Home Forums Hunting & Shooting General Big Game AK Caribou - AZ Guys Do Good

When SU35 (AKA Bob) and I drew tags for the Nelchina Caribou hunt as non-residents, we had no idea what the odds were. Turns out they were long indeed, but the guys from the desert did well

Very well considering we almost bagged the hunt before it started. More on that later. First, some highlights, as well as a huge Thank You to some friends that made the hunt happen. Foremost is my sister, who has lived in Anchorage for a few years and hosted many an adventure, and occasionally a misadventure, as a lifetime dream was fulfilled when I started visiting the Last Great Place a lot. Mad thanks also to Sitka Deer and his close relative, CWH2 and KKAlaska, and a bunch of locals that were always helpful. When you get a tag in Alaska, it seems like everyone wants you to score.

We allowed a few days before and after the hunt to take care of incidentals, and it was a very wise move. Our flight arrived at 2 AM and we made it to bed by 4. The next day SU35 got a call from a buddy in Wasilla, and we headed over for dinner at his house. We hadn't been there 15 minutes when his phone rang:

"Yeah, I can help you. It may have to be tomorrow though. We have guests for dinner." Covers phone with hand and says to Bob "He's got a grizzly down and wants help skinning it." Bob looks at me. I look at Bob. "We're going to skin that bear now," we said together. We had a nice dinner and did just that. The caller had pushed the bear off a moose gut pile that he didn't know was there, and whacked it good with an 8MM Rem. Mag, which did a very nice job.



The boar had beautiful fur and we guessed him at 400 lbs. I'm no good with square feet, but the bear looked big to a black bear hunter like me.

15 hours after landing in Anchorage, we had our hands in a grizzly (or brown bear, who's counting), and were back home again at 4 AM. We needed to sleep in the next morning and did so.

My dear sister had acquired a 98 Jeep Cherokee. After a couple trips to the shop, it turned out to be a keeper, needing mainly a new water pump and serpentine belt, which were installed. The rig only lacked a solid field test, and Bob and I provided - for the next 12 days. It never faltered.

Bob and I knew our hunt was all about migrating animals, but really had no idea how that would play out. Our first tactic was to get off the road system, which we did by having a guy with a jet boat deliver us 6 miles across a remote lake. The spot was a pinch point for ungulates wishing to minimize swimming. The place had been successfully hunted for decades by the odd hunter with access to a boat and deep knowledge of the area. We thought the strategy was great and enjoyed several days of very nice weather, not counting the gale winds that almost flattened Bob's REI rental tent, but didn't. The winds had the main lake white capping with 2-3 foot waves, and we were very glad boating across was not our job.







I apologize for some poor photos. We were just too played out hunting to invest much energy in photography.

We saw one caribou there. It was dead. A hunter had shot it about 250 yards from our camp. Beside it was a skull from a couple years ago which another hunter had left. The moose hunting turned out pretty good though.

One morning we were glassing and Bob said "There's a moose swimming up the lake." I hoped he was wrong and it was a group of caribou, but he was right. The moose had completely ignored the logistics of swimming across a like at the narrowest point and walked himself into the middle and started swimming. He emerged 450 yards from us and we ranged him and counted coup several times. At that time we did not know if he was legal. We were soon to find out that he was.

It would be cool to say we dissected him with our high-dollar optics and discerned 4 brow tines on one side, but that's not true. We found out because the bull wanted to fight our plastic tote.

Bob was taking the lid of one of those black-and-yellow Costco totes and it made a 'thunk' sound. I was a few yards away and heard a bull grunting, so I went over to Bob and said "There's a bull grunting." Of course we grabbed the tote lid and started raking brush like mad. Bob left me the lid and went for his camera. The goofy bull obliged by thrashing trees 30 yards from us, moving around us in a circle.

He was heading for our wind, and I figured he'd blow out as soon as he smelled us. He did not. The bull went directly through our scent at 30 yards and did not care a whit. I never had any game animal with a nose ignore me like that, but the bull did. He continued to rake for another 15 minutes, mostly hidden in spruces. We had about 20 opportunities to shoot him, which we did not take, because we had no tags. It was the best kind of moose hunting. Bob got a couple pics.

Here's a terrible one of the moose climbing out after his swim:



Money shot -- he's got 4 tines:



It was great fun. The next morning we saw another moose just where this one had emerged from the water, and figured it was the same bull. Optics showed it was not -- it was a much bigger bull. We watched him feed off and had fun judging whether or not he'd make 50 inches. I think he would. The best kind.

