Ratdog68
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Four of us departed Kotzebue, AK in November. My friend, Tom and I had flown up from Anchorage to join my father and another good friend (Raymond) to go moose hunting, roughly 100 miles north of Kotzebue (which is 33 miles north of the Arctic Circle, west coast of Alaska). I'd borrowed a snowmobile/sled from a close friend of mine (former cop I served with, Carlos). Dad had his snowmobile/sled (which he made, of oak. The machine was a Polaris 340 long-track), Raymond on his snowmobile/sled. Tom was riding shotgun, alternating from one sled to another.
Much of the trip was going to be travelling on ice, some of it Kotzebue Sound, most of it the Noatak River. Speed travelled would be 30-40 mph on average. -10F Ambient and a good stiff wind were the weather conditions. The plan was to run to Raymond's hunting camp on the bank of the river just south of the village of Noatak. Dad had spent a number of his formative years living in that village, where his mother was from. Raymond's camp was a wooden sheathed floor on pallets, 2x4 frame and a canvas tent over that. 2" foam insulation on the walls, and a woodstove for heat and enough cots to keep us all up off the floor.
At one point in the trip, between the wind and a need to back off the throttle, dad's sled jack-knifed at speed, Tom was riding in that sled. Dad gave it a little throttle and the sled righted itself and travel resumed with the sled trailing as intended... Tom WIDE AWAKE with a WTH??? look on his face. We reached the camp and stowed our gear and set out to begin scouting for moose. Raymond was taking the lead, dad following him, and now Tom and I bringing up the rear.
Being old enough to've learned to trust the wisdom of my elders, and a solid respect for the wilds of Alaska, and NOWHERE near the time spent in the bush as Raymond and dad's combined years, my vote (and advice to Tom) was to follow the lead of my elders, offering any help needed.
After hours of seeing nothing, running the slough bottoms, dad pulled rank a bit and suggested to Raymond that we go up the bank and run the top-side, willows buried in snow pack drifts. The banks were a solid 40 feet from ice to the top of the bank with about a 50-60 degree incline. The plan was to get some momentum, cut 90 degrees to ascend/climb. Raymond led, dad was next, Tom elected to climb on foot and watch from above. I listened to the pitch of the engines of the other two to gauge how much speed to build prior to the climb, and how much speed to maintain during the climb. For reference, the Yamaha V-Max machine I was riding was roughly 8' long, the wooden sled was about 14' long, and also had a tongue of at least 3-4' long between machine/sled. I caught air at the top and was thankful for a soft/square landing in the lightly packed snow/willows to meet up with my hunting companions. Tom had already made it to the top prior to my ascent and said that the rearmost tips of the sled's runners had caught air with machine/sled at that 50-60 degree angle of ascent when I caught air. Tom related that he was pleased with his decision to walk up the bank.
We saw no animals on that day, or the next two. Having a GOOD tent to return to at the end of each day was a very welcome thought, and that woodstove soon had us toasty warm and able to keep gear dry. After those three days, Raymond needed to get back to Kotzebue and Tom needed to get back to Anchorage. Dad and I had a couple more days left before we needed to return.
Stay tuned for episode 2 of this true hunting story.
Much of the trip was going to be travelling on ice, some of it Kotzebue Sound, most of it the Noatak River. Speed travelled would be 30-40 mph on average. -10F Ambient and a good stiff wind were the weather conditions. The plan was to run to Raymond's hunting camp on the bank of the river just south of the village of Noatak. Dad had spent a number of his formative years living in that village, where his mother was from. Raymond's camp was a wooden sheathed floor on pallets, 2x4 frame and a canvas tent over that. 2" foam insulation on the walls, and a woodstove for heat and enough cots to keep us all up off the floor.
At one point in the trip, between the wind and a need to back off the throttle, dad's sled jack-knifed at speed, Tom was riding in that sled. Dad gave it a little throttle and the sled righted itself and travel resumed with the sled trailing as intended... Tom WIDE AWAKE with a WTH??? look on his face. We reached the camp and stowed our gear and set out to begin scouting for moose. Raymond was taking the lead, dad following him, and now Tom and I bringing up the rear.
Being old enough to've learned to trust the wisdom of my elders, and a solid respect for the wilds of Alaska, and NOWHERE near the time spent in the bush as Raymond and dad's combined years, my vote (and advice to Tom) was to follow the lead of my elders, offering any help needed.
After hours of seeing nothing, running the slough bottoms, dad pulled rank a bit and suggested to Raymond that we go up the bank and run the top-side, willows buried in snow pack drifts. The banks were a solid 40 feet from ice to the top of the bank with about a 50-60 degree incline. The plan was to get some momentum, cut 90 degrees to ascend/climb. Raymond led, dad was next, Tom elected to climb on foot and watch from above. I listened to the pitch of the engines of the other two to gauge how much speed to build prior to the climb, and how much speed to maintain during the climb. For reference, the Yamaha V-Max machine I was riding was roughly 8' long, the wooden sled was about 14' long, and also had a tongue of at least 3-4' long between machine/sled. I caught air at the top and was thankful for a soft/square landing in the lightly packed snow/willows to meet up with my hunting companions. Tom had already made it to the top prior to my ascent and said that the rearmost tips of the sled's runners had caught air with machine/sled at that 50-60 degree angle of ascent when I caught air. Tom related that he was pleased with his decision to walk up the bank.
We saw no animals on that day, or the next two. Having a GOOD tent to return to at the end of each day was a very welcome thought, and that woodstove soon had us toasty warm and able to keep gear dry. After those three days, Raymond needed to get back to Kotzebue and Tom needed to get back to Anchorage. Dad and I had a couple more days left before we needed to return.
Stay tuned for episode 2 of this true hunting story.
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