Like most of us, I began dreaming of hunting the mountains of Alaska many years ago. I was never totally sure it was going to happen until one night I was lying in bed watching a sheep hunt video when my wife asked, “Why don’t you go do one of those hunts?” With that encouragement, I put in a call to Billy Molls, the Modern Day Mountain Man, to see if he’d guide me on a Dall sheep and grizzly bear hunt. Billy connected me with Ovis Outfitters, a husband and wife-run outfitter just south of Prudhoe Bay, operating in the Arctic Wildlife Refuge
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Rain or shine, I didn’t miss a day of training for the hunt for the next two-plus years. After years of anticipation, August 17th saw me saying goodbye to my family and flying from Indianapolis all the way up to Prudhoe Bay. Matt and Emily Thoft, the owners of Ovis Outfitters, greeted me like family, and I felt completely at ease in their camp. They had just wrapped up their first group of hunters, and all of them had been successful in harvesting sheep. I spent the day admiring their freshly-caped horns and waiting as patiently as possible for my turn to be flown out into the bush and begin my hunt. While waiting, plenty of trophy caribou could be seen from camp and both other hunters in camp decided to buy caribou tags. Eventually, it was my turn to head afield, and I was treated to another unforgettable flight through the mountains, landing in a valley and being greeted by Billy and our packer, Greg “Sugar” Playfield.
Morning one began with caribou steaks and organizing gear for a five-night spike out. We hiked 10 miles to some new country and saw two large grizzlies that would have been shooters, but we were still five days away from bear season opening. On day two, it was 15 miles of hiking and plenty of grizzly again, five in all.
Over the first four days, we developed a nice rhythm of hiking for about 45 minutes, then glassing for 10-15 minutes, hydrating, snacking on fresh blueberries, and taking in the scenery. We hadn’t seen any legal sheep, but I was having the time of my life. Evenings were spent eating freeze-dried meals and tending to sore feet. We shared a teepee tent, and that really made it fun for the camaraderie and shared experience.
The morning of day five was foggy at 4:00 in the morning, so we slept in. The fog started to break up by 5:00, and we made our way into the field. Caribou were all around us as we made our way up a very wet hike up a drainage. After a couple of hours, we saw some rams! It was just for a few seconds, and we weren’t sure if any of them were legal. Well, there was one way to find out. We backtracked for the sake of not getting our scent anywhere near them and began a four-hour hike up the mountain. It was a tough climb. Scree, car-sized and unstable boulders, slick moss, you name it, we went through it. Finally, we made it up near the top of the mountain and began working slowly in the direction we had seen the sheep headed. Stalking slowly around the mountain, my nerves were a wreck. In time, we came upon their bedding area. Ever so quietly, we began glassing, and at first, we only spotted four sub-legal rams. We kept glassing and located a no-doubt-about-it legal ram just 220 yards below us. We whispered about the plan. Wait for him to get up and feed or take him in his bed? There was no way my nerves would hold up for hours. I was ready to take him now! I got a solid base, and the bullet found its mark directly in his chest, dropping him in his bed. Getting to hold the horns and admire the animal was a surreal experience. Alaska Fish & Game aged him at 14.5 years old. When Emily checked him in for us, the agents working said it was the oldest they had ever seen.
With the sheep hunt over, it was time to focus on harvesting a bear. As luck would have it, bear season opened the very next day. On day six, we were about six miles into hiking when we spotted an eight-foot grizzly feeding in a riverbed. We started a stalk, but the wind shifted and the bear boogered out of the area.
We made our way to a drop camp that Matt had left for us, and we had our first real meal in several days. We dined on salad and ram heart. Surrounded by the mountains, sore feet, comradery, cold and wet to the bone, the satisfaction of a trophy sheep, I’ll never have a better meal!
Day seven had us socked in with fog, rain, sleet, and snow. The weather cleared occasionally, and we saw a large bear, perhaps the same one from our busted stalk, about eight miles downriver. We woke up with snow on the tents on day eight, but it finally broke midday and we began our hike downriver in pursuit of a grizzly.
This was a beautiful day of hunting. We were walking an easy trail above the river on the right side with great views to our left. We saw moose and muskox as we went. We relocated the bear and began another stalk.
We made our way down a very steep ledge and crossed the river. The water was plenty cold, and the rest of the day, it’d be sloshing around in our boots. Shortly after we crossed the river, we bumped right into a group of muskox only about 30 yards away. We got up over a ditch but couldn’t find the bear. We were glassing back to look at Sugar, who had stayed high on the mountain as a spotter, and he was indicating it hadn’t moved. We started out across a big, flat area, and when we were about halfway across, the bear’s head popped up. He was lying flat on his belly like a bear-skin rug. He had seen our movement, and we dropped to the ground. He eventually put his head back down, resting just 200 yards away.
The bear got up and moved, and the stalk continued. He was working his way along the riverbank in and out of the alders. We would see a flash of him and then nothing for several minutes. We had great wind with it blowing into our faces. It was just a matter of getting a visual on him. The cat and mouse game went on for what seemed like hours. Eventually, we spotted him at 70 yards. We knelt down and used the backpack as a rifle rest, and I fired the first shot. The bear began spinning, and after the fourth and final shot, he came running directly at us. I stood up and pulled a single bullet from the bullet holder on the stock. I placed the bullet in the chamber and shouldered the gun for a quick snapshot. Billy had a .44 magnum handgun with him. He dropped his video camera and wielded his hand cannon. With the bear at 30 yards away, I shot the sole bullet from my .300 Win Mag. The bear dropped instantly.
Things got calm for a second, and I looked over at Billy, who still had his handgun aimed out in front of him, and I said, “Well, that got a little western.”
We caught our breath. I reloaded my rifle, and we cautiously approached the great beast. The size is overwhelming when you walk up on these monsters. When looking him over, he had a shot in the vitals on the left side, presumably the first shot; one in his rear, I figured from the spinning; another in the body; and the final shot on his right side. I think that when he was at 30 yards, he saw us and started to turn, which made for a good shot into his vitals.
We didn’t measure the hide in the field, but we had ballparked the boar at an eight-footer. His skull was measured at 23.06", just big enough to make the Boone & Crockett Record Book.
Matt flew his Super Cub in the next morning, and we headed back to the Ovis base camp. I was flown out first and was treated to a 45-minute flight over the mountains. I can’t adequately describe what a treat that was. I had harvested both animals I was after, both exceptional at that, and was viewing the grandeur of the mountains below me. I was smiling ear to ear. It was just a perfect hunt.
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