I mentioned gear that worked, and one piece that did is a Eureka Marine Contract surplus 2-man tent. I had been planning to buy one, but my wife found an excellent one complete at GoodWill for 18$. I put it up and turned the hose on it, as I do all gear that's supposed to be waterproof. It was. I hauled it to Alaska. This tent is excellent and plenty for one person. It would be crowded with two. It's very robust and didn't budge in the wind. It has good aluminum poles and a patch kit. A slight rain didn't phase it. It was also the warmest tent I've been in relative to the temperature outside, a quality I had not ever noticed in a tent. I used a Therm-a-Rest backpacking cot inside, and the floor did not scar.

The tent adds to my small collection of milsurp gear that works really well. This includes Goretex rain gear, the 3-piece sleeping bag system, an ILBE pack, and Danner Reckoning boots (not used on this trip). This gear is great for the money, robust, and somewhat bulkier that top-rated commercial gear, but with a fraction of the price tag. Plus, all of this gear is made in America to military specs. Military spec gear with zippers always has good, big zippers that zip and do not stop zipping. Military spec gear with velcro has velcro that sticks and does not stop sticking. Military spec gear with snaps does not stop snapping. And 24H readers everywhere nod Yes, some wishfully.

Oops, here's the pic of the soggy moose:

More later, it's late and I'm still tired.

Looking forward to the rest of the story. Sounds like a great adventure!

Happy for youse fellers!

Pictures of the jeep!

Great story. More please.....

Here's the hunting machine:

Great report so far! Thank you!

Enjoying this and waiting for the next chapter !

Good stuff so far!

No caribou have been harmed as far as I can tell.

I'll join in a little as the storyteller is delayed. He's much better at it than I am.

May I start out by saying that Alaskans are probably the friendliest, kindest, most helpful people I have ever met of any State I have ever visited.

I sensed no resentment from any there because of being an outsider or non-resident.
Only kind words met us and they are helpful to a fault.


I'll pick up where Jeff left off.

Not seeing any Caribout we traveled to our next 'hot spot' we hoped. There we set up camp and started glassing the area.

The first day we saw nothing, but we had high hopes and a little bit of pressure as our hunt was winding down to its last few days as the season was ending soon.

The next day, we head out, FINALLY! I see a Caribou for the first time in my life.

My first impression, they are goofy animals, seems to be no rhyme or reason for their movements and we quickly find out you will not outflank them! They are constantly on the move.

The first herd we saw consisted of about 20 and among them was a very large/big bull!

We ranged him at 650 yards. I was dialed on my scope and had crosshairs on him and ready to touch off from a prone position, but quickly had second thoughts because getting access to him seemed impossible as a lake stretched for miles length-wise between us the herd.

I passed on the shot, the caribou moved east along the lake we quickly tried to follow and flank them. HAHA! no way!

We soon had our boots filled with water and we were wet to the waist trying to cross a shallow part of the lake to flank them. Not going to happen today, disappointment as I couldn't stop thinking about that bull.

Later we bumped into some moose hunters and we told our story to them, they gave us a chuckle and said, "we use canoes to cross that lake when an animal is down."

DUH! light bulb moment hit me.
They offered us access to their canoe to use, we took them up on it, and we anticipated the next day of seeing more caribou.

pics
https://imgur.com/KHKQpwo
https://imgur.com/oS3Ef2j

NEXT DAY, Game Day.

After a fine breakfast of carbs and protein, (we were going to need it) We headed out again to find another herd of caribou a half-mile west of the herd we saw the previous day. With just a couple of days left in our season and my wife warned me to bring the meat home I was in a killing mode and knew I was going to shoot the first bull I saw, I did.

We spotted a herd of another 20 or so and I soon picked out a bull to go after.

We had a good position on them I was able to get a prone position.
Jeff soon lazed them and called out the distance. 500 yards even. I did as well, and came up at exactly 500 yards.

I was shooting a Ruger Stainless Hawkeye in 338 RCM loaded with 225 Accubonds at 2,750 mv.
My scope was a new Leupold VX3 HD 3.5-10 CDS.

I felt very comfortable with shooting at some distance as I had been practicing out to 700 yards for this hunt.

The scope was set on 10x and I dialed to exactly 500 yards. In the comfortable prone position, I set the crosshairs on the bull. I always aim where the neck meets the shoulder of an animal. I touch off, boom!

WHAP! Jeff, is watching with his bins, he calls out, "he's down!"

Another round goes into the chamber.

I know it's a killing shot but the bull acts like he wants to get up, and he shows me his butt-end. I decided to anchor him for sure.

Another shot, another WHAP! He's down for good.

Place of shot pic
https://imgur.com/NVBTOOL

Bull down pic
https://imgur.com/BbRNpuM

Not the biggest bull, but he's an eater and I respect any animal that is taken in the field.
I am truly thankful that I was given the opportunity to take one.

