long as I could make an ethical shot. I made it about 30 yards and spotted two more cows even closer to me. They were unaware of my presence. I had planned the wind and was picking my way. Their poor eyesight and docile nature prevented them from being alerted. These cows came in to 60 yards from left to right down hill into the saddle. I glanced around to make sure I wasn’t going to take a cow while a large bull was watching me, but none were currently in sight. I made the noise of a red squirrel chattering and the cow came to a stop. I put the crosshairs close in behind the shoulder, in the lower third of the chest cavity and squeezed the trigger. I saw her fall out of the crosshairs.

I lowered my rifle and saw that a herd of young bulls had crested on the hill. I had one more permit. I tried to rack in another shell, but my clip was frozen and the 308 Winchester bullet didn’t feed. I dropped the clip out of my rifle and slammed it into my hand, the bullet shook loose. In moments it was into my rifle again and a bullet in the chamber. Then a half breath, steady, crosshairs two inches up from the elbow right behind the shoulder on the broadside bull, no caribou behind him, then watching him fall in my scope.

I didn’t document nerves, but after this happened I started to shake. From the first to second shot there couldn’t have been more than 20 seconds.

I walked back to my wife who had watched from a distance. We spent some time of thanks as we waited for the woods to settle down. The caribou where now about 200 yards away as the process of tagging and evisceration went on. I contemplated quartering them right there, but after an eighty yard drag the process would be down hill. Two and a half hours later we were on our way to our dry cabin with both caribou in the back of our vehicle. We ended up sharing the cow that we harvested with good friends of ours in North Pole and helped get the skin off while still pliable and warm.

Note: look up the local regulations on transferring meat, sometimes there are associated laws. Alaska has a transfer of possession form that is required if you are giving meat away permanently.

The process wasn’t over. State of Alaska requests that you report your harvest as soon as possible and that the lower jaw of a harvested 40 mile caribou be harvested and turned in for study. This is easily done, and we turned in both jaw sections at the local Alaska Department of Fish and Game Office in Fairbanks. We were blessed and thankful to God for the food that he gave to us and others for the long Alaskan winter.