Trophy pic
https://imgur.com/9ldx1tA

After we knew the bull was down for good we went to get the canoe and bring it back to recover the bull.

That was no small task in itself!


Bullet performance

The Nosler 225 grain Accubond performed wonderfully. I estimated that impact velocity was about 2,100 fps.
The first bullet hit where I aimed, right at the front of the shoulder/neck, and it completely penetrated and exited leaving a 1.2" hole.
The second bullet hit a hind quarter, completely penetrating the femur and exiting itself with another 1.2" hole.

A very fine performance from the Noslers.

The load was 61 grains of N-550, Hornady brass, and Rem large rifle primer


Rifle performance

I chose to take the Ruger RCM 22" as it fits me so well and I like the medium bores for hunting. I like hitting animals with larger bullets.


Scope performance

I could not ask more from the Leupold, it performed as it should, and did. Tracking was perfect at the distance I shot.
The CDS dial suits me as I can dial immediately to the range I want.


Clothing performance

This was a great disappointment. I wore KUIU Chugach TR Rain Pants.

The first day I wore them and had them on for 3 hours and kneeled down on one knee into some soft tundra, I stood up and noticed that the pants had a 4" L shape rip in them. Nothing there on the ground to tear them and I have concluded that the pant is so thin and that KUIU uses an inferior material for these pants.

KUIU REFUSES to back their product on this.


Outside of that,

My Alaska Caribou hunt went perfect in just about every way!

I am especially thankful to those who helped us, Jeff's sister, Sitka Deer, and son for sure!
Art took two days out of his life to help us flesh hides and cut meat for our departure back to Arizona.

We had a super great time and the caribou is tasting great!!

Sounds like an awesome trip,and meat to boot.
Thanks for taking us along.

Bob! My friend! I'm so happy for you guys! And of coarse you made the shot! It's what you do! Thanks for all the good times buddy! I'm super glad this went well..!!!

Sorry for the delay, friends. I just drove my sister and 2 new Queensland Heelers to Sky Harbor, and it has been busy here. Where was I?

When our Caribou harvest tickets arrived in the mail, I did the Happy Hunter Dance, hung it on my bulletin board, looked at it for the next six months, and never noticed the part that said our hunt quota was limited to 25 bulls. Meaning that the hunt would end 48 hours after the 25th bull was harvested, or game managers felt it would be harvested. As our departure approached, Bob and I worried that we might find ourselves afield, equipped with new $650 locking tags and a big game license, with 2 days to hunt. Nelchina herd hunts were closing right and left, and our preference to schedule when a) antlers were hard; and b) insects were dead, seemed an expensive choice. We discussed cutting our losses. Finally, one of us said "Hey, this is Alaska hunting, and this is the ante. We're over 60 years old and we're going for it."

We could not have predicted taking the last bulls reported for the hunt -- bulls 14 and 15. I guess the remaining 10 bulls are still walking, or someone reported them after late afternoon closing day, which is when we stopped by the Glenallen Fish and Game location. We asked about the odds of drawing our non-resident Nelchina permits and found out that over 3000 applicants had put in for the 50 tags allotted. We were stunned. Neither of us had ever drawn such a low-odds tag. Also, the hunt won't be offered next year.

After fun with moose at our pinch-point camp, we took some good advice and headed north to catch some caribou west of Paxson. On our way we stopped at the Glenallen Game and Fish office to ask for pointers. Everyone at the place, including the region biologist, spilled out from behind the desks and started pointing at the map. We wanted a place where we could find caribou and possibly get away from the hundreds of ATVs swarming trailheads along the Matanuska River and points north. Here's a photo of a young guy pointing out glassing areas near the Maclaren River, as well as trails and glassing points in the Controlled Use Area (no ATVs) near there.



This advice meshed with that gleaned from months of annoying Alaska friends, and we set off.

The country was enormous and wide open compared to the spruce and willow-hemmed lake. The dwarf willows were crimson, gold, and bare. Snow-capped summits surrounded an occasional glacier; honking trumpeter swans and regular bald eagles kept company. Ice skeined the muddles and it didn't rain. We found a daily hot meal and (for purchase) a shower at the Maclaren River Lodge, and life was good. The kill-total on our hunt was creeping along from 11 to 12, and we had ceased concern about the hunt closing. It was as good as hunting gets without red hands.





The third day brought caribou. We found them with our naked eyes as they headed over a willowed rise into a long flat tundra bog. We smashed our binoculars into our faces trying to make them. Within a second it was dead silent. Somebody said "do you see that bull." Of course we both saw it. There was no way not to. O'conner said "The big ones look big" and that is an understatement. A giant bull stood within a small herd and we both wondered if he was the same specie of animal. His antlers were fantastic, and his rack alone as big as most of the other animals. Good bulls in the herd looked like pups, their antlers lost in undulating fur and willow. We could not believe him.

The shock drained out and I ranged them at 650 and Bob dropped to prone, dialing the turret on his 338 RCM. I ranged again at 647 and Bob did not shoot and I knew he would not over a 1/4 mile of open water and half that of tundra bog between us from the bull of 3 lifetimes. We watched the caribou move and it is true that you cannot outrun a caribou, nor can you flank a caribou, nor do they stop.

Bob and I have hunted over 100 years, and seen many trophies. 400 inch elk and 200 inch mule deer, as well as other book animals. The caribou bull dwarfed them all, and we watched him disappear into that great tundra. I had watched Bob pound rocks at 650 yards with his Ruger .338, and knew why he shook his head.

The next day it was still Bob's shot. Pancakes make everything better and we left happy to have seen caribou. The big bull broke our drought, and within an hour we found another small herd streaming through distant willows, heading toward whatever calls them, whatever has always called them.

We were in the right place. Our kill drill was practiced, and I ranged the caribou at 500 and by the time the Leica was out of my eye Bob had found a place to go prone, dumped his pack, dialed the turret, and sent one. I had the neck glass up and saw the bull collapse, heard the womp of that big bullet.

"He's down! Down hard!"

Bob had already cranked another in and the bull picked his antlers up. Bob sent another and hit him again. The bull was done, but it's not wise to hesitate in that country. We gave a Desert Boy war cry and threw high 5s, caribou killers against long odds.





We spent the day in tundra water over our boots, skinning out the bull and disjointing and bagging the meat. Every few minutes one of us uneasily scanned the tundra, knowing that 2 grizzlies had been seen locally. We were glad to be together, two men, two rifles, four eyes. We had driven past the Wrangels where a moose hunter had lost his life to a grizzly just the year before. We were on the tundra playing the bear's game, and we knew it. Bob bought me dinner and a shower chip that night, and it was good. I slept in the back of the jeep while the temp fell to 20.



My rangefinder had totally submerged in bog, and was frozen. I changed the battery for good measure and it worked fine. It has been as good a piece of hardware as I've ever owned.



The day was mine to shoot and my boots were wet and I did not care. All of the caribou we had seen had been in the same 2 mile stretch of tundra and we headed there. I had plenty of gear to stay warm glassing. The stink was off since Bob's bull went down. Things were in synch.

We had not even arrived at the trailhead when we spotted a small herd trailing off a mountainside about a mile away. The caribou were coming our way and I hit the willow brush while putting my pack on. The mountain broke off into a series of smaller hills and these abutted a stream and large bog. I angled into the ridges as fast as I could, clocking when to take a hard right turn and sprint for a closer hill to hopefully catch the caribou as they entered the boggy area. It was good to have seen the other animals, because everything depended on timing my break with their travel.

I looked up my ridge to the next summit and something said "go now" and I banked 90 degrees right and made for the next high place. Dropping and inching the rangefinder over the crest, I made the caribou standing broadside. 300 yards. I had memorized my come-ups, and though they weren't needed at 300 yards, I dialed because that was what I had trained to do. I laid over my pack and found the biggest bull, taking about half a second to look for and aft for larger animals. He was the biggest and when the reticle met the sweet spot the firing pin spring lept forward and I watched the bull collapse onto his hooves. About then the 'womp' of the 140 grain Nosler Partition arrived. By then the bullet had gone through his mid chest, nipped the elbow meat, and left thoracic spume on the offside tundra. The bull twisted his head and I sent another, with the same result. He was down.

We spent another day making meat. In my excitement I left my phone and these photos were taken later:







My rifle is a Tikka T3 Stainless in 6.5 Creed, and I favor it. For Alaska I loaded NPs over Ramshot Big Game at 2688 FPS. I would take the same if I ever drew the tag again, and if they ever offer it again, I'll be putting in.

Well, the wife just looked over my shoulder and invited me out for a drink, so I'll continue later.

Very cool!

Good hunt, good writeup. Gives me a warm fuzzy. Long odds, but you pulled it off.

A friend once told me that 90% of the time caribou are either coming at you or going away. If coming at you you may as well wait. If going away, you may as well wait, cuz you are not going to catch them. The other 10% of the time you can stalk or maybe intercept their line of travel as you did.

Great pics and great story telling, Jeff!

Enjoying it.

Awesome hunt congratulations how sweet your success must be for you both. Not just the long odds of drawing but being able to draw the logistics that you needed to make it happen , what a hunt of a lifetime. Where there is a will there is a way, you guys defined that. Again congrats . Mb